From Wonso Pond (25 page)

“Why are you laughing? You think I'm a joke, don't you, Sinch'ol? Well, I already know that! So just tell me why you're playing all these games with me.”

As she said this, Okchom thought back to the time in the countryside when he'd held her so tightly around her waist. Sinch'ol, for his part, stared back at her, perplexed.

60

Several days later, when Sinch'ol came home after school, he found his father sitting at the dinner table, looking rather pleased.

“Still at the library this late at night?” his father asked him.

Since he had instructed Sinch'ol quite some time ago to begin studying for the bar examination, his father had assumed that Sinch'ol was working hard in preparation for it.

“Yes, I was,” replied Sinch'ol as he sat his younger brother Yongch'ol onto his lap.

“Gimme some caramels?” said Yongch'ol, staring up from Sinch'ol's lap.

Sinch'ol then showed the boy his empty pockets.

“I forgot to buy them today,” he said. “I'll get you some tomorrow, okay? I promise.”

“You better not be lying again. You already promised to get me some.”

His mother looked affectionately at Yongch'ol.

“That boy sits around all day long, talking about nothing else. The little rascal. . . .”

“I'll buy you some tomorrow, okay? Cross my heart,” said Sinch'ol.

Yongch'ol's raven-black eyes lit up.

Just then the maid carried in a brazier, which Sinch'ol's stepmother moved in front of him. The soft hair on either side of his cheeks rose in the heat.

“Now, come over here, Yongch'ol, and finish eating.”

The boy came to his mother and sat in her lap, but then his father chimed in, and beckoned him with a wave of his hand.

“Yongch'ol, come over here.”

“ Wait . . . Let me first give him some rice with this soup. . . .”

His mother bent her head around to see if the boy was eating properly and then smiled sweetly at him—her pointy snaggletooth sticking out all the while. Sinch'ol noticed that his father had been waiting for him and hadn't eaten a single mouthful, so he quickly sat down in front of the dinner table. The pungent scent of seasoning greeted his nose.

“Next time don't forget to buy my caramels . . .”

Yongch'ol looked at Sinch'ol again, his cheeks puffed out in a pout.

“That's right. He forgot them today, but he'll get you some tomorrow. Now, be a good boy and eat your food,” said Sinch'ol's father.

All you can think of is caramels, isn't it, sweetie? Now, eat this up for mummy.”

They all smiled at the boy. Sinch'ol finished his meal and stood to go.

“Wait,” said his father, taking a sip of scorched rice tea. “Sit back down for a minute.”

Sinch'ol assumed his father had something to say to him, and he looked to his stepmother for a clue. She returned his glance with a smile. His father had his dinner table taken away.

“I think it's about time you got married . . .” said his father, looking straight into Sinch'ol's eyes. Sinch'ol could feel his heart sinking, and he winced self-consciously with a mild sense of shame. He hung his head as he listened.

“You're already twenty-five years old . . . and in a couple of days, you'll have a degree in your hands . . . This is just the right time for you to find a wife . . . Tell me, have you got your eyes on anyone in particular?”

Sinch'ol wondered if a prospective family had made themselves known to his father.

“I haven't given much thought to getting married,” he replied.

What had immediately come to his mind, however, was the image of Sonbi carrying a bowl of soup to him. He could see Yongyon village right there in front of his eyes.

His father's face glowed with satisfaction. He recalled something that he had heard from his wife a few days earlier. “Oh, Okchom has fallen for Sinch'ol all right,” she'd said with much relish, “but I do think it's a case of unrequited love.” The man was delighted to know that his son was so focused on his studies.

“Well, then . . .”

His father seemed to have something else on his mind.

“What do you think about this girl Okchom, who's always stopping here?”

Sinch'ol thought of the night several days earlier when he'd dashed out of Okchom's room.

His father lit up a cigarette.

