Epilogue 14

Epilogue 14

Thursday, July 3, 1997. In front of the U.S. Embassy at 32 Sejong-ro, Jongno-gu.

The midsummer heat beat down on the crowns of people’s heads, a fierce skirmish before the full onset of the season. A long queue of people waiting for visa interviews stretched from the entrance all the way down the embassy wall.

Miran fanned herself incessantly with a document envelope and handed a piece of paper to Andre.

“Andre, please ask me the predicted questions one more time.”

Having taken time off for the Independence Day weekend, he had arrived in Korea the previous afternoon. Now, when he came to Korea, he no longer stayed at hotels; he went straight to Sunshine Villa in Yongin, where Miran lived alone.

Though the low ceilings and cramped space felt stifling at times, he quite liked the fact that she was always within arm’s reach.

Last night, too, he had to serve as her interview practice partner multiple times. She answered with such earnestness that he found it difficult to keep a straight face, struggling to hold back his laughter every time they practiced.

Her anxious, fretful demeanor was adorable, yet the answers she had prepared were ruthlessly blunt. Perhaps intimidated by the warning that lying or giving eccentric answers could lead to a visa rejection, her determination to tell nothing but the truth was palpable.

Andre skimmed the paper and picked a question.

[When, where, and how did you meet your spouse?]

“We first met on September 9, 1995, at a bar in Itaewon called Cactus. Andre was sitting in the next seat, and since his wallet had been pickpocketed, I paid for his beer.”

Miran recited the memorized sentence clearly, as if reading from a textbook.

He immediately tossed out the next question.

[What caused you both to develop feelings for one another?]

She glanced around cautiously and muttered in a small voice.

[I fell in love with Andre at first sight. So, I invited him to my house. The next day, Andre came to my house with candy and waited for me. At that moment, we fell in love by fate.]

It was blunt yet romantic—an answer that was closer to the facts than mere sentiment.

Suppressing the slight upward curve of his lips, he asked in a serious tone.

[What is your spouse’s occupation and place of work?]

[He is the Chief Exe, Egg… of Lafayette Group, which has its headquarters in New York.]

Miran’s eyes darted around as she struggled to recall the unfamiliar words. Giving up, she finally asked in Korean.

“Andre, what did you say your title was again? It would be so much better if you just used an easy word like ‘President’…”

She grumbled.

After taking office as chairman, Andre had restructured the titles to fit a more horizontal organizational chart according to the trends of the time, changing his own title in the process.

“Chief Executive Officer. You can just shorten it to CEO. I think that’s enough practice for now.”

Miran pressed her hand against her chest. She seemed to be trembling.

“I’m so scared they’ll reject my visa. They won’t turn me down just because my English isn’t great, right?”

He snorted.

“That will never happen.”

“How do you know that, Andre! I think you tend to take this way too lightly.”

Miran glared at him and grumbled. Then, she lowered her voice to a whisper.

“By the way, the I-130 approval was incredibly fast, and I was shocked that the interview was scheduled so quickly too. Everyone says I’m unbelievably lucky.”

“Ah, I see.”

He brushed it off with a casual expression and handed the question sheet back to her.

“Where are you going to wait while I have my interview?”

“I’m meeting someone at the embassy.”

Miran asked with a look of surprise.

“You know someone at the embassy, too? Who is it?”

Before she could even wait for an answer, the line shortened significantly. It was almost her turn to enter. She bustled about, searching for her ID and receipt inside the envelope.

Andre took a step back from the queue.

“Meet me here when the interview is over.”

Miran nodded and took a deep breath.

“Okay, see you later. Wish me luck!”

“You don’t need luck. You just have to show up.”

Leaving behind Andre’s firm and confident words, Miran gave a small wave and stepped through the entrance of the Embassy of the United States.

—

Window number 207.

Inside the glass sat a middle-aged man in a dress shirt, his hair thinning, looking out with tired eyes. There were distinct white oval marks from sunglasses around his eyes.

