From Wonso Pond (17 page)

Granny started speaking again softly.

“It'd be mighty fine of them this year to give us some of this here cotton for our jackets . . .”

“It sure would.”

Granny opened her saggy eyes, and went back to the task of picking out the specks of dirt from her ball of cotton. She sighed. Sonbi thought of the old, dirty cotton lining Granny's jacket, which would be little protection this year against the wind. She didn't know how many years that same cotton had been in her jacket, but by now it had certainly lost all of its give and had nothing of the delicate texture it once had. Even if she tried pulling it apart to fluff it up a bit, the fibers themselves would probably rip in half . . . Sonbi looked at Granny once more. The old woman's eyes were red and swollen.

“Oh, Granny, they'll give us some cotton this year for sure! Last year they had to sell it all. That's why we didn't get any. They're not going to sell it again this year.”

“Well, you can just forget about that, kiddo. Don't you know what they did with the cotton this summer? They used it all up to cushion those eggs Okchom took with her to Seoul.”

At Granny's mention of the eggs, Sonbi remembered how she had tripped while carrying the egg basket, and she unconsciously let out a deep sigh. This led her to think of the unexpected guest they'd had
from Seoul. They must be a happy couple! she thought. She imagined that Okchom and her guest from Seoul would someday get married and have a wonderful life together. When she thought of her own future, however, things looked more and more bleak. Then the image of Ch'otchae's face flashed before her eyes.

She never used to think of Ch'otchae like this, and since the harvest season had begun, she'd been far too busy to think about anything at all. But recently when she lay down to bed at night, she'd been finding it difficult to fall asleep, and no matter which direction her mind chose to wander, her thoughts invariably drifted back to Ch'otchae.

Just then, the middle gate creaked open and she and Granny looked at each other in alarm.

38

At the sound of footsteps plodding down the hallway Granny called out, “Yu Sobang, is that you?”

The door soon opened, and both Yu Sobang and Tokho entered the room. As soon as they saw Tokho, the two women jumped to their feet in surprise.

“We never expected you back so late at night.”

Tokho was staggering, so Yu Sobang took him by the hand and sat him down in the warmest spot on the floor. A smell of liquor filled the air. Tokho looked at Sonbi and Granny with a dazed expression, then sprawled out onto the floor. Sonbi quickly took out a pillow and handed it to Yu Sobang.

“Sonbi, massage my legs for me, would you?”

Tokho's speech was slurred. Sonbi shuddered and found it difficult to go to Tokho's side. Granny sharply signaled for Sonbi to do as she'd been told.

“The Missus won't be coming home this evening?”

“Okchom's ma? Oh . . . Oh, hell, am I drunk! Ptew. . . ptew . . .”

Tokho spit up into his spittoon, his arms and legs convulsing each time. The others just stared at him with their mouths agape, worried he might lash out at them for doing something wrong. Each time Tokho coughed, their eyes widened as they tried to read the expression on his face.

“Can I cook you some rice?” offered Granny after a few minutes. Tokho looked at Granny and Sonbi with a dazed look in his eyes.

“No, but Sonbi, I want you to pat down my legs a bit.”

Sonbi's face colored and she looked over at Granny. Yu Sobang and Granny both looked back at her, beckoning her to do as she was told.

“Come on, girl . . . Give me a massage . . . My legs hurt, my legs!

Tokho kicked his feet up and down banging them against the floor. Granny poked Sonbi in the ribs and motioned her over to Tokho with her eyes. Sonbi had no choice but to go to Tokho's side. Grabbing his legs, she began chopping down on them with the sides of her palms. It seemed he had spilled liquor on his suit pants, for the smell of alcohol was thick in the air. Sonbi's brow furrowed slightly.

“Oh, that's it. What a good daughter I have!”

Tokho craned his head to look at Sonbi, then sprawled back down on the floor.

“Oh hell, am I drunk. Drunk, drunk, drunk! You go on off to bed,” said Tokho, looking over at Yu Sobang.

