The Orphan Master's Son_ A Novel - Adam Johnson [77]
She sipped her drink and looked at him sideways. “Do you speak Japanese?”
“Enough,” he said. “Watashi no neko ga maigo ni narimashita?”
“What’s that mean?”
“Can you help me find my kitty-cat?”
Wanda gave him a look, then slid the paper into her back pocket.
It wasn’t until dinner that Jun Do got a good look at Dr. Song. Jun Do tried to guess how the talks had gone by the way Dr. Song poured margaritas for the ladies and nodded in approval at the spiciness of the salsa. The table was round and seated eight, with Pilar swooping in to add and remove dishes. She named everything on the lazy Susan at the center of the table, including flautas, mole, rellenos, and fix-it-yourself tacos: there was a tortilla warmer and dishes of cilantro, onion, diced tomatoes, shredded cabbage, Mexican cream, black beans, and tiger.
When Dr. Song tasted his tiger, a look of pure glee crossed his face. “Tell me this isn’t the best tiger you’ve had,” he said. “Tell me American tiger can measure up. Is the Korean tiger not fresher, more vital?”
Pilar brought another platter of meat. “Bueno,” she said. “Too bad there is no Mexican tiger.”
“You’ve outdone yourself, Pilar,” the Senator’s wife said. “Your best Tex-Mex yet.”
Dr. Song eyed them both with suspicion.
The Minister held up his taco. In English, he said, “Yes.”
Tommy ate his taco and nodded in approval. “The best meat I ever had,” he said, “was with me and some buddies on leave. We raved and raved about the dinner, eating until we were stuffed. We spoke so highly they brought out the chef, who said he would make us some to go, that it was no problem because he had another dog out back.”
“Oh, Tommy,” the Senator’s wife said.
“I was with a tribal militia once,” Wanda said. “They prepared a feast of fetal pigs, boiled in goat’s milk. That’s the most tender meat ever.”
“Enough,” the Senator’s wife said. “Another topic, please.”
The Senator said, “Anything but politics.”
“There is something I must know,” Jun Do said. “When I was upon the waters, in the Sea of Japan, we followed the broadcasts of two American girls. I never knew what became of them.”
“The rowers,” Wanda said.
“What an awful story,” the Senator’s wife said. “Such a waste.”
The Senator turned to Tommy. “They found the boat, right?”
“They found the boat but no girls,” Tommy said. “Wanda, you get any backchannel on what really went down?”
Wanda was leaning over her plate to eat, a stream of taco juice running down her hand. “I hear the boat was partly burned,” she said with her mouth full. “They found the blood of one girl but nothing of the other. A murder-suicide, perhaps.”
“It was the girl who rowed in the dark,” Jun Do said. “She used a flare gun.”
The table went silent.
“She rowed with her eyes closed,” Jun Do said. “That was her problem. That’s how she got off course.”
Tommy asked, “Why would you ask what happened to those girls if you already knew?”
“I didn’t know what happened,” Jun Do said. “I only knew how.”
“Tell us what happened to you,” the Senator’s wife asked Jun Do. “You said you’ve spent some time on the water. How did you come by such a wound?”
“It is too soon,” Dr. Song cautioned them. “The wound is still fresh. This story is as difficult to hear as it is for my friend to tell.” He turned to Jun Do. “Another time, yes.”
“It’s okay,” Jun Do said, “I can tell it,” and he proceeded to recount their encounter with the Americans in great detail, how the Junma was boarded, the way the soldiers moved with their rifles and how they became blackened with soot. He explained the shoes that he had found, and how they littered the decks, and Jun Do described how the soldiers smoked and sorted through the shoes after the boat was declared clear, how they began stealing souvenirs, including the most sacred portraits of the Dear and Great Leaders, and how a knife was then drawn and the Americans were forced to retreat. He mentioned the fire extinguisher. He told them how officers on the American ship drank coffee and watched. He described the cruise missile that flexed its biceps on a sailor