LONTAR issue #2 (2 page)

"I've been working with tigers for four years," he said defensively. "How about you? What makes you think he's sad?"

Still, she had a point. It was dangerous to assume you knew what tigers were thinking or how they would behave. Most of the time Bong-hwa couldn't even imagine what ran through the minds of other people, and he could at least relate to them.

"It's obvious," she said.

"Right." He turned away from her this time. "I happen to agree with you. But those performances provide us the money to feed and shelter them."

"If you don't like it, why don't you do something?"

"Believe it or not, I do care about the tigers." He cared more about them than most people. "But this is also my job. As much as I wish I could help them more, I need to eat, too."

She studied him for a long time, until he began to feel self-conscious.

"I believe you do care," she said softly.
 

After another long silence, Chon-ji stretched her fingers toward the cage. Kaesong raised his head, ears up. Bong-hwa tensed.

"Careful," he said in a low voice. "He can reach through the bars. Tigers are very fast."

She brushed her fingertips against one of the bars. The tiger didn't react. She shuddered and drew her hand back. Bong-hwa sighed.

He wanted to ask her why she'd done that. He wanted to tell her what a stupid risk it had been.

Instead he blurted, "I like your hair."

Still with her eyes on Kaesong, she murmured, "Thank you."

Many young South Koreans these days tried to look less Asian by bleaching their black hair and dyeing it all colors. But there were no dark roots or uneven streaks in her red-orange hair. It looked so natural that if she weren't from such a strict country, he might think she was
hapa
. He wasn't sure if his parents would disapprove of a woman of mixed-descent more than they would a full-blooded North Korean. Of course, they wouldn't be happy with either, or of any marriage they hadn't arranged.

He was getting too far ahead of himself.

"Did you choose that color because you like tigers?" he said.

"Not exactly." She glanced at him and hesitated for a moment. "I
am
a tiger."

Bong-hwa laughed. Her expression flattened.

"Thank you for the conversation, Park Bong-hwa." She bowed again—less deeply—then stepped around him. He turned to watch her leave, wondering what he had said wrong. Was it because he wouldn't go along with her joke?

"Wait!" he said. He ran after her and touched her arm lightly, his fingers just grazing the silk fabric. Kaesong roared behind him, an oppressive wave of sound that froze Bong-hwa in his tracks. Chon-ji stopped too.

"Sorry," Bong-hwa said. Kaesong's low growls continued to roll over him, sending shivers over his skin.

"For what?" she asked.

He considered. "I shouldn't have laughed."

"But you don't believe me."

"You weren't serious?" he said. Bong-hwa had clearly failed some bizarre test of hers.
Walk away
, he thought. If she was crazy, he didn't want to get involved with her. If she were just toying with him, it would still be smart to let her go. He didn't need that kind of drama in his life.

"If you really are a tiger woman, it should be easy enough to prove," he said.

Chon-ji glanced back at the cage where Kaesong paced, his tail now lashing like a whip.

"My
eomma
used to tell me tiger fables when I was little," Bong-hwa said. "About tigers taking human shape. Those bedtime stories are what interested me in tigers, though she'd be upset if I ever told her that."

His parents kept pushing for him to go back to school for a business degree. In their world, he wouldn't have a "real" job until he was tied to a desk for at least fifty hours a week. They said they were proud of him, but he knew they could be prouder.

"
My
mother told me stories about
Hanguk saram
," Chon-ji said. Bong-hwa imagined that her mother's tales of the South Korean people must be as unflattering as what he'd heard about them. "That's why I decided to come here. To see for myself."

"I hope I haven't disappointed you too much," Bong-hwa said.

"Not
too
much. There's room for improvement." She tilted her head. "But the men are better looking than I expected."

Bong-hwa's cheeks flushed.

"I know you're good at feeding tigers," Chon-ji said. "But how are you at feeding women?"

*

Bong-hwa took Chon-ji to his favorite restaurant in Chang-dong and ordered a small banquet: fried
mandoo
dumplings,
kimchi
pancakes, and a table barbecue of
pulgogi
and
kalbi
. It was more than he could afford, but she made him feel reckless. He wanted to impress her.

Chon-ji picked a sizzling slice of meat from the grill with her chopsticks before it had cooked.

"You must be hungry," he said. She nodded, chewing.

He layered some rice in a crisp lettuce leaf with meat and hot paste. "So. Tell me about living in Choson," he said.

She examined the ends of her chopsticks thoughtfully. "I was raised in the country by my mother. I was the youngest, with three older brothers." Her voice trembled. "My two sisters died when we were young."

"I'm sorry. That must have been hard. What about your father?"

She shrugged. "He left before I was born," she said. Bong-hwa was shocked. That kind of behavior was almost unheard of in South Korea.

"Life was difficult," she went on. "It seems there are fewer of us every day. Some die because there isn't enough food. Some just disappear."

"And some leave, like you did," he said.
 

Chon-ji poured more
soju
into his empty glass then refilled her own. He was already feeling a buzz from the alcohol.

Bong-hwa leaned closer and lowered his voice. "How did you get out?"

She pushed some rice around in her bowl with her chopsticks. "The way most do."

"China?" Many defectors had snuck out of North Korea through the Chinese border, on foot. Those who were desperate to try to run across the heavily-guarded DMZ at Panmunjeom rarely survived the attempt.

She chewed another piece of beef silently. Nodded.

"You know what I do. Where do you work, Chon-ji?" Bong-hwa asked. She was young enough to still be a college student, but she seemed mature, hair and all. She had no ring, so he knew she wasn't married. He still suspected she might be an observer from Pyonggang.