Yu Sobang was so exhausted that he'd barely been able to keep his eyes open, but since he was sitting in front of Tokho, he was trying his best to stay awake by biting down on his tongue. As soon as Tokho told him he could leave, he stood to go.

“Granny, make sure my breakfast is ready early tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, Sir,” replied Granny, caught somewhat off-guard. She hung her head to avert her eyes from Tokho's line of vision.

“Go on off to bed. Otherwise, how are you supposed to make me an early breakfast?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Well,” began Tokho, “tomorrow I'm off to the county office, yes, I am. Not that I could turn them down anyway. . . I bet they make me county deputy, or maybe even township mayor. Hah, ha . . .”

Tokho mumbled on like this, laughing to himself, as though no one else were in the room. Granny and Sonbi glanced at each other. They were happy to hear that the Master might be appointed mayor. Though they had always found it difficult to trust Tokho, his new status made him seem far more trustworthy.

“Sonbi, take out my bedding, and then go to bed with Granny.”

Sonbi let out a faint sigh of relief. Her whole body felt unburdened now, as though she had just been relieved of a heavy load. She promptly laid out Tokho's bedding and headed out of the room, but turned around again to turn down the lamp before leaving with Granny.

“I wonder if the Master will really be mayor of the township?” said Granny, who had by now crossed over to the side room. Sonbi smiled and spread out the bedding.

“Well, looks like the Master's got some talent. Mayor of the township, now that's something! Who else do we have like that in Yongyon?”

Sonbi listened carefully to Granny as she folded her hands behind her pillow and stretched out her legs. She instantly felt relief from the exhaustion that had built up inside her over the course of the day. She sighed gently, wishing that she too could have a father like Tokho, just like Okchom. If only my own mother and father were still alive! she thought. But then she remembered what Granny Sobun, who lived in the house just in front of them, had once told her: “Rumor has it in the village that Tokho killed your father with one hell of a beating.” Ever since she had learned this, the old woman's words had haunted Sonbi whenever she had the spare time to let her mind wander. And yet she felt that what the old woman had said couldn't possibly be true. Especially considering the way that Tokho now treated her . . . Sonbi firmly refused to accept what she had been told, and she turned onto her side so that she wouldn't think about it any longer. She picked up a ball of cotton lying at her bedside and pressed it against her cheek.

“Sonbi!” It was Tokho's voice, calling out to her.

39

Sonbi quickly lifted up her head.

“Sonbi!”

Hearing the call a second time, Sonbi shook Granny awake.

“Grandma. Grandma.”

Granny let out a groan, then turned over toward Sonbi.

“What's the matter?”

“The Master is calling.”

“For me?”

“No, he's calling for me.”

“Well then, go and see what he wants.”

“But I want you to get up too, Grandma. Let's go together.”

“Good grief, what's the matter now? He must want you to do something.” Granny was half-asleep, and the last thing she wanted to do now
was get out of bed. But Sonbi did everything she could to get Granny up, then led her into the breezeway.

“Did you call for me?”

“Sonbi? Is that you?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Go get me some water.”

Granny went back into the side room while Sonbi went into the kitchen to fetch the water. When Sonbi came back into the breezeway, Granny was gone. She hesitated for a moment before opening the door to Tokho's room. Cautiously, she made her way inside.

The air was heavy with the stench of liquor, and all she could make out was Tokho's head in the dim light of the flame. Sonbi quickly turned up the wick of the lantern, then went to Tokho's bedside. Perhaps the effect of the alcohol had started to wear off, for the look in Tokho's eye seemed more focused.

“Look here, when someone goes to bed drunk, you're supposed to leave water at the bedside.”

Covering himself up with his blanket, Tokho sat up and took the bowl of water from Sonbi as he spoke. Sonbi felt a lump form in her throat. Afraid that Tokho might give her a scolding, she stood still, looking down at her feet.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you! We got a letter from Okchom telling us to send you down to Seoul! She wants to send you to school.”

Sonbi was stunned by this unexpected news. Suddenly she felt as though the room was spinning around her.

“What do you think? Do you want to go to Seoul? I'm an old man without a son, so I might as well put you both through school. Hell, what else do I have to live for?”

