From Wonso Pond

by Kang Kyong-ae

  Sinch’ol was still staring at the sky. Like a ball of cotton just released from its seed, one of the blindingly white clouds had grown into the shape of a mountain range, and enveloped the towering peak of Mount Pult’a.

  Okchom looked at Sinch’ol. She wanted to say something to him, but that expression on his face she so resented—he was just staring into that sky, completely oblivious to her existence—that face held her under such a powerful spell that she ended up swallowing her words.

  “Well, we might as well go home.”

  Sinch’ol turned his head.

  “Okay, let’s go then,” he said, jumping to his feet.

  Okchom’s words had slipped off her tongue. All she’d really meant to do was continue the conversation; the last thing she wanted was to leave so soon. She needed time to probe Sinch’ol’s feelings further, and had even entertained the faint hope of finding a resolution to her problems right then and there. And yet there was Sinch’ol, without any regrets, brushing off of his pants, lowering that sturdy body of his onto the ladder, and climbing down the rungs, one unsteady step after the other.

  What Okchom wanted more than anything was to kick him in the pants and knock him to the ground.

  Sinch’ol reached the bottom, brushed off his clothes and turned around.

  “Come on down.”

  Okchom now felt a flood of tears surging inside her, and only by biting down firmly on her lip was she able to keep them at bay.

  “Just go back by yourself !”

  “But Okchom, didn’t you say you wanted to go?”

  There was a sparkle of a smile in Sinch’ol’s eyes as he spoke. Seeing him smile made Okchom even angrier, but at the same time, she couldn’t help herself—she smiled back at him, and climbed down the ladder.

  Only now did the owner of the hut slowly make his way back through the melon patch from where he’d been keeping himself out of sight. They paid him for the melons they’d eaten, then started on the main path.

  After only a few steps, Sinch’ol turned to Okchom.

  “Listen. Why don’t we go back to the village separately?”

  “Why?” Okchom asked, her eyes growing red.

  “Because it’s embarrassing.”

  “What’s embarrassing?”

  “You know, the kids trailing behind us, the dogs barking. Ha, ha.”

  Okchom laughed at this unexpected answer, but her heartstrings were by now stretched so unbearably taut that what she really wanted to do was hang her head and cry.

  As they walked along the sorghum field, Sinch’ol asked,

  “What are we going to do? Are you going to go first? Or do you want me to?”

  Okchom sighed. “Oh, I don’t care, Sinch’ol. I don’t see what you’re so afraid of.”

  Without thinking, Okchom ripped a leaf from a sorghum plant and stuck it in her mouth. Sinch’ol noticed the long shadows of sorghum stems playing on her fashionable dress.

  “I’m serious. What kind of human beings could possibly be more frightening than peasants? You go ahead.”

  Okchom said nothing and just stood there pouting for a moment. Then she twirled around, tossing to the side the sorghum leaf she’d been holding.

  “Be sure to follow right behind me.”

  She spoke to him without turning back and headed off, walking through the sorghum field, climbing over the embankment and then gradually disappearing into the distance. Sinch’ol stared at her as she walked away, then he collapsed onto a patch of grass. He thought of the grove of trees at Wonso Pond. Sonbi had most likely made her way home by now . . .

  Whenever the sun set like this, he recalled with fondness the sunset he’d seen at Monggŭmp’o beach. He remembered it as though it was a famous work of art: there he was standing with his chest bare, facing the brilliant sun as it slowly descended over the horizon, burning a giant pillar of flames through the vast Yellow Sea.

  He also remembered the crashing sound of waves endlessly beating against the rocks . . . And he could almost hear the voices of the fishermen calling out, “oi-ya, oi-ya” as they rowed their boats over the softly rolling waves.

  Sinch’ol smiled. As he gazed out at the sunset in the distance, he thought about Okchom’s impatience with him earlier. By feigning ignorance, he had managed to get through the worst of it. The more Okchom reacted to him in this way, the more his own feelings toward her turned cold as ice, and strangely, the more fun he had watching her squirm. He was pondering the conversation at the melon hut when he again heard the sound of someone pounding laundry in the grove of trees near Wonso Pond. He painted a picture of Sonbi’s pure, lovely figure in his mind’s eye. Indeed, only at the place of work, he mused, could one discover the truth and beauty of human beings!

