by Alana Terry
Anyway, one day someone asked what I was doing in this little alley, so I said nothing, just resting. And he lowered his voice and told me about this house where they take kids in with no place to go, and he explained to me how to get there. So I went, only I wasn’t feeling hopeful like you might expect on account of getting myself a new home, and I didn’t feel anxious neither or wonder what I’d do if they didn’t end up helping me. I just showed up at the door, and I knew it was the right house on account of it having a little cross in the window like the man said there’d be. I knocked, and that’s the first time I remember feeling much of anything in China besides loneliness because the girl who opened the door was about the prettiest thing I’d ever seen.
She had long black hair, which I guess weren’t unusual for a girl, except it was softer than anything I coulda imagined. And when I say softer, I guess I mean it looked softer on account of me not actually touching it, even though I wanted to. And you know what’s funny? I figure I’d been in China for at least a few weeks by then, maybe a month or longer, but that was the first time I really remember wanting something besides food or going back to see Auntie again. And what I wanted was to touch her hair to see if it was as silky as it seemed. Her eyes looked like she was doing you a favor just by looking at you, and I’ve never seen eyes like that on anyone here in Medford, not even Becky Linklater, even though you gotta admit hers are a pretty shade of green.
The really good part was this girl here, the one at the door I mean, she was my age where you’re not a little kid anymore but you’re not a teenager yet, neither. And part of me wants to say she looked shy, except I don’t think that’s right. She looked quiet, but not like a mouse who’s afraid of you. Maybe more like a cat who’s interested in you but doesn’t need to sniff your hand like it would if it were a dog. And her eyes were big compared to the rest of her, so you got this feeling she must notice an awful lot, and all that seeing probably made her especially smart, except not in the snobby way where she’d just brag on about how much she knowed compared to you.
Her clothes weren’t too poor and they definitely weren’t too rich, neither, and it was the same with how skinny she was — not so much she looked sick or whatnot, but you kinda got this feeling her family had enough food except not any extra. I heard a chicken cluck out back just then, so I figured there must be eggs nearby, and those are mighty good for an empty belly, so I said, “Hey.”
She didn’t answer back, and that’s the part I mean about her being kinda shy, except not really in the scared way. More like she didn’t want to trouble you by talking too much. But I remember wanting to hear her voice near as bad as I wanted to touch her hair, so I said hey again. And this time she said it back. I already told you that Miss Sandy listens to that Jesus music all the time, and sometimes it gets to a part that’s so pretty it kinda makes your heart hurt a little, and that’s exactly what happened when I heard her voice. She said, “You can come in.” And you know that leap I told you once I got in my chest? It happened then too, and it kept happening as long as I stayed in that house.
Next she said, “You can sit down,” and I thought I was filling up with so much happiness I’d explode, ’cause I already told you how I wasn’t feeling much of that when I first got to China, so now I figured it was so much good feelings that my heart wasn’t sure how to stretch to make room for them all. She said, “I’ll go call my father,” and while she was out, I kept picturing what kind of person could raise a daughter as pretty and sweet as that ’cause even though I’d only met her a minute earlier, I could tell how sweet she was with her quiet voice and big eyes. I kept expecting her father to come in and he’d be real tall with wide shoulders and look more like a prince than a farmer or whatnot. Maybe he’d have white hair, and he’d look all wise, and he’d walk in just as graceful as his girl and say, “My daughter tells me we have a guest.”
Except that’s not what happened.
The man who came in was pudgy, not fat like the Dear Leader, but not skinny like folks from back home neither. And half his head was bald and half of it weren’t, like he couldn’t decide if he was ready to be an old man yet or not. And you know how I told you about his daughter having such a kind face? Well his wasn’t like that at all. He pinched his nose up when he looked at me, and it reminded me of the man with the mustache who got me in trouble about the American’s film, and then when he spoke, his voice wasn’t soft and kind like his daughter’s and neither were his words.
