The Queen of Tears

by Chris Mckinney

  After Won Ju clocked in, she picked up her round tray from behind the bar and began working tables. She emptied and replaced ashtrays, went back and forth from the bar to serve whiskey sours, gin and tonics, and Marlboro Reds. Sometimes she noticed that she didn’t even hear the customers anymore. The screams of anger or delight that had once made her jump were as quiet to her as role of the dice on the felt surface of a crap table or the shuffling of cards in skilled hands. This alarmed her a bit. She thought it might be the weed, but then realized that no matter what the cause, it was a good thing. Deafness was sometimes a good thing.

  The smiles appeared on her face, and she realized this no longer took conscious effort. Half the time she didn’t even know what the customers said to her, not because of the language barrier—she understood English quite well—but because she no longer cared what they were saying. She walked through the flirtations, the lewd comments as if they were cigarette smoke. She kept on smiling. This was her lot in life. Did her mother even try to give her greatness?

  About halfway through her shift, Won Ju took her first break. As she was quickly smoking her cigarette in the break room, Andy approached her. “Slow night,” he said as he lit a cigarette.

  He wasn’t very tall, but he was wide. Perhaps his most impressive feature was his neck. His neck looked broader than his head. She wondered how long the strap for his bow tie must be. “Yeah,” she said.

  “Hey, did you see that guy at the bar? The one with the blue pinstriped suit?”

  Won Ju often saw him at the bar. He was a quiet man, and a terrific tipper, an ideal customer. “Yes,” she said,” he seem very nice man.”

  Andy leaned his head back and laughed. His neck expanded as air left his lungs. She expected the top button of his tuxedo shirt to pop off. “Not to everybody.” He leaned towards Won Ju and whispered, “He’s a mob guy.”

  Won Ju shrugged. “But don’t worry,” Andy said, “he’s a friend. That’s my supplier.”

  Won Ju wondered why Andy was telling her this. She was hardly a prized customer. She only bought joints from him a few at a time. So she just nodded. “Listen,” he said. “I’m actually pretty connected. If you need anything, just let me know. These guys take care of me.”

  She put out her cigarette in the ashtray. “I go back now.”

  Andy gently grabbed her arm. “Wait,” he said. “Hold on. Listen, I know you don’t really talk to anyone here because of the language thing, but everybody needs friends. I mean, some of the other bartenders and waitresses think you’re stuck up, but I know it’s just because you’re shy. Let me be your friend.”

  He let go of her arm and put out his cigarette. Won Ju didn’t know whether she should respond or walk back to the floor. She looked at her watch, then looked at Andy. He was smiling. He seemed very nice, and it was the first time someone tried to make friends with her since she’d been to America. Actually, she guessed there were others that had tried to be friendly with her, but she never knew what to do. This was the first time someone had actually come out and asked for friendship using the word “friend.” So after thinking about it, she felt like she at least owed him a response. “O.K.,” she said.

  He laughed. “So we’re friends?”

  “Yes,” she said as she walked back out to the floor.

  * * *

  A week later, Won Ju was preparing for the first date. Not only was it her and Andy’s first date, but it was the first date of her life. Donny watched as she meticulously glued on her false eyelashes in front of the bathroom mirror. He seemed just as excited as she was, and he teased her relentlessly. “Sis has a hot date. Is Sis going to get lucky tonight? Wait until the lucky guy sees her beautiful eyelashes flutter. He won’t be able to control himself.”

  Won Ju carefully picked up her cigarette, which was balancing at the edge of the basin. She took a drag and looked into the mirror at her brother. “Shut up before I put this cigarette out on you.”

  Donny laughed and took the cigarette from her. He took a drag and blew the smoke in her face. She playfully grabbed his earlobe and pulled it. “So, Brother,” she said as she returned to her eyelashes, “do you have any tips?”

  “Yeah, when you make out with him, remember to cram your tongue into his mouth immediately. He’ll like that.”

  “You are disgusting.”

