The Interpreter (6 page)
Authors: Suki Kim
Ten years since, and it seems impossible now that she should be alone, no parents, no Damian. She thought that the choice was one or the other, and it was up to her to decide. It never occurred to her then that she would lose both, that she would not be able to keep the one even after sacrificing the other, and that the choice was never really there from the beginning.
All around her, people are gathering their things. 11:37 a.m., Montauk. Outside is the November beach town, empty and forlorn. Between the rain streaks on the windowpane are her parents buried at sea, half rising to meet their daughter here at last.
NOTHING IS AS DESOLATE as a late-autumn beach. The motels with “Vacancy” signs wear the dejected face of the abandoned. The fish-and-chips stands have pulled down their shutters, closed for the winter. Fickle and selfish, the rest of the world has skipped out. Gone are the flirtatious smiles, the bronzed bodies, the neon beach balls flopping down on the bluest water. Girls with names like Tracy and Cindy and Judy no longer hang out at McSwiggin’s, which is the only bar near the train station still open for business.
Even at this early hour, a few men are stooping at the bar, nursing pints. They glance at Suzy but soon look away with the stolid faces of small-town men. Most fishermen hang out at the dock, on the other side of the town, where many bars remain open, lobster and swordfish being their prime catch this season. But the nonfishing locals, mostly Irish descendants, prefer the bars in town, where the grime and sweat of the fishing crowd remain
far away, where they might hang on to their Montauk as a sort of Hawaii for Long Island’s working class.
far away, where they might hang on to their Montauk as a sort of Hawaii for Long Island’s working class.
It is lunchtime when Suzy enters. “Catch of the Day = $4.99” seems underpriced, and Suzy points to it immediately upon settling on a stool. The bartender is a grinning man in his mid-forties. She has seen him before, the same time last year, when she peeked in for a cup of coffee. Suzy remembers thinking how perfect that he should be called Bob, such a compact guy with a barrel chest and permanently tanned forearms.
“You want that poached, right?” he asks with a good-natured hearty smile.
“Pardon?”
“Lady, I told you we don’t poach our fish, just fried, plain and good!” He is still smiling, so he is not annoyed, perhaps teasing a bit.
“Fried, yes, that’s fine.”
He must be confusing her with someone else. He thinks she’s been here before, which she has, but a year ago, just for coffee, could he remember that?
“And coffee, right?” He is already pouring a cup. He then brings her packets of cream and sugar and says, “Oh, I forgot, you want Sweet’n Low, sorry, we’re out.”
Suzy stares at him awhile before reaching for the mug. She takes a sip and winces at its burnt aftertaste. The coffee’s been brewed for much too long. Black, which is the only way she takes her coffee.
“No seltzer with a straw today?” Bob taunts with a wink.
Grace it must be. Grace must have been here recently. Grace, who never touches fried food and never takes sugar, who never drinks anything without a straw—he must be confusing her with Grace. When was she here? Does she come here often?
The sisters look fairly alike. When they were young, they often
passed for twins. “Stupid fucks,” Grace fumed, “they think all Asian girls look alike!” But Suzy was secretly happy, for she knew her sister was a beauty. They had similar features, but Grace had longer eyelashes, a finer complexion, sleeker cheekbones, poutier lips, and blacker, straighter hair. At first sight, there was no doubt that they were sisters, perhaps even twins to those who did not have an eye for beauty. But upon a closer inspection, it was clear that Grace had far superior features, the sort of face a man might die for, as Suzy thought and often witnessed through high school, when the boys would steal glances at her older sister, who remained aloof and haughty, as though her beauty were reserved for far better things than a mere boy with his dad’s Toyota. The odd thing was that Grace had a reputation for being easy, but only with the older boys, the sort of boys who had cut out of school long ago, who hung in front of the local pool hall on their motorbikes, which probably did not even belong to them to begin with, who waited for Grace outside the school gate with helmets on, not for the sake of safety but to remain faceless, Suzy thought. Grace managed to hide it all from their parents. This must have been because the family moved so often. Before Grace could settle in with any of her troubled boys, they moved again, and Grace would find yet another pool hall, to which she would disappear on evenings when her parents worked overtime. Even more impressive was that Grace kept up her grades. Grace would sit by herself in the corner of the cafeteria and study furiously, while Suzy was cozily tucked in with her set of meek friends. Grace would never sit with Suzy. She said that it was embarrassing. She said that Suzy with her geeky friends embarrassed her. Everyone called Grace a stuck-up bitch, especially the girls who could not stand how their boyfriends kept looking at the new girl in the corner. All Suzy felt was distance. They must have been close once, but that seemed impossibly far away.
