Chapter 7
Say kimchi,” Dahye said, positioning her arm around Bora’s shoulders. The shutter popped.
“Let me see,” Bora said. They stepped off the escalator. Dahye showed her the picture. Starfield Library, with its stacks of colorful books, was visible in the background. Sticky summer light poured in from the high windows. “I look weird.”
“What are you talking about?” Dahye said. “You look great.”
“No, you look great.”
“Stop it. I’m posting it.”
“You always choose the worst pictures of me,” Bora complained.
Dahye, ignoring her, posted the photo to her Instagram story. “You look fine,” she insisted. “Anyway, you’re the one who said we have to hurry.”
She looked up from her phone for the first time since arriving at the mall. It was busy, filled with families and tourists. The murmur of overlapping conversations swelled around her. Then came an odd sensation. She felt like she was being watched again. She stopped.
“What are you doing?” Bora asked.
“Nothing,” Dahye murmured. “Sorry. I was just thinking …”
“About?”
Dahye cleared her throat. “The last time I was here, it was with Eunhye.”
A pained expression came over Bora’s face. She put her arm around Dahye’s shoulders. “I’m sorry.”
“It was our father’s birthday. His fiftieth, I think.
She wanted to get him something nice, so we took the subway and came all the way to Gangnam.
I didn’t say a single thing to her the entire ride.
I was really upset. Mom told me”—Dahye swallowed—“that Eunhye was saying things behind my back. That I was meeting boys after school and fooling around with them.”
Bora looked away. On the rare occasions when Dahye talked about her sister, Bora grew uncharacteristically quiet. Dahye took in a shaky breath. “Sorry. Let’s go. I know we don’t have a lot of time.”
“It’s alright,” Bora said gently. “We’ll make a new memory today.
A better one.” She grabbed Dahye’s hand and began leading her through the corridor.
They walked into the first store they saw, and right away Bora began clamoring for her to try things on, plucking dresses off the racks and dumping them into Dahye’s arms.
“This one has a long slit,” Bora said. “Not the best color, but it’s worth a try. I’m thinking this one is better …” She held up a sheer black dress with a low-cut top. “It’ll make your tits look great.”
Dahye wasn’t listening. She couldn’t stop thinking about her sister.
All day Eunhye had dragged her from store to store, showing her beautiful things that neither of them could afford.
Slowly, Dahye’s anger had washed away. How could she stay upset at her sister?
Everyone who passed them had smiled. Dahye remembered the way the shopgirls had looked at Eunhye as she had touched the colorful cashmere scarves, a look of wonder on her face.
And the way Eunhye had pressed against the glass cases filled with diamond necklaces and gold earrings, not caring when the passersby laughed.
Her want had been written so clearly on her face.
“Before I found out I was pregnant with Eunhye, I had a dream that our entire apartment was overrun with pigs,” their mother had once said.
Pigs were auspicious—a symbol of wealth.
But the family lived in a modest apartment, situated in a not-so-nice part of Seoul.
For as long as they could remember, the two sisters had shared a room.
Eunhye had constantly talked about Gangnam, how one day, she would live there in a high-rise apartment overlooking the city.
She had had her future mapped out: a good school, a good job, a good husband. Everything that made up a good life.
When the light coming in through the tall windows had begun to fade, leaving soft shadows on the marble floors, Eunhye finally picked out a gift for their father.
It was a set of blue-enameled sterling silver cufflinks that cost nearly 110,000 won.
It took up nearly the entirety of Eunhye’s savings from the last few years, and Dahye watched her pass the crumpled cash to the man behind the counter, feeling apprehensive.
“Are you sure?” Dahye had asked. “They’re so … expensive.”
“I’m sure.”
With the remaining money, Eunhye had taken Dahye to get a latte at the café downstairs, the two of them giggling furiously.
Any lingering animosity had disappeared by then.
Their mother never allowed them to spend money on frivolous things, and outside the mall, they sat on a ledge next to the fountain, passing the cup back and forth until only a thin layer of foam remained.
Their thighs were pressed together, and Eunhye had sighed, resting her head against Dahye’s shoulder.
How warm she had been. How badly Dahye had wished for her life with her sister to be like that, always.
“Earth to Dahye,” Bora said, snapping her fingers. “Come back to me.”
“I’m here,” Dahye said automatically. Bora tugged her arm.
“Are you going to try these on?”