Taking the documents Miran handed over, he asked with a yawn.

[Name?]

“My name is Miran de Lafayette. Korean name is Kang Miran.”

She put on the bright smile she had perfected during her days as a flight attendant. After all, they say it’s hard to spit on a smiling face. She was so nervous that her ears felt muffled by the loud thumping of her heart.

[Visa type?]

“CR-1.”

When she was practicing, she had memorized perfect sentences with subjects and predicates, but now that she was in the thick of it, only fragmented words popped out of her mouth.

The consul typed a few characters into the computer, then peeled off a yellow sticky note attached to the side of the monitor and glanced at it for a moment. It was written in illegible, messy cursive, so she couldn’t make out what it said.

[What is your husband’s full name?]

“Andre Alexander Louis Charles de Lafayette II.”

Nodding, he began to check Miran’s immigration documents, the marriage certificate, and Andre’s financial sponsorship forms one by one.

Miran took a moment to catch her breath and looked around. Similar interviews were taking place on either side of her.

When she realized that the English skills of those she overheard weren’t much different from her own, she felt a wave of relief.

As the consul flipped through Andre’s tax returns, bank statements, and asset certificates, his eyebrows arched high.

[…What is your husband’s occupation?]

In that instant, Miran’s mind went completely blank.

“Chief Egg, Exe…”

What had Andre said earlier?

“Ah, right! ‘CEO’! CEO of Lafayette Group.”

She breathed a sigh of relief as she remembered the acronym Andre had taught her. She didn’t know what she would have done if they hadn’t practiced earlier.

The consul skimmed through the evidence of their relationship—the photo album, flight tickets, and emails exchanged with Andre—before finally looking up.

[Wedding date and location?]

“March 25, 1997. Manhattan City Hall.”

[This is a beautiful photograph.]

He pointed to a picture in the album.

It was the one taken by Danny, the photographer, at City Hall. The photo perfectly captured the tears shimmering in Miran’s eyes and the tender expression on Andre’s face as he looked back at her.

“Thank you so much! I really love him. He love me too.”

Miran smiled shyly.

At that, the consul let out a faint, barely visible smile and slammed a stamp onto the documents.

[Your visa application has been approved. The visa will be issued in a few days.]

He picked up an information sheet from his desk, scribbled a date on it, and slid it through the opening at the bottom of the glass window.

[The collection date, time, and location are written here. Please visit as instructed to collect your passport with the visa attached.]

Miran asked in a trembling voice. Was it over already?

“Everything finish…?”

[Yes. You may go now. Congratulations, Mrs. Lafayette.]

—

Stepping out of the embassy into the dazzling sunlight, Miran felt momentarily dazed. Now that the visa was actually approved, she felt bewildered. Once the visa was issued, she had to leave for the United States within six months.

A few weeks ago, as soon as the I-130 (Petition for Alien Relative) was approved, Miran had notified her company and submitted her resignation. When applying for the visa, she had to surrender her passport to the embassy, making international flights impossible.

Though she had been preparing herself mentally, she felt a sense of regret and emptiness at quitting the job she had worked so hard to get after such a short time. She had only just started getting used to flying.

The process, which she expected to take over a year, had moved at lightning speed without a single hitch. Even the notoriously difficult visa interview had ended with anticlimactic ease.

“Kang Miran.”

At the sound of the voice calling her name, Miran flinched slightly and snapped out of her thoughts.

“Andre!”

She ran to him and threw herself into his arms.

She looked up to tell him the news of the approval, but Andre was already grinning.

“Congratulations.”

His attitude was as if he already knew the result.

“How did you—”

Checking his wristwatch, he immediately changed the subject.

“It’s a bit early for dinner. What do you want to do?”

After a moment of thought, she snapped her fingers.

“Ah! There’s a place I want to go with you.”

“Where is it?”

A mysterious smile played on Miran’s lips.

“You’ll see when we get there.”