3
Possession
The Chairman knocked on her bedroom door.
“Come in.”
“Your door was locked last night.”
Sonya was sitting in her armchair by the window. Feeling cold, she’d put on her beige cashmere turtleneck twinset and gray woolen slacks. Small gray pearls in her ears. Calm and glorious, the Han River shimmered in the winter-morning sun.
A silver breakfast tray rested on the ottoman. Sonya picked up her coffee cup, not knowing what to say. Her bags were packed and stored in the closet. She had finished her makeup.
“Yong-gil left without eating. I was alone this morning.” The Chairman frowned.
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you not feeling well? I knocked last night, but there was no answer, so I thought you fell asleep. I waited.”
“He locked the door.”
The Chairman looked confused.
“He was here last night?”
“I didn’t know what to do.”
“You let him touch you?”
“I tried to tell him I didn’t feel well.”
“Why didn’t you fight him?”
“I couldn’t—”
He raised his right hand and slapped her. The Chairman pulled back in surprise, never having hit a woman before.
Sonya covered her mouth and left cheek where he’d struck her.
“I’m going to California today.”
“No, no. You can’t go.”
“I already bought my ticket.”
The Chairman checked the knot of his blue silk necktie and swallowed, feeling sick at the thought of his nephew being with her. Then he saw her. She was holding her face with her hands and crying.
“I’m sorry. I was wrong to hit you. I wasn’t thinking. I thought he didn’t come by anymore.”
“He hadn’t. For so many years. Has it been twenty?” All morning she’d been trying to puzzle out what had happened. “I don’t know why he did that. It wasn’t my idea. Surely—”
“Of course. I’m sorry I—” The Chairman couldn’t admit to her that Yong-gil might know.
Sonya knew that he felt awful about hitting her.
He shouldn’t have, but it didn’t hurt. Growing up, she’d been beaten by her parents, employers, and kids at school.
To protect her siblings, she’d fought bullies.
A number of times, landlords, store owners, and other creditors had taken their shot at the eldest child of debtors.
One landlord’s son, a pale gnome of a man who would squeeze her rear end with his stubby hands whenever he passed behind her, had offered to forgive months of overdue rent for sex.
“I’d erase all the debts and get you another six months since you’re a virgin,” he’d said, smiling sweetly.
Sonya, who was in college then, ran to the church to beg the nuns and priests for a loan, which she ended up paying back by tutoring.
It was unfair to have someone put their hands on you and try to cause you harm.
Mostly they were trying to make her afraid, and Sonya refused.
That was the trick, and if you could withstand the physical pain, they couldn’t hurt you inside.
Even if someone tried to kill you, you could still decide what you thought about it.
You could always tell yourself your own story and keep your dignity.
They picked on her, but Sonya was the girl who fought back in her own way, and no one had ever hurt her so badly that she had to go to the hospital. It was only humiliating if she cared about the person who caused her pain or the people who witnessed her shame.
After she started working for the Chairman, no one had ever hit her or even tried to make her feel bad. He had protected her from everything she had endured before. She never thought he would hit her.
His slap was the worst because she adored him. The Chairman was her protector, provider, defender, deliverer, and lover.
When Yong-gil was on top of her last night, she had pretended to be somewhere else, anywhere else.
He was her husband, and she could not tell him what she felt for his uncle.
As he kept repeating “My wife, my wife,” something he had not said since their wedding night, Sonya wondered if her husband wanted to make love to her, or if he was a dog pissing on a spot to mark his territory.
She had always belonged to the Chairman.
He had told her to marry his nephew, and she had obeyed him, because she owed him everything.
“I have to go now.”
“No, you can’t leave. If you go, you cannot return.”
Sonya turned toward the closet. She pulled out her overcoat and the two large suitcases.
“This was always wrong. I am sorry.”
“Sonya, you cannot—”
He embraced her, preventing her from moving.
“I forbid you to go,” he whispered.
“Hong-gyun-shi.”
Surprised, he looked at her, so rarely did she call him by his name.
