by Sumi Hahn
“She said yes to dinner?”
As the young American smiled, Junja realized that he was probably close in age to Suwol.
“She say you so handsome and look like good guy.”
“You’re not pulling a fast one, are you? She seemed upset.”
“She feel bad because grandmother lonely. She worry too much. What time you want dinner?”
“I have guard duty tonight, so I can’t stay out late. Would five o’clock work?”
“Five oh-clock okay. Go to Yum Yum Café. Over there, with yellow flower. Here, take your leaf.” The fishmonger motioned to Junja to hand the basket to the young man.
The man pushed it away, laughing. “I know how this works. You won’t translate unless I buy something. She can keep the leaves. I just want to have dinner with her.”
“Okay. See you later, Chollie. Five oh-clock.”
The young man bowed to Junja before walking away, grinning.
The fishmonger handed one of the man’s coins to Junja and pocketed the other one. “Tell your grandmother that the two of you are invited for dinner over at my place.”
“He said it was all right for my grandmother to come?”
“This has nothing to do with him. I’m the one inviting your grandmother. Don’t forget, five PM at Yum Yum Café.”
“What’s Yum Yum Café?”
“My restaurant.”
“You own a restaurant too?”
“What do you think I do with all the fish that doesn’t sell? Throw it back into the sea?”
The fishmonger pointed across the market to a row of splintery gray wooden buildings leaning against each other. “My restaurant is over there, third door from the left. Sunflowers are painted on the sign.”
“What if my granny doesn’t want to come?” Junja was trying to figure out how to tell Grandmother about the dinner without revealing how she had gotten the invitation.
The fishmonger shrugged. “That would be a first. I’ve never known anyone around here to refuse a free meal.” She picked a leaf out of the basket and popped it into her mouth. As she chewed, she started nodding. “Tell your granny that the fishmonger with the ice invited you, because the kkaennip I bought was so delicious.” She took the basket out of Junja’s hands and pressed the young American’s other coin into the girl’s palm. “She’ll be my guest.”
* * *
The market shut down in fits and starts, bits and pieces breaking off and dispersing with the receding crowds. The fishmonger was the first to take down her stall and leave. Next, the shop with the magazines was dismantled, bundled up, and carted away. The sunflower peddler left early as well, to start the long walk home. As dusk approached, Junja and her grandmother were among the remaining stragglers. They traded the last of the kkaennip and its basket for some dried squid.
“So where is this fishmonger’s restaurant?” The old woman rose out of her squat using Junja for support.
The girl pointed. “Just across the main street, in that row of little buildings. It’s called Yum Yum Kah-pey.”
“What kind of nonsense is that?”
“American.”
“Well, if she has sense enough to judge my kkaennip good, then her cooking might be edible. It would be nice to eat something hot.”
“She’s very clever, Grandmother. And she seems kind.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. Don’t trust anyone too quickly, Junja. In times like these, people will say or do anything to put themselves first.” The old woman noticed two soldiers standing nearby and added, “Beware of soldiers, especially.”
* * *
Despite its shabby exterior, the café was immaculate inside. Four small tables were staggered on the wooden floor. The walls were covered in newspaper, with an occasional glossy picture cut out from a magazine. The scent of frying onion made Junja’s mouth water. A large wooden radio sat silent on a table in a corner.
Yoonsoo poked her head through the door connecting the kitchen to the dining room. “You’re early! Good. We could use your help, Junja.” The fishmonger rushed out to bow to Grandmother. “Nice to meet you again, Auntie. Please, take a seat and make yourself comfortable.”
Junja followed Yoonsoo into the cramped kitchen, where a girl was chopping greens. The fishmonger tousled her hair. “Junja, this is my younger sister, Yoonja.”
When the girl turned around, Junja had to swallow her shock. Yoonja’s upper lip was split in half. Her words hissed and whistled out of an unsightly gash. “Niceth to meet you, Junja.”