“I will,” Dahye said, though she was still distracted.
They went to the dressing rooms in the back.
The first dress was too small, and the second was too big.
Dahye shuffled through the entire pile while Bora stood outside, handing her more things to try.
Finally, Bora passed her a leather skirt and a sheer black top.
“That’s the one,” Bora said, nodding in approval when Dahye emerged, the skirt tight over her hips. “It’s hot but doesn’t make it look like you’re trying too hard.”
“Are you sure?” Dahye looked down. “It doesn’t really … feel like me.”
“I thought that was the point.”
Dahye rolled her eyes and went back into the dressing room, closing the door. She unzipped the skirt and held it close to her face, breathing in its musky, warm scent. It was the kind of beautiful thing her sister would have loved.
They paid and made their way outside on the escalators. Dahye stood next to Bora, her heart clenched like a fist. If they took just a few steps to the right, they’d find the ledge where Dahye had once sat with Eunhye, sharing a coffee, their hands wet with condensation.
Once again, Dahye had the feeling she was being watched.
Don’t look.
She turned. The ledge was empty. Water spurted out of the fountain, splashing the ground. Dahye froze. People passed them on the sidewalk, and the traffic hummed, starting and stopping.
+
All Dahye had wanted was to show her parents that Eunhye wasn’t as perfect as they thought her to be.
Over the years, Dahye’s resentment had grown until she could feel little else.
Beautiful Eunhye. Smart Eunhye. Kind Eunhye.
It was bullshit. In front of Omoni and Abeoji, Eunhye was an angel.
But she was neither kind nor beautiful when she was accusing Dahye of stealing her clothes or calling her a bitch.
They didn’t know about Eunhye’s secrets. How, every night, before going to bed, she wrote about them in a little black book.
“What is that?” Dahye asked innocently. She hovered, trying to catch a glimpse of her sister’s minute writing. She thought she could see a name—Jihoon. Her heart fluttered. Who was Jihoon? She had never heard that name before. Her sister had never mentioned a boy before.
“Nothing.” Glowering, Eunhye covered the page with her hand, then shut the notebook with a snap.
Dahye’s curiosity burned. “Is it a book?” she asked. “Are you writing a story?”
Eunhye pondered that. “Kind of,” she answered. She said nothing else. Getting up, she lifted the corner of her mattress, carefully tucked the notebook under, then walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. Dahye stared at the place where the book was hidden.
Lately, Eunhye had been fidgety. Nervous. When Dahye stepped into their room, Eunhye would jump as though she was up to no good. And the previous night, Dahye had woken up to hear her sister’s soft crying, muffled by her pillow. Did this Jihoon person have something to do with it?
Dahye strained to hear beyond the room. Her mother was sitting on the couch, watching TV.
Her father was in the shower. If she closed her eyes, she could visualize the apartment from above.
Slowly, she came to the realization that Eunhye was heading to the kitchen to get a drink of water.
Perhaps she would sit on the couch afterward, sipping from the glass.
Perhaps she would leave Dahye alone in the room for a few minutes longer.
Dahye’s eyes flew open. She tiptoed toward her sister’s side of the room and slid her hand under the mattress, finding the smooth cover of the book. Her fingers found the corners. Careful not to make any noise, she began to pull it out when the door swung open. She froze.
It took a second for Eunhye to understand what was happening. A mixture of confusion and surprise flickered across her face, and then she lunged toward Dahye, ripping the book from her hands. They struggled. Eunhye, bigger and heavier than Dahye, climbed on top, pressing Dahye into the wood floor.
“Let it go, damn it—” Dahye could hear the desperation in her sister’s voice and felt two sharp blows across her temple. Her hand went limp.
Eunhye sat up, panting. “This is mine,” she hissed through her teeth.
“Mine, Dahye! You can’t have everything.
I have to have something of my own.” Up close, Dahye noticed for the first time how Eunhye’s complexion had grown dull.
How she had picked off all the dry patches on her lips, leaving them raw and bleeding.
“You have everything, and I have nothing,” Dahye tried to say. But stars danced across her vision, and her mouth tasted funny, like coins. After a moment, a hand was shoved unceremoniously into her face, and Eunhye helped her up.
“Are you okay?” Eunhye touched Dahye’s temple. “I’m sorry I hit you.”
Dahye pulled away. Getting to her feet, she walked out.