  “Also, grab his behind firmly. Dig those fingernails in. Just pretend you are a lion devouring prey.”

  She did not feel like the predator in this situation. After she’d consented to the friendship with Andy, she’d thought that was that. She’d also never really had a friend before, and she assumed that all it meant was that when she’d see him, she’d just smile and say “hi.” Maybe they’d smoke cigarettes together during breaks, or maybe they’d have a drink after work, but what else did you do with friends? In Korea, she’d seen friends on the playground, joking around, playing sports, and in high school she’d seen girls hanging out after school, smoking cigarettes and flirting with boys, but she really did not know what adult friends did together. In Korea, her mother had “associates,” not really friends, and her stepfather had seemed perfectly content in isolation in the middle of all of those grape vineyards in Fresno, so she had no idea what adult friends did together. On TV in General Hospital, she’d seen adult friends, but all they seemed to do was withhold information from each other. What did one do if they did not have any information on their friend? She did not even know anything about Andy except he was a bartender who sold drugs on the side, he apparently had mafia connections, and his neck was enormous. Was it typical to know so little about a friend? “Chung Yun,” she said, “we’re just friends.”

  “English, sister, English. We’ve been cheating long enough. I think you need the practice for tonight.”

  She thought carefully before she spoke. “Friends. Not boyfriend-girlfriend.” That was the other thing that disturbed Won Ju. Why did her first friend have to be a man? It made her feel uncomfortable. She’d always felt uncomfortable around all people, except for her mother and brother, but adult men made her feel especially uncomfortable. They were so big. And Andy was no exception. And over the last week, he’d pursued her relentlessly until she finally consented in going out with him. She definitely did not feel like a predator. If she were a predator, she would not feel startled every time his neck expanded to unleash a deep roaring laugh. “So, Sister,” Donny said, “make sure you wear high heel. Nice, sexy. He like.”

  Won Ju palmed her brother’s face and pushed it away. She put on lipstick and closely inspected her hair one last time. It felt heavy with hairspray. The doorbell rang. Donny excitedly went to answer it. She put away her cosmetics and washed her hands. She dried them and tugged on the skirt of her newly purchased white dress. It was too tight, but he was already there. Before walking out the door, she kissed her brother on the cheek. Donny seemed disturbed by the appearance of her date. She left wondering what he was thinking; sure that it was some sort of criticism. Perhaps he was expecting Sean Connery.

  The date started with a fine, candlelight dinner in a quiet, muted-light restaurant. It seemed that Andy too watched his share of television, because it was one of those scenes out of a soap opera. However, usually, on TV the couple seemed perfectly comfortable. Won Ju was terrified. The quiet bothered her especially. Every time, no matter how careful she was, she put her polished, silver fork on the plate, she heard a conspicuous clang. Whenever she took a sip of wine, she heard herself swallow. Her chewing seemed the loudest to her. She wondered if Andy was as conscious of the sound her jaws were making when chewing food as she was. He didn’t seem to notice, but perhaps he was just being polite. She barely touched her swordfish as Andy devoured his twenty-two-ounce T-bone steak.

  He ate quickly, yet neatly, careful not to get any food on his silk shirt, which was buttoned a little too far down for Won Ju’s taste. He was wearing a thick gold rope chain. Won Ju wondered if that was why he left the top two buttons undone. He didn’
t talk very much when he ate, and Won Ju had no problem with that. She had enough problems trying to keep the noise down at her side of the table.

  When they finished dinner, and were walking back to the car, Andy politely asked, “So, where to next? Your choice.”

  Won Ju had no idea how to answer. She wanted to go home, but knew it would be impolite to say that. Besides, she did not know where to go anyway. Her life was spent only at work and home. She thought about what the proper answer would be, but couldn’t come up with anything specific. So she simply said, “Someplace not too quiet.”

  Andy clapped his hands together and smiled as if he knew exactly what she meant. This puzzled her because she did not know what she’d meant. She got a little nervous about their next destination.