  Suddenly, something whacked him in the face, and he looked up in surprise.

  28

  A single locust, flapping its green wings wildly, buzzed off toward a grove of trees in the distance.

  Sinch’ol jumped to his feet, gently stroking the side of his face where the insect had struck him. Tomorrow he should go to Monggŭmp’o again, he thought, and spend a few more days there before heading back to Seoul.

  As he reached the outskirts of the village, he saw Yu Sobang approaching him.

  “They say to go inside.”

  Sinch’ol nodded, then went into the house. Okchom was standing in the breezeway. She greeted Sinch’ol with a smile.

  “It took you so long to come back.”

  He had been out of her sight for only a short while, but once again Okchom felt herself overcome by an emotion completely new to her, something that seemed to sweep her toward that solid body of his.

  “Would you like to wash up?”

  Sinch’ol glanced toward the kitchen and shook his head. Okchom headed into the inner room.

  “Come inside then.”

  She pulled out a pink towel and tossed it into Sinch’ol’s lap as he sat down. He caught the scent of perfume in the air. Sinch’ol placed the towel at his side and stared into the backyard. There was a load of white laundry hanging to dry on the reed fence. It looked like a blanket of freshly fallen snow. His own white shirt stood out among the other clothes.

  “Who does the laundry here?” he asked.

  “Son . . .” began Okchom. “Granny does it. Why?”

  She stared at him.

  “You’ve never done laundry, Okchom?”

  She hesitated for a moment before replying.

  “No, I’ve never done it.”

  “Why should she care about laundry,” chimed in her mother from the backyard. “You don’t think she does any housework around here, do you?” she chuckled.

  Okchom’s mother seemed to adore her, and certainly was proud of the fact that her daughter never worked. All Sinch’ol could do was smile. For some reason his smile made Okchom uneasy.

  Behind the sauce jars in the backyard the white balloon flowers hung their heads modestly. Behind them loofa vines climbed the fence, their tendrils beautifully extended and dotted with yellow flowers.

  “What kind of flowers are those?” Sinch’ol pointed to the white flowers.

  “Those?” Okchom replied. “They’re called white balloon flowers. You can make medicine out of them, you know. That’s why Yu Sobang planted them here.”

  “He planted those loofas too?”

  “No, that girl Sonbi planted all those.”

  It was her mother who replied this time. Okchom felt uncomfortable even saying the name Sonbi in front of Sinch’ol, who, for his part, was now so endeared to these flowers that he would have jumped outside to pick one of them and caress his face with it, had Okchom not been sitting there.

  Just then, from behind the fence, they heard the sound of children singing.

  I won’t hand it over—oh, but yes I will How about I catch a fly and offer it to you.

  They listened silently to the tune. The singing gradually approached the reed fence, then suddenly came to a stop. A dragonfly net rose to
the top of one of the fence posts, and then the newly caught dragonfly flapped its wings. “Yay!” From the other side of the reeds came the sound of several children shouting gleefully.

  I won’t hand it over—oh, but yes I will How about I catch a fly and offer it to you.

  The song then disappeared into the distance.

  As the singing came to an end, it struck Sinch’ol that his own childhood was now over. He let out a gentle sigh.

  “I remember doing things like that, too, when I was young,” he said.

  Okchom stared at Sinch’ol with a twinkle in her eyes.

  That night, after they had stayed up late enjoying themselves, Sinch’ol wasn’t able to sleep when he finally lay down in bed. He tossed and turned, felt aches and pains all over, and was sweating profusely. He couldn’t bear it any longer, so he got up out of bed, and quietly slid open the door to peer outside.

  The shadow of the eaves was crisply stenciled into the courtyard. Sensing that the moon must be bright, he tried peeking out from under the eaves to catch a better glimpse of the sky. But the moon had already ascended beyond the roofline, and he couldn’t get a good view of it. He threw on some clothes and went outside.

