From Wonso Pond (15 page)

Only then did Sonbi understand what she meant.

“Oh, yes! I was on my way to the outhouse last night when I saw the guest from Seoul come out of it. He asked me for a bowl of cold water, so I went and got one for him. Why do you want to know?”

“Hmm . . .” Okchom nodded her head as she looked at Sonbi. “Go back to work then,” she said, turning back to go inside.

Sonbi returned the kitchen, wondering what was going on. Maybe
the guest from Seoul had said something to Okchom? Maybe there'd been a fly in the water bowl, or maybe a pine needle had fallen into it and he'd complained. Sonbi was so worked up she could hardly enjoy her breakfast.

After clearing her breakfast tray, Sonbi picked up the laundry Granny had earlier boiled in lye. As she stood there hanging it out to dry on the marsh reed fence, she looked toward the inner room. Okchom was working on her embroidery, and for some reason there she was, calling Sonbi over with a wave of her hand. Sonbi was worried Okchom might ask her more questions, and her heart started pounding. She kept looking into the house to see if the guest from Seoul was inside, but she didn't see the man who always seemed to be with Okchom. He must have left this morning, she concluded, and after hanging out the rest of the laundry, she went into the room.

“Sonbi, come and learn how to embroider.”

The truth was that whenever Sonbi saw Okchom work on her embroidery she wished she could try for herself sometime.

“Well, I've never done it before.”

“All you have to do is this.”

It was a picture of what seemed to be a pair of white cranes resting beneath a pine tree. Sonbi watched Okchom carefully.

“Did you learn this at school, too?”

“Of course I did. Not only this design, but all sorts of other ones as well.”

Sonbi stared at the colorful silk threads in Okchom's embroidery. Oh, if only I could sew like that, too, she thought, even just once. Gradually, she saw the crane's wings taking form.

“Isn't this picture nice? Our teacher came up with the motif all by herself. Don't you find it so . . . aesthetic?”

Whatever Okchom was saying, Sonbi hardly understood a word of it. It seemed like Okchom was bragging about how wonderful her picture was. At least that's what Sonbi thought.

“Embroidery isn't very hard, you know. Everyone selects one's favorite animal or landscape and then sketches it onto a piece of paper. Then all one has to do is simply stitch it up like this with thread . . . and there you have it: embroidery.”

Okchom rattled on answering unasked questions, for she knew that Sonbi envied her ability to embroider, and even more, she wanted to
make sure that Sinch'ol, who was talking with her mother in the side room, was well aware that she was sewing. Though it was only an instinct, she had the feeling that Sinch'ol would be pleased to know she was hard at work.

Sonbi listened attentively to Okchom's words, going over in her mind what Okchom had just said: embroidery was simply a matter of sketching something one liked and then stitching it up with thread . . .

“So, Sonbi, what sort of design would you like to embroider? If you tell me, I'll sketch it up for you. And give you some thread, too.”

So excited was Sonbi by Okchom's kindness that her heart was racing. Oh, how I want some of that pretty thread! she thought, almost dizzy from her own delight. She put her head down to think about it. Mount Pult'a? Wonso Pond? Several images came to mind, before she found the right one. She lifted her head, ready to say it, but the words weren't coming out. Staring at Sonbi's cheeks, Okchom thought of what had happened the night before.

“Quick! Out with it.”

“Well, I'm not really sure . . .”

“Oh, come on. I said I'd give you some thread if you told me.”

“ Well . . . a chicken laying her eggs is what . . .”

“Oh, how embarrassing! Really, Sonbi, how could you!”

Okchom cried these words out loud, while Sonbi's face went bright red.

33

In no time at all, the hot month of August had passed.

Okchom and Sinch'ol had just finished their preparations for their trip to Seoul. They would be leaving the next morning.

Okchom's mother looked at Sonbi, who was working beside them, folding clothes and placing them into a wicker trunk.

“Sonbi, see that ‘picnic pasket' or whatever it's called. Well, go fill it up with eggs.”

