The Orphan Master's Son_ A Novel - Adam Johnson [134]
Commander Ga pulled up before the house. The dust cloud that had been trailing them now caught up, ghostly in the headlights and the front door they illuminated. Sun Moon stared at this door with uncertainty, trepidation.
“Is this a dream?” Sun Moon asked. “Tell me it’s only a movie I’m in.” But enough of your moods, the two of you! It’s time for sleep. Off to bed, now …
Oh, Sun Moon, our heart never stops going out to you!
Let us all repeat together: We miss you, Sun Moon!
Finally, citizens, a warning that tomorrow’s installment contains an adult situation, so protect the ears of our littlest citizens as the actress Sun Moon decides whether she will open herself fully to her new husband Commander Ga, as is required by law of a wife, or whether she will make a misguided declaration of chastity.
Remember, female citizens, however admirable it may be to remain chaste to a missing husband, such a sense of duty is misplaced. Whenever a loved one disappears, there is bound to be a lingering hurt. The Americans have the saying “Time heals all wounds.” But this is not true. Experiments have shown that healing is hastened only by self-criticism sessions, the inspirational tracts of Kim Jong Il, and replacement persons. So when the Dear Leader gives you a new husband, give yourself to him. Still: We love you, Sun Moon!
Again: We love you, Sun Moon!
Show your vigor, citizens.
Repeat: We admire you, Sun Moon!
Yes, citizens, that’s better.
Louder: We emulate your sacrifice, Sun Moon!
Let the Great Leader Kim Il Sung himself hear you in heaven!
All together: We will bathe in the blood of the Americans who came to our great nation to hurt you!
But we get ahead of ourselves. That is for a future episode.
HOME FROM the Dear Leader’s party, Commander Ga studied Sun Moon’s evening routine. First, she lit an oil lantern, the kind they place on the beaches of Cheju so night fishermen can navigate their skiffs. She let the dog inside, then checked the bedroom to see that the children were asleep. When she did, she left the doors open for the first time. Inside, by the glow of her lamp, he saw a low mattress and rolled ox-hair mats.
In the dark kitchen, he pulled a bottle of Ryoksong from the cool place under the sink. The beer was good, and the bottle soothed his stiffening hand. He didn’t want to see what his face looked like. She inspected his knuckles, a little fan of yellow beginning to show.
“I have nursed many broken hands,” she said. “This is only a sprain.”
“You think that driver was okay? It looked like I broke his nose.”
She shrugged. “You have chosen to impersonate a man dedicated to violence,” she said. “These things happen.”
“You’ve got it backward,” he answered. “Your husband chose me.”
“Does it matter? You’re him now, aren’t you? Commander Ga Chol Chun—is that what I should call you?”
“Look at how your children hide their eyes, how they’re afraid to move. I don’t want to be the man who taught them that.”
“Tell me, then. What should I call you?”
He shook his head.
Her face agreed it was a difficult problem.
The lamp’s light cast shadows that gave form to her body. She leaned against the counter and stared at the cabinets as if she were seeing the contents inside. But really she was looking the other way, into herself.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said.
“That woman,” she said. “I haven’t been able to get her out of my head.”
He’d thought, by the look on her face, that she was somehow blaming herself for things, which was something the Captain said his wife always did. But the moment she mentioned that woman, he knew exactly what Sun Moon was talking about.
“That was foolish, that talk about lobotomies,” he said. “There is no such prison. People start rumors like that out of fear, out of not knowing.”
He took a drink of beer. He opened and closed