“Who told you to come here?”
And I was so startled it took me a few tries to explain to him there was a man in the alley who told me to find the house with the cross in the window.
So he asked, “What are you doing here?” And I thought I’d already answered that question, but I didn’t want to say the same thing as before and sound stupid, so I looked at the girl, and she was standing there still smiling so sweet like this kinda thing happened every day. Eventually I learnt that it did, or ’least a few times a week. Over the next few months I watched it go on enough times I figured Mr. Kim — that was the man’s name by the way, but I guess you coulda figured that out yourself — he just talked that way out of habit or whatnot, ’cause he weren’t a mean person, ’least not so mean he’d kick you out of his house and tell you he couldn’t help.
So before I knew it, Mr. Kim was standing above me while I drank some of the tea his daughter made. Her name was So-Young, but I didn’t learn that for a few more days on account of Mr. Kim never telling me and me being too scared to ask her myself. But I heard it one night when a friend of the family stopped by. He was a young man, probably young enough to be Mr Kim’s son, except he weren’t, and he called the pretty girl Cousin, so I started to worry she might not have a real name of her own. And now that Mr. Kim was feeding me and I had a place to live, the one thing I wanted most besides feeling if her hair was as silky as it looked was finding out her name so I could decide if it was as pretty as she was. I finally learnt it when us kids were supposed to be asleep, and Mr. Kim and his visitor stayed up gabbing. They talked about me for a while, so ’course I stayed up to listen, and Mr. Kim said, “He’s obedient enough, but I wonder what kind of influence he’s having on So-Young.”
And So-Young and me was never buddies on account of my heart racing any time she was around, so I bet she figured I was the silliest creature she and her dad ever took into their home. There weren’t no mama there, by the way, but I never asked why. So-Young never got to be my girlfriend neither on account of me figuring I’d wait a few more years until we got to know each other better. ’Cause my plan was to go on living there until I was a grown man, and by then I’d have the courage to make So-Young my girlfriend and eventually my wife if she’d have me, except that weren’t what happened.
Mr. Kim sat me down one day after I’d been a few months there, and he chose a time when So-Young was out delivering eggs to a neighbor, and I thought maybe he knowed all about me planning to marry his daughter and was gonna ask me how I was gonna take care of her, except he didn’t. He said, “You’ll be leaving here tomorrow,” and that’s just the way he talked, didn’t use no names or stuff and nonsense like that. And come to think of it, I’m not sure he ever even knew my name, which means maybe So-Young didn’t either, and that could be a problem ’cause when I’m old enough I’m still planning to find her to see if she’s got a husband yet or if maybe she thinks I’ll do. And I don’t think about it too much these days on account of something like that being so far in the future. But back then when Mr. Kim said I was gonna hafta leave, I was sadder than I’d be if Pastor told me all them Christmas presents under the tree with my name on them were really for his grandson Tyson, who’s younger than me and basically a spoiled brat anyway.
So Mr. Kim went on to explain there was this lady in South Korea who kept an orphanage for kids like me, and how he expected me to travel there with her helpers without any whining or complaining, and I nodded my head on account of wanting to make him think I was
paying good attention, but all I was thinking about was sweet, shy So-Young, and how I’d never even touched her hair but tomorrow I’d be going away to some other home far away in South Korea.
And whether I was ready for it or not, that’s just what happened.
CHAPTER 23
Well, this next part could take a hundred pages to write out if I told you everything that went on, and lots of pieces I don’t even remember proper-like on account of the trip to South Korea taking so long and being so boring. I’m glad I had Mrs. Cho’s helpers there to take me from place to place, ’cause most of it didn’t make no sense to me. Here’s what I mean. We’d take a train to get from one part of China to another. And if we got stopped anywhere, I had to pretend to be asleep on account of the helpers not wanting the police asking me any questions. And then I’d get passed off to another helper, and then it’d be another long trip except this time in a car, or sometimes walking, and then it was more helpers and more train rides, and then on top of that it was sitting in a hotel for a week waiting for some paperwork or stuff and nonsense like that, but at least all them helpers had plenty of food so I didn’t get hungry none.
