Jia: A Novel of North Korea by Hyejin Kim

better off than other
dissidents, and it's because of me. We tried to be generous
because of our daughter-maybe that's not necessary anymore." He gave me a fierce scowl, his face turning purple.
He was different from my grandfather on the mountain,
like a stranger, and I pulled back in fright.
    My grandmother grabbed his arm. He breathed heavily and stopped scolding me. Still, he kept a hard face. He
stood up from the chair and said, "We promised the government we would have no contact with you. We swore
that we didn't have a daughter in our lives. You and your
grandparents don't realize that your behavior could risk all
of our lives."
    He lowered his voice and continued, "We don't have
a daughter. We don't have any granddaughter either." He
turned back and left the room.
    My grandmother held my hands and said, "You look
like your mom when she was your age." Then she stood up
as well and quietly left the room.
    I didn't move from my seat. I heard the sound of the car
leaving and stared blankly at the door; their coldness had
stunned me. In my dreams they had drawn me into their arms and taken me to their cozy house. Why were they so
angry with me? Did they think I killed my mom? Did they
also see me as a little troublemaker?

    Our first meeting had lasted less than one hour. They
didn't come again.
    And so the orphanage turned out to be my second home. I
later learned that my grandparents had denied any connection to me and had taken away my photos, even my sister's
favorite. They claimed that their daughter and granddaughter had passed away ten years before. I decided to forget the
day I saw my mother's parents. I decided I had just one
grandfather and grandmother in my life. My pillow was
often soaked with tears; I longed to see my sister and play
our old games. The mountains gave us no food and bitter
cold, but I longed for them just the same.
    After the meeting with my mother's parents, men in
dark suits came to the orphanage several times and asked
me whether I remembered anything of my past and how
I got so lost. My answer was always the same: "I don't remember." I was afraid any comments I made about my sister or grandparents would cause hurt to them.
    I became one of the orphans, living at the orphanage
and attending the school. The director of the orphanage decided to take care of me. Sometimes she gazed at me for a
moment and patted my shoulder, but she never asked me
about my past. I began to thrive, in my new home. In fact,
it didn't take long for me to become the orphanage jumprope champion.
    "This is your schedule."
    Teacher Song-as the sharp-eyed woman ordered me to call her-threw a piece of paper onto the desk as soon as I
stepped into her office. Forgetting I had planned to thank
her for choosing me to join her dance group, I picked it
up with haste. She wore a white shirt and black pants over
her firm body. I looked around her office and saw that everything was in perfect order. In addition to Kim 11 Sung's
big picture in the center of the room, there were several
pictures of a woman dancing. I assumed it was Teacher
Song-it was hard to tell because of the thick makeup she
wore in the pictures-but her body seemed unchanged.
One bookcase was filled with books and the other with
medals of various sizes.

    "All the students get the same training. So don't say it's
too much."
    I was excited to learn something new. The schedule
promised I would be busy, though I couldn't understand
what a lot of the classes entailed.
    "Of course not. Thanks for giving me this chance." I
smiled at her, but she never smiled at me. Perhaps she didn't
show her gentle face to anyone.
    She asked, "Did you see your room?"
    "Yes," I said, nodding my head, holding the paper with
both hands. I had just come from my new room. It was for
20 girls, but I hadn't seen my roommates yet. The driver
who'd picked me up from the orphanage said they were in
the gymnasium all day and wouldn't be back