Chapter 11 - Onggi

Yi Jeong exhaled slowly and squeezed his eyes shut at the first tremor of a migraine, a cur biding its time at the base of his skull. The migraine shared rent with Hae-Ryeon's maternal haranguing, exchanging ways to make Yi Jeong more miserable. He reached to find a memory that was smooth and supple so that he could re-braid his frayed nerves. Behind the dull drumming of pain, he saw a hill of cool white snow, her face smirking, eyelashes lifted towards the mountain and laughing. His arms were around Ga Eul. He remember the sickening dread seconds before a careless snowboarder almost pummeled her. He felt the fear, cold in his gut, her eyes were closed, but then her thick eyelashes fluttered open and she laughed like she had won the lottery. Yi Jeong let the memory sooth him before the all the discoveries of the day flung themselves, unwelcomed, in his conscience.

The financial problems at Woo Song were worse than he imagined. For nearly ten years, Woo Song tittered at the edge of financial failure, they carried more debt than the museum could possibly raise or produce in the future. The unassailable armada of the So Trust was a mirage, hiding the leaky rowboat that Hyun Sub and Ok Gyun were desperately patching. Yi Jeong saw through all the boisterous promises for the future. The So Trust was tightening its belt, even as Ok Gyun's birthday celebration was under way. The grey faced men of the board only nodded along to Hyun Sub's flashy presentation, which spoke volumes about the lack of funds by its very omission. Bread and circus, Yi Jeong thought, as his mouth coated with a sour taste. He was going to be the captain of a ship that was already underwater.

His mother and Hyun Sub avoided the subject of money like a contact disease. The So wealth was already comfortably secured before Hyun Sub was born and his mother's family had money older than the republic of Korea, his parents' hands never dirtied with the thought of, the distribution of, or the creation of money. Hae-Ryeon probably never counted out change in her life; the immense Park wealth could be seen in Hae-Ryeon's precise social graces, her thick silk blouses spun from silkworms that probably had more pedigree than Jian Di, and the kind of deep malaise only the truly indolent understood. He was the third generation, twice removed from the making of money. When he was younger, he thought that money was a renewable resource, like the sun or water.

He sat in his studio, the thick proposal that Chae Yong-Joon had presented ripped into five different sections, each inch of paper was thickly underlined and cross referenced with colored tabs. Staring dumbly at the same chart that had puzzled him at the meeting, Yi Jeong's mind saw numbers float in front of his eyes and then slipped away like a fish. No amount of corporate finance at INSEAD prepared him for this. He felt like he was five years old again, trapped in the box hedge maze of his grandfather's house. It simply didn't add up; the attendance at Woo Song had only increased in the last decade, their fund raising activities had kept pace with all the other museums in Korea. Why the leaky boat? Why the dire financial forecast?

Yi Jeong remembered the great weight of the So Trust on his shoulder as soon as he turned ten years old and Grandfather Ok Gyun determined that his older brother lacked the artistry and skill to be the face of the family. Maybe it was lucky that Yi Hyun was forced out of the family. He made a good living as the owner of a cafe, freed from familial obligation, and living with Eun Chae. He was happy. Yi Jeong winced. For more times that Yi Jeong liked to admit, he envied his brother. After all, he had gotten to marry the woman he loved; Hae-Ryeon didn't have to explain to him that all women who married into the So family were doomed.

He slid down in his chair and his eyes landed on the ceramic vase that Woo Bin and he used as a bet over for a girl's number. The vase sat comfortably in the neighborhood of ten million won; it didn't look markedly different than factory produced items, but it was the slight imperfections of hand work that added up to a perfect whole. As his chin hit his chest, Yi Jeong forgot his admiration and focused on the possible returns. The vase looked like two weeks of operation costs at Woo Song. How many similar pieces could he unload onto the market?

Chae Yong Joon's plan was a good plan, he targeted the weakest part of the Woo Song portfolio, suggesting that they sell the weaker currency bonds and unload the devaluing Japanese stocks. Then, he felt a small cut of injury, inflamed by slights and misinformation, kindled into a burst of anger. Yi Jeong felt hot, furious that his father never let on that the foundation was in dire straits. He seethed that his grandfather relied on a wet behind the years Chae Yong Joon to carry out his plans. Yi Jeong grabbed his leather jacket and metro pass. He needed air.