Sonbi felt a lump in her throat. If it hadn't been for Okchom, she'd have collected close to 100 eggs by now, but ever since Okchom had come home, not a single day had passed when Okchom didn't eat all the eggs the chickens laid. It wouldn't have been so bad if Okchom had
gone and collected them with her own hands, but she'd developed the habit of asking Sonbi to get them for her. Whenever Sonbi was asked to get the eggs, a sense of loss she couldn't quite explain weighed heavily on her heart.

Sonbi slowly rose and went into the pantry. She took down her egg basket from atop the jar. Before Okchom had come home, she used to treat this basket as something so very important and precious to her, but today she didn't even want to set her eyes on it. Those cute little eggs she'd so painstakingly collected—all she wanted to do with them now was smash them one by one onto the floor. She could feel her nostrils flaring with this sudden impulse. She's been eating up the eggs every day now, thought Sonbi as she passed through the threshold of the pantry. You'd think that'd be enough for her. But, no! Now she wants all the rest of them as well. The nerve of her! But just then—just as she stepped up into the breezeway—Sonbi stumbled. Two eggs rolled out of the basket and cracked.

“ Watch out for those eggs!” cried Okchom. She ran up to Sonbi and snatched the basket away from her.

“Just what do you think you're doing! Carrying something like this around without paying any attention. You might be good at housework, but you are a perfect fool when it comes to this sort of thing. Simply unbelievable!”

Okchom made sure she shouted loud enough for Sinch'ol to hear. She was thrilled to be able to find fault with Sonbi within his earshot. Okchom's mother came in shortly thereafter carrying some clothes. She stood face to face with her daughter and Sonbi.

“And just what am I supposed to do with you? You came an inch away from breaking them all. A girl your age should be walking slowly, not racing around however she pleases . . .”

Mercilessly attacked by both mother and daughter, Sonbi felt the color rush into her face. She realized that all the sorrow she had tried hard to keep inside was about to pour out of her. She stood still, trying to keep back the flood of tears, when Okchom's mother started berating her again.

“There's not a single thing I can get done around here without having to worry about whether you'll do it properly. The minute I look the other way, there you are neglecting your work again. Tell me what a girl close to twenty years of age is doing behaving like that. Now, get back
into that kitchen, find something to do with yourself, and tell Granny to get the hell in here!”

The woman's scream was so shrill that it sent vibrations through the entire breezeway. Sonbi went back into the kitchen. Granny stood in front of her, wide-eyed.

“What happened, dear? What's the matter?”

Sonbi held onto a shelf in the cabinet and started to sob. She was mortified to have been insulted by the woman and her daughter, and even more upset that every single egg she'd collected that spring had now been taken from her.

As the tears streamed down her cheeks, all she could think about were the eggs—dozens and dozens of those, lovely, oval-shaped eggs.

“Granny, get in here!”

As soon as Okchom's mother yelled for her, Granny ran, wiping away the traces of tears from her face. Granny had the habit of crying whenever Sonbi cried.

“That girl broke the eggs,” said Okchom's mother as Granny came into the room.

“No!” Granny was shocked. She remembered how Sonbi had always carried her eggs around so lovingly.

“How many did she break?”

“How many? Well . . .” the woman mumbled, unwilling to admit that Sonbi had actually only broken a few. “If it hadn't been for Okchom, they'd all be broken. Okchom had the sense to take them right away from her. I'll tell you, it's a good thing my daughter knows something about running a household.”

It was shameless how she heaped this praise on Okchom. Granny sat there with her head hung, sorting out Okchom's clothes. Well, I guess you're always going to think your own children are perfect, she concluded. Okchom came back into the room.

“Mom, I don't want these things!” she said, as she looked at the long, cotton drawers her mother had put in the trunk. “Who'd ever wear anything so rough against the skin?”

“Well, what are you going to wear then?”

“I'll buy my own underwear. These . . . these I'll just give to Granny.”

Okchom flung the underpants over at Granny, who jumped back in surprise.