passed for twins. “Stupid fucks,” Grace fumed, “they think all Asian girls look alike!” But Suzy was secretly happy, for she knew her sister was a beauty. They had similar features, but Grace had longer eyelashes, a finer complexion, sleeker cheekbones, poutier lips, and blacker, straighter hair. At first sight, there was no doubt that they were sisters, perhaps even twins to those who did not have an eye for beauty. But upon a closer inspection, it was clear that Grace had far superior features, the sort of face a man might die for, as Suzy thought and often witnessed through high school, when the boys would steal glances at her older sister, who remained aloof and haughty, as though her beauty were reserved for far better things than a mere boy with his dad’s Toyota. The odd thing was that Grace had a reputation for being easy, but only with the older boys, the sort of boys who had cut out of school long ago, who hung in front of the local pool hall on their motorbikes, which probably did not even belong to them to begin with, who waited for Grace outside the school gate with helmets on, not for the sake of safety but to remain faceless, Suzy thought. Grace managed to hide it all from their parents. This must have been because the family moved so often. Before Grace could settle in with any of her troubled boys, they moved again, and Grace would find yet another pool hall, to which she would disappear on evenings when her parents worked overtime. Even more impressive was that Grace kept up her grades. Grace would sit by herself in the corner of the cafeteria and study furiously, while Suzy was cozily tucked in with her set of meek friends. Grace would never sit with Suzy. She said that it was embarrassing. She said that Suzy with her geeky friends embarrassed her. Everyone called Grace a stuck-up bitch, especially the girls who could not stand how their boyfriends kept looking at the new girl in the corner. All Suzy felt was distance. They must have been close once, but that seemed impossibly far away.
“So how about it, one order of fried cod!” Bob is all smiley, as though he is proud of having initiated this young woman into the art of fried cuisine. Suzy peers at the oversized piece of fish drenched in grease. She takes a bite while eager Bob dotes on her for approval. She gives him the sort of satisfied smile that makes him happy, then takes a long look around the bar. It is a typical beach-town dive, with a jukebox and a pool table. Against the wall is a laminated poster of a buxom blonde holding up a can of Budweiser. A few stools away from her are a couple of older men whose eyes are fixed on the sports updates on the TV screen suspended from the ceiling.
“So did you find what you were looking for?” Bob pretends to be nonchalant, but Suzy can tell that he is curious. She is not sure what to say. Is it really Grace he is taking her to be? What had Grace been looking for? She is tempted to tell him that he’s got the wrong girl, but it seems too late now, and Bob looks too earnest. So, instead, Suzy drops her gaze at the plate of fish before her.
“Thought you went back to the city. Twice in one week in this lousy weather—whatever it is, lady, you’ve gotta find it fast, so you don’t get that pretty head of yours wet again.” He pours more coffee into her mug, although she does not want a refill. Suzy runs her fingers through her wet hair, realizing only now that she left her umbrella on the train. Perhaps it is not Grace he takes her to be, but another Asian girl who had wandered in one rainy afternoon. Perhaps Grace was right after all, white men can’t tell one Asian girl from another. The fish is good. They all taste the same once fried like this. She did not realize she was hungry. She left the apartment in a hurry this morning, barely time for coffee, definitely no breakfast. The alarm did not go off again, and she woke up panicking, certain that she had missed her 8:25 train. It wasn’t until she wiped the sweat off her face and took a sip of cold water and glanced at the clock again that she
realized she had more than an hour to kill. So she lay there recalling the strange phone rings and the bouquet of irises that had come accompanied by a drill or a hissing noise, which she failed to identify, which grew louder and louder until she could not stand it anymore and finally bolted out of bed, only to realize that the deadly shrill had, in fact, been the alarm chiming seven.
realized she had more than an hour to kill. So she lay there recalling the strange phone rings and the bouquet of irises that had come accompanied by a drill or a hissing noise, which she failed to identify, which grew louder and louder until she could not stand it anymore and finally bolted out of bed, only to realize that the deadly shrill had, in fact, been the alarm chiming seven.