And would you believe that after all that I was still in China? Then it got even more complicated, with sneaking out of one country and into another, and that was most always by foot on account of it being harder for police to see you if you’re walking than if you’re driving a big noisy car. Once, we stayed two whole weeks at this nice lady’s house who didn’t speak a word of Korean. And neither did my helper at that point on account of her being from the part of China where they only talk Chinese. Except this lady whose house we lived at didn’t know no Korean or Chinese, so I’m sure you could imagine how confusing things got. But there was food there, so it weren’t too bad except for me wondering how on earth I’d ever find So-Young again. And that was before I knowed about things like internet where all you hafta do is type in a first name and a last name and then you can find all kinds of interesting things about a person.
So I don’t worry too much about finding So-Young again these days, on account of me knowing both her names and that she lives in the part of China where they mostly speak Korean, and when the time comes I think that’ll be enough to find her, don’t you? Only I’m not gonna look right now ’cause Pastor says that’s all stuff and nonsense ’til I’m older, and maybe by then I’ll have found another girl I want to marry anyway. I figure if I change my mind and decide on marrying an American then Becky Linklater’ll do, even though I felt her hair once and it wasn’t so soft as I bet So-Young’s is, but it was fun on account of it having all them springy curls. And if Pastor reads this part, I bet he’ll laugh, only he won’t mean it to tease. But what I figure is that Pastor’s always so joyful and happy that sometimes it comes right out of him as a belly laugh, so I don’t get my feelings hurt much.
Well, we went all over the world on our way to that orphanage, or at least it felt that way. You remember how we did that graphing project once where you asked the class how many states we’d been to? And I didn’t raise my hand much on account of me only living in Medford a little while by then, plus Pastor and Miss Sandy are so busy with their preaching and volunteering and whatnot they don’t do a lot of vacations like some of the other families who always go to places like Disneyland or Hawaii. But what I think is if you’d have asked how many countries we’d been to, I’d be the winner for sure on account of me living in North Korea and then China and then passing through all them others on my way to South Korea. I studied a map once in the back of the geography book, only I couldn’t figure out which other places they were. ’Cause I started in China, like I said, and I wanted to get all the way to South Korea, and you’d think all I’d hafta do is go back through North Korea, but I couldn’t on account of me and the helpers all getting in big trouble if we tried that. And that’s why I figure it took all them different trains and walks and waiting around in hotels and whatnot. But I finally got there, and I can’t remember if I had five different helpers or maybe it was more on account of there being so many, and sometimes I stayed with one for a week or longer, but other times it was just for a day or two.
Anyway, I finally got to the orphanage in South Korea, and it was in a huge city called Seoul (which is spelled funny ’cause you’re supposed to pronounce it soul like the part of your heart where Jesus lives). And when I say orphanage, I don’t mean one of those places Miss Sandy talks about in Romania where it’s just rooms and rooms full of babies in cribs. It was actually nothing but a big house with kids of all ages, and we were all looked after by the oldest lady I’ve ever met in my life named Mrs. Cho. And she took care of all us kids by herself, even though I think she musta been old enough to remember back when them evil ’Pansies took over Korea. Except I didn’t ask her about it none on account of me thinking that history was boring even though now Pastor says it’s one of the most important things we gotta learn.
But Mrs. Cho told me part of her story, at least, and that part was more interesting. It was once the ’Pansies left after World War II and right around the time when the Americans attacked Korea. Before the fighting started, she got married and had a baby, and then when the Peninsula War came on, things worked out in a bad way where her husband was stuck in the North part but she and her son were already in the South. And maybe you’d think they coulda just met halfway in the middle and found each other that way, except that’s not how it worked back then. In fact, she never saw him again.
