Gathering of Pearls (3 page)

I rushed up the winding marble stairs toward the administration offices. I needed to check in with Miss Mullen, the job placement officer, to see if she had found me a job.

"Oh," Miss Mullen said as I walked through the door, "I was just going to leave a message for you at your dorm, Sookan. Would you be interested in baby-sitting for the Bennetts? Maybe you met Professor Bennett's children, Jimmy and Sarah, during orientation week?"

"No, I was late getting here," I said. "But I am in Professor Bennett's world literature class."

"How could I have forgotten about your brave journey! Sister Reed hasn't stopped talking about how courageous and delightful you are. She is so proud of you."

I blushed, and tears welled up in my eyes. I was relieved to know that Sister Reed thought I was doing all right, and I was grateful to Miss Mullen for telling me so.

"Jane Bennett and I are close friends," she continued. "She and her husband often go into New York City on the weekends and need a baby-sitter for Jimmy and Sarah. I thought it might suit you to work on weekends instead of during the week, and they do live right on campus. They are a lovely family. I really think it will work out splendidly for everyone."

"Thank you, Miss Mullen. May I know when they need me?" I felt a bit nervous. Professor Bennett was my favorite professor, and baby-sitting for his children seemed rather overwhelming. I thought,
What if the children get bored or don't like me?

"They need you this Saturday, but I'll have to leave you a message as to the time."

"Thank you, Miss Mullen," I said again, as I rushed down the stairs.

On the bench by the door was Marci. "I knew you would miss lunch," she said. "The cafeteria just closed. I didn't feel like eating there without you, so I went to the snack bar and got us two ham sandwiches. Is that okay with you? And don't worry about Ellen. I stopped by and told her you couldn't join her today."

I was speechless. All that effort Marci had made for me!

"Let's go eat our sandwiches. Would you like to see my favorite spot on campus?" Marci led me down a narrow path behind The Castle. We climbed a small knoll and took our places beneath the willow tree there, in the shade of its cascading branches. We ate our sandwiches in silence, but smiled broadly at each other. We were just behind the post office building, but this spot somehow seemed private and distant from the activity of the campus.

I wanted to break the silence and share something with her. "The last time I felt this peaceful," I said, "was when I was with my best friend, Bokhi, in Seoul. It was such a short time ago, but now it seems an eternity away. I wonder how she is. She had been coming over to our house often, not only to see me and my mother, but to see my brother Hyunchun. She has quite a crush on him. Hyunchun is the third oldest of my four brothers. He is tall and handsome, and very outgoing. I think he likes Bokhi, too. He used to just think of her as a little girl, his little sister's friend. But lately, he seems to be realizing what a pretty young woman she is."

"Do you think they'll get married?"

"Oh, I can't tell about those things. It's really up to the older generation. I think my mother would be happy if they married, because she likes Bokhi. But there are a lot of issues to consider. 'Love alone does not make for a good marriage.'" I had heard that adage so often in Korea.

"Do you have brothers and sisters, Marci?" I asked after a pause.

"Just my older sister, Susan. She lives in California with her husband, Bud. I see them once a year when they come back East. But my sister and I are very different. We don't have much to say to each other."

"Oh!" I said, a bit taken aback by her candidness. "I have never spent much time with my sister either. She is a nun, and entered the convent about fifteen years ago, when I was very little. With the wars, there were times when I did not see my sister for a couple years at a time. But lately, we had been going to see her once a month. She is the oldest of the six of us, and we are very proud of her. She teaches and does a lot of work in Seoul for the needy. Her work is very rewarding, she says. Everyone who knows her admires her. Ever since I was little, she has told me that she wants me to work alongside her, and lead a worthy and fulfilling life as she does." I paused, remembering.

"I feel terrible for not writing her. She told me I should keep a journal and write in it every day to reflect on all my new experiences. She wanted me to send her my journal entries once a week instead of writing a separate letter, but I haven't even had a chance to start the journal yet. I know she must be disappointed with me."