“Now, having grown up as an only child, she may well be somewhat accustomed to having things her own way . . . but the girl is a fine person, as far as I can tell. What do you think?”

As his father was making this extraordinary case for his marrying Okchom, Sinch'ol stared sadly into the brazier beside him, considering what his father was trying to do to him. All the faith and trust he had placed in his father now seemed to transform before his eyes into that heap of dirty coal piled up at the brazier's edge. He couldn't bear sitting there any longer. He looked up at the man, and spoke.

“Father . . . I am not yet ready to get married.”

61

Sinch'ol jumped to his feet. But his father looked all the more commanding.

“You sit right back down . . . Are you aware of the fact that Okchom's father has come to town?”

Sinch'ol froze. “No, I wasn't. When did he get here?”

“He came down on the train today. He went out of his way to pay us a visit, but unfortunately he couldn't stay long. So I want you to go over and see him. He was kind enough to let you spend the whole summer at his house last year, and now that he's in town, you are to give him the courtesy of a visit.”

The knowledge that Tokho and his father had already been conferring in private was cause for even greater alarm. But at the same time, maybe Tokho had brought Sonbi with him. With this thought his heart started racing.

“Fine, I'll go see him,” he replied promptly, then left the room.

Yongch'ol opened up the door again and poked his head outside. “Don't forget my caramels, okay?” The light was shining at just such an angle that the boy's head cast a round shadow on the floor of the breezeway.

“Yes, okay,” said Sinch'ol, putting on his shoes.

“Make sure to pick up something to take with you,” called his father.

If he had known for sure that Sonbi was in town, he would have eagerly gone out of his way to buy something special to take with him. But as he wasn't sure that she'd come along, he didn't have the slightest interest in taking a gift. He put his hand in his pocket, felt for his wallet, and went outside.

From down the street a ways there was a bus barreling straight toward him with its red and blue lights flashing. He could see the familiar
face of the bus girl inside. Maybe I'll take the bus, he thought, taking a few steps toward it, but then he changed his mind. No, I'm just going to take my time, he said to himself as he turned his back and started walking.

From this direction a taxicab and a bus came racing toward him neck and neck. Sinch'ol caught a powerful whiff of gasoline and stepped to the side of the road. Maybe Okchom, Sonbi, and Tokho were all riding inside? Maybe they're coming to find me? Each time he caught sight of a young woman sitting inside a bus, the same thoughts came to him. As he slowly walked along, he painted a picture of these two girls, Sonbi and Okchom, in his mind's eye. Then he began mulling over what his father had said. Was it a good idea to get married now? Or wasn't it? It was purely in a theoretical vein that he asked himself these questions. Up until now he had never given consideration to anything like marriage.

But the closer he came to Okchom's boarding house, the more these unresolved questions belabored his mind; his head was spinning. And what would happen if Sonbi had actually come to Seoul? He had managed to coax Okchom into bringing Sonbi to Seoul only through a variety of unusual measures, and now that it seemed Sonbi had made it to town, there were other issues that would need resolving, which promised to place him in a very awkward situation.

“Hey, is that you Sinch'ol!”

The slap on this shoulder had startled him and he turned to look. It was Inho, a fellow classmate. He was wearing one of those mortarboards, pressed tightly down on his head, as well as tortoise shell glasses. There was a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, as usual.

“Where you headed?”

“Me? Oh, just off to see someone . . .”

“Well, who? Looks to me like you're off to meet your . . .
lover
.”

His eyeglasses glinted in the streetlight.

“Well, whatever you say . . .”

With a smile stretched across his face, Sinch'ol set off once again. Inho followed.

“Hey, there's a real beauty over at Café Dahlia now—fresh from the countryside. Any interest in going?”

“A real beauty?” mumbled Sinch'ol. “From the countryside?”

He painted a picture of Sonbi's face in his mind's eye. But then he
caught a strong whiff of cigarette smoke in the air and turned his face in the opposite direction. Sinch'ol could tell from the smell that his cigarettes were
Shikishimas
.