The open air onggi market was frigid in November. The Chae women, Ga Eul and her mother, Shin-Hye, exhaled little plumes of white air vapors. They passed by a small fire with chestnuts snapping at the heat on their metal grate bed. The toasted smell of roasting nuts filled Shin-Hye's nostrils and her stomach reminded her that lunch was five hours ago. The market laid wide, made of narrow warrens, built by clay vessels of every shape and hue; they created a strange low city. The people looked like giants, walking among the little city's walls; the denizens of this clay city were the inscrutable housewives, who played their interest in each household item like a high stakes poker game. Every so often, a merchant screeched a clearance special, but mostly the market was full of experts that knew exactly what they wanted and who to get it from. The housewives of Seoul didn't mince words lightly when it came to the onggi pot. Three jars of onggi, almost chest high, could provide an entire family a winter's worth of preserved vegetables. Kimchi could not be taken lightly. Shin-Hye saw her daughter bargaining with the ahjussi, but she could hear from Ga Eul's voice that she was one minute away from kicking the onggi merchant somewhere painful. The flicks of spittle on the man's chin collected into a rivulet, Ga Eul grimaced and shot back with a lower price—Shin-Hye hurried over—the man was one more violent outburst from a rainstorm of spit. Her daughter hated bargaining, but it was polite to bargain with the merchant. It showed them that you weren't soft.

Shin-Hye, an energetic woman in her fifties with a permanent that was more helmet than hair, treasured the time with her only child. Ga Eul puzzled her. Her daughter day dreamed about soul mates during high school, but Shin-Hye thought that puberty and all its excess would bring a sense of girly wisdom. Instead, as Ga Eul got prettier, she might as well have gotten better at science for all the womanly wisdom she acquired. Then for a few months, her daughter had a crush that she didn't want to talk about. When that crush ended, Ga Eul's romantic yearnings seem to take on a pragmatic finish.

After college, she thought that Ga Eul would be more like the girls of her generation when she secured her prestigious teaching job. After all, Ga Eul was a government worker who looked she could be a fresh faced catalogue model, a model wife of every red-blooded Seoul man. Shin-Hye had daydreamed about a string of adorable suitors that her daughter would bring home, and she would turn her gimlet eye on these men if they dared to be step out of line.

Instead, Shin-Hye had to cajole her friends for suitable sons, her family for likely connections; she harangued her husband for co workers. Ga Eul politely went out with every one, but Shin-Hye knew that her daughter went through the motions without any real intention. Up until a year ago, Shin-Hye feared that Ga Eul would be a leftover woman. Her daughter enjoyed her work like other girls would enjoy trips to a shaved ice parlor; this only prompted Shin-Hye to worry more that her little one's happiness could be stifled if she never found love or family. Then Ga Eul met Anders, and to Shin-Hye's own great surprise, she liked foreigner; he was handsome like many westerners, but that wasn't the reason. Shin-Hye caught Ga Eul in one of her shy moods with Anders, a secretive expression that was meant for no one else than her boyfriend. This made Shin-Hye's stop in surprise, she recognized that face, it was the same look on her face twenty-six years ago when she first saw Ga Eul's father.

"Omoni," Ga Eul was saying.

"Sorry, I wasn't listening." Shin-Hye blinked back into the present.

"I finally picked out my bridesmaid dress today."

"Really," Shin-Hye smiled, "what does it look like?"

"Hmm, I don't think you would like it, but Jian Di does." Ga Eul paused at new stall, filled with heavy white porcelain, impractical for pickling vegetables.

"Well, whatever Jian Di wants. After all this planning, Ga Eul, does it make you think about weddings in the future?"

Ga Eul grimaced. She could feel her mother's subtlety from a mile away.

"It's nice to help Jian Di because she's so busy with her residency." Ga Eul shrugged. "I can't complain about trying on a few more dresses when she's operating on children."

"But my dear, it's not like you're not busy too." Shin-Hye pressed on. "But, doesn't this wedding make you think about, maybe, your own?"

"Aiishiii omoni! Why do you keep bringing that up? I told you, I don't know if I want to get married." Ga Eul groaned and walked to the next stall.

Shin-Hye remembered when Geum Jian Di attended the Shinwha academy. Her daughter's face puckered with bitterness when she talked about a group of "rich jerks" who bullied Jian Di with pranks and public shaming. Shin-Hye noted wistfully that Ga Eul didn't seem to have a fascination with marrying a rich husband, like the daughters of other mothers, soybean paste girls. After all their money went towards designer clothing and purses, all they could afford to eat was soybean paste. No, her daughter was not that kind of a girl.

