From Wonso Pond (7 page)

9

Perhaps in consideration of the stranger who was trying to hold him back, the man put down his hand and sat, now winded.

“Oh, who knows why we have so many kids. A sin in a previous lifetime, I guess. It must have been something terrible for us to end up like this.”

Though he had just beaten his children in a fit of rage, the man felt so unjustly treated by the world he could barely hold back his tears. Distraught
that he could neither feed nor clothe his hungry kids, he regretted the fact that he'd beaten the poor things too.

Moments earlier they'd been screaming and shedding tears, but now they whispered and giggled beneath their dirty quilt as though nothing had ever happened.

Minsu slept not a wink that night, as thoughts of all sorts churned through his mind. While he told himself this was another man's dilemma, he worried that something terrible like this might happen to his own family too. One after another these thoughts raced through his mind, as though driven by the wind that whipped the paper flaps sealing the windows.

Having remained awake all through the night, Minsu got up before the red of dawn had broken. Perhaps because he'd spent the night in the cold room, his body felt heavy, and he seemed to have caught a cold.

“You must be freezing.”

The man of the house rose and sat directly across from Minsu.

“Well . . .” Minsu stuck a cigarette into his mouth and started to smoke, unable to offer a more direct reply. He pushed the pack of cigarettes in front of his host. The man bowed his head humbly, accepted one, and put it in his mouth. As Minsu took a deep drag on his cigarette, he heard the sounds of whispers in the corner. He lifted his head and looked in their direction.

From out of that pitch-black corner came the constant sound of whispering voices. Just about now Sonbi was probably getting up out of bed and whispering something to her own mother, maybe asking where her daddy had gone, he imagined. Minsu then saw Sonbi's face flash before him in the corner of the room.

“Mommy, I'm hungry!”

Minsu was shocked by how similar the voice was to Sonbi's. Unconsciously he flung his cigarette onto the floor. He shrugged off the idea that the voice might be Sonbi's, and yet for some reason this voice still pierced his heart, unbearably so.

Minsu felt horrible. He wanted nothing more than to get out of this place. When he stood up to go, he pulled out a one-won note from his pocket without thinking.

“Get your kids something to eat!” he said, pressing the note into the palm of the man's hand.

The man was bewildered. But when he realized that this was money he was holding in his hand, he felt like collapsing onto the floor and breaking into tears. Minsu realized that his own legs were trembling. Then he pictured the furious expression he was likely to see on Tokho's face, and shuddered. He pulled himself away from the poor man, who had by now grabbed hold of him, and made his way out.

The snow had swirled into drifts on either side of him, becoming mountains of snow in some places. Minsu walked briskly along, his shoes crunching softly. He saw bird footprints here and there on the surface of the white snow, which to him looked like flower petals.

But Minsu felt sick to his stomach. He had no idea what he would tell Tokho. Considering all his options, should he just lie and say he'd only collected two won from the other debtors? That way he could repay it later without anyone finding out . . . But then again, it was better tell the truth than a lie. The master of the household was a human being, after all, and if he knew the whole story, could he actually blame him? Certainly not . . .

After struggling for some time, Minsu found neither of the two options reassuring. He regretted that there was no one around he could ask for advice. In the end, he decided that he would tell a lie, if only to put his nerves to rest. But this had little of the intended effect. Why, he reproached himself, should a grown man worry about a single won?

Having wracked his brain with these foolish thoughts, Minsu arrived at the outskirts of his village. He should have been delighted to be home, but he couldn't bring himself to go straight in. Only after standing for a while, staring distractedly at the entrance to the village, did he finally enter.

Having made it to Tokho's house, Minsu brushed off his shoes in front of the men's quarters and hoping the master wasn't at home, quietly pushed open the door. When he caught a whiff of Tokho's favorite cigarettes in the cloud of smoke that swept out the door, he hesitated.

“You must be cold. Come on in and warm up by the fire.”

Tokho had craned his head around to look at Minsu. Each of the old men, sitting in a circle, offered him a short greeting. Minsu had no choice but to go inside. Sidestepping the charcoal brazier, he came in and took a seat.

10

Tokho pulled out the abacus from the top of his stationary chest.

“So did he cough up anything this time? That idiot in Pangch'ukkol?”

Tokho hated the man so much that he refused to call him by name. Minsu's face colored, and he hesitated for a second before speaking.

“No, he didn't.”

“What? Well, don't tell me you just let him off, did you? Without twisting his arm or anything?”

“He didn't have the means to . . .”

Minsu couldn't finish his sentence, and simply hung his head. What came to his mind was an image of that little child sucking gruel from the dinner tray as though he were suckling at his mother's breast. The sight of that dark room now flashed in front of his eyes. When Minsu hesitated to speak, however, Tokho lost his temper.

“How dare someone without the means to pay borrow someone else's money!” he suddenly screamed.

Minsu started and moved back slightly in his seat. He was afraid that Tokho's hand was about to lash out at him.

“What about the others?”

“I . . . I got something from them.”

The tight lines in Tokho's brow loosened a little.

“Okay, how much did you get out of them?”

“About three won . . .”

Minsu was shocked by his own words. ‘I collected two won' was what he had planned to say—what had brought him to say three? Minsu right then and there decided he would tell Tokho the truth. The ringing in his ears was frightening.

“So you only got interest out of them . . . Well, that idiot in Pangch'ukkol is going to be a headache! He's trying to get by without paying his debts, is he? Just give me what you have.”

Minsu took the money from his wallet and pushed it over to Tokho. His hand was visibly shaking. Tokho pulled the bills toward him and counted them.

“This is only two won . . .”

Tokho looked over at him with a questioning eye. Minsu slowly lifted his head. The look in his eyes seemed to be begging for forgiveness—like the innocent plea of a young child.

