From Wonso Pond (16 page)

“When do you think would be the best time?”

“Well, I . . .”

“People usually hold their ceremonies in the fall, you know, and I really wish we could too. But I have absolutely no idea what the two of them have in mind! Now, mind you, these days the children arrange all the details by themselves. So all we old folks have to do is, well, ‘Sit back,' as they say, ‘and enjoy the fruits of another's labor.'”

If Okchom's mother thought about anything at all in recent days, it was her daughter's wedding. Granny, on the other hand, had just realized something: if they were fixing to hold a wedding this year, she didn't stand a chance of getting any new cotton.

35

The next morning Sinch'ol rose before dawn, and with a towel and a bar of soap in hand, he headed outside. Yu Sobang had already drawn the water from the well and was feeding the chickens. Sinch'ol could hear the sound of twigs being snapped in half in the kitchen. He went through the middle gate and quickly peeked into the kitchen, but it was still so dark outside that he couldn't see exactly who was in there. All that caught his eye through the smoke was a flame burning in the fire-place. Suddenly he felt like crying. It dawned on him that he might leave without ever having had the chance to sit down face to face with Sonbi, after whom he had longed all this time. He walked out the main gate and then hesitated. And why? Why did he hesitate? He wasn't even sure of that. He paced back and forth for some time, then made his way to the other side of the fence.

He had the faint hope of catching one more glimpse of Sonbi's face through the slits in the reed fence, though he knew this was unlikely to happen. He stood there lost in his thoughts, staring up at the sky as dawn gradually broke. Once he left this place it wouldn't be easy to make his way back. In the meantime, he thought, Sonbi will end up
going off somewhere to get married. She'll have a son and then a daughter and work on a farm, and then sooner or later she'll have a wrinkle or two on that lovely face of hers! These ‘sentimental' thoughts tugged powerfully at Sinch'ol's heart. But as he looked off at the distant horizon, it became more and more clear to him that his longing for Sonbi would forever remain a secret, one buried deep in his heart. He let out a sigh and then set out toward Wonso Pond. Every morning he had come down to the pond to wash up, exercise, and whistle a tune, hoping he might by chance meet Sonbi there. And yet, ever since that day when he'd scattered those willow leaves onto the water and watched Sonbi from afar, he'd never even once spotted her at Wonso Pond.

Several times he had seen Granny there, but for some reason he never managed to come across Sonbi. Perhaps if he were actually to come face to face with this maiden named Sonbi once again, she might not even be very special . . .

As he came up to Wonso Pond, the blue water seemed to greet him in its own wordless way. It was as though the sound of the trickling water was offering him its deepest regrets at their imminent separation.

Looking around him through the grove of willows, with drops of dew hanging from their leaves, Sinch'ol felt again as if he were experiencing the harmony of nature. A pair of wild geese appeared on the surface of the blue water, with long graceful necks, and beautiful white silhouettes. What luck to see a pair of wild geese right there before his eyes! And what feelings of tenderness and innocence they evoked inside him . . .

This was Yongyon village in the morning mists! And today would be his last glimpse of it. If only he could meet Sonbi just one more time, and ask her about her aspirations in life . . . As his gaze settled on Okchom's family's house, he imagined Sonbi's pitiful, lovely figure, just as he had seen it yesterday when both mother and daughter had attacked her so viciously. Poor Sonbi had to spend day after day in Okchom's house—that den of wolves—prey to every sort of contempt! He now felt as though he had an obligation to rescue her from her situation. I wonder if she even knows how to read Korean? he thought. If only there were some way to bring her to Seoul . . .

He set his mind into gear. If he really wanted to bring Sonbi to Seoul, it would only be a matter of coaxing Okchom into it. But he couldn't in his wildest dreams go as far as marrying Okchom in order to do so. She
was so oblivious! And that look in her eyes, that way she laid on that charm—anyone could plainly see that it all came from watching American movie stars on the big screen! That one-of-a-kind look on her face that might have bewitched any man passing by on the street—oh, how it made Sinch'ol tire of her even more.