“Let me go. Please.”
He put his trembling hands on her shoulders, and he thought hard about what he could do.
The flight felt brief because she slept through most of it, and when she woke, she felt grateful for the respite from the worries and sadness that occupied her waking thoughts.
Bo was waiting for her at arrivals. He picked up her two large, heavy cases like they were knapsacks and guided her to the car.
Sonya felt strangely alert and light. The sun always felt brighter in California.
“Aunt, it’s so good to see you.”
“You look well,” she said, taking his arm.
“Don’t I?” He smiled at her.
“You’re in love?” she guessed.
“Maybe?”
“What?” Sonya felt suddenly joyful. Helen’s first child was happy. “I want to hear more. Is there a wedding coming up?”
“No, no, no!” Bo laughed. “It’s only been a few months. I still have to get my doctorate.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Sonya smiled. “But you can’t blame your aunt for being excited. Tell me about her.”
“Her name’s Priscilla.”
“Like Elvis’s wife?”
“Lion said the same thing.” Bo grinned. “She’s a graduate student in psychology.
It’s been nice to have a friend in the program.
We go to the movies and grade papers together.
” He did not mention that they were lovers now and he could see himself marrying her.
It was too soon, of course, and neither of them was in a rush.
“Now let me focus on my driving,” he said. “I have an important passenger in my car.”
“Nice excuse,” she said. This sounded like the Bo she had known as a child—thoughtful, measured, and quietly confident. Somehow he had returned to himself, and Sonya was grateful. She thought of Helen. More than anything, she wanted her sister to know that her boy was well.
Each morning, after she read her Bible, Sonya prayed for every member of her family, and when she thought of Bo, she could not forget searching for him at his rented rooms when he was studying for his college entrance exams. He had failed to get into Yonsei repeatedly but refused to apply elsewhere.
She remembered taking him to eat tonkatsu, worried sick that he might not listen to her plan for him to go to America.
Had the Chairman allowed Bo to stay at the house, would he have passed the exam and remained in Korea? she wondered. What would that life look like? Would it have been a better one? She didn’t think so.
Her sons had achieved the scores they needed on their CSATs on their first try, and at every stage of the application process, private coordinators and tutors had guided them to their destination.
Bo had had less of that kind of care. He’d lived, studied, and slept in that tiny room at the gosiwon, eating instant food from the mart and attending classes at the hagwons.
If he had been at her house without the need to cook, do laundry, or figure out his transportation, Sonya felt certain that he would have gotten in. At least on the second try.
“I still feel terrible that I couldn’t take better care of you when you were studying for Yonsei—”
“You took better care of me than my own folks.”
“Your parents were in Sydney, and they asked me to—”
“I know they were working. It’s not their fault. It was my own stubborn decision to try to get into Yonsei. It’s no one’s fault but mine.”
“I still don’t understand why you wanted to go there,” she said, laughing.
“I think I picked it because my father had gone to Seoul National, and your sons wanted to go to Korea University, so I applied to Yonsei. The Y in SKY. It isn’t a very good reason.”
“Really?”
“When I was younger, I used to go to the Yonsei campus, and I’d imagine myself being a student there. I thought if I got in, I’d get one of those Yonsei jackets that men wear, and I thought I might belong in Korea if I had something like that.”
Sonya smiled. It was the logic of a child, but it made sense.
Bo didn’t mention that he’d bought a bright-blue Yonsei T-shirt, which was still in its cellophane wrapper at the bottom of a drawer.
If he’d gotten the score needed for admission, he had promised himself that he could wear it, and if he had been accepted, he would have bought the Yonsei jacket and schoolbag.
He would have covered his body with logos.
Whenever he saw men wearing the jackets, he’d felt a pang of envy. Those thoughts embarrassed him now.
Sonya turned in her seat and beamed at him proudly. “In a couple of years, you are going to have a PhD. I will call you Dr. Koh. My nephew will have a baksa—the first in our family. You will have raised our family in the world. My parents didn’t even finish high school.”
