Silver Stallion (22 page)

Then someone tapped his shoulder.

He instinctively knew it was not Kijun. Chandol quickly stepped away from the window.

Mansik stood glaring at him. He pointed at Chandol and Kijun one by one. He gestured for them to follow him. They headed for a lone tree by Mudfish Pond. Lagging behind Mansik, Chandol and Kijun glanced at each other. Kijun pointed at the stream with his head to suggest they should run away. Chandol thought for a moment and shook his head. Kijun, crestfallen, followed Mansik across the ankle-deep snow. Chandol did not seem to be worried but Jun believed he should be. Mansik was a good fist-fighter and could punish Chandol if he made up his mind to.

Mansik stopped by a stack of hay. They were far away enough from the Club now; he did not want anyone to overhear.

Kijun was terrified. “I think he's going to beat us up.”

“Shut up,” Chandol said in a hoarse voice.

Kijun tried to make up with Mansik. “I'm sorry, Mansik,” he bleated. “I'm sorry, Mansik, I'm sorry. I mean it. You have it all wrong. The truth is. …”

“I told you to shut up,” Chandol barked.

Kijun flinched.

Mansik stared at the two boys. “What were you doing there?” he asked in a tone that showed he already knew the answer.

Kijun blubbered, “We didn't watch anything. I swear. We didn't, did we, Chandol? We didn't see anything, did we?”

“So you came to watch something, huh?” said Mansik, pulling his clenched fist back to punch Jun. “That's what I guessed.”

Kijun ran to Chandol's side to seek shelter. “Don't let him hit me!”

“If you don't keep your trap shut,
I
will hit you,” said Chandol. Then he faced Mansik. “You've got something to say to us, I guess.”

“What were you doing there?”

“You already know. We came to watch what's happening in that house.”

“How often have you come here?” Mansik asked.

“This is the first time we've ever been here,” Jun said.

“How often?” Mansik asked Chandol.

“I don't think it matters too much how often we came here.”

“Every night?”

Chandol stared at Mansik for a while. “Almost,” he said. “Almost every night.”

“What exactly did you watch?”

“We'd better not talk about it. You wouldn't like it.”

“And exactly what did you see?”

“All right, if you insist. We watched them play in the room, you know, the
bengkos
and. … Do I really have to tell you?”

“Watched them play what?”

Chandol glanced at Kijun and said, “Maybe we can let Toad go home and settle this matter between you and me.”

“I can fight you both,” Mansik said, clenching his fists and getting ready.

“I didn't say anything about fighting. I just meant that we'd better talk in private.”

When he saw Mansik wavering, Chandol pressed on, “If a fight is what you really want, you can fight me now. You can take on Toad and beat him up any time you want later. If you can't get hold of him, just tell me when you want him. I promise I'll personally bring him to the water mill exactly when you want him there. But I don't believe you'd bother about a miserable fat boy like him.”

Mansik stared at Toad for a while, thinking. “All right,” he said finally. “I'll let him go.”

“Can I really go?” Kijun asked Chandol. “Does he really mean that I can go home now?”

“Yeah. Go home. But come to headquarters tomorrow morning. I will have something to say to you.”

Kijun did not wait for another word. He scurried away across the rice paddies like a startled mouse, finally slowing down and looking back twice when he reached the log bridge. Then he started to run again.

After Kijun had disappeared beyond the bridge, Chandol turned to Mansik and said in an unexpectedly soft voice, “I had to send Toad home because I didn't want him around when I talked with you.”

Mansik, who had anticipated a fight, could not make out Chandol's intentions. He kept quiet, unsure of what he was supposed to say now.

“Honestly speaking, I feel a little sorry for what we've done,” Chandol said.

“A
little
sorry?”

Ignoring Mansik's accusation, Chandol went on, “But you might have noticed that we did not peep in your mother's room. We were both watching Imugi playing with her soldier. Well, you know, I don't have anything to apologize for as a matter of fact and we don't have any reason to fight because I haven't done anything wrong to
you.
Tell me, what did I do wrong to you?”

Mansik was at a loss at this sudden twist. Too many things were going on at once in his head.

“What did I do wrong?” Chandol repeated.

Mansik was confused. What had Chandol done wrong indeed? If it was a fact that the boys had not peeped in his mother's room … “How can I know for sure if you're telling the truth?”

“You'd better take my word because that's the honest truth,” Chandol lied nonchalantly.

