Waxing Moon (14 page)

22

Dr. Choi announced the worst possible scenario in a monotone. It was even worse than Mrs. Wang had anticipated. He ruled out a stillbirth, but because Mistress’s description of shooting pain in her abdomen and other symptoms he didn’t think the baby would be normal. He believed the longer it stayed in the womb, the worse it would get.

Heartbroken, Mr. O didn’t even ask what Dr. Choi meant by normal. He simply dropped his head, as if stabbed in his heart and whispered in a choking voice that the heavens had plotted the cruelest curse against him, and that he was the most wretched soul on earth, and he should go out in the field and hang himself and let the vultures peck on him. With his shoulders dropped, he walked to his room and locked himself in, refusing to drink or eat or be spoken to.

Mistress Yee also shut herself in her room, but only after having thrown a fierce tantrum. She didn’t say, though, to leave her alone, so the maids hovered near her door like bees swarming around a beehive, having to listen to her every moan and groan. She was asking herself out loud what had gone wrong, why it had to be her, and, above all, how all this would affect her health. She was frustrated that her husband wasn’t making himself available to comfort and console her.

In the kitchen, Soonyi was brewing the concoction that Dr. Choi had prescribed for Mistress Yee. It would induce contractions. As it was a delicate matter, Mrs. Wang kept coming back to the kitchen to check on the consistency and the color of the brew. “Don’t let it burn,” Mrs. Wang warned firmly. If the brew got too concentrated, then it would work as a tumor-dissolving remedy, and it would eradicate any growth in the body, malignant or benign.

In the visitor’s quarters, Dr. Choi puffed smoke as Mrs. Wang entered. “It should be done in an hour or so,” she informed him.

“Thank you, Mrs. Wang. Your service to the whole community is praiseworthy,” he complimented her.

“I do what I can,” she said shortly.

There was silence for a brief moment while they both thought about the same thing. And Dr. Choi asked judiciously, “What is your opinion?”

“The ground is fertile, but the seed is frail,” Mrs. Wang stated boldly.

His jaw dropped. Mrs. Wang shot him an inquiring glance. He blushed and puffed smoke vigorously, and then he rubbed his temple until it turned red. Finally, he managed to say, “But then the late Mistress Kim proved that he wasn’t the only problem.”

“She proved nothing as far as I am concerned,” Mrs. Wang said, bristling. “Poor woman. It was partly my fault she died.”

“How so, Mrs. Wang? You mustn’t say such a thing!” he said emphatically.

“She was dead when I arrived the night she gave birth to her little girl,” Mrs. Wang admitted regretfully.

“Then it wasn’t your fault she died,” he said.

Mrs. Wang didn’t bother to respond. She was distracted. She wondered about Mansong, Mistress Kim’s daughter, who must still be in Jaya’s care. The most recent time she had seen Mansong was at the Harvest Day Festival, up on the hill. How could she have forgotten all about the little girl! She had told herself to keep an eye on Mansong for the sake of Mistress Kim, whose eyes glistened in the dark with immeasurable sorrows, as she had to depart the minute her daughter arrived.

“Oh, eat your own shit!” she whispered, condemning herself.

Dr. Choi’s eyes widened and his skin turned white, contrasting with his tobacco-brown teeth. “I beg your pardon?” he asked, almost timidly.

“Oh, nothing,” she replied, getting up. “I need some fresh air.”

Outside in the yard, the air was chilly and crisp, but it felt good in her lungs. She strolled through the gate that opened to another walled yard. As soon as she stepped into the yard, she felt the tension in the air. The waxing moon was caught between the naked branches of the persimmon tree on the other side of the yard. Something moved, but Mrs. Wang didn’t know what it was. She approached the stacks of roof tiles near the persimmon tree. Something moved again. She stopped, and the thing behind the roof tiles that had moved also froze. Mrs. Wang cleared her throat and said, “Who’s there?” But no reply came forth. She observed. The shadow against the wall revealed the shape of a person, hunched and bunched up with something, but maybe not just one person. It was none of her business, Mrs. Wang concluded. She turned around to go back to the visitors’ quarters, but a stifled sob broke out feebly. Nani came out and begged, “Please, Mrs. Wang, don’t tell anyone.”