The fishmonger acknowledged the cleft without pity. “She may be scary-looking now, but when the American doctors fix her, Yoonja will be one of the prettiest girls anywhere.” She punched her younger sister’s shoulder affectionately. “See how nice her figure is! Even better than mine.”
Yoonja grimaced at Junja, who took a few moments to understand that the contortion was a smile. “Did you make the kkaennip? Tho good!”
Junja grinned back. “I helped my grandmother. I’ll let her know you like it.”
“Pleathe, give her some barley tea.” Yoonja motioned to a large kettle.
Junja took a cup of tea out to Grandmother, who was peering at the pictures on the wall, hands clasped behind her back. As the old woman settled onto a floor cushion to drink, the girl noticed an illustration of an American woman with long dark hair. She was kneeling on a beach, wearing an enigmatic smile and scanty small clothes that clung to her body. Did American women work as haenyeo too?
“That’s my fiancé’s favorite pinup girl. He says she reminds him of me!” The fishmonger joined Grandmother at the table with her own cup of tea. “But my boobs are much nicer, I think.” She gestured toward the kitchen. “I’ll sit with your grandmother. Why don’t you join Yoonja in the kitchen? She’d appreciate the company.”
* * *
“My sister arranged a dinner date for you?” Yoonja lifted the lid on a boiling pot. The billowing steam hid the lower half of her face. Without the distraction of the harelip, she was indeed a beautiful girl.
“Yeah. She said he was a nice guy.” Junja suddenly felt embarrassed about agreeing to the date.
“If Yoonsoo said so, he’ll be nice. She’s never wrong about people.” Yoonja’s knife moved evenly, a steady beat.
“Has she ever arranged a date for you?”
Yoonja touched the cleft. “What kind of man would be interested in this?”
Junja reddened. “I’m sorry …”
“You don’t need to apologize.” Yoonja put her knife down. “When I was born, Mother tried to drown me. Yoonsoo pulled me out of the water and hid with me in the woods, until Father came home. Her punishment was to take care of me. Mother was sure I would die because I couldn’t suckle. Yoonsoo and Father kept me alive by spooning cow’s milk into my mouth.”
Yoonja gestured to the pot of salt, which Junja handed to her. “She was only eight years old when she did that. Mother died of a fever four years later, and then Father was taken by the Japanese. My sister’s been taking care of me my entire life.” Yoonja nodded emphatically, as if she were agreeing with herself. “You will never meet anyone kinder or braver than Yoonsoo.”
As if summoned by her sister’s praise, the fishmonger poked her head into the kitchen. “Hey, a couple of soldiers want to order dinner. Can you help them out? I’m busy talking to Junja’s grandmother.”
Yoonja looked hopefully at Junja, who shook her head. “My grandmother doesn’t want me talking to soldiers. And I don’t know what you’re serving. Better for me to stay here.”
Yoonja sighed. She was used to being stared at. She wiped her hands on her apron. “I’ll go out, then. You can clean the fish.”
Eighteen
Out in the dining area, the fishmonger listened to the old woman air her outrage.
“You know what the mainlanders have been doing under direct orders from your precious Americans?” Grandmother spat out the question as she glared at the two young soldiers who had settled them
selves at a table on the other side of the room.
“You can’t believe all the crazy rumors. Raids against villages? Communist sympathizers being dragged away for questioning and disappearing? They’re just stories to scare people into obeying the curfew.”
The old woman’s hands clenched around her cup. “My daughter was taken away for questioning and tortured. She died of her injuries.”
The fishmonger blinked. “There must have been some kind of mistake. Did you report it to the authorities?”
“Which authorities? The local policemen who dragged her out of the water and threw her in jail? Or maybe you mean the Americans, who work with lying traitors? The monster who killed my daughter used to be a Japanese collaborator. Your precious GIs made him a Nationalist officer.”
“I didn’t know the situation was so bad outside the city.” The fishmonger looked pained.
“It’s bad all over Jeju.” The old woman stared into her cup.