Watching only one out of the two adjoining rooms—any idiot could tell it was a lie. Mansik knew it was a he but he wanted to believe it to be true. There certainly existed a possibility, however feeble it might be, that Chandol was telling him the truth. For one thing, this evening the two boys had been both peeping into Imugi's room. Why should he care about that? It was none of his business as long as they stayed away from his mother's room. But they might have watched his mother doing some strange things with the
bengkos,
at least once, or several times, other nights at Dragon Lady Club or at Texas Town. No, Mansik thought, no, he could not believe Chandol's lies. If they had been prowling around the Club at night, it was virtually impossible for them not to see, purposefully or by accident, his mother drinking or playing naked with the Yankees or…. Why did he argue with himself about whether the boys' behavior was right or wrong? They were wrong, absolutely wrong, and they should never have come near the Club. He could not let them watch his mother at night. But he realized he was thinking one way, but speaking another.

“All right,” Mansik said. “I'd like to believe you. I'll forget what has happened this evening and let you go home.” But this is all wrong, he thought. He should not let Chandol go unpunished. He had to give him a warning, at least. A strict warning so that he would not even dare to think of coming near the Club ever again. “I will let you go tonight but you should be prepared for the consequences if I catch you again snooping around the Club.”

Chandol said nothing.

“Promise me you will never come again,” Mansik said.

After a short silence, Chandol said in a calm cold voice, “I can't promise that.”

Mansik was stunned. With a gasp, he asked, “What do you mean you can't promise?”

“I want to come to the Imugi House and watch things,” said Chandol, showing no sign of giving in. “So I will come and watch things.”

“Then I will have to stop you.”

“You may try to stop me but I will keep coming all the same,” Chandol said. “It won't be easy to stop me. And think. I'm coming to watch Imugi, not your mother. I'm not so hot on watching your mother. Watching your mother isn't as much fun as….” He realized his tongue had slipped and quickly corrected himself, “I mean, it won't be any fun to watch a friend's mother playing with the
bengkos.
When watching is concerned. …”

“I don't want to hear any more of this crap.”

“Fine. That's fine with me. I'll go home now because I don't have anything more to say. But you think hard. Because, if you try to stop me from watching Imugi, you will never play with us again. And you may get hurt if you try to stop me.”

Mansik was speechless.

“One more thing, Mansik,” Chandol added. “If you let me watch Imugi, I promise I won't let anybody else come near that house. Not Toad, not anybody. You think it over and you'll realize that this is the best deal you can hope for.”

Blankly, Mansik watched Chandol amble away toward the rice mill. Mansik could hear distinctly the sound of the frozen snow crumbling under Chandol's feet,
crunch-crunch,
as he disappeared into the moonlit landscape.

SIX

“P
eck! Peck him! Kill him!”

Gripping the base of the scarecrow with both hands like the hilt of a wooden sword, Mansik thrust the flat painted face of the dummy toward the rooster again and again. The frightened rooster, one leg tied to the rice mortar, desperately fluttered, trying to get away.

“Peck here!” he hissed furiously, pointing at the scarecrow's exaggerated large eyes. Mansik was trying to train the rooster to attack human beings. “Peck here! Here! Right here!”

The rooster fluttered away frantically to the left and then to the right, hopping on one leg, the other leg pulled back taut by the hemp string, shrieking.

Mansik gave up. He leaned the scarecrow against the rabbit's cage and went over to the sunny stoop. He sat on the edge of the stoop and gazed over the fence at Chandol and Toad and Bong making three snow babies to place around the papa snowman under the ginkgo tree. In the room behind him, Nanhi was playing alone with a spoon and an empty can, beating them together to make noisy music,
clack-clack-clack.

Lolling against the stoop, Mansik recalled the short happy days he had enjoyed with the boys after the Autumn War. A treasure hunt for used cartridge shells among the trees and the rocks on General's Hill on their way to the grave-keeper's hearse shed, the birds warbling in the groves and the mild late autumn sky high above, the fresh cool breeze on the hill, wild chrysanthemums and mountain lilies blooming along the faint path through the oaks and pines, the excitement of chasing the Castle village boys on the sand, yelling and laughing, yellow and white dust rising on the shore of Cucumber Island, the cheerful jabbering boys…. The old days had returned to him; everything of the old days, and his friends, had all come back to him. He was no longer alone, no longer desolate. Everything was like a dream and that dream instantly shattered when he recalled what Chandol had told him….
But you think hard. Because if you try to stop me from watching Imugi, you will never play with us again.
…

Everything was about to change once more. If he tried to stop Chandol, his winter would be solitary. The two months of isolation, of silent tedium, of endless monotony, would return, and loneliness would resume its dominion. He would have nothing to do, nothing at all, except for shuffling back and forth, back and forth in the yard, or squatting on the walnut stump and watching the empty world before him.

