The Orphan Master's Son_ A Novel - Adam Johnson [155]
“Commander Ga took a step toward me, and I took a step back.
“Don’t do this, I said.
“That’s right, that’s exactly what you say. Commander Ga had a strange light in his eyes. But he doesn’t listen, that’s the point. He’s stronger than you are, and he keeps coming.
“Who keeps coming?
“Who? Ga asked, then gave a smile. Him.
“I began moving backward. Please, I said. Please, there’s no need for this.
“Yes, Commander Ga said. Yes, you’re resisting, you’re doing everything to keep it from happening, it’s clear you don’t want it, that’s why I like you, that’s why I’m teaching you the test. But what if it’s going to happen anyway? What if your words mean nothing to him? What if when you fight him, he fights harder?
“Commander Ga closed on me, and I took a swing. It was a weak punch. I was scared to really hit him. Ga batted my fist to the side, then nailed me with a crisp jab. What if you fight all the way, he asked, but it’s just going to happen? What does that make you?
“I landed a swift leg kick that made Commander Ga lose his footing, and excitement crossed his face. Ga flashed a high kick that came so fast it swiveled my head—I’d never seen a kick so fast.
“This isn’t going to happen, I said. I’m not going to let it happen.
“That’s why I chose you. Ga doled a searing left kick to my midsection, and I could feel my liver bruise over. Of course you’re going to give it your all, of course you’re going to struggle with all your might. You don’t know how I respect you. You’re the only one, in all this time, that’s really fought back, you’re the only one who knows me, who really understands me. I glanced down and saw that the Commander was aroused, his prick fiercely curving. Still, there was a sweet, childlike smile on his face. I’m about to show my soul, the big scar on my soul, Ga said, advancing upon me, his hips charging for a kick. It will hurt—I won’t lie to you, it’s never going to stop hurting, really. But think of it—soon we’ll both have the same scar. Soon, we’ll be like brothers that way.
“I backed away to his right, until I was under the droplight that illuminated the chamber. With a jumpkick, my foot swept through the bulb, and in the flash, a mist of glass hung frozen in the air. Then it was dark. I could hear Commander Ga shuffling. That’s how people move when they’re not used to the dark.”
“And then what happened?” Buc asked.
“Then I went to work,” Ga answered.
Sun Moon spent that evening in the bedroom. Commander Ga made the children cold noodles for dinner, which the boy and the girl kept dangling above Brando’s nose so they could witness the dog’s powerful teeth snapping them down. Only when the dishes were cleared did Sun Moon emerge in her bathrobe, puffy-faced, smoking. She told the children it was time to sleep, then spoke to Ga.
“I must see this American movie,” she said. “The one that’s supposed to be the best.”
That night, the children slept with the dog on a pallet at the foot of the bed, and when Pyongyang went black, they lay side by side on the bed and inserted Casablanca into the laptop. The battery indicator said they had ninety minutes, so there would be no stopping.
Right away, she shook her head at the primitive nature of black-and-white photography.
He translated on the fly for her, converting the English to Korean as fast as he could, and when the words wouldn’t come, he simply had to move his fingers, and they transcribed the lines.
For a while, her face was sour. She criticized the movie for moving too quickly. She labeled everyone in it an elite, drinking all day in fancy clothes. “Where are the common people?” she asked. “With real problems?” She laughed at the premise of a “letter of transit” that allowed anyone who possessed it to escape. “There is no magic letter that gets you out.”
She told him to stop the movie. He wouldn’t. But it was giving her a headache.
“I cannot tell what this movie glorifies,” she said. “And when will the hero make his appearance? If no one breaks into song soon, I am going to bed.”
“Shh,” he said