“The commanding officer in Jeju, General Kim, he seems like a reasonable man. I’ve heard he’s fair and cautious. Not the type to shoot first and ask questions later.”
“So I’ve been told by a Nationalist friend.”
“This friend—is he reliable?”
“He has no reason to lie and a great deal to lose if his sympathies were discovered.”
The fishmonger considered. “Working in the marketplace and here in the restaurant, I overhear a lot. I’ve heard soldiers arguing. There’s a lot of confusion about what the mainlanders have been sent to do here.”
“Most of the high-ranking officers have no decency. Give a man a taste of power, and he’ll reveal his true character. Lots of dogs out there.”
“If you’re right about that, Auntie, then nothing we women do will make a difference. Better to concentrate on saving ourselves, don’t you think?”
“The bigger the dog, the bigger the stick you need.”
The fishmonger sighed. “Which stick, Auntie? China doesn’t feel right at all.”
The old woman didn’t answer.
“Have you talked to any of the refugees from the North? They say that the Chinese are as barbaric as the Japanese, maybe even worse.”
“I guess it’s a matter of picking between poisons.” The old woman sounded tired.
Yoonsoo shook her head. “The Americans live too far away. It makes no sense. But China? They want Korea back under their thumb now that the Japanese are gone. It’s our past, all over again.” She sniffed. “China or America—either choice carries a steep price, Auntie. I don’t care to find out what it is. Let me help. I can find Junja a nice man, who’ll take her away from here, to America.”
“I will not let you prostitute my granddaughter.”
“You consider marriage prostitution?”
“It often is.”
The fishmonger ignored the barb. “If you change your mind, Yoonja and I will be here in Jeju City until spring. That’s when my fiancé’s tour of duty ends, and we leave for America. I work the market every day. Yoonja’s always here at the restaurant, and I join her at night. If something happens, tell Junja to make her way to the café. I’ll do what I can.”
Grandmother said nothing, her mouth set in a hard line.
Yoonsoo smiled in apology. “Oh, and don’t send your granddaughter empty-handed. As you know, nothing is free. Especially in times like these. She’ll need money for tickets and bribes, things like that. She can get room and board if she helps with the restaurant, but she’s going to have to pay for everything else.”
The old woman nodded. At least the fishmonger had enough sense to leave. She obviously wasn’t the sort of person who allowed principles to stand in the way of common sense. To survive this world, a woman needed to know when to negotiate and when to compromise.
And when to run away.
* * *
After the dinner date, which surprised everyone by being both delicious and entertaining, the fishmonger offered to rent the floor of the café as sleeping quarters to Junja and her grandmother. The old woman declined, explaining that they had staked a spot in the grove just outside the city walls. Constable Lee would be expecting them there at dawn. After thanking Junja profusely for her help in the kitchen, Yoonja sent the two of them off with several roasted sweet potatoes and a pocketful of chestnuts.
Outside in the brisk night air, the old woman took a deep breath and stretched. People were milling about in the street, despite the chill.
“There used to be a bathhouse nearby. A scrub and a long hot soak would feel wonderful.” The old woman sounded wistful.
“How different can it be from a bath at home?” Junja had never gone to a public bath before.
The question surprised the old woman. Her own life at that age had been very different. She had been far more worldly, having lived in Seoul to attend school. At least Junja knew how to write and read. Many of the villagers didn’t even have those rudiments. But never to have experienced the pleasure of a bathhouse? The old woman felt such pity for her granddaughter that she decided to be reckless. “Let’s take a bath together, shall we?”
At the entrance to the bathhouse, a stout woman with steel-gray hair greeted Grandmother with a deep bow. When the old woman explained that this was her granddaughter’s first visit, the baths were offered at half price.
The two of them undressed before squatting down and throwing bowlfuls of water over themselves. Junja copied her grandmother, who slathered a handful of soft mugwort soap over her body before scrubbing with a rough washcloth. She finished by unpinning her hair, soaping it into a lather, and rinsing herself with ladles of clean water. Now clean, the two of them were ready to soak.
