“I know. Isn’t it beautiful?”
Unfolding the covers, I discovered that Eunji was completely naked.
Her skin assumed a ghostly glow under the light that penetrated the
shades of our bedroom window. I cupped her pale breast in my hand
and found it surprisingly cool to the touch. “Come here,” she whispered,
drawing me in for a deep kiss. I felt her hand reach for my already stiff-
ening cock.
Two weeks later, Eunji was pregnant. The child was due around thetime that Angel Tower was scheduled to open to the public. It was acoincidence that seemed too fortuitous to dismiss as mere chance. Justas Eunji had blamed the tower for the miscarriage, she now credited itfor our conception. The tower giveth and the tower taketh. This time, itappeared, we could count ourselves among the blessed.
“I want to name him Angel,” Eunji remarked one evening over dinner, seemingly apropos of nothing.
“The tower?”
“The baby.”
“How do you know it’s a him?”
“I have a feeling.”
“Anyway, isn’t that a rather odd name for a boy?”
“Well, that’s what he’s going to be called. It’s already been decided.”
“What do you mean it’s been decided?” I asked, stopping short in
midbite. “When did you decide?”
“I didn’t say that I decided. Simply that it’s been decided.”
“Then who decided?”
“His name is Angel. It just is. It would be impossible to call him any-
thing else.”
“There are plenty of other names.” Exasperated, I rattled off a half-
dozen suggestions, Eunji scowling at each.
“I don’t want to argue about this.”
“But it’s our child,” I insisted. “As the father, don’t you think I deserve
some say in the matter?”
“I wish you wouldn’t get angry.” Eunji wrinkled her nose in a way
that bespoke both frustration and pity, as well as emotions more difficult
to place.
“I’m not angry.”
But I was angry. I tried to chalk Eunji’s stubbornness up to hor-
mones—she was pregnant after all—but still it seemed excessive. I ex-
amined her face for a clue but found myself up against an impenetrable
