The stairs ended at last, and JungHo stood at the top of the hill in front of the brick edifice soaring into the silvery sky. He looked around briefly at the snow-covered mountains off in the distance, and beneath the stairs, the doll-size neighborhoods and sleepy potager fields. Everything looked peaceful so close to the sky, he thought with a lighter heart. People were cramming into the two side entrances of the cathedral in a garrulous, bustling mood. Without being told, they were reserving the main entrance for the bride. JungHo took one last breath of fresh air and filed behind them.
Inside, the pointed arches ran on either side of the center aisle, weightlessly holding up the stone crown of the church. People were milling about, greeting one another, whispering under the erratic melody of the organist warming up his hands. Because the groom was a foreigner and the bride was formerly one of the best-known courtesans in Seoul, the wedding had caused a sensation in the preceding weeks. Most of the people squeezed into the pews were not invited guests or even parishioners, only curious townspeople. After a few minutes of trying to find Jade and failing, JungHo sat down in the nearest empty spot. With his hands resting on his knees, he watched the soft light streaming in through the windows and hundreds of small candles sighing in the niches.
JungHo never thought about the eternal being that the Catholics called Haneunim—Dear Sky. But at moments like these, he could almost understand why they so loved and yearned for their God. The Catholics too had sacrificed their lives for their belief. On the very ground of the cathedral there used to stand the home of the first martyr in Korea, JungHo was once told by one of his comrades. There were certain things worth sacrificing yourself for, JungHo thought, and the faces of Jade and MyungBo shone inside his mind.
He remembered MyungBo saying coldly, “You’ve endangered not just your life, or my life, but the very fate of our cause. All because you still haven’t learned to control your anger. You’ve disappointed me.”
JungHo felt faint with suffering even in recollection. Did MyungBo know how deeply JungHo loved and respected him even in his unspoken thoughts? Did one night of misjudgment erase all the years of selflessly serving him? JungHo now wondered if it had been a mistake trying to be what he wasn’t. Perhaps all he was ever good for was a life on the streets.
“JungHo!” He heard a voice, turned around, and saw Jade smiling radiantly.
“I was looking for you. Come with me to the family pew.”
He followed her all the way to the front row. She sat down to the right of Dani （who gave him only the slightest, haughtiest nod） and patted the space next to her, making her slight frame even smaller. About twenty feet away from JungHo, the groom was standing by the altar with his hands interlaced together, smiling nervously at the crowd and probably wondering, Who are all these people?
“It is so good of you to come,” Jade whispered.
“Of course. She is like a sister to you,” JungHo said. He realized in that moment that Jade’s lover wasn’t there, and he was tempted to ask her “So where’s that mechanic of yours?” But when he saw how valiantly Jade was masking her sadness with smiles, he let it go. It was so pitiable, the way she kept discreetly turning around to see if HanChol made it with the last stragglers. JungHo almost wished that he would show up, knowing it would make Jade happy. What wouldn’t he endure for her? She was the one witness to his life, someone who saw him and appreciated him.
As the organist began to play, JungHo felt calm and worthy once more. After the wedding, he decided he would go back to MyungBo and humbly ask for forgiveness. JungHo would regain his trust and, in time, his love.
The crowd fell silent and all eyes turned to the entrance, where it suddenly seemed to have become brighter. Even through her veil, the bride was so lovely that she seemed to cast her own light as she walked up the dark, candlelit nave. All the guests felt a sharp pang in their hearts and many reached for their handkerchiefs. They had not known that a woman’s beauty could be so edifying.
“She is like the moon . . . Like her name,” Jade whispered, her voice trembling.
JungHo at that moment was the only one who wasn’t watching the bride. He was trying to memorize the curve of Jade’s forehead and her black eyes, two shimmering wells filled with equal parts of sorrow and joy. He could even study the pair of slender, symmetrical shoulder blades showing through her sweater, which made him think of her skin underneath the layers. It would perhaps stop his heart to stretch his arm along the pew to encircle that beautiful back.