The stone-tiled bath was set into the ground, far deeper and larger than Junja had expected. Several women were already lounging in the water, and their heads turned languidly toward the newcomers. Their gazes slid away, and the women resumed their murmured conversations. One woman was as angular as a man, with dark purple nipples on her bony chest. She was talking to a woman who was short and round like a peach, with pendulous breasts. Two grannies with snowy hair and stooped backs sat neck-deep in the water, eyes closed, groaning openly with pleasure.
Grandmother motioned to Junja to sit down. The women sighed as steam billowed up, shrouding them in mist. The warmth settled on Junja’s skin, a damp sheen that turned into trickles of moisture. She felt like she was inside a cloud. Her eyes closed.
Grandmother spoke, her voice softer than a whisper.
“Junja, try to remember. What happened when you visited the sea king? What dream did you dream under water?”
Grandmother had not asked this question in such a long time. Junja meant to say that she did not remember, but the words that slipped out of her mouth went their own way.
As the old woman listened, lines of water dripped down her face and ran into her mouth, like tears.
Nineteen
A hand slapped Junja awake. Another hand covered her mouth, while a voice hissed against her ear.
“Suwol is in trouble. We’re going back into the city to help him. Don’t talk. Nod if you understand.” Grandmother was squatting next to Junja’s head.
Junja’s eyes flew open. Why was Grandmother talking about Suwol? Junja thought back to the market, the dinner, and the bathhouse; there had never been any mention of Suwol. The girl nodded. As she sat up, a branch snapped.
“Hush!” The whisper came from a shadowy bulk by Grandmother’s side. The dark silhouette turned, revealing Constable Lee’s bearded face. He gestured to the two women, motioning to them to stay silent and follow him.
Junja’s thoughts whirled as the three of them picked their way through the leaves, past other sleeping bodies. Why was the constable involved? The half moon hung low, its thin light doing nothing to illuminate the strangeness of the situation.
When they reached the main road, the constable began talking rapidly as his eyes darted about, searching for eavesdroppers behind every tree. “There isn�
�t enough time to explain everything. Just follow my directions exactly.”
This was the same decisive man that Junja had momentarily glimpsed in the sea caves. The girl was so startled that she could not help asking, “How do you know Suwol?”
The old woman hushed Junja. “We’ll explain later. There’s not enough time now.”
The constable leaned in. “This is our story: Suwol is your new husband. Your grandmother bribed me to bring the two of you into the city to find him. He disappeared the night after your wedding, four days ago. You came into the city to chase after him because a villager tipped you off about his intentions to go gambling in Jeju City. He disappeared with your dowry—two small gold rings—as well as all the wedding gift money.”
“What? That’s crazy!” Junja glanced at her grandmother, whose face was unreadable.
The constable turned to the old woman. “Are you sure you want to involve her? You know the risk.”
Grandmother’s eyes were pitiless as she looked at Junja. “Forget everything you’ve heard, because I’m going to tell you the truth now: Your mother was beaten by the military police. The same men who killed your mother now have Suwol. What we do next will either save his life or condemn us all to a firing squad. Do you understand?”
Junja’s eyes opened wide. Mother hadn’t died of a diving accident?
“Do you think you can do this?” Grandmother placed her hands on Junja’s shoulders.
Fear and fury collided in Junja’s chest. So many questions she wanted to ask. She nodded. “What do you want me to do?”
The old woman pinched Junja so hard that tears sprang into the girl’s eyes. “Cry. Make your eyes red and swollen. Think about your mother. Your brother and your sister.” The old woman pinched her again. “Our lives depend on those tears.”
As they walked, the old woman whispered instructions. “Avoid answering questions that you don’t know how to answer. Act stupid. Or cry and hide your face. Faint if you’re desperate. Remember, you’re a jilted bride who’s come all the way to the city to find her missing husband and stolen dowry.”