He'd been raised in the big city and known nothing but its cosmopolitan comforts, so he couldn't quite figure out why this type of woman didn't appeal to him. His classmates even mocked him for it, going to the extent of diagnosing him with an abnormal personality disorder. And yet, after coming out to the countryside and unexpectedly coming across this girl Sonbi, he was surprised by the way the frigid side of his personality had been cleanly swept away.

He thought long and hard about how he might be able to bring Sonbi to Seoul. If only she knew how to read, he would have jotted down a few words to this effect and passed them on to her. But Sinch'ol had the feeling that she didn't even know the alphabet.

When he took out his pocket watch to see what time it was, he felt something claw at his heart.

Pressed for time, he went straight down to the base of the slope to wash up. As he scooped up a handful of water, he looked at the pond. There were the geese again, circling around and around over that blue water! It slipped his mind that he was in a hurry, and he splashed water toward the geese a few times. After a moment he came to his senses, finished washing up, and made his way back into the village. As he passed around the reed fence behind Tokho's house, he suddenly froze. There was a hand reaching up over the fence.

36

When Sinch'ol looked up to where the hand stretched, he noticed a single summer squash, half-hidden by one of the leaves. The hand snapped the dew-drenched squash off the vine and slowly lowered it behind the reeds. Sinch'ol took one step closer to the fence. Whose hand is that? he wondered, just as it disappeared from sight. That hand! It had thick knuckles and cracked nails . . . he had no idea whom it could have belonged to.

Sinch'ol quickly walked over to the reed fence and grabbed onto it, trying to look through it to find out whose hand it was. All he could see
was the tail of a skirt that had already turned at the woodpile and was disappearing into the kitchen. Who could it have been? Granny! That's it! How could Sonbi's hands look anything like that? No matter how hard she works, she still has her youth . . . It couldn't have been Sonbi's! It just couldn't have! He shook his head emphatically. From the kitchen he could hear the sound of someone washing dishes and of someone chopping, and then he heard Okchom laugh—this medley of sounds swept toward him all at the same time.

The image of thin, slender fingers came to his mind. Yes, these are Sonbi's hands! he thought. The unpleasant thoughts he had suffered on account of that one ugly hand were clearing up of their own accord. Yes, that was someone else's hand. How could Sonbi's hands look anything like that? Especially someone as pretty as Sonbi! That one ugly hand had caused him to make a gross mistake about Sonbi's hands—hands that he had no doubt taken unconscious note of . . . Sinch'ol's analysis of the matter complete, he now longed for Sonbi even more strongly, and he wanted to postpone his departure, even by just a little.

“Yu Sobang, go on over to the mountainside and tell our guest from Seoul to come back.” Sinch'ol was walking into the courtyard just as Okchom's mother was saying this.

“Oh, there you are. Come inside and have something to eat before you leave.”

Okchom stood in the breezeway waiting to greet him, freshly primped and powdered as she always was in the morning. Sinch'ol stepped up into the breezeway, conscious of the strong scent of her powder in the air. Tokho came from the inner room where he had been sitting.

“Well, be sure you visit us again soon, you hear.”

Ever since Sinch'ol had asked Tokho not to be so polite with him, Tokho had always addressed him in these familiar terms.

“Well . . . I'm afraid I've put your family to a great deal of trouble by staying here.”

“Oh, don't be ridiculous.”

Staring at Sinch'ol's wide, handsome eyes, the thought struck Tokho that he might want to use this opportunity to make a few decisions, even in very general terms, about Sinch'ol's marriage to Okchom. But since the two of them seemed to have a tacit understanding between themselves,
he kept this to himself, thinking it would be best to wait until they brought up the subject. Besides, he knew that educated kids had their own ideas, even when it came to getting married, so he decided to stay out of it for now.

The meal trays were brought in. Tokho craned his neck to take a good look at them.

“Not much there by way of side dishes, but try to enjoy it anyway . . . Oh, and you, kiddo, don't you go eating any of that chicken broth, you hear me? You know you're not supposed to eat meat while you're taking that medicine.”

Okchom shot a glance at her father.

“Daddy! I'm not taking any of that horrible medicine. How is anyone supposed to drink anything so bitter?”