"Did you really tell her you would do that? I certainly wouldn't want anyone reading my journal," Marci said, seeming rather confounded.

"Well, she asked me to, and she
is
my older sister. She says she doesn't want us to grow apart; she wants us to share everything. It's just that I am so busy, and there is so much that is new and different around me ... I can't possibly write everything down every day. I want to obey her, but it's been hard lately."

"Well, you shouldn't feel guilty about it. You are doing so much already. Everyone is amazed at what you are managing as it is."

I was moved by her vehemence. "Oh, thank you, Marci, for saying that. Thank you for the lunch, too. I'm afraid I must get going to my next class now. And 1 need to stop by the post office to mail another card to my mother."

"I'd better check my mailbox, too, though I doubt anyone will write me. I've lived in Scarsdale all my life and most people I know are a ten-minute drive away."

Marci shrugged her shoulders, then added quickly, "Sookan, I have my car here. Why not come home with me this Saturday? We can study together."

"Oh, Marci, I wish I could, but I have to work this weekend," I said, feeling sorry for myself.

"What kind of work?" Marci asked.

"Baby-sitting. I need to earn some book money," I mumbled, feeling embarrassed about having to talk about money. I didn't like sounding so poor and desperate.

"It'll be fun," Marci said calmly. "And you can come home with me anytime. Come on, let's swing by the post office."

I stared at the unopened letter from Mother. It felt strange to see my own handwriting on the envelope. The night before I left Seoul, I had stayed up all night attending to last-minute details. One of these was to stamp and address twenty envelopes to myself. Mother did not know English, and I wanted her to feel free to write me without having to ask my brothers to address the envelopes for her. I knew how Mother hated imposing on her children. She always said that young people have their own worries, and that her job was to see that her children had the time to live their own lives.

She was very different from the other mothers I knew. She never talked of filial duty, of the obligations we had to our elders and our ancestors. One of Mother's favorite sayings was "Just as water runs down, so does love." She felt responsible for setting a good example, and just as she loved us, she expected us to love each other, and our children.

She never complained about her hardships, and instead said, "One cannot live looking up. One must look down to those less fortunate and must help them. One has to appreciate what one has in life." With Father gone, she struggled to make ends meet with the little money my brothers were able to earn. And yet, she was always there to help those less fortunate.

This flood of memories overwhelmed me. I longed for my mother. I missed her quiet smile that always seemed to fill me with strength. I felt guilty that I was not by her side. I slowly opened her letter.

Dear Sookan,

It is midnight. Even your ducks are asleep by the pond. They are big now, perhaps a little too big for our small pond. They waddle all around the yard, and sometimes follow me all the way to the street. I can hear your brothers snoring. They fall asleep so quickly; it is the gift of youth.

I am wearing the sweater you insisted on finishing before you left. How stubborn you were to stay up all night before that long trip. But I do love it, and wear it all the time. It keeps me warm on nights like tonight. The cool weather seems to be setting in already, and in the evening, it is quite chilly here. I wonder if we packed enough clothes for you and if you are warm enough in America.

I was in the greenhouse earlier, checking on my chrysanthemums. They will be fluffy and beautiful this season. When they are in full bloom, I will cut some to give to Father Lee for Sunday service. My contribution each Sunday is so small that I thought of supplementing it with my flowers. It will make me feel that I support my church.

Your older brothers like to wear the thin cotton socks you knit before you left. Inchun pulled out the vest you made, and wore it yesterday. I think he was glad the weather became cool enough for it. He looks so handsome in the vest; the light gray color you chose suits him so well. It was a good thing you learned how to knit as that is one of the things I never learned.

We all miss you. The house feels empty without you.

I read your postcards as soon as our good mailman brings them. He is getting old now, and has been having more and more trouble with his legs this year. But he knows how important your letters are, and always brings them all the way up to the house for me. I am so grateful to him that I offer him a cup of tea every time he comes. He asked me to say hello to you for him.