“See, nothing like a good piece of fish on a day like this!”
Bob is dying for her to say something, anything, so that he can say to his regulars, “That girl over there, she’s from the city, after something, she won’t say what,” or “See that Asian girl? She wanted cod poached until I told her, no, miss, we won’t have that here, not in Montauk, not at Bob McSwiggin’s place!” But all Suzy is capable of is another vague smile, a nice-girl smile so that he knows there is nothing personal as to why she won’t let him in on what she’s looking for. It would not take much to give him the one-line answer, a simple acknowledgment: “Yes, the fish’s good; yes, I’m glad you talked me into it; yes, nothing like a plate of fried fish on such a dreary afternoon.” But even that she cannot manage, for she is suddenly dying to get out of here. It is as if her parents know that she has arrived, that she is here to see them, and that not a day goes by when she does not wonder who shot them, who wanted them dead, who knew exactly how to pierce their hearts.
The numbers on the TV screen flip with a dizzying speed: Knicks 88 Bulls 70 Lakers 102 Spurs 99 Giants 21 Saints 10. The coffee is tepid now and tastes somewhat less burnt.
“Did I leave an umbrella here last time?” Suzy ventures cautiously, hoping the question might bring light to when Grace, if it was indeed Grace, was here. Something inside Suzy cannot resist. Become Grace for a moment. Embrace Grace’s trace, which might lead to Grace.
“Beats me. I keep whatever people forget in that bin.” Bob
points to the plastic crate by the entrance. “You were here when, on Friday? Should still be there, but if you don’t see it, just take any umbrella you find.”
points to the plastic crate by the entrance. “You were here when, on Friday? Should still be there, but if you don’t see it, just take any umbrella you find.”
Suzy walks over and makes a pretense of looking through the crate before picking out the only umbrella among the torn jackets, chipped pocket knives, soiled bandannas, and baseball caps, the sort of leftovers no one wants. Friday, just three days ago. Did Grace come to see Mom and Dad early so that she wouldn’t run into Suzy? Does she still hate her so?
Leave us alone
, Grace told her at the funeral, without once meeting her eyes. Hasn’t Suzy done exactly that, hasn’t she stayed away all these years as though she had no family left in the world?
Leave us alone
, Grace told her at the funeral, without once meeting her eyes. Hasn’t Suzy done exactly that, hasn’t she stayed away all these years as though she had no family left in the world?
The umbrella is a weapon. She can leave now, out into the torrential sea where her parents wait. Bob looks happy with his five-dollar tip, almost as much as the whole bill. But today is not a day for calculating the 20 percent, and Suzy is holding on to the nameless umbrella left by a drunkard on a rainy night.
“Oh, I knew I forgot something,” Bob hollers after Suzy. “Kelly’s back, tell him Bob sent you and he’ll give you a deal. Make sure you tell him you can’t even swim.”
Crazy to hit the beach in this rain. The lighthouse is on Montauk Point, the easternmost tip of New York. From here, Suzy can either follow the shore for about six miles or just hop in a taxi. An impossibly long pilgrimage, but Suzy cannot bring herself to call a cab, not now, not on her way to see her parents. One of the wires of the umbrella hangs loose, through which the precarious sky threatens to break. It seems almost perfect, that the rain should follow each step and erase the trace of this mourning.
So it had been Grace after all. On Friday, while Suzy was interpreting in the Bronx, Grace had shown up at McSwiggin’s
looking for something. Neither Grace nor Suzy can swim. Their bodies simply will not float. Suzy tried to learn a few times, but her body would tense immediately upon hitting the water. Grace is terrified of the water—as far as Suzy knows, possibly the only thing she is afraid of. So it had to be Grace: poached cod, Sweet’n Low, seltzer with a straw, can’t swim … Then who’s Kelly? Three days ago, Grace may have stood on this very path. She may have continued up the shore holding the umbrella with a broken frame. She may have cried a little, praying for a miracle.
looking for something. Neither Grace nor Suzy can swim. Their bodies simply will not float. Suzy tried to learn a few times, but her body would tense immediately upon hitting the water. Grace is terrified of the water—as far as Suzy knows, possibly the only thing she is afraid of. So it had to be Grace: poached cod, Sweet’n Low, seltzer with a straw, can’t swim … Then who’s Kelly? Three days ago, Grace may have stood on this very path. She may have continued up the shore holding the umbrella with a broken frame. She may have cried a little, praying for a miracle.