34

Okchom's mother snatched back the underpants and put them inside the wardrobe.

“If you won't wear them, I will.”

Coming across a pair of cotton underwear had been such a stroke of good fortune for Granny that the lines in her face had begun to twitch uncontrollably. But such was her disappointment at losing them now that her heart felt pierced by the stinginess displayed by Okchom's mother. The overpowering smell of the moth balls helped to stifle her breathing. She turned her head to the side and sneezed a couple of times; her eyes began to tear.

“Mom, Sinch'ol is going to pack the eggs in the picnic basket. He wants me to get him some straw or something to put underneath them.”

“Oh, heavens! I am so relieved. He must have noticed how frantic we've been. What a thoughtful young man! Don't you agree, Granny? Heaven knows that girls aren't usually so careful, but you certainly don't expect such consideration from a man. Now, Okchom, you'd better follow his example!”

Okchom was so happy that she hardly knew what to do with herself.

“Granny, get me some cotton out of the closet.”

Whatever does this girl want with cotton all of a sudden? wondered Granny, as she opened the door to the closet and took out a bundle of cotton. She started picking through it.

“What kind did. . . ?”

“No, no, not that! We're going all the way to Seoul. How is that old stuff supposed to look? Give me the new cotton underneath that.”

Only now did Granny understand that the cotton was to be used for cushioning the eggs. She took out some of the fluffy new cotton from the bottom of the bundle and handed it to Okchom. Whatever it was that drove her to such urgency, Okchom practically ripped the cotton out of Granny's hands and stormed out of the room, her feet pounding against the wooden floor. As Granny watched her rush off, she thought of the cotton balls she had harvested last autumn.

They said it was only a half-acre plot, but the cotton field down in front of the village sure seemed much bigger. Granny, Sonbi and Yu
Sobang had spent day after day there picking cotton until the sun went down. They were all so enchanted by the beautiful fluffy balls that they never got bored of the picking. One ball of cotton after the next, Sonbi and Granny went on picking until their skirts were simply bulging! But oh, how they had pricked their fingers and stubbed their toes on those plants in order to pick the cotton! And how they had endured such agonizing pain in their necks in order to balance it all on their heads! Here these people were too stingy to give her anything better than worn-out old padding for her winter jacket, and yet those eggs bound for Seoul were to be cushioned with fluffy, new cotton. By the time Granny's train of thought had meandered this far, her eyes were red and swollen, and she sneezed once again.

“You know, Granny, ‘Even dogs don't catch colds in June.' W hat's the matter with you?”

No, we're no better than dogs, are we! These words were on the very tip of Granny's tongue, but she managed to hold them back. As she continued to shuffle through the clothes, she could still feel on her fingers the clean texture of that new cotton she'd just touched. Oh, heavens, we're going to have to collect even more of it this fall! And carry it all the way back up here again . . . The old woman sighed deeply.

“So, Granny, did you know that our guest staying over in the side room goes to university? It's the best one in all of Korea. Next spring he's going to graduate and make a huge monthly salary . . . Now, what was it he's going to do again?”

She tilted her head to the side pensively.

“Oh, dear, it's slipped my mind! Well, anyway, as I was saying, there's certainly nothing to be ashamed of in choosing him as Okchom's match. I tell you, I am so relieved, I could die tomorrow . . .”

Okchom's mother went on excitedly, but it seemed as if she was talking to herself. In any case, Granny didn't catch a single word she said. No matter how long she stayed in this house, all she got out of it was more and more work, thought Granny. It didn't even look like they'd have the decency to give her a set of proper clothes. Maybe she'd be better off quitting come fall. But if she left this house, what could a woman like herself do, without any children of her own to depend on? Oh, help me, I'd be better off dead . . .

“Granny, when do you think we should hold Okchom's wedding?”

Granny didn't quite catch what the woman was saying. She simply looked at Okchom's mother, lost in her own thoughts.

“I'm talking about Okchom's wedding ceremony.”

“Oh, yes, yes,” the old woman finally replied, looking back down at her work.