The Interpreter by Suki Kim

Author:Suki Kim [Kim, Suki]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780312422240
Amazon: 0312422245
Publisher: Picador
Published: 2004-01-01T16:00:00+00:00

The elevator reeks of urine and sweat. The floor appears not to have been swept in years. The loud bass line from a boom box vibrates through each floor, accompanied by the occasional shrill of a woman, either joyous or dying. Suzy pauses before the door marked 8F

Kim Yong Su is a truck deliveryman, which means that he should be home now. A deliveryman’s day begins around 10 p.m., when he drives his truck to the wholesalers in the Bronx Terminal Market or the Hunts Point Market and purchases the goods that have been ordered by his client stores. He then loads the boxes of fruits and vegetables onto a truck and starts making deliveries through the early-morning hours. On average, one driver has five or six stores on his roster. A regular truck won’t hold more than six stores’ worth of goods. He is the middleman. All deliveries must be made by at least 9 or 10 a.m., when the stores finish stocking inventories. By noon, he must rush home, eat quickly, and go straight to bed, so that he can rise again at sunset.

Suzy rings the bell once. Nothing happens. No sound comes from the inside. Maybe he is not home yet. Maybe he is already asleep. She rings again. Somewhere from the end of the corridor comes a hissing noise. A kid up to mischief. A curious neighbor looking on. Finally, a shuffling sound against the door and an eye through the peephole. “Who is it?” the voice asks in Korean. “Suzy Park.” She brings her face close to the door. “I met you the other day at the deposition, I was your interpreter.” Then a clatter of bolts, and a face emerges, the same face that beckoned her at McDonald’s only five days ago.

He looks surprised, if not wary. He does not invite her in. Not yet anyway. His face seems to be asking, What are you doing here? Do interpreters make house calls now? Did my lawyer send you? Did the court? Am I in trouble for something I am unaware of? Whose side are you on?

“I would’ve called, but I had no phone number for you,” she says finally. It is hard to know where to begin. She hopes that she is not imposing too much on his sleep time.

He appears even more puzzled. He is not sure if he should let her in. Why is she here?

“I think you knew my parents,” she comes straight out. “They had a store on Tremont Avenue in the Bronx. They were killed five years ago.”

A flicker of something in his eyes. A flash of recognition. He looks her over once, lingering on her face, and says, “I’ve got nothing to say.” He is about to shut the door when Suzy blurts out, “Mr. Lee from Grand Concourse sent me. He told me that you know things, that you were wronged by my parents.” It is not true, of course. No one sent her here, only her own suspicion, and poor Mr.

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