In the evening, when we are all together, we read your postcards aloud. I am sorry we are not sending you any money. What little you had with you must have been gone long ago. I think your brothers do not write because they have no money to send you. Forgive this helpless mother who sends her daughter so far away and cannot even mail a little pocket money each month.

I am glad you like your new friends and college in America. It must be hard to adjust to the new culture and the new way of doing things. The language alone must cause you problems. Although you sound so cheerful and happy, I can imagine the difficulties you face. I will never know exactly what they are, though. I know you do not tell me things because you don't want to worry me.

I know you will blossom there, though things may be difficult for you now. It is always hard to be away from your homeland. The first year is always the worst, I think. We are all fine. Don't worry about anything here. And please make sure to get enough sleep.

You will see that four years will zoom by. Before you know it, we will be talking face to face.

Your loving mother

I felt melancholy after reading Mother's letter. Despite her reassurances, I could tell that things were difficult back home. I pictured her worried expression, and my brothers' somber faces. I was glad that I had never mentioned anything about my scholarship work in the dining hall, my need to work for pocket money, and my late nights finishing my school work. I was ashamed at not being there to help Mother through her hardships. I knew how much she had always missed my sister, her firstborn, and how she must miss me. Now, she had no daughters at home.

Through her letter, I felt her love and concern for me. But what comforted me most was her deep faith and trust. She was sure I would succeed in America, and would come back to her.

Wiping away the tears that had filled my eyes, I opened my books and began to study.
I must do well on my history test tomorrow. I must make Mother proud of me.

It was a quiet Saturday morning. All the other girls in the dorm were still fast asleep, recovering from the excitement of the mixer the night before. Marci had left Friday afternoon to go home to Scarsdale. I wished I could have joined her; she looked lonesome. Ellen had popped into our room after the mixer, staying just long enough to chastise me for not attending. I tried to explain how far behind I was on my reading, and how early I had to get up on Saturday to baby-sit, but she said, "You just have to make time for it. It's important." Then she kissed me goodbye and left for Princeton to spend the weekend with Kyle.

With my book bag slung over my shoulder, I made my way through the dense early morning fog and headed to the far end of campus where the Bennetts lived. I had promised to be there by eight to baby-sit. The sun struggled futilely to penetrate the haze, and the damp winds sent a shiver through me. It was only mid-October, but the air was chilly. I buttoned my light sweater and ran.

I was apprehensive about the day ahead of me. I had baby-sat often in Korea, but I wondered if I could handle the task in America, speaking English. To make matters worse, these were the children of my professor.
What if they don't like me? What if I can't keep them entertained or if they are naughty?
I ran faster to rid myself of these nagging doubts.

I came across a little brook, and bent down to pick out one of the shiny pebbles from the stream. I dried it, warmed it in my hands, then put it deep in my pocket. I wanted to keep a bit of nature with me. Small river stones somehow comforted me. They seemed so peaceful and carefree, glittering and dancing with the undulations of the cool, clear water. I would have loved to sit and listen to the stream while waiting for the sun to conquer the fog and shine through the leaves of the tall trees. I loved this part of campus, and regretted that I did not usually have time to walk and rest here.

When I knocked on the Bennetts' door, I heard the sound of four feet charging toward it. A boy with short brown hair and a girl with long brown curls flung open the door. They stared at me shyly as they tried to catch their breath. Then the boy bellowed, "Mom! Mom!"

"Hello," I said as I entered the house. "My name is Sookan. And you are Jimmy and Sarah, right?" I was relieved that I had remembered their names.

A frail-looking woman dashed out of a back room and said, "You must be Sookan. Miss Mullen speaks so highly of you. I'm glad you have the time to baby-sit. Professor Bennett and I have to go into the city this morning, but we should be back by three. I see you already met Jimmy and Sarah. Children, did you say hello to Sookan?"