Read Online The Door to Bitterness by Martin Limon - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Martin Limon
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girl. Work at Olympos.”
This woman who called herself Suk-ja was no idiot. She’d not only figured out who we were, but why we had ventured into the Yellow House. I stepped back from the doorway and glanced up at the brightly lit window of House Number 59. Inside, the girls sat in various states of undress, heads hanging down or cocked to the side, staring listlessly at the parade of furtive men outside.
Suk-ja, however, missed nothing.
“I help,” she said.
“How can you help?” Ernie asked.
“I hear something today. All woman naked, they talk too much.”
“What do you mean ‘all women naked?’”
“At bathhouse, pyongsin-ah.” Retard. In mock-reproach, Suk-ja slapped Ernie on the forearm. “Woman take shower, woman talk. One woman, she work at House Number Seventeen. She complain taaksan about man come this afternoon. He no look for woman, he look for room.”
Ernie stared at her, waiting.
“He only want one room, this woman say. No like any other. Got to have window. Got to be high-up. Other things too, but she don’t know all. Mama-san ask him why he care about room so much but he get angry.”
“Is he an American?” I asked.
“Yeah. GI. But hair too long. Here and here.”
She pinched the back of her neck and her sideburns. The guy needed a trim. If he was a GI, he hadn’t stood inspection for a while.
“So why was this woman gossiping about him?” Ernie asked.
“Huh?”
“Talk. Why did she talk about him?”
“Oh. Because she get mad. He take her room, but then choose another girl to stay there with him. She no like. She want to get clean clothes take to bathhouse, but this man he busy all time with other girl. Too much boom boom. Mama-san say she no can go in, maybe he get taaksan angry.”
“Was this guy wearing a suit like us?” I asked.
“I don’t know. She no say.”
“What’s this woman’s name?”
“I don’t know. But she new. That’s why she got room top floor.” Suk-ja raised a hand above her head. “Away from customer.”
“Where’s House Number Seventeen?” Ernie asked.
“I show you.”
“No. Just tell us.”
Before Ernie could grab her, Suk-ja scurried away, back into House Number 59. She glanced over her shoulder and said, “Chom kan man.” Just a moment.
“Looks like she’s going with us,” Ernie said.
I nodded.
In a few minutes, Suk-ja emerged, wearing blue jeans and sneakers and a pullover wool sweater. Her hair was tied back in a tight ponytail. But what was most surprising was that she had slipped on a pair of black, horn-rimmed glasses that looked extremely attractive on the smooth oval of her unblemished face. Had she been carrying a book and a slide rule, I would’ve sworn she was a college girl.
“Bali,” she said. Hurry.
We trotted after her through a narrow, fog-filled alley. Ernie kept his hand on the hilt of his .45. I kept my eyes on shadows, suspicious, waiting for one to move.
* * *
Ernie held Suk-ja back.
We stood in the mouth of an alley gazing up at House Number 17. It was a ramshackle gray building made of rotted wood planks broken out in pustules of peeled paint. The fog hovered low to the damp, flagstone-covered lane. Behind the brightly lit plate glass window on the first floor a few women shuffled about. They seemed to be older, some slightly overweight. One wore pajamas.
“Kuji,” Suk-ja said.
I’d learned the word on the streets, not in my Korean language class. Some would translate it as “dirty,” but that wasn’t quite right. “Squalid” came closer. In brothels, as in everything else in human life, there are hierarchies of quality.
Ernie caught my attention and motioned with his eyes. Most of House Number 17 was dark. But on the third floor, a dim light shone.
Ernie and I’d discussed it on the way over here. This guy Suk-ja had heard about in the bathhouse could be a GI, but maybe not. He could’ve had something to do with today’s robbery, but maybe not. Either way we wanted to
This woman who called herself Suk-ja was no idiot. She’d not only figured out who we were, but why we had ventured into the Yellow House. I stepped back from the doorway and glanced up at the brightly lit window of House Number 59. Inside, the girls sat in various states of undress, heads hanging down or cocked to the side, staring listlessly at the parade of furtive men outside.
Suk-ja, however, missed nothing.
“I help,” she said.
“How can you help?” Ernie asked.
“I hear something today. All woman naked, they talk too much.”
“What do you mean ‘all women naked?’”
“At bathhouse, pyongsin-ah.” Retard. In mock-reproach, Suk-ja slapped Ernie on the forearm. “Woman take shower, woman talk. One woman, she work at House Number Seventeen. She complain taaksan about man come this afternoon. He no look for woman, he look for room.”
Ernie stared at her, waiting.
“He only want one room, this woman say. No like any other. Got to have window. Got to be high-up. Other things too, but she don’t know all. Mama-san ask him why he care about room so much but he get angry.”
“Is he an American?” I asked.
“Yeah. GI. But hair too long. Here and here.”
She pinched the back of her neck and her sideburns. The guy needed a trim. If he was a GI, he hadn’t stood inspection for a while.
“So why was this woman gossiping about him?” Ernie asked.
“Huh?”
“Talk. Why did she talk about him?”
“Oh. Because she get mad. He take her room, but then choose another girl to stay there with him. She no like. She want to get clean clothes take to bathhouse, but this man he busy all time with other girl. Too much boom boom. Mama-san say she no can go in, maybe he get taaksan angry.”
“Was this guy wearing a suit like us?” I asked.
“I don’t know. She no say.”
“What’s this woman’s name?”
“I don’t know. But she new. That’s why she got room top floor.” Suk-ja raised a hand above her head. “Away from customer.”
“Where’s House Number Seventeen?” Ernie asked.
“I show you.”
“No. Just tell us.”
Before Ernie could grab her, Suk-ja scurried away, back into House Number 59. She glanced over her shoulder and said, “Chom kan man.” Just a moment.
“Looks like she’s going with us,” Ernie said.
I nodded.
In a few minutes, Suk-ja emerged, wearing blue jeans and sneakers and a pullover wool sweater. Her hair was tied back in a tight ponytail. But what was most surprising was that she had slipped on a pair of black, horn-rimmed glasses that looked extremely attractive on the smooth oval of her unblemished face. Had she been carrying a book and a slide rule, I would’ve sworn she was a college girl.
“Bali,” she said. Hurry.
We trotted after her through a narrow, fog-filled alley. Ernie kept his hand on the hilt of his .45. I kept my eyes on shadows, suspicious, waiting for one to move.
* * *
Ernie held Suk-ja back.
We stood in the mouth of an alley gazing up at House Number 17. It was a ramshackle gray building made of rotted wood planks broken out in pustules of peeled paint. The fog hovered low to the damp, flagstone-covered lane. Behind the brightly lit plate glass window on the first floor a few women shuffled about. They seemed to be older, some slightly overweight. One wore pajamas.
“Kuji,” Suk-ja said.
I’d learned the word on the streets, not in my Korean language class. Some would translate it as “dirty,” but that wasn’t quite right. “Squalid” came closer. In brothels, as in everything else in human life, there are hierarchies of quality.
Ernie caught my attention and motioned with his eyes. Most of House Number 17 was dark. But on the third floor, a dim light shone.
Ernie and I’d discussed it on the way over here. This guy Suk-ja had heard about in the bathhouse could be a GI, but maybe not. He could’ve had something to do with today’s robbery, but maybe not. Either way we wanted to
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