Read Online The Expatriates by Janice Y. K. Lee - Free Book Online Page A

buttons pressed. Her hair was incredibly greasy, and then it all fell out. She sweat and sweat.
    And the baby! Daisy was not a hard baby, but not easy either. All those terrible women she met who expressed pure happiness in their new roles and ignorance of anything as awful as bleeding nipples, or hormonal fluctuations that left you homicidal. The most they would admit to was a slight nod to the fact that it might be a little hard, not sleeping for three months, becoming a new, completely different person, the sheer relentlessness of it, that you would never be able to change back, but then they always follow it immediately with a “It’s
so
worth it, though, isn’t it? I don’t even think about it when I look at Sadie’s adorable face.”
    Margaret, who was used to being above average in most things, couldn’t understand the gap. This was the hardest thing she had ever done, and arguably the most important. And no one was acknowledging that it really, really sucked. A lot.
    This metamorphosis into that other being, that mother, was excruciating. She noticed that it got better in quarters. Three months, six months, nine months. And then suddenly she woke up and she felt better. She was not back to normal—that baseline had shifted. But she could cope with her life.
    Later, people would ask, “Why didn’t you see anyone?” And certainly, after the incident happened, she did—it was practically court-ordered. But at that time, with that first child, she never felt that desperation was a good reason to see someone. And where would she have found the time? She didn’t have time to shower, let alone see a therapist or have a leisurely cup of coffee with a friend. And then the others came, and they were different and easier, because she had already crossed over into that other country of motherhood.
    She thinks about that a lot, how you get used to everything, that the first shift is difficult and horrible, and you live your life because what else can you do, and then one day you wake up and your life seems normal. You start to forget the bad times. You shift into your new self.
    At least, that’s what she had thought about life and change.
    The other pregnancies were less vivid, and she was certainly less careful. She drank coffee with Philip; in the last five weeks of herpregnancy with G, she had a glass of wine every few nights. Of course, there was not the luxury of movie watching and solitude. She had Daisy and then Philip and her whole blazing new life as a mother. Everything revolved around the children. And here she was, in Korea, traveling with them to her quarter home country and feeling blessed.
    They spent a lovely day wandering the streets of Insa-dong, where they bought colorful stationery, browsed through secondhand bookstores, walked through art galleries and craft shops, and saw a cart vendor selling fried silkworms from a cast-iron vat—a nostalgic treat for those who remembered when Korea was so poor they couldn’t afford meat and insects were an important source of protein. They couldn’t bring themselves to try them but bought roasted chestnuts from the vendor next to him, cracking and peeling the soft shells and eating the warm meat of the nut. Margaret carried G when he got tired, and he nestled his head into her neck.
    At three, Margaret shepherded the exhausted kids back to the hotel and found Mercy doing yoga on a towel on the floor. “Did you have a good day?” she asked.
    “I just walked around here,” Mercy said, from down dog. “I’m going to try to meet up with some relatives if I get a chance.”
    “Great.” She paused. “Well, the kids are hungry, since we’re an hour ahead. You might as well eat now. I guess you could order room service, or go down to the restaurant? What do you think?”
    “It’s pretty small in here,” said Mercy. “I think we should probably go downstairs.”
    “Okay, just don’t leave the hotel.” She felt absurd that she even had to say it but