“Oh, come girl! I'm telling you to take it, because it'll do you some good . . . You're as stubborn as a mule!” Then he turned to Sinch'ol. “Try to talk some sense into her, young man. The girl is fully grown all right. But she's spoiled rotten and won't listen to a thing you say . . .”

Tokho looked back and forth between Sinch'ol and Okchom affectionately. While he didn't show it, Sinch'ol was now alarmed. He knew that these were no ordinary words on Tokho's part and he could feel the color rising into his own face. Okchom picked up her spoon and looked down at her meal. Her eyebrows seemed too heavily penciled.

“Now, do please help yourself,” said Okchom's mother, coming in from the kitchen. Sinch'ol collected himself and looked up at her.

“Yes, I will. Thank you.”

“Hey! Heat up another bowl of soup!” she called.

Soon Sonbi appeared with a bowl of soup in her hands, standing sideways at the kitchen door that led through the breezeway. Oh, that glowing face, flushed pink by the steam billowing from the soup!

And standing out so boldly on her brow, that black mole was surely a sign of her self-composure. Sinch'ol could feel Okchom's dagger-like eyes glaring upon him as he took the bowl of soup. Oh, no, this is the very last bowl of soup Sonbi will ever prepare for me! he thought, his hands slightly trembling. All the passion he'd held back these past few months, he now felt gushing towards the steaming bowl.

37

With the coming of fall, Tokho's trips into town became more frequent. One sometimes found him dressed quite smartly, even in Western suits, which he never used to wear before. Just as he started to visit town more frequently, he sent Kannan off somewhere. Rumors began to spread among the villagers: he'd gotten a
kisaeng
for himself, or else he'd found a young virgin mistress. Naturally, Okchom's mother was furious, and instead of staying at home all alone, she also went into town more frequently, often on the heels of her husband.

On this particular night, it had already been five days since Okchom and Sinch'ol had gone off and no one had received a single word from town. Sonbi and Granny were feeling rather lonesome, left to themselves in the huge house. At night at least Yu Sobang would come to stay in the men's quarters after work. But since he was always so tired from working all day long, he was asleep as soon as his head hit his pillow. As a result, neither Granny nor Sonbi was able to go to bed with her mind at ease—they were too afraid to even turn out the light in their room.

Tonight the two were picking clean the cotton balls they had gathered that afternoon, talking affectionately with each other just as a mother and daughter might do. The sound of the
tubu tchige
bubbling away on a charcoal brazier in the corner had gradually died down, and now it had completely stopped cooking. Sonbi turned to look at the brazier.

“I guess Mother isn't coming back today.”

“ Well, she won't be coming home this late, that's for sure. It must be going on midnight.”

Granny looked up at the clock hanging on the wall. Sonbi peered up at it too.

“It's half past eleven,” said Sonbi.

“No matter how long I look at that thing, I can't ever figure it out,” said Granny, still staring up at the clock. “What's that big hand and little hand supposed to mean again?”

When asked to be that precise, Sonbi didn't exactly know, either. She simply smiled and said, “They just show you what time it is, that's all.”

Granny nodded. She was picking out the dried pepper stems caught in a ball of cotton. When she finished, she placed the cotton ball into her basket.

“Well, I reckon we've got another bumper crop of peppers this year. We should have planted all peppers in that field instead of the cotton.”

“But where would we plant the cotton?”

“Down yonder, in the valley. The peppers are growing good in the field we used this year. But cotton doesn't take to soil that's too rich, you know. Best to have a bit of sand mixed in with the soil.”

Sonbi picked up a ball of cotton and showed it to Granny.

“Yeah, but just look at this. These cotton balls are huge. Just a few of them would be enough to pad a whole jacket! They're plenty big, if you ask me.”

Glowing beneath the brilliant light of the lamp, that single ball of cotton set Sonbi's heart aflutter. It came to her that something like this would be just the thing to sketch out and make into a work of embroidery. But then she hung her head when she recalled Okchom's scornful laughter—it was like the sound of silk tearing. She felt a surge of hateful feelings toward Okchom rush into her.