“Where you headed? Just tell me.”

“Oh, my father sent me out on an errand.”

Although he was only trying to get rid of Inho by saying so, he really felt as though this was nothing more than an errand he was running on his father's behalf. All he really cared about was whether he'd see Sonbi.

“An errand? Oh, come on! What kind of man runs around for his father these days? You're hopeless . . . Mr. Virtuosity!” He burst out laughing.

“Mr. Virtuosity?” chuckled Sinch'ol.

Sinch'ol's sinuses were stinging from the
Shikishima
smoke. He happened to spot a
yakiguri
vender passing by on the other side of the road.

“Well, I'll see you later.”

Inho offered his hand to Sinch'ol and then flicked away his
Shikishima
, having smoked barely half of it. In the middle of the street its red embers glowed brilliantly.

62

He's going off to some raunchy café again, isn't he? thought Sinch'ol, as he watched Inho dash off to catch the streetcar to Yongsan. ‘A beauty from the countryside,' he mumbled.

After arriving at Okchom's boarding house, he couldn't immediately bring himself to enter the building, so he took a minute to see if he could hear movement inside. After trying to calm his racing heart, he cleared his throat. At the sound of his cough someone in Okchom's room came to the door.

“Yes, who's there?”

Okchom opened the door just a crack and was now peered outside.

“It's just me,” said Sinch'ol, stepping up to the door.

“Oh, Sinch'ol! Did you run into Father on the way here? He just went over to your house.”

“He did? Well, no, I didn't see him.”

“Well, you must have passed right by each other on the street . . . Please, come inside.”

At the thought that Sonbi might actually be sitting inside that room, Sinch'ol felt his face burning. He slipped off his shoes and quickly peeked into the room. He saw no one else inside.

“Well, aren't you coming in?”

Now that he'd found only Okchom in the room, he wanted to turn around and walk away. He even felt a grudge against Okchom, who was smiling there so sweetly at him.

Sinch'ol dragged his feet into the room unwillingly. He caught the faint scent of medicine in the air. Then he noticed the bedding laid out in the warm corner of the room, from which Okchom seemed to have just arisen. Okchom went over and looked at her face in the mirror.

“I haven't even freshened up yet. Oh, I look just a wreck!”

She smoothed down her hair and then grimaced at herself in the mirror. Sinch'ol saw in Okchom's distorted face the same scowl with which her mother had always scolded Sonbi. There's no sign that they've even brought her here, thought Sinch'ol, quickly taking in everything around him.

“You know, Sinch'ol, I've been sick this entire time.”

“What's wrong with you?”

Okchom blushed.

“Ever since the other night . . .”

Both of them recalled what had happened that night. Sinch'ol smiled at first, but then it dawned on him: his father and Tokho were probably at this very moment discussing the issue of their marriage.

“Has your father come to town all by himself? He should have brought your mother along with him.” Sinch'ol could see quite clearly that Sonbi hadn't come with Tokho, but he still couldn't resist probing further.

“Well, I actually asked Mother to come, but Father came by himself.”

Sinch'ol felt almost dizzy with disappointment as he stood in the bright light of the electric lamp.

“You know, Sinch'ol, I really thought you'd never come. I thought I'd die without ever seeing you again . . .”

Okchom hung her head and started to sob. Sinch'ol felt terrible watching the tears stream down her flushed cheeks.

If only he too could break down in tears, so that he could get everything out of his system . . . Could he actually be in love with Sonbi? He
could still hear his father asking him if there was any girl he liked in particular.

Okchom jumped up as though she'd just remembered something. She opened a basket and took out, one after another, an apple, a pear, a persimmon, some chestnuts and some rice cakes.

“Please have something to eat. Father just took some to your house as well. He brought all of these with him . . .”

A faint smile broke over her tear-drenched face. Sinch'ol stared back at her blankly.