Minjae
I felt tears prick my eyes. Angry tears. Where the hell was he if he loved her so much? What good was Minjae in love against Kent out for revenge? My hands shook as I folded the letter, returned it to its envelope, and inserted it back into the notebook. I should not have read that letter. I should have put Channing’s journal away and given it to her along with the rest of her possessions later. Except when was later? I’d heard of so many in the news who were detained indefinitely.
I fanned the pages. Paper receipts and a lime-green Post-it with an address caught my eye. Also Channing’s slanted handwriting ofHarabeojiand my name. A torn fragment had been taped to a page:
January 2, 2016. Boston.
Before my mother started the story, I knew the story. I don’t know how. And then when Harabeoji told me and Dahee the whole long “Tale of Chunhyang” when we were kids, his words sounded likea confirmation of a narrative I’d heard before. His voice a needle on grooves of an old vinyl record album spinning round and round until the end. There was only one way it was going to go. Find your love, my mother and this story said. And then I forgot about it until I grew up.
That damn story again. This time, grief for our childhoods brought fresh tears. I flipped through and found an entry dated just last week on our birthday.
Today I’m thirty. Thirty. And here I am. Never expected it. If Erisha had gotten funding I wouldn’t be here. At least it’s a job, but not the way I thought I’d come back to East End. With the money I can get the car fixed and not worry Harabeoji so much and figure out my life. I have to be more like Dahee. Look at her. She has an important job teaching children. She takes care of her shit. Like you’re supposed to when you’re thirty. Omg, I’m thirty now.
I’m such a loser. I’m babysitting. Do thirty-year-olds do this sort of thing? But I need this job. Dahee keeps reminding me how much I need this money, as if I don’t know. I know better than she does. The kids are sweet, but they’re not my kids. I’ll tell KC he has to stop coming in. Freaks me out and Austin doesn’t like him. Edison doesn’t seem to mind. He’s a deep thinker that one. When Edison says he misses his parents, it kills me. I know how he feels. Lucky for him they’re coming back. Why do their parents have a best friend like KC though? I don’t get it. He’s so weird. But I have to be polite to him or else he’ll complain about me and I’ll lose this job. I have to handle it. It’s going to get better.
I drove by my old house today, a birthday present to myself. And I felt this calm wash over me when I passed the pillars at theentrance, like I was closer to Eomma, closer to her here near the house she loved. I’ve kept my promise, Eomma, I wanted to tell her. If she were here I’d say:
I’m looking out for Dahee, Harabeoji, and Appa just like you said. Dahee needs me, you’re right. She doesn’t give hugs easily or say she loves me, when I know she does! You were right when you said Dahee has Chunhyang’s quiet strength, but she doesn’t easily love. There are all types of prisons. Dahee thinks she’s staying safe. She’s afraid it’ll break her if something happens to someone she loves. She’s tougher than that, I know she is. I wish she knew it, too.
You should have heard her tonight. As soon as I told her about KC she said she’d jump in her car and come straight here. I had to tell her to slow down. She’s coming tomorrow and I’m relieved honestly. I don’t think there’s anything to worry about, but having her here will make me feel better. She would risk her life to protect me and Harabeoji.
Going to sleep now. I hope no nightmares. Please. The one about the police chasing me? They started again when I returned here, but near our old house I only felt love. Why does one always have to come with the other?
Her words shook me. Was I in a prison of my own making? Was she right about what I thought I could endure?
There were other entries, just a few after that. I saw Minjae’s name more and more. Those seemed too private to read. All of it was too private. I shouldn’t have read any of it.
Chapter 29
When my phone first rang, I didn’t hear it. It was the third time before I finally understood Harabeoji was calling. I shoved the notebook into my bag.
“Kent can get us in to see Channing. I know you’ll want to come. Don’t say anything to anyone or else it’ll jeopardize Channing’s chances,” he said.
“Did you tell him Channing didn’t steal his watch?” I asked.
“He said we’d talk later.”
“Why would you trust anything he says?”
“For now, we have to play by his rules so we can get Channing free. Ames is right, we have to focus. Gwaenchanh-eulgeoya, Dahee.” It was a phrase he used a lot with us.It’s going to be all right, he often said. With her, he would also tell her to be patient. She was the impatient one. I could always put my head down and work for something over a long period of time. Patience wasn’t hard for me, but right now it was.
A bald white man in a red baseball jersey and dark pants was waiting at the front door of the police station. Kent called him Buzz. He didn’t say anything to us. His face remained passive, and he didn’t make eye contact with me. I remembered that Ames had said Buzz was the police chief whowas Kent’s witness for the supposed missing watch. It took everything I had to stop myself from lunging at Kent and forcing him to admit he’d attacked Channing at his house. I hoped there would be a chance for me to talk with Buzz alone, when I could tell him the truth about Friday night.
Buzz entered first and then Kent and Harabeoji followed. I was struck by how Harabeoji handled himself knowing that this man had put his hands on his granddaughter. Harabeoji walked close to Kent and gently asked, “You’ll let her out today?” And Kent said simply, “That’s why we’re here.” No one would suspect this elderly man had anything but respect for this younger one.
It was a gloomy room with a uniformed police officer seated behind glass. There were a few straight-back chairs. Otherwise, it was empty. Buzz raised a hand to the officer, and she nodded and hit some button. Buzz pulled the door open, and we all filed in.
There were a couple of doors and a large open space with tables, and then we went through another door, and then down a short hall with blinking fluorescent lights overhead. It was cold and windowless, similar to those I’d seen in movies. I shivered and rubbed my shoulders. My claustrophobia threatened to drown me, but I kept my focus on the back of Harabeoji’s plaid button-down shirt. When Channing was released, we’d run back down this hall so fast, I told myself. My palms pricked.
There were two holding cells across from each other. The cement walls were painted an ugly green, somewhere between army green and lime. Unlike ones I’d seen in TV shows and movies, the only metal bars were on the single door. There was a metal toilet with a sink attached above it in one corner of each jail cell along with a single window with bars across it. I took all this in, but my focus was entirely trained on the woman in a black T-shirt and gray sweatpants, barefoot, sitting on a thin mattress on a steel frame welded to the wall, with her legs tucked up beneath her. I halted and gasped. My hands flew to cover my mouth.
She ran up to the bars when she saw us. I could tell she was searching for someone other than me and Harabeoji. Her eyes darted back and forth. Her face was flushed and streaked with dirt and tears. I wished there had been someone in that other cell, so she’d have signs of life around her. It felt like a tomb.
Harabeoji and I extended our hands toward her. There wasn’t enough space for her arm to slide between the bars, so we had to make do with touching her slim fingers.
“You look good,” he said as if reassuring himself.
“I don’t believe you,” she said to Harabeoji.