  He took her to the loudest place she’d ever been to before: a disco. It was dark, much like the restaurant, but the music blared out of the speakers with so much power that when she concentrated, she could feel the floor shake beneath her high heels. All of the faces around her contorted as the people tried to communicate with each other. She and Andy were standing at the bar. He was attempting to order a gin and tonic for himself, and a glass of white wine for her. She already felt tipsy from the wine they drank at the restaurant, so she promised herself that this would be her last glass. Andy handed her the glass of chardonnay, and yelled in her ear, “Do you want to dance?”

  She could barely hear him. She’d never danced before. The dance floor was filled with people who were basically involved in the same movements, but skill levels definitely varied. It seemed, overall, that the women were better at it than the men. This made her more nervous about dancing, so she politely declined. “Maybe later,” she said.

  While she and Andy were standing at the bar, sipping their drinks, Won Ju once again became aware of the quiet. Although there was noise, as well as bodies, constantly passing the space between them, neither was contributing. She did not want to talk mostly because she was hesitant to enter the onramp of noise between them; it was intimidating, yet she was surprised that Andy was so quiet. It was as if he were waiting for something. Finally, his voice entered the steam of sound and traveled to her ear. “Are you bored?” he asked.

  She shook her head. He smiled, looked around, then reached into his pocket. He pulled out two tiny slips of paper. He put one in his mouth and gave the other to her. “Here, take this.”

  She took the tiny slip of paper and asked, “What this?”

  “It’s kind of like weed. You’ll like it. Just stick it under your tongue.”

  She did not want to take it, but again, she also didn’t want to be impolite. Besides, she watched him slip it into his mouth, and he seemed fine. She decided to wait several minutes before taking it, just in case it started to make him act crazy. After a few minutes, Andy seemed fine; in fact he was less jittery. He’d said it was like weed, which she found very calming, and because he looked so calm, she shrugged and put the tiny slip of paper under her tongue.

  At first, she thought the drug a fraud. She felt nothing. She should’ve known that something so small could hardly affect her. She was still bored and longed to go home. Andy kept trying to convince her to dance, but each time she refused politely. Then, as she almost finished her glass of wine, things started to look fuzzy. She thought it was the wine, but as her vision and sense of sound seemed to get progressively worse, she knew it was the drug. When she looked at the dance floor, she no longer saw groups of two spinning, instead she saw each couple turn into something that to her looked like a pulsating egg. All of these eggs seemed to contract with the beat of the music, which Won Ju enjoyed watching, but when the music first slowed, then became nothing but the sound of an enormous, two-story heart beating, Won Ju began to feel very sick. She felt as if she were in a gigantic human body, in a huge womb, and the oppressive, pulsating noise was driving her outside. But she couldn’t find the way out. She fell to her knees. Suddenly, she felt something tugging on her and dragging her out of this place that seemed familiar, but very ugly. Won Ju was grateful. “Take me home, please,” she said. It was the clearest, phonetically most concise sentence she’d ever spoken in English.

  When Won Ju woke up, she was lying on a loveseat in an unfamiliar living room. She sat up slowly, and saw Andy straddling a chair, smiling at her. “You had a bad trip,” he said.

  Won Ju’s vision was still blurred, but she knew she wasn’t home. “Take me home, please,” she said, again.

  “Not yet,” he said.

  Andy stood up and walked to his turntable. He pulled out a record and put it on. The sudden sound made Won Ju jump. It was a song she’d remembered. It was the Four Tops, “Can’t Help Myself.” She liked the song, but she was still hearing things in slow motion. It sounded like the song was being played at half-speed, and though the voices started crisper, they slowed until the sound became grotesque. It was as if the singers were melting. They were no longer professing love. They were moaning like dying animals.