Mrs. Wang at once realized that Min was there too.

“He just now arrived, all beaten up. He can hardly walk. But he won’t reveal anything. Please don’t tell anyone that he is here,” Nani pleaded again.

“If you don’t want anyone to know about it, keep your mouth tightly shut. Now, what is going on in the kitchen?” Mrs. Wang asked.

“Oh.” Nani thought for a second, and then remembered what was supposed to be happening in the kitchen. “Oh yes. Soonyi is there, keeping an eye on the pot. And Mirae is attending Mistress Yee. Everything is under control.”

Mrs. Wang stared thoughtfully at the moon and then walked to the kitchen. When she saw Soonyi dozing off in front of the stove, she picked up a wooden spatula to nudge her, but then she changed her mind. Instead, she silently appropriated a half-full jug of quince wine from the tray, of which Mr. O had partaken earlier, and she left the kitchen, walking back to the persimmon tree. She placed the jug by the roof tiles and said, “Let him drink this. It might help alleviate the pain. Sleep is the best remedy when you are in pain with bruises and must not be seen.”

As Mrs. Wang walked away, she heard Nani whisper “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She went back to the kitchen and bellowed, “What on earth are you doing!” Soonyi sprang up, calling out the names of people she had seen in her dream. Mrs. Wang clucked her tongue and stirred the potion in the earthenware pot on the stove. “Bring me a hemp cloth,” she said.

Soonyi opened the drawer in the kitchen and produced a brown cloth. “Is this what you want?” she asked hesitantly. Without replying, Mrs. Wang snatched the cloth and placed it on top of an empty ceramic bowl to strain the potion. She poured the scalding tarlike potion onto the loosely woven cloth with the utmost care so that she wouldn’t spill it. Soonyi gagged.

Mrs. Wang chuckled. “Hand me the wooden spoon,” she ordered her. Soonyi sniffled. “Concentrate,” Mrs. Wang said, firmly.

“Sorry,” Soonyi said and handed her a wooden spoon.

“Where is Nani?” Mrs. Wang asked, wringing the cloth out with the wooden spoon.

“I think she went to the outhouse.”

“Must have eaten something wrong. It’s taking her a while,” Mrs. Wang commented, giving a last push with the spoon. “There,” she said, exhaling deeply. “Take this to Mistress Yee,” she said, tasting the potion from the earthenware pot with her finger. Soonyi gagged again. “What tastes bitter is good for you,” Mrs. Wang explained.

Soonyi placed the bowl on a tray and put a rainbow color quilted cover on it.

“Put the lid on the bowl,” Mrs. Wang said sharply.

“Sorry,” Soonyi said. She put the lid on and walked out.

Mrs. Wang followed her. “Mind your steps,” Mrs. Wang grumbled from behind her.

Nani was coming toward them.

“You sure take your time in the outhouse,” Mrs. Wang said. “You take the tray and go with me to Mistress Yee. And you,” she said to Soonyi, “Go back to the kitchen and spread out the remains of the potion on a flat basket to air out. We might have to brew it once more if it doesn’t work by tonight.”

Nani took the tray. When Soonyi was gone, Nani thanked Mrs. Wang. She informed her that Min was in the storage room.

Mrs. Wang said nothing.

When they arrived at the door, Mirae announced, “Mistress Yee is sleeping.”

“Wake her up,” Mrs. Wang said.

Mirae went inside. A minute later, Mistress Yee screeched, “What do you want?”

The door opened.

“Mistress Yee, you will have to drink the potion before it gets cold,” Mrs. Wang said.

Mirae helped her mistress sit up. “You smell, Mirae,” Mistress Yee complained.

“It’s probably the potion. Please drink it all at once, and let one of your girls know at the slightest sign of pain or nausea,” Mrs. Wang said.

Mistress Yee held her nose as Nani neared her with the tray. “Oh, gods. Do I have to drink this?” Mistress Yee asked, screwing up her face. Mrs. Wang ignored her. “Oh, Mother, Father, this stuff stinks like a rotting corpse!” Mistress Yee cried.