Again and again he tried to convince himself that it was all right, it had nothing to do with him if Chandol peeped into Imugi's room, but hardly had he started to lean toward the decision to let him watch the room, when he would be seized by an overwhelming suspicion that Toad and Chandol must have watched his mother too. Then he felt like a criminal.

Mansik was appalled when he visualized Chandol and Toad spying on his mother. He knew perfectly well what his mother was doing at the Club. He had actually seen it with his own eyes one night when he ran to the Club, carrying Nanhi on his back, to ask Mother what he was supposed to do because his sister had diarrhea and kept crying. When he arrived at Dragon Lady, he heard laughter and music coming through the closed door. Nanhi was still crying but his mother did not come out; nobody inside heard her cry, maybe because the music was too loud or because they were too busy drinking. He pushed open the door and saw his mother taking her lace underwear off, dancing on the plank table to music from the radio, while two
bengkos
and Imugi watched her, laughing and applauding wildly. They were so engrossed that they did not notice the door open and then close again. Trudging back home, Mansik kept asking himself how it was possible for his mother not to hear her own daughter cry so close at hand, just outside the door.

Mansik was aware of precisely what was going on every night at Dragon Lady Club from Imugi's casual talk and it was unbearable for him to imagine the boys watching his mother at such embarrassing moments. But he could not stand guard behind the Imugi House forever, night after night in the cold as he had done in the past four days, to keep the snoopers away.

He had asked his mother to buy a dog “as big as a horse.”

“Why do we need a dog?” Mother said. “Are you afraid to be home alone with Nanhi at night?”

“I didn't mean to keep a dog here,” he said. “I think you'd better have a dog at the Club.”

“What for?”

Mansik could not tell her the real reason. “Well, you have many expensive things over there,” he said. “Aunt Yonghi's camera, the radio, PX stuff. A burglar may break in to steal them some day.”

“We don't have any burglars in this village.”

“There have been no burglars because there was nothing worth stealing. But you have valuable things at the Club that might attract burglars.”

For no other reason than to please her son and relieve herself from the pangs of a guilty conscience, she agreed to keep a dog at Dragon Lady Club. Mansik immediately went to the town and bought the biggest and fiercest dog he could find. He drove a stake into the ground behind the Club to tie the dog's leash to. He used a very long leash to allow room for the dog to attack anybody skulking around the back of the house. He concealed himself every night and watched. Chandol and Kijun never showed up; maybe they were aware of the presence of the savage dog, or they had decided to wait until Mansik cooled down and relaxed his vigilance before they came to watch the rooms again. But the dog scared the
bengkos
coming to the Club. OUye complained that the dog was driving her customers away and told Mansik to get rid of it. Mansik sold the dog in town and bought the fierce-looking rooster instead. He had planned to train it to attack. Maybe a trained rooster could guard the house, he thought. But he soon realized that he would never succeed in making the cowardly rooster attack anybody.

Now Mansik had no plan. And he had to see Chandol sooner or later to let him know his decision, if he could reach one. Chandol might have interpreted his silence in the past four days as a refusal. But was it indeed a refusal? Mansik was not sure.

Mansik glanced over at the three boys making snow babies under the ginkgo tree. Kangho was not with them.

Mansik thought this winter would be even longer than the summer.

“You surely made the right decision, Mansik,” said Chandol. He had finally come to the Chestnut House to ask in person whether or not Mansik agreed to his proposition. “I promise I will not fail in my part of the deal.”

“You're going to watch only Imugi's room. No matter what. And you will go to Texas Town and never come to the Club when the river freezes over. You promise.”

“Sure.”

“And you also promise to keep Toad away from the Club.”

“You don't have to worry about him. When I tell him not to come near the Club, he won't come near the Club. He knows perfectly well what he'll get if he goes against me.”

“This deal will be immediately called off if you ever go near my mother's room or Toad shows up anywhere around the Club.”

“I know. You can rest assured.” Chandol was in a hurry to finish talking and go home before Mansik had time to change his mind. “By the way, we're going to the woods for a weasel hunt. I want you to come, okay? We leave the village one hour after noon. We will be waiting for you at Eagle Rock.”

The five boys of Kumsan village, hiding among the rocks on the ridge, waited for the weasel to come out of its hole. Nobody knew for sure if the hole was a weasel's, but they liked to believe it was. They would not mind if the hole belonged to a bobcat or a fox; they were ready to kill any animal that came out of the den with their magnificent pistol. Lying on their stomachs in the snow, they waited.