When Ga Eul was born, she was a serious baby that would only laugh when her father blew out his cheeks like a puffer fish. Shin-Hye's felt the corners of her mouth tug back at the image. She glanced at Ga Eul, who was stood at the edge of a stall, investigating a huge onggi with the design of a fish on the side. Her husband was a stiff man around everyone except his infant daughter. When Ga Eul grew up, he receded more into his shell as she became more and more independent. He distanced himself from his daughter the same way he distanced himself from everyone else. But for a few brief years, Shin-Hye's memories of Ga Eul and her father were warm, as cozy as thick woolen mittens.

Ga Eul stomped around the next stall, fuming that her mother had all but asked for a wedding date. Truthfully, she did not know exactly know what was going to happen in the next few months with Anders. He would be finished with defending his dissertation in December, right around the time of Jian Di's wedding to Jun Pyo. They had avoided the subject, dancing around its implications, and part of Ga Eul knew that whatever happened in December was likely to determine the rest of her relationship with Anders. She dreaded it. There was always a lingering voice in the back of her head that wished he was Korean, because as much as he loved Seoul, his people and his home would always be Sweden. She didn't want to push him away just because she doubted that he would be happy. She licked her lips and felt the chapped skin. She didn't know what to do.

"Ga Eul."

Shocked, she bit down on her lip and felt the air punched out of her chest. She contemplated running back to the car. No, she was an adult. She had to turned around.

A cloud of cold air hid Yi Jeong's face for a second. But there was no mistaking the timber of his voice. Yi Jeong smiled crookedly at her and rocked forward. The air froze around them for the short second that he hungrily drank her in. Her nose was bright pink, her ears tipped a solid dark rose, and she looked delightfully mad to see him. He hadn't felt this happy in weeks.

"What are you doing here?" She blurted out and immediately fixed her gaze somewhere near Yi Jeong's head. No one would call it eye contact.

"I was going to ask you the same thing."

"Are you here to make fun of these people?" She suddenly demanded. "Just because they don't have the luxury of a studio or hours of time on their hands doesn't mean that the work they do isn't important."

Yi Jeong rolled his shoulders, and hopped up and down to return the blood to his feet. He wore thin sneakers and thought about the pair of snug boots he left in his apartment. Ga Eul was like a porcupine, splinters armed and positioned, so he leaned in with his most charming smile.

"Ga Eul, I didn't come for a lecture on the workers of Korea." He suppressed a grin when he saw her wince. "Believe it or not, I thought that I could get some ideas from this market."

"Really."

"Yeah, I've been in a slump recently." He looked down at the jar shaped like a gourd and missed Ga Eul's immediate concern. "Something isn't right with me. Usually, the work comes so naturally to me." By the time he turned back to Ga Eul's face, she changed her expression to be as bland as white rice.

"You have a potter's block."

Yi Jeong laughed and felt the cold air draw deep into his lungs. It had been the first time in hours that something felt light enough to laugh about. Something extraordinary happened though. Ga Eul joined in and soon they were both bent at the waist, laughing at the dumbest joke in the world.

"Ga Eul, who is your friend?" Shin-Hye tapped her daughter on the elbow.

"Oh sorry mother!" Ga Eul blanched. "This is So Yi Jeong, a friend of Jian Di's from Shinhwa."

Yi Jeong frowned at the distant designation that Ga Eul gave him.

"Mrs. Chae," he bowed. "While it is true that I knew Jian Di first, I also consider myself to be friends with Ga Eul." He grinned when he saw Ga Eul narrow her eyes.

Shin-Hye bowed back and couldn't suppress her smile at the young man's charm. She had never seen a boy so handsome before. His shoulders spread broad in his leather jacket and with the long hair, which Shin-Hye did not care for, this Yi Jeong looked like a modern day sageuk hero. She noticed that while Ga Eul was normally effusive about her friends, her daughter was strangely silent on the subject of Yi Jeong.

"So Yi Jeong." Shin-Hye spelled out the name. "Ga Eul has talked about you before."

"No, that was another So Yi Jeong." Ga Eul cut in.

"Really? It's not a very common name, dear daughter."

