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?
“I can’t,” Jules declares, pushing away from the table. “I’ve got a flight to Shanghai tomorrow. I’ll be gone until Friday.”
“I’ve got a full schedule tomorrow, too,” Mel says with regret. “You do, too, Anna. We’ve got finals coming up.”
“It’s fine. I can get Boyoung to go with me or I’ll use the translation app.”
“Let’s write down some phrases for her,” Anna suggests. Jules sits back down and together the three huddle over the phone.
My hands begin to tremble although I’m not sure whether it’s due to nerves or excitement. Tomorrow I could be meeting my mother for the first time. It’s overwhelming. A surge of energy brings me to my feet. I could run laps around the hill and not be tired.
“Is there an ice cream or dessert shop still open?” I ask. I need something to do.
“I think the ttalgi café is open until ten. Why?” Anna asks.
“Because you all deserve a treat for helping me so much, and if I’m going to interrogate this woman tomorrow, I should bring a gift, right?” It’s an excuse but a valid one.
“Ohh, good idea. I’ll have the milk cake. That’s so good.” Mel rubs her stomach.
“I’ll take a milk cake, too,” Jules says.
“I’ll go with you,” Anna volunteers. “Let me get my purse.”
While my flatmate scurries off, I study the image of Kim Jihye and wait for something to stir inside me, but it could be a stock photo. I have a more visceral reaction to Twitter profile pictures of people I don’t know than to Kim Jihye. However, since I was dead inside when I saw my own father, I refuse to take this as a negative sign. I was left on the street as an infant. I shouldn’t be expected to recognize my biological parents. I place a hand on my forehead and then look down at the screen. Jules does appear to be correct. Kim Jihye’s forehead is the same size as mine.
“I think it could be her,” Anna says, appearing at the door. “Do you think it is?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to get my hopes up.” But I’m already sweating.
“You could email her. She had a work contact on her profile.”
My whole body tenses at that. Send her an email and have that out there, drifting around in the internet space while I wait for a response? The anxiety would keep me up all night.
“No. I should ask in person.” Maybe it’s foolish, but I’m holding out hope that when I see Kim Jihye face-to-face it will be different. There’s no response inside me when I look at the photos, but in person, I imagine that the part of me that came from her will activate, as if we are two magnets that snap together once we are close enough. In fact, that elemental pull might be the very reason I’m here in Seoul right now.
“I can see that. It sucks that the first thing you did when you got here was go to a funeral. I know we barely know each other, but if you want to talk, I have a sturdy shoulder.”