  That’s when she noticed Andy. He was sitting right next to her, putting his mouth on hers. She felt his tongue slide into her mouth. The slimy texture disgusted Won Ju, so she tried to push away. But one of his hands was palming the back of her head, while the other was moving up her white dress. She put both her hands on Andy’s head and pushed with all her might. Finally she managed to get a half a foot of distance between their faces, and said, “Take me home, please.” The tension in her throat told her that she’d screamed it, but it sounded like a whisper to her. Andy smiled and tore her underwear off with the hand under her dress. The sound of moaning animals became unbearable for her, and she knew she had to get out or she would be driven mad. As his face neared hers, she took close notice of his left eyeball. It looked so vulnerable, almost like a grape. She wanted to pop it, so she jammed her thumb into it. The head flew back, then a horrible scream followed. Just as she got up to scramble for the door, a fist came flying towards her. It didn’t hurt. But she found herself dazed on the other side of the room.

  She tried to get up, but the screaming was getting closer and closer, so she instinctively crumbled into the fetal position. She felt another stunning blow on her face, and her cheek hit the floor hard. It was linoleum, she noticed. Then there was a weight on her. She fought hard against it, but she felt like she was drowning in the middle of the ocean. Despite how hard she tried to get the water off of her, it was impossible. Before she blacked out, she noticed another voice joined the quartet in the painful moaning. She wondered who it was as her face was being pushed into the sticky linoleum floor.

  * * *

  When she woke up, she was curled up in the passenger seat of Andy’s car. They were parked outside of her apartment. It was still dark. Her entire body ached. She looked down. There was blood all over her dress. Andy leaned over her. She flinched. He opened the door. “Now remember,” he said, “don’t say a goddamn word. You remember my friend in the casino? I could have you and your brother killed,” he snapped his fingers, “just like that. Buried out in the desert.”

  Won Ju scurried out of the car, ignoring the pain. She ran up the stairs, breaking a heel. She didn’t stop to pick it up. She opened the door and headed straight for the bathroom. Turning on the shower, and looking at the bruises on her arms, legs, and face, she asked herself, how am I going to go to work tonight? She entered the shower and sat down. She fell asleep and felt like she didn’t want to wake up again.

  The frantic knocking on the door woke her up. “C’mon, Sis, I really have to piss bad. By the way, where’s breakfast?”

  She didn’t answer and closed her eyes, trying to go back to sleep. The water was cold by then, but she didn’t care. The knocking continued. “Are you O.K.?”

  It was an interesting question. She felt O.K. as long as she didn’t move. She would be fine if she never had to stand up, open her eyes, and talk ever again. She stayed perfectly still and listened to Donny attempt to break the door down. After several tries, he stopped. Th
en about a minute later, she heard someone tinkering with the lock. Won Ju opened her eyes. Donny came in holding his shoulder with one hand and a butter knife in the other. He stood over her. “I’m calling an ambulance,” he said, as he ran out of the bathroom. Won Ju couldn’t bear it anymore. She closed her eyes, hoping Donny wouldn’t trip and stab himself with the knife. Then she noticed something peculiar. She was grinding her teeth. She tried to stop, but couldn’t. It was a weak effort, though. Especially after she realized that the slow, methodical, pendulum that was her lower jaw was her only comfort.

  -4-

  When Soong’s first husband had been brought back to her home, cold and already dead, she hated what she later considered the primitiveness of South Korea during that time. What if there had been ambulances? What if there had been emergency rooms? Who knows? Her husband may have lived for another twenty years. When Soong had first arrived in the United States, that was one of the things about her new country that appealed to her. People could be saved here.

  However, when her second husband took permanent residence in a Long Island hospital, she began to consider her first husband’s death a merciful one. It had been then that she’d realized hospitals and emergency care did not prolong life; they prolonged death. They also cost a fortune. Medicare covered eighty percent of her second husband’s medical bill, but even with that, as the bills came piling in, it was as if they were staying at the Ritz Carlton. After her second husband died, and the bills continued to roll in, Soong realized that things needed to be liquidated. The store had to go. The house had to go. By the time she’d been ready to fly to Hawaii, she only had four bags of belongings. It seemed to Soong that in America, death was not only a black-hooded figure holding a scythe, he had a calculator hidden somewhere in that robe, too: the patron saint of repossession.