Whenever Tokho got drunk, he always complained about the fact that he had no sons. Tokho stared blankly at Sonbi for a moment, then sighed deeply.

“Think about it, okay? You and Okchom are no different in my book. Though I can't say how you feel about me . . .”

Sonbi was so touched by Tokho's words that she actually felt as though her dead mother and father had come back to life again. Tears began welling up in her eyes. She wracked her brain, trying to think of something to express even one fraction of what she was feeling. But her heart raced so fast that she couldn't come up with anything to say.

Tokho finished drinking his water and handed the empty bowl to Sonbi.

“Well, it's awfully late, so you go on off to bed now. Give it some thought and give me your answer tomorrow or the day after . . . I'll do whatever you want me to do for you . . . Okay?” Tokho watched her face turn an even deeper shade of pink, overcome as she was with emotion. It seemed like Tokho was ready to do whatever Sonbi wanted him to do. She took the bowl from him, with her face cast slightly downwards as a show of respect and went back to the side room. There she collapsed on top of the sack of cotton. ‘Oh, Okchom!' She had never in her life called out Okchom's name like this. The room was pitch-dark and, except for the sound of Granny snoring, perfectly silent. She imagined Okchom's face. That expression in her eyes and lips that once seemed so cold and distant! That nasty tongue of hers that she used to wag at will! Even these, Sonbi now thought upon with fondness. Could this be true? Sonbi wondered. He did say she wanted me to go to school, and that he would send me to Seoul. But did he mean it? Or was he just saying that because he'd been drinking? Question after question came into Sonbi's mind. She got up, turned on the light and began picking clean more of the cotton.

One ball after another, Sonbi gathered the white cotton into her skirt, her thoughts piling in her mind just like the cotton balls in her lap. She had no idea what to think. What do I do? If it's true, can I really go to Seoul? she wondered. That way I could go to school with Okchom and even learn how to do embroidery! Just then, Sonbi pictured in her mind's eye all those colorful skeins of silk thread, which she'd always looked at so longingly. She was holding one of the cotton balls tightly in her hand now, and as she stared into the light of the flame, she lost herself again in her thoughts: Do I go to Seoul? But then who'd pick the cotton? And who'd do the spinning? she wondered, looking over at Granny, who was sleeping beside her so soundly. Then unexpectedly, Ch'otchae's face again appeared before her. She turned her head, thinking: I wonder if he'll live here forever?

40

Once the sun had set and dusk had fallen, the threshing at Kaettong's house was finally over. Oh, the sight of that pile of newly threshed rice
glowing in the darkness! Standing in a circle around it, the farmers were drunk with excitement.

Yu Sobang and Tokho made their appearance. Yu Sobang went inside to light a lamp, which he brought back outside with him. Earthworm picked up a dry measure, approached a pile, and, running his hands through the newly threshed grain, filled a half-bushel with the dry measure.

“Here . . . we . . . have . . . one . . . half . . . bushel.” Earthworm lingered on the soft notes, his melody twisting and turning on each word in the tune. Soon thereafter came the sound of grain flowing into a straw sack—a soft swoosh! Something about this made them feel a warmth in their chests. They pressed against each other, unconsciously, and leaned on their friends' shoulders to get a better look.

“Hey, man, I'm going to fall over!” several of them cried, breaking out into laughter.

One sack, two sacks, three sacks of rice were tied up like this, one after another. Each of them looked back and forth with curiosity between the filled sacks and the pile of rice: how many sacks would it amount to?

Earthworm filled up his last half-bushel scoop and poured the grain into the sack.

“Fifteen . . . sacks . . . and . . . five . . . half . . . bushels . . .”

He drew out each note with great feeling, as though he were singing a plaintive ballad.

“Fifteen sacks and five half-bushels! Well done!” they all said in unison, having stood there in anxious anticipation.

Earthworm brushed off his clothes with a few pats of his hand, then rose to his feet. He slapped Kaettong on the shoulder. “Hey, man, I guess the drinks are on you!” he said. “I bet none of us brings in this much.”