  When he checked on the inner quarters, everything was quiet. All he found was a pair of Okchom’s mother’s shoes placed at the entrance to the breezeway, white rubber shoes that glowed in the moonlight. Sinch’ol turned and started walking to the outhouse.

  29

  When he arrived at the outhouse, he froze. The paper door to Granny’s room was aglow from the light of a lantern. Wasn’t she asleep yet? At this time of night? He felt drawn by a faint hope of some kind and made his way over to the door, constantly looking over his shoulder to make sure that no one was there. He searched frantically for a crack in the door, but found nothing even the size of a pinhole.

  He put his ear to the door. Which one of them was still awake? Could Granny and Sonbi both still be up? Or maybe it was just Sonbi? But then again, maybe it was just Granny? Oh, if he could only figure out which one it was!

  Had anyone seen him? he panicked, turning back to the outhouse. But he thought he heard someone talking, and stood still again for a while.

  He didn’t catch any voices, but he did hear the faint sound of someone rummaging through a pile of clothes. He went inside the outhouse, wracking his brain over how he could find out who was awake in Granny’s room. For some reason he couldn’t shake off the feeling that it was Sonbi who was still up working.

  Sonbi—why did this name have such a soft, sweet ring to his ears? And that humble expression in those eyes of hers, which were always cast downward. And her face that seemed shrouded in mist. What he really wanted to do was throw open that door and march right inside. But that was simply out of the question. What am I doing here? Why did I even come out outside? he thought. He regretted not having just dealt with the heat in his room.

  He quietly opened the outhouse door and peered outside. The paper door was still aglow. But just then a shadow flickered over the doorframe, as though someone had stood up, and the door quietly slid open. Sinch’ol felt faint. There was Sonbi, walking straight towards him! He didn’t know what to do, but he sprang to his feet. After calming himself, he stepped out of the outhouse. Sonbi was walking towards him, but froze at the sound of his footsteps, and looked up. Determined not to let this opportunity go by, Sinch’ol called to her as she turned back to her room.

  “Hey, wait a minute. Wait a minute.”

  Sonbi had almost reached the door to her room when she stopped, hesitantly.

  “Um, could you get me a small bowl of cold water?” he asked.

  In the confusion of the moment, this was all he could think of, but it would do. Briefly, it seemed as though Sonbi was considering his request, but then she opened her door and stepped inside. Her affront registered throughout his entire body, and he felt like collapsing onto the ground. Why hadn’t he just kept quiet inside the outhouse until he could jump out and grab hold of her? he asked himself.

  “Grandma. Grandma,” Sonbi was waking up the old woman. Sinch’ol held his breath in order to better hear her. Waking Granny was no easy task, it seemed, for all she did was grunt in reply.

  “Grandma. . . The man from Seoul . . .”

  Sinch’ol only caught a few of Sonbi’s words. Perhaps Granny had woken, though, for now he could hear a rougher voice speaking.

  “Just go and get it. How am I supposed to see anything in the dark?”

  Sonbi murmured something to her once again.

  “Oh, who cares, child. Just do it.”

  Sinch’ol had lost heart as soon as he’d heard that Granny was awake, but now that it seemed that Sonbi might appear in front of him with a bowl of water, his heart pounded uncontrollably. Another shadow flickered between the door casing, the door slid open and Sonbi came out. There she was, her head down, moving toward the kitchen. He thought it rather ridiculous that he was standing in front of the outhouse, so he followed her.

  As the dark inner quarters appeared before him, he peered inside to see if anyone might have awoken. What if those glowing rubber shoes had transformed into a person! What if he heard the doors to the inner quarters open! Or what if Okchom herself were to come outside! His heart was now racing faster than ever.

  Having quietly opened the kitchen door, Sonbi appeared, carrying his bowl of water. Oh, the sight of her bathed in the pure white light of the moon! She looked many times lovelier than did the Sonbi of the daylight. While she’d disappeared into the kitchen, Sinch’ol had come up with a new plan of action, but now that he saw her coming toward him, his plan escaped him and he panicked. He took the bowl of water from her and put it to his lips. He was terribly thirsty, but for some reason his throat refused to comply. He swallowed the wrong way, and by the time he stopped coughing and tried to hand the bowl back to her, she’d already vanished. He looked behind him. The hem of Sonbi’s skirt was disappearing around the corner towards the outhouse.

