Contents ( 38)
- Praise for Jen Frederick and her novels
- TITLES BY JEN FREDERICK
- CONTENTS
- CHAPTER ONE
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER THREE
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER FIVE
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER NINE
- CHAPTER TEN
- CHAPTER ELEVEN
- CHAPTER TWELVE
- CHAPTER THIRTEEN
- CHAPTER FOURTEEN
- CHAPTER FIFTEEN
- CHAPTER SIXTEEN
- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
- CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
- CHAPTER NINETEEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY
- CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
- CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
- CHAPTER THIRTY
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- HEART
- AND SEOUL
- QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
- What’s next on your reading list?
Jules sighs. “No offense, Hara, but your old man was kind of irresponsible. He didn’t have a job but was able to pay rent here because he got money from women. She didn’t like him much but a renter is a renter. Five women in the space of a few weeks? That seems like a lot.”
“I know this.” It hasn’t escaped me that Lee Jonghyung was a dickhead, but I’m not going to dwell on it. That seems extra pointless.
“But what if this is the information you’re going to find? That your dad is a lowlife and your mom was a druggie or something. Isn’t it better to know nothing?”
“It’s too late for that.” The veil of ignorance has been pierced and I won’t ever know peace until I chase down every last lead.
Jules finds the woman at the sauna, which is not a wooden room heated to 130 degrees but more like a giant yoga room with mats on the floor. People inside are all wearing the same T-shirt and shorts, and many have towels wrapped around their heads with Princess Leia–like towel doughnuts above their ears. I stare at one of them for far too long, wondering how they manage to contort a towel into that shape. Jules has to physically drag me away from my inspection to the front counter. After we exchange greetings, Jules shows the photos, which prompts the sauna woman to reach over the counter and grab my chin. The woman jerks my face from one side to the other. I stand like a mannequin and allow myself to be inspected. My heart races and the palms of my hands grow sweaty. Is this my grandmother? Because she’s too old to be my mother . . . isn’t she? Or did this woman get pregnant by a young man who wanted nothing to do with me afterward and so the woman gave me up for adoption out of shame?
It’s another scenario I hadn’t considered.
“What’s she saying?”
“Kim Eunshil is her daughter,” Jules replies in a hushed voice.
Kim Eunshil? That was the woman in the third picture wearing the faded yellow turtleneck tucked into a pair of straight-leg jeans. “Is she my grandmother?”
“She doesn’t know. She says her daughter has never been pregnant. She’s never married. She did know of some, well, not very nice men who dated her daughter, but as far as she knows the girl never had a baby.”
“If she was away from home for even six months, it could have happened.” I’m not letting this go. I have a real lead here. “Please ask her if I can see her daughter. Please.” I’m ready to get on my knees.
“Yeah. Yeah. I’m asking.” Jules engages the woman, who finally releases me. I rub my sore jaw. That woman’s fingers were tight.
“Her daughter sells dishes at the market and won’t be off until tonight.”
“Let’s go to the market.” I don’t want to wait.