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of him while he watched. I wanted to say no, but I had just seen how they’d beaten Jin-sook. I was terrified so I did what he said. I stood there naked and helpless like a baby. I shook with fear. Then he made me undress him. I had to start with his boots—those polished, clean boots that he tied so tight. I had to unbutton his shirt, then his trousers. He made me kneel and take off his undergarments as he stood over me, naked. He told me to look at him. He thought I would be impressed. I had never seen a naked man before. I had only imagined what they were like. I desperately wanted to run away, back to the hills behind our farm where Soo-hee and I used to run in the aspen trees.”
    She locks her hands into a single fist and places them on top of the table. Her eyes never leave me. “Then he touched me. Everywhere. He ran his hands over my hair, my face, my neck, my breasts, my stomach, my legs, my genitals. He pushed me down and forced himself inside me. He pierced me and made me bleed. He pushed over and over again. Each thrust hurt more than the previous one. I cannot describe the pain. It was worse than pain. It was pain and terror and humiliation and shame all together. I wanted to die. I tried to resist but when I did, he just laughed at me. He was a strong man. I was a girl. And he was the Japanese Colonel.”
    She clenches her fingers so hard I think they might break. The pain on her face never eases. She continues. “But what made the Colonel so cruel was that as he raped me he made me stare into his eyes. When I shut them, he ordered me to keep them open. ‘Look at me, girl,’ he ordered. ‘Keep your eyes open and look at me!’ So I looked into his eyes as he raped me. Can you imagine how humiliating that was? Can you?”
    “No, ma’am,” I answer, “I can’t.”
    “He did not use a condom,” she says. “He didn’t have to. I was a virgin and he was the first to rape me. So, when he orgasmed I felt his slime crawl inside every cell of my body like maggots. I could feel it spoil me, turn me rotten. And I knew he would always be in me. Always.
    “Do you know what the worst part of it was?”
    “I’m sorry,” I say, “I don’t.”
    “The worst part is I thought it was my fault. I had always been so proud and stubborn and sure of myself. But when the Colonel raped me, I lost everything. I could only think of my grandparents, my mother and father and Soo-hee. I was overcome with shame but I did nothing wrong, nothing wrong. It doesn’t make sense, does it?”
    “No,” I answer, “it doesn’t make any sense at all.”
    She places her hands in two curves on the low table and turns to the purple flower in the glass bowl. “Do you know what I did when it was over, when he was done with me and told me to leave?”
    “No, ma’am.”
    “I bowed and thanked him,” she says in a whisper. “I don’t know why I did that. I wanted to spit on him, scream at him, tell him how much I hated him and all the Japanese. But I had to do the right thing, like Mother said. So I thanked him. It seemed to please him that I did.”
    We’re silent for a long time. My birth-grandmother, who earlier was so proud, now looks completely humiliated. I don’t know what to say. I’d never met anyone who’d been raped before. I never even got close to it. Of course, sometimes I get nervous when I’m alone on the street at night or when there’s a sketchy-looking guy in a hallway. But I never knew how devastating rape could be. Until now.
    Eventually, the pain in her face goes away and she straightens up. “Would you like some bori cha, Ja-young?” she asks.
    “Bori cha? You mentioned it in your story. I don’t know what it is.”
    She frowns. “Americans think all Koreans drink the same tea as the Chinese and Japanese. However many traditional Koreans, like me, prefer bori cha. It is roasted barley tea. You must have some.”
    “Sure,” I say. “Thank you.”
    She puts a pot on the stove and tosses in a