The Door to Bitterness (27 page)

“They’re coming up the hill again,” Ernie said.

“Hold them back!” I shouted.

Ernie’s eyes widened. “You’re nuts!”

“Keep them back!”

“Okay, okay.”

Ernie turned and fired a wild shot over their heads.

Police shouted and sloshed in the mud.

“They gone?” I asked.

“Not gone. But they won’t move out from behind their vehicles for a while.”

I turned back to Ai-ja.

“Go ahead,” I said. “Say the words.”

She was confused at first, but then she seemed to understand. Haltingly, she started to speak.

She chanted the words of contrition. I fell to my knees in the mud. She continued to smile, speaking of all the sacrifices her mother had made and how the entire world had turned its back on her. When she finished, I performed the seibei as it was supposed to be performed—bowing solemnly again and again, taking my time.

When I was done, I stared up at her and her brother. She was crying, but still smiling. Her brother’s face was twisted, as if he couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. I looked away and stared at the photograph of their mother held between them.

“I’m sorry,” I said to it. “On behalf of my countrymen, I apologize. We were wrong, very wrong, to treat you and your son and your daughter as badly as we did. We should’ve taken care of you. It was our responsibility, but we didn’t live up to our responsibility. For that, I shall always be ashamed. And I humbly apologize.”

I bowed again.

I rose to my feet, and waited. Their heads were bowed.

“You don’t have to hang,” I said.

She looked at me, a quizzical expression on her face.

In answer, I pointed toward the cliffs behind us.

“The Yellow Sea,” I said.

For the first time since I had seen her that night in the King Club when she drugged my drink, the taut flesh of her face relaxed. The smiling woman dropped her smile. She looked at me, face calm, lips straight. She was radiantly beautiful.

Her brother looked back and forth between us, more confused than ever.

Facing me, she lowered herself to her knees and bowed her forehead three times into the mud. When she rose, she said, “Thank you.”

She smiled again. A real smile. Not one of madness. I savored it, like the beautiful face of the autumn moon.

She grabbed her brother’s hand, pulled him toward her, and hugged him. He embraced her.

Below us, doors slammed. Men shouted to one another. A half dozen sloshed through mud, heading uphill.

Ernie stood awkwardly, holding his .45, glancing back and forth between me and the smiling woman. “What are you going to do?” he asked.

“They’ll decide,” I said.

Ai-ja nodded to Ernie and whispered a little thank you.

Holding her brother’s hand, she stepped toward me and put her hand on my shoulder, stretched to her full height and kissed me gently on the cheek. I felt the lingering softness of her lips. She and her brother walked away from us. Away from the KNPs.

Hand in hand, sister and brother walked toward the cliffs overlooking the rocks below. The storm clouds had cleared once again, and the Chusok moon shone brightly in the starry sky.

They paused. Yun Ai-ja and her brother gazed off into the distance. They seemed to take a deep breath. Hands joined, they stepped over the edge.

“A
re you Sueño, George, no middle initial, on temporary assignment to the Criminal Investigation Detachment under the provisions of Eighth Army Supplement to Army Regulation 250-17, paragraph five?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And are you aware of your rights under the Uniform Code of Military Justice while being charged with misappropriation of government property in conjunction with a Report of Survey?”

“Yes, sir. I am.”

“And was the weapon in question lost in the line of duty?”

“No, sir.”

“And has the weapon been recovered?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Intact and in serviceable condition?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Therefore we can waive replacement charges.”

His name was Major Wardman, a quartermaster officer assigned as the disinterested party to conduct a Report of Survey concerning my lost .45. He had broad shoulders and a big square head, and the collar of his dress green shirt was one size too small. As he leaned over the paperwork, he licked his lips and squinted, filling in each block of the carbon-copied forms with meticulously printed block letters.

“However,” Major Wardman continued, “you are responsible for the misappropriation of the government property and its subsequent use in multiple felonies. How do you plead?”

“Guilty.”

“Do you waive court-martial jurisdiction?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you accept punishment as outlined under the provisions of Article 15 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice? To wit: Thirty days confinement to quarters, loss of one month’s pay, and extra duty for thirty days to run concurrently with previously mentioned confinement.”

“I do, sir.”

“Sign here.”

I scribbled my name.

“In the future,” he said, “watch the drinking.”