“The man's kids were . . . they were starving, so I just . . . I gave them the rest.”

Minsu's eyes were brimming with tears.

“You what?”

Instantly Tokho screwed up his eyes, and flung the abacus at Minsu. It hit him right between the eyes and fell to the ground with a rattle.

“Are you crazy! Your goddamn generosity has no place in my house. Now get the hell out! I make the decisions around here, so you give away your own damn money, not mine!

“Don't be so hard on him,” said the other men, sitting around in their own circle.

“Well, it'd be one thing if he was hungry and had to buy something for himself to eat, or if he needed the money to get his job done. But the idiot didn't even collect a dime for his travel, and now this is the crap that I have to deal with. Don't I have a right to get angry? Now you, get out!”

Tokho jumped to his feet and kicked Minsu with all his might. If not for the others, he would have beaten him to his heart's content, but he was too worried about his reputation, so he held back his anger and sat down again.

“It's not a question of just a single won. What right does this idiot have to give away even a penny of my money, especially to a man trying to rob me of his entire debt!

His teeth were now grinding with a vengeance, and he suddenly sprang on top of Minsu with the look of murder in his eyes. Then he quickly left the room. The others sitting in the circle scattered out in different directions. Shortly afterwards, Minsu regained consciousness and found the room completely empty. His vision was somewhat cloudy now, and when he put his hand to his brow, he felt something different about it.

Though Minsu had been beaten and insulted by the master of the house, for some reason he was neither resentful nor offended. On the contrary, he felt quite calm and composed, as though a heavy burden had been lifted off his shoulders.

He got right up and made his way home.

When he opened the brush gate, Sonbi and her mother ran out of the house to greet him. Sonbi threw her arms around him, and as Minsu held her tightly in his arms, his eyes filled unexpectedly with tears, blurring
the path before him. The picture of those four little children again flashed into his mind. I wonder if they got anything to eat today? he thought, stepping into his own house.

Sonbi's mother was staring at the sight of father and daughter.

“What happened to your forehead?”

“Why? What's the matter with it?”

Minsu put his hand to his brow and rubbed it again. Then he lay down on the floor. Sonbi's mother took out a blanket and draped it over him. Did he have some kind of run-in with troublemakers? Or was he just tired from his trip? she wondered.

“Can I fix you some supper?”

“Well . . . maybe some rice porridge . . . Make me some, would you? Sonbi's mother now knew for sure that her husband was not well, for he had asked for porridge. She was about to ask him if he was in any pain when Minsu closed his eyes tightly and rolled onto his side.

11

The next day Minsu was terribly sick and unable to get out of bed. Sonbi's mother did everything she could to care for him, but nothing seemed to help.

Several days later, Sonbi's mother came in from the yard to speak to Minsu. The rims of her eyes were red and swollen.

“Is it true that the master of the big house hit you with his abacus?”

“Who told you that?”

“Just about everyone who saw it happen, that's who.”

“I don't want to hear it! Don't pay attention to such rumors. And even if the master did hit me, do you really think he meant to hurt me? We're like a father and son to each other . . . ”

“So he did hit you then.”

“I said I don't want to hear about it, didn't I?”

Minsu groaned and turned over onto his side, but then his eyes flashed open and he looked over at his wife, as though he'd just thought of something.

“If by any chance I end up dying, I don't want you to take those rumors seriously.”

Minsu knew that his afflictions were far from ordinary. But not in his wildest dreams had he ever imagined Tokho had caused them. As soon
as the word “die” fell from her husband's lips, Sonbi's mother felt dizzy, and she couldn't bring herself to mention the subject again.

Within only a few days' time, Minsu passed away. He would never know how Sonbi threw her arms around his body, sobbing with all her heart.

 

As she reflected on these past events, Sonbi's mother soon had tears running down her cheeks. She wiped them away and once again looked up at her roof—that dingy roof without a master. How many thousands of times her husband's strong hands had worked their magic upon it!

At the sound of the brush gate opening, Sonbi's mother assumed that her daughter had returned, and she quickly sat down. She removed the traces of tears from her face, and started plaiting her straw again. Then she thought she heard someone at the door. Maybe it's not Sonbi, perhaps someone else from the village has dropped by, she thought, tilting her head to listen for a clue.

“Anybody here?”

As soon as Sonbi's mother heard the voice, she knew whom it belonged to.

“My goodness, what brings you here?” She got up immediately and opened the back door. Sinch'on Taek was standing there in the doorway, looking somewhat out of sorts. Her tired, puffy eyes were lit up by only a trace of a smile.

“Are you busy?” She ended her sentence with a deep sigh.

“No, please, come in.”

Sinch'on Taek entered the room and took a seat. She stared out blankly at the backyard, as though distracted by something on her mind.

“I bet my mom is also . . .”

She couldn't bring herself to finish the thought. Sonbi's mother understood what she wanted to say, though, and she felt sorry for the young woman.

“Are you feeling all right, dear?”

“Well, I'm afraid I'm going to have to move back home for good tomorrow . . .”

Tears were now streaming down her cheeks. Sonbi's mother was at a loss as to what to say and simply sat there silently for a while before speaking.

“Come now, what makes you say such a thing?”

“Well, I'm not going to be able to live in that house much longer. I mean, with him on my case all the time about giving birth to a son, how long do you think I'll last without giving him what he wants?”

Each time this young woman of hardly twenty years mentioned not having a child, Sonbi's mother looked over at her as though she was being rather silly. At the same time, though, she couldn't help feeling sorry for her.

“Well, what did he say to you?”

“You heard that I missed my period last month, didn't you? Well, I just got it again this morning!”