Mansik's clothes were soaking wet. His skin was slowly freezing; he had not put on enough warm clothes, for he had not expected to be lying in hiding this long. He felt exposed and abandoned. He felt there was nothing but cold emptiness in his heart. He was with the boys and he was out on the weasel hunt, but he felt sad and desolate.

The color of the sun was white. The winter sun had lost its heat and glow, blending into the pale sky. Even the scanty patches of cloud looked colder in its whiteness. The field and the village at the foot of the hill, the pile of fallen leaves in the gulch, the dead ivy leaves clinging to the rocky cliff opposite the ridge, the rice paddies and the hilltops—everything in sight was shrouded.

Looking at the undulation of snow-capped mountains in the distance, he felt empty inside. Whatever he did Mansik felt empty inside, as if he had left something very important unfinished, as if he was suspended, lost, in the air. He felt he should be somewhere else, doing something totally different from whatever he was doing.

Mansik looked around at the other boys. Prostrate under an oak tree like a resting turtle, Bong shivered with cold. The little boy was too young and innocent to notice what was going on in the minds of the older boys around him. Chandol pretended to be casual, but he was either too dramatically flattering or too consciously aloof toward Mansik. Kijun was spiteful and irritable, hating everybody in sight; he jumped at any slight, real or fancied. Kangho was a reticent boy by nature, but he was too quiet today. Kangho had probably noticed something fishy was going on, Mansik thought. On their way up to this ridge, Kangho had not said a single word to him, and Mansik did not venture to talk to Kangho either.

Mansik thought this was not right—his lying side by side with the culprits. But everything was over and done with him anyway. The deal had been made and he could do nothing about it. It was all over, all over.

The boys waited, lying in the snow, but the weasel never came out of the hole.

Opening the door to let the fresh air in—the room was always foggy with cigarette smoke when Yonghi had been there for longer than an hour—Ollye looked up at the little icicles dangling closely in a row along the eaves. The icicles, yellow against the straw thatch, slowly melted in the warm sun and dripped in shining beads into the tiny puddles on the ground.

“Is the tingling pain gone now?” Sister Serpent said, leaning against the papered wall and stirring the coffee in her china cup with a plastic spoon.

Ollye glanced at Nanhi, who was rolling her yo-yo around the floor, babbling something to herself. Mansik was not home and Nanhi was too young to understand what they were talking about but Ollye was selfconscious about discussing anything related to her profession in the presence of her children.

“The shots must be working fine,” Ollye said, returning to the mirror stand to continue making up her puffy face. “I think I am clean now. No more pus, you know.”

Ollye had been terrified when green pus had started to ooze out of her down there one afternoon. She rushed to the Club and asked Yonghi what was happening to her. “Am I going to be a leper?” she said in breathless fear, for leprosy was the only disease she knew of that was supposed to produce oozing pus.

“That's the social disease I told you about,” Yonghi replied casually as if it was the most common thing in the world.

So she finally had contracted a social disease, the dirtiest and most shameful disease in the world, Ollye thought in consternation. She was appalled and terrified at first, but soon began to wonder, in anger and indignation, which Yankee had given this dirty disease to her. She recalled the soldiers she had slept with recently and mentally examined them one by one. She concluded that the stumpy
bengko
called Herman was the culprit. Every
bengko
carried the nauseating body odor of burning fur, but Herman had the most disgusting stench of them all. Ollye remembered what his crotch had smelled like when she had had to lick his thing. Now that her own crotch had begun to give off a similar stench, Ollye was sure that Sarging Herman had had the disease.

It would not help a bit to locate the soldier who had given her syphilis. She had to cure this smelly oozing complaint immediately. She asked about the town doctor who specialized in this kind of trouble. “I don't want to die of this sickness,” Ollye said. “What would people say about me?”

Sister Serpent was outrageously relaxed and careless. “Don't worry too much, Sis,” she said. “Lots of people died of pox in the old days, but there're very good medicines these days and I assure you, you'll be clean again in no time. And you can't call yourself a pro in this business until you experience both clap and pox at least once.”

Ollye went to town with the map Sister Serpent had drawn for her to find the doctor who had treated many Texas Town girls. It did not take much time for her to locate the old tiled house with a shabby plank sign saying “General Gurinick” in the alley behind Central Market, but she found herself unable to open its gate and step into the house. She feared she would never come out of the clinic alive again once she entered it. It occurred to her that nobody would care if she was killed in that seedy clinic. And she was too ashamed of her illness to walk in and tell somebody, some stranger inside General Clinic, the reason why she was there. She paced up and down the alley for some time to summon enough courage to face the doctor but finally gave up and returned to Dragon Lady Club. She asked Sister Serpent to accompany her to the clinic.