I asked her if she figured he was still alive somewhere in North Korea ’cause maybe I’d met him and didn’t even know it. And she said once she’d dreamt about him, and he was so old he’d gone blind, and all he did each day was talk to himself and pray to God, and he couldn’t read the Bible no more, but he still had one he kept hid behind a picture on his wall. She said he’d pull it out and just smell the pages on account of him being so happy to have his own copy, even if he couldn’t read the words since his eyes didn’t work no more. And I tried to guess what my mama from the old days would think it meant if you dream about a husband you haven’t seen since you were a young woman, and now you’re an old woman and picturing him as an old man. I never heard Mama say nothing about a dream like that specifically, but I figured she’d decide it was a good omen, which is what I told Mrs. Cho. Then she did something that sounds just like Pastor. She patted my head and said, “Son, you don’t need good omens when you’ve got the Holy Spirit.”
And I was happy at Mrs. Cho’s. I didn’t stay there long enough to make any really good friends, but there weren’t no bullies there either, and we always had plenty of food. I figure the only way I woulda been happier was if it was Auntie doing all the watching over us instead of Mrs. Cho (or maybe both of them on account of me liking Mrs. Cho fine too). And if I really wanted to make things perfect, I woulda liked it even more if So-Young was one of the kids at the orphanage and said she’d be my girlfriend once we got old enough for stuff and nonsense like that, but of course that’s not what happened.
CHAPTER 24
Something I learned is bad things don’t last forever, but neither do the good ones. And sometimes you go from one to the other — like a good thing to a bad thing or the other way around — and then sometimes you go from one good thing to an even better thing. And that’s what happened to me ’cause one day Mrs. Cho said she had a very special surprise for me, and I was gonna go to America and live with a nice family there. Well, at first I got scared on account of the only American I’d ever seen being that red-head, the one who brought me something worse than bad luck or any curse I coulda come up with on my own even if he didn’t mean to.
But the more Mrs. Cho talked about it, the more it sounded like I didn’t have a choice, and besides, maybe the Americans would be nice. Then I started to think about how far I’d be from home, and I was still wishing I’d get to see Auntie again, and that’d be easier to do if I was in South Korea and she was in North Korea on account of us at least being close
by. I also didn’t know about computers then and figured it’d be near impossible to find So-Young once I got big enough to marry her, but like I said, it didn’t sound like I was gonna have much choice anyway, and I’d just have to make the most of it.
And you know what’s really funny, Teacher? It’s that when I started writing this story out, I didn’t know it would take me so long, but I’m glad it did ’cause something happened just a few nights ago, and without it everything here woulda remained kinda sad-like on account of me never seeing any of those people I cared about from the old days again.
Except something else happened instead.
Last Sunday, Miss Sandy said I had to stay in my good clothes on account of some people coming over for lunch after church. And Miss Sandy is always cooking for folks and always having people over, but most times she don’t care what I’ve got on, unless it’s Thanksgiving or another day that calls for a suit. Well, last Sunday she said she wanted me to stay in my good clothes, and I asked her why, and she said the folks coming over was from Korea like me. The man was the new pastor at this Korean-speaking church in Cambridge, and he and his wife just moved here and didn’t know folks yet and were having a hard time settling in. I still didn’t understand why them being from the same place as me meant I couldn’t take off my vest. And I wasn’t even sure I wanted them to come over, ’cause soon as Miss Sandy said they “weren’t settling in well,” I knew that meant they hadn’t learned English yet, so I’d be the one to have to do all the talking and translating and stuff and nonsense I hate nowadays. ’Cause the Pyongyang-perfect truth is I don’t even think in Korean anymore, so why would I want to spend all of Sunday afternoon wearing my vest suit and helping a bunch of grown-ups ask each other dumb questions like, “What’s the weather like where you come from?” or “Does your church take communion every week or once a month?”