The woman who borrowed money

People dressed in black with somber expressions were entering the funeral hall one by one.
The woman I was looking for would be sitting in the back row, just like me. After confirming my brother’s death, she would quietly get up and leave. I sat in the last row, scanning the room, watching for a woman acting suspiciously. I looked around, but I couldn’t tell who was who. All I knew was that the person who borrowed money from my brother was a woman—and I had a strong feeling she would show up to make sure he was really gone. But even if I suspected someone, what could I do? There wasn’t a single scrap of paper to prove anything.

My sister-in-law died young. She had lent a large sum of money to a woman she knew, and when she didn’t pay her back, she became stressed and anxious, chasing her down for the money. Eventually, she collapsed from a brain hemorrhage. Even her own husband didn’t know who the woman was or how much money she had lent her.

In the early 1970s, full of hope as if heading to heaven, my sister-in-law came to America after marrying a Korean-American man. Back then, women who married Koreans living abroad and moved to the U.S. usually had to be attractive. It was common for Korean-American men to return to Korea and bring back beautiful brides. My mother-in-law used to say everyone agreed she was a beautiful bride. She wasn’t just pretty—she was kind and had great cooking skills, too.

She always dressed stylishly, wore sunglasses, and liked to drive with loud music. She said it made her feel like she was really living in America. She was generous, and every weekend she’d go to the market, buy lots of meat, and host BBQs. She used to say that eating meat like that was one of the joys of living in the U.S.

In this land of dreams, she worked hard and saved money, determined to live well and be successful. But once people around her found out she had money, they sweet-talked her into lending it out—promising interest in return. She fell for it. In America, where even family members are careful about discussing money, this kind of thing is almost unthinkable. She got caught up in a messy, private financial deal—a mix of Korean and American ways—that often happens in immigrant communities.

Her young son, now motherless, came out of the funeral hall holding her framed photo and crying. Her daughter, whom she once proudly said would never have to touch a drop of water while growing up, wailed in grief. Her sudden death left close family and relatives in complete shock.

As the saying goes, people act one way when they’re asking for help and another once they’ve gotten what they want. The woman who once begged for money, but then refused to repay it—raising her voice, ignoring responsibility— That woman who ultimately drove my sister-in-law to her death...

Is she now living comfortably, stretching out her legs without a care in the world? Maybe. Maybe not. But I truly, sincerely hope not.