"At the moment, I'm just traveling," she said. "Seeing as much of the country as I can before I settle down and raise a family the way I'm supposed to."

She was unemployed, then. Defectors, even the ones that tried to blend in, had a hard time finding jobs in South Korea. Despite the increased interest in reunification, there was still a lot of discrimination. The war had technically never ended, after all.

Bong-hwa wondered how his mother would react to Chon-ji, if she ever met her. His
haraboji
, his mother's father, had been killed in the Battle of Incheon in 1950. To her, all North Koreans would always be murderers.

He looked down at his plate.

"What is it?" Chon-ji asked.

"Nothing," he said. He bit into his lettuce roll and chewed madly. There was no doubt that his father would object to any relationship with Chon-ji. Bong-hwa's second aunt had married a
miguk
, a soldier stationed in South Korea after the war who took her to America thirty years ago. She had returned for a visit only once, when Bong-hwa was young, the only time he'd met her. He dreamed of visiting her in Los Angeles one day, but it seemed unlikely.

"Your turn," she said. "Do you really think there are tigers in the DMZ?"

He swallowed. "I'd like to think so. There's a famous man here, Lim Sun Nam. We call him 'Tiger Man'. He believes Korean tigers still exist in our country and he's dedicated his life to finding them."

"Some might say that's as hard to believe as a tiger who can become a woman." Chon-ji smiled.

Bong-hwa rested his chopsticks on the table and folded his hands. "I wrote to him once, asked him if I could help. He turned me down and told me to do anything else if I could."

"So you ended up at the zoo instead."

"I realized that I could still do something for the remaining Korean tigers." He sighed. "But it would be incredible to find them living in the wild. It would be such a boost to Hanguk's national identity."

"They're out there," Chon-ji said.

"How do you know?"

"Because they have to be. Korea—Hanguk
and
Choson—wouldn't survive without its tigers."

"You're a romantic, too," Bong-hwa said.

She picked a shred of meat from a kalbi bone delicately and slipped it between her lips, her eyes on his. He desperately wanted to kiss her.

"So what
have
you done to help the tigers, Bong-hwa?"

In reflection, his efforts seemed inadequate. What was handing out flyers and collecting signatures compared to exploring the wilderness in search of a mythical beast?

"I joined the DMZ Forum, an international group trying to preserve the border as a natural wildlife habitat. Think about it—few people have stepped foot in those forests since before the war. There are many rare and wild animals living there, some of them the only ones in the world. It's the only place left in all of Hanguk that hasn't been developed."

"What's it like?" she asked.

"I don't know." He lowered his eyes. "I haven't been. Civilians can't just go to the DMZ whenever they feel like it."

"I'd like to see it before I leave," she said.

He looked up. "Leave? Where are you going?"

"Back to Choson."

"Won't you be punished?" It was difficult enough to escape North Korea, he couldn't imagine how one would sneak back
in
—or why anyone would want to. He wrapped his hands around his lukewarm cup of barley tea. "Why do you want to go there?"

"It's where I belong, all I've ever known. I was on my way back when I found out that my
oraboni
is in prison. Because of me."

"Oraboni?" Bong-hwa asked. He'd heard the word before, but never in conversation. It was a formal version of the word
oppa
—brother. But it was also sometimes used to refer to an older boyfriend. His grip on the porcelain cup tightened. "You mean your...brother?"

She nodded and he unclenched his fingers. "When I left, he must have followed me and gotten captured. I must free him and bring him home."

Bong-hwa blew air from his lips. "I'm sure he doesn't blame you, Chon-ji. It wasn't your fault."

"I still blame myself."

"But what can you possibly do to help him?"

Chon-ji emptied the last drops of soju into her cup and drank it down. Her pale cheeks were splotched red.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

Bong-hwa felt something brush against his bare calf. He started in his seat.

"Are
you
all right?" Chon-ji asked. She smiled mischievously.

"I thought—" He felt it again, a toe stroking his leg. The pink tip of her tongue emerged from between her lips.

A moment later he felt her foot glide up to nudge his crotch. He splashed tea on his hand.

"You know, you're cute," she said.

"Thank you. So are you." He shook his head. "You're beautiful."

"You'll help me, Bong-hwa, won't you?" She continued to massage the inside of his thighs with her foot and his khakis grew tight. He couldn't believe this was happening.

"Help you...with what?" he asked.

"
Bong-hwa
." He liked the way she said his name with her accent, in that soft tone of voice. "You want to sleep with me?"

He licked his lips. Nodded.

Chon-ji leaned over the table and kissed him roughly. Her tongue slipped into his mouth and when he responded, she nipped at his tongue with her teeth then pushed him away playfully. He tasted metal and salt as his tongue bled.

"You're drunk," Bong-hwa said. "I don't want to take advantage of you."

"That's why I want
you
. Don't worry, I can take care of myself. I'm a tiger, remember?" She clawed a hand and swatted it at him.

"If you say so."

It didn't matter whether she was playing with him or actually believed her claim; he would agree to anything she said tonight.

*

"Shhh..." Bong-hwa said as he opened his apartment door. It was late, and the walls were thin.

"Are you afraid we'll wake someone?" She slid off her shoes and tried to slip into the house slippers, but her left foot missed the mark. She gave up and stepped onto the wooden floor barefoot.

"My parents..."

She laughed and leaned against the doorjamb. "You still live with them?"

"It's custom, isn't it?" he said gruffly.