Yi Jeong saw the slow blush creeping up Ga Eul's neck and decided for this night only, he would let her off the hook.

"Mrs. Chae," he cranked up the dimple in his right cheek, "Have you eaten? I saw a little food shop around the corner and we can get out of the cold for a while."

"What a good idea, Yi Jeong!" Shin-Hye smiled, "That is Ga Eul's favorite snack shop!"

Inside the little steamy shop, Yi Jeong felt like a cheshire cat. He hurried around the little plastic table and pulled out the chairs for both Chae women and leaned in close to Ga Eul as she sat down. Shin-Hye chatted away about her errands of the day and Yi Jeong was free to look at Ga Eul as she pretended to concentrate on the little chalkboard of today's specials.

"Ga Eul," his voice bright, "what is your favorite dish here?"

"Not porridge," which prompted a laugh from both Yi Jeong and Shin-Hye. Ga Eul felt her body relax a little. After all, her mother was here. Nothing could really happen with Yi Jeong that would make her feel awkward. The little shop's owner waited patiently by their table.

"I think," She looked at the tower of bamboo steamers, great chimney stacks of hot air escaped the open lids. The aroma filled the shop and Ga Eul heard her stomach, "Definitely jokbal."

"You want to eat pigs feet?" This did not match Yi Joeng's impression of a delicate Ga Eul. She nodded adamantly.

"And two bottles of soju." Shin-Hye smirked at her daughter's face. "You ordered the pig's feet and you can't eat jokbal without soju. Besides, you're driving back."

When the food arrived, Ga Eul smiled to herself as Yi Jeong poked gingerly at the plate of glistening pork feet. She quickly wrapped an ample slices in crisp lettuce and handed it to him. In the dim light of the restaurant, Yi Jeong didn't miss the challenging glint in her eyes. She was testing him.

Before a beat passed, he place the entire bundle into his mouth and chewed, his eyes never leaving hers in their game of silent chicken. When he didn't have too much time to intellectualize the food, he realized that jokbal was actually delicious. The rich fatty meat had sugar and soy in balance, the crisp lettuce leaves and condiments help cut the rich flavor to definition. The more he chewed, the more he marveled at how simple, but incredibly fulfilling this kind of food was. He smiled through a mouthful of jokbal, with true enjoyment, and Ga Eul laughed at his expression and quickly made him another jokbal wrap. Her mother, Shin-Hye, had managed to push a whole pile of bindaebyeong onto his plate when he wasn't looking. She shushed him when he nodded a quick thank you.

"Yi Jeong, I know it's the style for young men to be skinny, but I think with your frame, you could gain a few pounds." Shin-Hye gazed at him warmly. "Isn't the jokbal here good? I think it's a family recipe because I don't think it tastes like this anywhere else in Seoul. That's why Ga Eul likes this place. Girls like to eat jokbal because all the collagen keeps their skin pretty."

"Ga Eul doesn't need it." Yi Jeong grinned back at Shin-Hye.

"Aigoo," Shin-Hye fake swatted him, "This sweet mouth is going to get you into so many problems with women. How many girlfriends do you have?"

Yi Jeong poured Shin-Hye another glass of soju, his wrist tipped perfectly, and Shin-Hye sipped and thanked him.

"Well Omoni," he smiled lopsided at Ga Eul's mother, "I haven't had a girlfriend for a long time. I want to find one woman. Just the one that's right for me."

Ga Eul silently pick up another piece of lettuce and concentrated on her jokbal wrap like it was a complicated puzzle. Yi Jeong hesitated, but he knew that he would regret it if he didn't take this opportunity to pick Shin-Hye's brain about her daughter.

"I have this friend I'm interested in."

"Well, that's good." Shin-Hye felt the warmth of the soju spreading. "All great love starts with friendship."

"Was that what happened with you and Ga Eul's father?"

Shin-Hye looked at Ga Eul, tracing an elaborate pattern with her soy sauce on her empty plate. Her daughter seemed lost in thought and looked like she wasn't paying any attention to her conversation with Yi Jeong.

"Ga Eul's father is a writer."

"Oh, I didn't know that."

"He's a writer at heart. It's very difficult to make a living as a writer and support a family, which is why he also works for the Shinhwa group."