Bo smiled and continued to drive.
Sonya’s jet lag was always worse on the second day.
The day after she arrived, she roused herself enough to go to Rose Salon and sat behind the counter with her brother-in-law.
The salon was full of customers, with only one empty chair, and every technician was occupied.
It had been almost a year since her last visit.
John got her a large cup of brewed coffee from the café next door instead of the instant kind from the back room. He wanted to do something for her. She didn’t touch the blueberry muffin he’d bought for her.
“How is your family?” he asked. “Is the Chairman well?”
Sonya nodded, wondering when she would have to return.
Sitting on a plastic folding chair in a strip mall nail salon was preferable to living in a luxury apartment in Apgujeong.
She couldn’t go back. When her husband had come to her room, it had dawned on her that she could never be okay with this arrangement.
The Chairman would not allow her to divorce Yong-gil, and he would not marry her.
If she stayed, nothing would change. Every path seemed closed.
If she returned to Seoul, how could she live with the Chairman and Yong-gil? How could she move out and not live with the Chairman? She felt sick missing him. Since her arrival, she would stare at any door in the room and think that soon, he would send for her.
“Your boys? How are Seungman and Jiman?”
“They’re both working for the Chairman and report to their father, and I think Seungman might be the president when my husband retires, which won’t be anytime soon.”
“That makes sense.”
“He’s the one that pays attention to details. And he likes to be in charge.”
John smiled. “You must be so proud of them. They’ve grown up so nicely.”
Sonya picked up the paper bag with the blueberry muffin and held it. In her palm, the bag felt heavy and oily.
The boys had to turn out well. That had been her job: to love her boys and raise two heirs. Sonya had done everything in her power to make sure that their path was secure, and they had been willing to go along. She was grateful for that.
Even with extraordinary sums of money, two educated parents, and every necessary connection, their lives could have gone awry.
She had friends in her situation whose kids had suffered—poor decisions, illnesses, sadness.
There were hundreds of variables that could have spoiled every good intention and effort.
Each morning, Sonya prayed for protection over her family.
Thus far the Lord had answered her prayers and favored her children, despite her terrible sins.
She felt certain the bill was going to come due.
From the moment she started packing the suitcases in Seoul, she had prayed for forgiveness and absolution.
Helen’s children would never inherit a company worth hundreds of millions of dollars, yet they were purposeful and upright.
“Are you well?” John asked. She seemed troubled.
He wanted to go through the books with her, but she had no interest in talking about the salon, which had been profitable each year.
He had been putting aside all the net income in an interest-bearing business account, but she never asked for anything.
“I keep thinking of my sister.” Sonya started to cry. “She missed so many things, and I wish I could see her.”
John found himself unable to speak. He looked out the glass door.
The parking lot was busy with activity, and he imagined driving to Garden Grove to Mrs. Chung’s.
Behind the counter, Helen would be busy helping a customer.
She’d smile at him and tell him to wait.
John closed his eyes, and he could see her bright face, how her eyes shone with warmth in the presence of others, how much she cared for her children and him.
Her death was his fault, John thought, because he’d made her work so hard.
He could never say it, but he believed this.
John picked up the black ledgers.
“Would you like to talk about the books?”
“I’m grateful that you and Yun’s mother are running this salon so well.”
“What would you like to do with this business? I know you were considering living here when Helen—”
“When Helen was alive, I thought I’d live here because I wanted to be with her as much as I could.
I find living difficult without her. Especially now.
” Sonya said this even though she sensed that it would be unfeeling.
No doubt John was missing her more, but he looked healthy enough.
Inside, Sonya wanted to die without her.
If she were gone, the Chairman and the boys would miss her, but her husband would be fine, she thought.
He could remarry a younger, beautiful woman, who would take better care of him than she did.
John opened the books to show her the income column and the clipped stack of bank statements.
“You have a great deal of profit,” he said.
She took a deep breath, shook her head briskly as if to erase the dark thoughts inside. “We should expand,” she said. “Maybe get another location.”