Suzy has a hard time picturing her. She has not set her eyes on her sister for five years. In fact, she has barely seen her since they both left for college at seventeen. Grace came home only twice during the four years. Suzy saw her just once, during the Christmas break one year. Suzy was struck by how thin her sister looked. Even Dad commented on it, telling Mom to give her an extra scoop of rice at dinner. Grace mostly kept to herself during the four days she stayed. A few phone calls came for her from the same husky-voiced guy, who would only identify himself as a “friend,” to whom Suzy had to lie each time and say that Grace was not home. Grace seemed somehow subdued, a bit nicer. The only time Suzy glimpsed the familiar cynicism was when she expressed her surprise at Grace’s choice of major, which was religion. Grace smiled faintly, as though it were a private joke that Suzy did not understand, and muttered, “What does it matter?” Although the visit went smoothly, without much commotion, Suzy was relieved when Grace took the bus back to Northampton.
Grace is thirty now. She will turn thirty-one at the end of this month, only two days after Suzy’s birthday. Suzy the 24th, and Grace the 26th. Grace always resented their birthdays’ falling so close together. She said it took all the steam out of her day. To appease both, Mom used to make them
miyukguk,
the
traditional birthday seaweed soup, on the 25th. Kill two birds with one stone, Grace would grunt as she slurped her soup with a vengeance. What Grace really could not stand, Suzy suspected, was that they were the same age for those two days. They were equals suddenly, neither younger nor older. Grace no longer had the upper hand. Last year, for Grace’s thirtieth birthday, Suzy bought a card for the first time in years. She stood for a while before the Hallmark section of the stationery store and looked through the ones with the gold-engraved “To Dear Sister.” She chose instead a plain white one, but she never sent it.
miyukguk,
the
traditional birthday seaweed soup, on the 25th. Kill two birds with one stone, Grace would grunt as she slurped her soup with a vengeance. What Grace really could not stand, Suzy suspected, was that they were the same age for those two days. They were equals suddenly, neither younger nor older. Grace no longer had the upper hand. Last year, for Grace’s thirtieth birthday, Suzy bought a card for the first time in years. She stood for a while before the Hallmark section of the stationery store and looked through the ones with the gold-engraved “To Dear Sister.” She chose instead a plain white one, but she never sent it.
The walk is not easy, increasingly rocky. On Suzy’s left is the dramatic formation of eroded cliffs, the land broken by years of water. To her right is the ocean. No one is around. One o’clock on a rainy November afternoon, who in their right mind would be out here?
Except someone is. Far in the distance, Suzy can see a figure walking ahead. Either a man or a woman under the umbrella, but a tinge of familiarity in the shape, in the way each step is dragged. Where did the person come from? Had he or she been walking ahead the whole time?
For a second, Suzy imagines that it might be Grace, and that she will run and catch up until finally the two will be joined, holding hands, together to see their parents, a family as they had never been, as they should have been—Mom and Dad, Grace and Suzy.
Since when do you care about their wishes?
Grace will never let her forget. It was Suzy who had cut out first, the first escape, the first hole in the foursome. It was Suzy who had ruined it all, Suzy who ran off with her professor’s husband and left everyone back home in shame, Suzy who disappeared for four years, until the day the police tracked her down at Damian’s Berkshire house with the news that her parents were dead. Grace never forgave Suzy for ditching Mom and Dad in their final years. Jen found Grace’s resentment toward Suzy unfair.
“I thought your sister never came home either when she was at Smith. Why is she suddenly the good daughter?”
Since when do you care about their wishes?
Grace will never let her forget. It was Suzy who had cut out first, the first escape, the first hole in the foursome. It was Suzy who had ruined it all, Suzy who ran off with her professor’s husband and left everyone back home in shame, Suzy who disappeared for four years, until the day the police tracked her down at Damian’s Berkshire house with the news that her parents were dead. Grace never forgave Suzy for ditching Mom and Dad in their final years. Jen found Grace’s resentment toward Suzy unfair.
“I thought your sister never came home either when she was at Smith. Why is she suddenly the good daughter?”
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