"I guess not everyone can be an artist." Yi Jeong echoed Ga Eul's words from months earlier. He glanced at Ga Eul, her mouth held in a stiff line. She caught his glance and didn't flinch back. Yi Jeong gestured with the bottle, and she gratefully took a glass from him.

"He was in my poetry class in college and he wrote a poem about love that completely floored me." Shin-Hye's eyes glazed with nostalgia and soju. "He talked about how easy it was to love an idea, but how difficult it was to love a real person."

"What do you mean?"

"Yi Jeong," Shin-Hye placed another pancake onto his plate. "you are young, but even you know that people fall in love with idea of love before they know a person."

"Do you think it happens very often?" Yi Jeong hesitated. "That you love an idea more than the person?"

"Yi Jeong, when you fall in love, you have to love everything about that person. Not just the parts that you like. Ideas are simple, but people, people are complicated."

"My mother said something like that to me once." Yi Jeong tapped his glass absently.

"How is your mother?" Ga Eul suddenly wanted to know.

"Uh." Yi Jeong felt thrown. Ga Eul didn't look mean, her eyes were soft and inquiring. He took a deep breath and felt Shin-Hye's eyes. "She's doing better. Thank you for asking."

"She must be proud to have a handsome son like you."

Yi Jeong suddenly laughed. "If there's one thing true about my mother, it's that she's proud."

Shin-Hye chuckled. "Mothers and sons. That's a special relationship. I always wished that Ga Eul had a brother so that I could have a little boy to brag about and to spoil. With a son like you, I'd be a hot air balloon."

"Mom!" Ga Eul tapped her glass disapprovingly. "He doesn't need a bigger head. I'm sorry if this is embarrassing, Yi Jeong."

"Ga Eul," Shin-Hye giggled, now fully flushed with soju, "If this is the same Yi Jeong that I remember you talking about during high school, I don't think I'm exaggerating at all. World famous artist right?"

"Omoni," Yi Joeng fought to keep the smile from his face. "I haven't had an exhibition in a long time since I've been studying in Sweden. I am an artist, but it remains to be seen if I'm really any good."

"Sweden, that's so funny. Did you know that Ga Eul met her boyfriend in Sweden?"

"Yes, I think I did know that."

"How strange. Not many Koreans go to Sweden, but both of you have been." Shin-Hye murmured to herself, trying to focus on her cell phone's clock which said that it was nearly midnight. She did not noticed the glance that Yi Jeong threw to Ga Eul, who sat in stubborn ignorance. He snuck a look, memorizing color, light, and graceful curves. Ga Eul slid over to Shin-Hye's side of the table.

"Mom," Ga Eul rubbed her hand, "Let's get the check. Remember I have an early morning meeting. Let's go before I get too sleepy."

"Ga Eul," Yi Jeong said after he returned with the bill, "Do you think you could give me a lift home? I took public transportation here."

"Of course." Ga Eul held out her hand, Shin-Hye accepted and leaned against her daughter. She shuddered.

"It's so cold outside Ga Eul."

"Ga Eul," Yi Jeong thought of a solution. "Where is your car? Let me drive it here and pick you and your mother up."

Ga Eul nodded gratefully, handing him the keys and quickly told him where the car was parked. When he arrived after a few minutes, Ga Eul opened the back door and Shin-Hye shuffled into sedan.

"We still need an onggi, little one."

"Yes Mom." Ga Eul walked around to the driver's side and raised her eyebrows when it looked like Yi Jeong wasn't about to get out of the seat.

"Ga Eul," Yi Jeong pleaded, "I haven't driven in months. Do you think you can allow me to drive you back?"

Ga Eul quirked the side of her mouth, she couldn't resist Yi Jeong when he was like a little kid asking for a favor.

"Araso."

After they turned onto the expressway towards Yi Jeong's house, Shin-Hye had fallen asleep within a matter of minutes. Yi Jeong looked at Ga Eul's profile, bathed in the yellow light of the highway. She seemed occupied and fiddled with the radio station until she found a song she liked. It was an old American song, but the Korean singer sang the torch song with an elegant reserve that made the music more haunting.

Oh, when your heart's on fire/ You must realize/ Smoke gets in your eyes

Yi Jeong bit his lip hard. He knew why Ga Eul had put on this song.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who is reading and leaving such wonderfully detailed comments. I read them all and appreciate the input. Sorry, there's more mystery with chapter 12, I can only give you the title :)

Chapter 12 – Three Time