22. Upside-Down
UPSIDE-DOWN
RI
He opened his eyes.
The green undersides of leaves, pale red globes of apples, and sunlight peeking around the branches.
She rolled onto the grass beside him and he listened. Stood up silently, his clothes back on properly.
Marina had taken him by surprise—first, to use these stolen moments to traipse through the orchard so spectacularly. Secondly, to have taken that risk.
She turned to him: “You know what?”
“What?”
“I’m not going to stand by and do nothing.”
He looked back up at the trees. They had just done something.
He heard a rustle behind him.
Marina had propped herself, awkwardly, halfway up a tree. Her head and neck on the ground, her upper spine pressed against the base of the tree. Her waist, hips, and legs vertical, straight up the tree.
“Are you alright?” he asked, kneeling.
Had she… had a psychological break?
Was this something European that he didn’t know?
“I’m fine,” she said, her words clipped, her cheeks getting red.
“What are you… Can I help you down?”
“Not… just… yet.” She was beginning to pant.
“But what…?” He was almost afraid to ask.
“I want… to take… you home… with me.”
His jaw sagged open.
He sank down into the ground and closed his eyes, putting his hands over his face.
She said it with such determination.
She said it as though love alone could rewrite the laws of a country.
He heard footsteps behind him, and he stood up. Brushed off his clothes and checked once more—he was fully dressed, zipper up, pants on, shirt tail tucked in. He drummed his fingers on his belt buckle, another last-minute check.
“Comrade,” Miss Wu called out.
“Over here,” he waved.
Miss Park and Miss Wu came over, and immediately started at the sight of Marina halfway upside-down.
“Miss!”
“She’s alright. It’s a yoga thing,” he said.
Miss Wu’s eyes rounded. “She practises yoga—all of a sudden?”
Miss Park looked between them assessingly.
“So… beautiful… here,” Marina panted. “Yoga!”
He put his hands up at his sides. “The beauty of Joseon must have overwhelmed her, and she felt inspired to do—” he looked back, “—yoga.”
Miss Wu blinked, but nodded, like his explanation made sense, and every day she saw people so taken by natural beauty that they spontaneously began a yoga practice session.
His eyes drifted back over to her.
What she was doing took the breath straight out of him.
Marina’s skirt was cut straight, but even it was losing the fight with gravity, and gradually sliding, revealing more of her thighs. He turned away—he was not permitted such sights anymore, now that Joseon had showed up.
“Her face is almost purple,” Miss Park stage-whispered in English.
“Miss, you must stop, stand back up, please!” Miss Wu fretted.
“You didn’t drink, did you?” Miss Park asked, her voice laden with skepticism.
“No, she—” he steered the minders away and lowered his voice, “—you know how foreigners are. I figured drink wouldn’t help, only hurt. This way, you can have some more.”
Miss Park nodded. “Foreigners.”
He nodded back, and looked over his shoulder at Marina, who was still upside-down. His heart exploding with love, but his face betraying none of it.
She halfway cartwheeled off the tree, and recovered to her feet, pulling her skirt down.
“Our driver is festive now,” Miss Wu said gravely.
“What?” Marina was blinking, the red gradually fading from her face and neck.
“Jolly,” Miss Park said shortly.
“Inebriated,” Miss Wu admitted quietly.
“Drunk. Got it.” Marina grinned.
“I can drive,” Ri offered. “After all, I’m sober.” He led them back to the storehouse, his footsteps light, his heart soaring.
They returned to the car, where Mr. Choe was snoring in the front seat. Ri moved him over without jostling him too much, and fished the keys out of his pocket. Marina got in the second row again, sitting on the passenger side. Miss Wu sat beside her, and Miss Park spread out in the back.
The engine caught on the second try, and the van pulled back onto the gravel lane, tires ticking over stones in a rhythm that gradually settled into something almost hypnotic.
The last of the orchard slid past the windows, rows folding into rows until the trees gave way to open country, and the interior filled with the particular gold of early evening — the kind of light that seemed to come from inside the hills themselves rather than the sky above them.
The road noise dropped to a low hum as they picked up speed, and the cooling evening air came in through Ri's cracked window carrying the smell of cut hay.
They passed a man walking beside an ox cart, carrying coal.
Halfway back to the hotel, he let himself look once at her in the rearview mirror.
Her ponytail was falling out, tendrils of hair framed her face. She was looking out the window.
He saw Miss Wu was sleeping, and Miss Park wasn’t even visible from the third row.
Marina looked around and then caught him watching her. Her face changed—something infinitesimally subtle, the breath of a smile—she pulled her phone from her pocket.
She looked back out the window, and took photo after photo of the dilapidated shacks where people lived most of the year, building roads like this one.
People were drafted into construction brigades. They had no choice.
Marina was taking photos. She had a choice.
He glimpsed his own face in the mirror. He had one too.
The drive back from Wonsan to Pyongyang took three hours, including stopping at travel checkpoints and a fuel station. He pulled up to her apartment on embassy row and saw Esmee in the window. Sven, the Swedish attache, was there with her.
Marina got out of the van and he looked at the tree where they’d first kissed, and back at her. She caught his look and smiled.
“Have a good evening,” she said.
“You too.” He watched her disappear inside the front door, then reappear in front of the windows to pull the curtains shut.
He drove back to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and parked the car. Mr. Choe, somewhat sober by now, Miss Wu and Miss Park all got out.
“Ri. Comrade Ri.” Footsteps approached quickly behind him.
“Yes, comrade…?” he asked, turning around to look.
A man he didn’t recognize was standing there.
Miss Park, Miss Wu, and Mr. Choe had all melted away.
Ri’s stomach dropped.
“The vice minister wants to see you,” the man said. “Follow me.”