7 #2
The Chairman liked to dress her, and it pleased him when she tried on exquisite clothing at boutiques. Salespeople couldn’t figure out at first who she was to him. She was too mature to be his daughter, and soon it became clear when they spoke that they were not a couple, yet they seemed intimate.
Sonya wore her diamond engagement ring and wedding band, but she had also inherited the jewelry of the Chairman’s late wife.
He wanted Sonya to enjoy them. The precious ornaments made her elegant bearing more regal, and even more alluring to a wealthy and elegant man.
The gold, rare pearls, and paper-white diamonds brightened her clear, unlined skin and made her look more valued and esteemed by the man who must have bought them for her.
He did not buy her jewelry, thinking it too intimate.
However, last Christmas, the Chairman had bought Sonya a one-of-a-kind sheared mink coat from France, which had surprised even Yong-gil.
It was an exceptional coat, and Sonya was embarrassed by the cost. She couldn’t imagine wearing it outside, but the Chairman insisted.
Although it wouldn’t be possible, if she sold the mink, she knew it could pay most of her sister’s bills for the year.
For Sonya, family and God were everything.
Each morning, Sonya prayed for her family—Helen, Kenny, and their families, Yong-gil, and her sons, Seungman and Jiman—and she prayed to God for forgiveness for loving the Chairman more than her own husband.
It couldn’t be helped, she thought, since she’d met the Chairman first, and he had rescued her from every privation and humiliation, and now he was being gracious to her sister, too.
A month after Helen had settled in California with the money Sonya sent her, a young woman came to see Sonya in her office.
She was even younger than the others, tall and striking; she wore more makeup than needed. She would’ve been prettier without all that eyeshadow and mascara. She wore a maroon dress. Her long legs appeared shapely, even with her feet in house slippers.
“How may I help you?” Sonya asked.
“I am involved with your husband,” the woman said.
“What is your name?” Sonya asked.
“Noh Jayoon.”
“May I ask what you need?”
“We are in love,” Jayoon said.
“I see. Does my husband know that you’re here? Shall we phone him?” Sonya reached for her desk phone.
Jayoon’s eyes widened but she held her ground. “He doesn’t know, but I know he wants a divorce. He said you don’t have relations anymore.”
“Is that right?” Sonya considered the girl’s small oval face. Her hair was shoulder-length and dyed caramel blond. Her light-brown lipstick worked well with the pale hair. Her nails were painted neatly in a color to match her lips.
Now Jayoon looked embarrassed, perhaps having imagined some sort of conflict or at least a wife’s indignation.
“Would you like some coffee, or tea? I can ask my housekeeper to bring us some. Have you eaten?”
She shook her head no, not understanding what was happening. The wife seemed genuinely concerned about her welfare.
“No thank you. I’m fine.”
“Well, let’s just phone my husband. It’d be easier than if I called his uncle, the Chairman. There’s no need to get anyone in trouble, I think.” Sonya spoke calmly and slowly, measuring her tone and words. She hoped the girl would stop her.
“You don’t love him, do you?” Jayoon blurted out. “If you did, you’d be jealous.”
“Is that what love is to you?” Sonya tilted her head slightly and looked out the window, admiring the blue and green colors of the river. A large black ship carrying cargo freight was off in the distance. She wondered where it would go.
“I love Mun Yong-gil,” Jayoon said.
Sonya understood why she had to say his name like that rather than say, I love your husband, which would sound wrong to even her own ears.
Sonya wouldn’t question the genuineness of the girl’s feelings.
It took enormous courage or some other urgent emotion for her to come to the house like this.
Yong-gil would’ve lied to her to get her to sleep with him.
No doubt there had been many words exchanged, some true but most not.
“Are you pregnant?”
Jayoon shook her head no.
“That’s fortunate for you.”
“I’m not the first, am I?” Jayoon said, realizing then why the wife’s reactions had been bled of all feelings.
“No. You’re not the first to come to this house. You will not be the last.”
“So you do not have relations with him, then?”
“How would you feel being asked that question by your husband’s latest mistress?” Sonya asked.
Jayoon said nothing.
“I suppose you think that if I divorced my husband, then all this would be yours. This dress that I’m wearing, the pearls on my neck, this beautiful green sofa I’m sitting on—the view outside my office window. I suppose you think this would be yours.”
The young woman had not thought that far, but it made sense. If I wasn’t married, then I’d marry you tomorrow, Yong-gil had said to her not once, but many times.
“He told you that he would make you his wife, did he?”
She nodded, feeling tricked.
“I see.”
“Why can’t you divorce him? It’s obvious you don’t love him.”
“One day you’ll understand how love works. How a mature woman’s love is different. You see, I love my family. I love my husband. I love my sons. I love the Chairman. I love my brother and sister. I’m a Christian, so I guess I should say you are my neighbor, so I love you.”
Jayoon shook her head in disbelief.
“Even if you were my enemy, I am called to love you.” Sonya said it dryly, because she was talking to a child, and she was tired of being upset, humiliated, and angry at her husband’s poor behavior. “Do you work at a bar?”
“It’s a club.”
“Do you work at a club?”
“Yes,” she said.
“My husband works at a club. This is our club. This is our bar. He works. I work. We work for someone. My husband doesn’t have the power to give any of this to you. He is an employee. Like I am.”
Sonya looked at her hands and folded them in her lap.
The first time a girl showed up at the house, she had been far more disturbed, but Sonya prided herself on her self-control.
Even then, she had tried to remember that she had two wonderful sons, and she was loyal to the Chairman, who was a great man, and she would never embarrass anyone, including her husband.
“I think you should call him,” Sonya said. “You can use my office if you like. I can step outside. Would you like that?”
Jayoon stared at her.
“I’ve done this before. You can imagine what happens. Can’t you?”
Jayoon shook her head slowly.
“Do you know how to play go-stop?”
“Yes,” Jayoon said.
“In the game of your beautiful young life, you still hold most of the good cards. Make a wise decision on how you play your hand. Throw away the useless cards. Never get attached to any one card. Remember the game.”
“I don’t understand,” Jayoon said.
“He will never see you again. He will change bars. Or clubs. He will talk to your employer, and you will lose your position. That is what usually happens, because you see, my husband is an important client at these clubs, and your employer cares more about money than you. There was no love. Are you the useless card or is he? Is he the valuable card, or are you? It’s up to you to decide. ”
With the back of her hand, the young woman wiped her eyes and, for a moment, looked as if she had just woken up. Sonya handed her a box of tissues.