  30

  He stared into the darkness. Could Sonbi really dislike me so very much? he wondered. Then he realized how foolish and downright vulgar he was acting. He wanted to throw the bowl to the ground and smash it into a million pieces. But as he looked into the bowl with angry eyes, he saw the moon that had earlier hidden itself from his view. It had fallen into the water, and quivered there ever so slightly. He could feel the anger inside him gradually subsiding. The water now seemed to reflect something in his heart. But this, too, was yet another of his fleeting thoughts. For now he laughed at how foolishly he was behaving, standing there analyzing this bowl! A sadness swept through his body, a feeling that his heart was somehow barren. With the water bowl still in his hand, he went back to his room.

  He heard someone walking across the breezeway, and his door slowly slid open. A woman walked into the room. He looked at her in surprise.

  “Hey, why aren’t you asleep?”

  He caught the scent of face cream in the air along with the powerful scent of a young woman’s flesh. He felt strangely excited by Okchom in an altogether new way.

  “What are you doing up and about?”

  Sinch’ol managed to keep calm with his reply, but all sorts of emotions now swept through him, together with the fear that she could very well have seen everything that had just transpired. On any other day, Okchom might have come up to Sinch’ol’s side and whispered something into his ear, but now she just stood there awkwardly.

  “Well, either sit down or go on back to bed.”

  Sinch’ol surmised that Okchom had indeed witnessed everything. Perhaps Sonbi had left him without taking back the bowl precisely because she had seen Okchom. He could have killed himself for being so stupid.

  Okchom stood thinking for a moment, then sat down next to Sinch’ol.

  “Sonbi is pretty, isn’t she?”

  The unexpected question was like a raised fist thrust before him in the darkness. Sinch’ol had been caught off guard, and he hesitated.
<
br />   “Yeah, she is,” he finally replied, looking at Okchom.

  Okchom hung her head, then snapped it back up again. “I should officially introduce you then.”

  “Okay.”

  Okchom sprung to her feet.

  “I’ll go get her.”

  At this, Sinch’ol lost his composure. He grabbed Okchom’s nightgown and pulled her toward him. Then, in an effort to preserve his dignity he spoke to her in a tone of reconciliation.

  “Now, Okchom, don’t be so childish . . . You have tomorrow and the next day to introduce us. Why ever would you want to do it at this time of night?”

  Okchom grabbed the hand with which Sinch’ol was clutching her nightgown, and started to sob. All the passion she’d held inside until this moment seemed to find an outlet in her tears. Sinch’ol put his arms around her without thinking, and held her tightly around the waist. But the image of the moon quivering in his bowl of water flashed before his eyes, and he slowly saw Sonbi appear before him, glowing in the pure white light of the moon. He slipped his hands away from Okchom and tried to sit back, but a flame had been kindled inside of him by Okchom’s sumptuous flesh, which was separated from his own by nothing but that thin nightgown. He shut his eyes tightly.

  “Okchom, go back to bed now.”

  Sinch’ol’s voice cracked and the words didn’t come out clearly. Okchom shook her body from side to side and squeezed even closer against him. Her whole body burned like fire now, and Sinch’ol was at the end of his wits. He heard a voice in his ear, the merciless sound of his own reason falling to pieces. And yet he realized it was impossible for him lift a single finger from this woman’s body.

  Just then the sound of someone clearing her voice in the inner room vibrated through the door. Sinch’ol pushed himself away from Okchom.

  “Come on, you have to go back now. It sounds like you’re mother’s awake,” he said.

  Only then did Okchom slowly straighten. She looked at Sinch’ol. “Don’t turn on the light! I’ll go.”

  But the light was already shining. Sinch’ol looked over his shoulder and smiled to himself. He felt something close to joy at having crossed a line he should never have breached. But again he saw a vision of Sonbi, flashing a smile on that pretty face of hers.