This Burns My Heart by Samuel Park Page B

his arm. He’d come up with the idea himself, independently of her, and she wondered if he suspected her wish of going to Seoul to join the Foreign Service. She’d always spoken vaguely about her dreams, and never discussed her specific plans with Min, for fear he’d feel used. But perhaps he knew. Perhaps he’d read her mind, when the thought first crossed her head, that day at the gymnasium bleachers. Perhaps her thoughts were obvious to others, and it was only out of politeness that they did not remark upon them, when they could read them as clearly as print on paper.
    “But marriage… it’s not something you bring up lightly,” said Soo-Ja’s father, suddenly at a loss for words. “No, there has to be a go-between, a matchmaker, someone to make formal introductions, to tell me about your family, and to tell
your
family about ours. Followed by me and Soo-Ja’s mother meeting your parents, and getting out our ancestral rolls to check which lineages you each come from. A marriage isn’t a union between two young people, as you seem to think. A marriage is a union between two families.”
    Soo-Ja and Min kept their heads bent down, facing the floor.
    “Abeoji, Min comes from a very good family,” said Soo-Ja.
    “My father manufactures textiles,” said Min. “Silk, cotton, rayon. He is an industrialist, like yourself.”
    Soo-Ja noticed that this did not seem to impress her father. In fact, it seemed to make him more concerned.
    “If your father owns a factory, then why aren’t you working for him?” he asked, furrowing his brow.
    “My father didn’t want me to. My brother works for him.”
    “Your older brother?”
    “No, I’m the oldest.”
    “You’re the oldest?” Soo-Ja’s father seemed startled by this. “If you’rethe oldest, then everything belongs to you—including the responsibility. Why would your father not trust you with the business?”
    “Well, he didn’t want me hanging around the factory,” said Min, his voice taking on a self-satisfied drawl. “The girls who work there kept flirting with me. These working-class girls see the owner’s son, start getting ideas. You have to be careful with women. I don’t have to worry about Soo-Ja, though, she and I are of the same class.”
    “How lucky for you,” said her father gruffly. “Now let me ask you, when these factory girls were—say, coming on to you—was there any girl in particular? Anyone particularly aggressive?”
    Min hesitated, his nostrils flaring a bit. “They’re obedient girls. But they’re trouble.”
    “Your brother doesn’t seem to have a problem ignoring them,” said Soo-Ja’s father, staring into Min’s eyes. “You didn’t answer my question.”
    “Abeoji, please stop grilling him,” Soo-Ja interjected. “Min is a guest in our home. Do you want him to leave and tell everyone about how you treat people?”
    Soo-Ja’s father suddenly banged on the floor with his hand. “Yes, spread the word. Tell everyone.”
    “Abeoji, please,” she said. “Give Min another chance to—”
    “You should go now,” her father cut in, looking at Min.
    Min remained on his spot, his head lowered to the elder.
    “I said you can go now,” Soo-Ja’s father repeated.
    Soo-Ja did not look up as Min stood up and, after bowing to her father, started making his way out of the room. He rushed out, as if the departure had been his idea, as if
he’d
been the one who’d decided they weren’t good enough for him.
    After Min was gone, Soo-Ja ran outside to the courtyard. It had started to rain, and Soo-Ja could feel the drops prickling against her, and the puddles on the ground making her steps slippery. Unsteady, she rested her hand against a pine tree, its battered branches almost breaking. She was on her way to her room, on the other side of the courtyard, whenher father—who had followed her—tried to get her back into the main house. They remained between rooms, at an impasse.
    “What makes him think that he can