Reluctantly, she drank it. Mrs. Wang left Mistress Yee’s quarters with Nani. In the yard, Bok came and informed Mrs. Wang that Dr. Choi had to leave suddenly because his daughter had contracted food poisoning.

Mrs. Wang expressed her sympathy, and she told the errand boy to go and tell Mr. O that Mistress Yee had just taken her potion, and that Mrs. Wang was waiting for her contractions to begin.

“Yes, I will,” the boy replied and trotted away.

Nani led Mrs. Wang to the visitors’ quarters, but Mrs. Wang said, “I need to go home briefly and take care of my animals.”

“Mrs. Wang,” Nani began cautiously, “what if Min went to your place early in the morning to feed them. If he could hide at your place for a couple of days . . .”

Mrs. Wang said nothing at first. Only after they entered the visitors’ quarters did she ask if Min really had a reason to hide.

“It’s my hunch, Mrs. Wang, that he has done something. He’s been beaten badly. I think he escaped from jail.”

“Then you shouldn’t wait until morning. Go tell him before dawn to leave the house. If he is being searched for, this is the first place that will be visited.”

“No one dares disturb Mr. O’s household, especially while the mistress is in this condition. But Min has to hide from Mr. O as well. Mistress Yee says that Min eloped with some girl, and Mr. O says that he will break his legs when he is sighted again in the house,” Nani said quickly and nervously.

Mrs. Wang thought for a moment and sighed. “Listen carefully. Your boy, I think, is deeply involved with the peasant revolutionary group that talk ceaselessly. But now they are taking action, it seems. In other provinces, some of the peasants have been hanged for their unsuccessful riots. Now the peasants are acting up in the neighboring villages.”

“But Mrs. Wang, that can’t be. He is deaf and mute. He is ignorant. He isn’t cut out to do things like that. He does only what he is told to do. He is a mule,” Nani protested defensively.

“He is told to do what he’s been doing. If he is a mule, he isn’t going to change his mind overnight. He can go and hide at my place.”

“Mrs. Wang, what are we going to do?” Nani cried.

“I don’t know about you, but I need to rest my eyes for a moment,” Mrs. Wang said, sitting down. Her stomach growled, but for some reason she didn’t feel like eating.

“May I stay with you, Mrs. Wang?” Nani asked, looking distressed.

“I’d like to rest if you don’t mind.” Mrs. Wang lay on the mat and closed her eyes.

Nani dragged her feet out of the room and closed the door. When she tried to put on her shoes, her feet didn’t fit. They were swollen and felt like logs when she finally forced them into her shoes. On the way to her room, she suddenly looked up at the night sky and wished for her mother.

From the kitchen, giggles leaked out. Nani stood beside the door and peeked in. Bok and Soonyi were playing pick-up-stone. Nani stepped inside the kitchen and yelled, raising her eyebrows, “What on earth are you doing? Don’t you know our lady is in critical condition? And you are here giggling away, playing like a couple of children?”

“Big Sister, I was waiting for you. Bok kept me company because I was scared,” Soonyi explained and rolled her eyes.

“Bok, go now. It’s late. You need to go and sleep,” Nani said.

Bok left, yawning. Soonyi picked up the stones and dropped them in a box. Nani and Soonyi washed up and scrubbed their teeth with salt.

Lying side by side on their mats, Nani advised Soonyi, “Among aristocrats, seven is the age you stop being alone with the other sex until marriage. Being a maid doesn’t mean you can roll about like a common stone in whichever direction you get kicked. Reserve yourself until you know what you are doing.” Soonyi was already fast asleep when Nani was done with her lecture. Sometime later, Nani fell asleep only to be woken up again when Mirae rushed in to look for Mrs. Wang, for Mistress Yee was having a contraction.

23

Before she reached home at noon, Mrs. Wang heard her dog howl. She stopped on the path, treaded mostly by her alone for many years. Her dog never cried like that. Mrs. Wang hurried home and pushed the gate open forcefully.

Her wimpy dog, Tiger, stood in the middle of the yard, howling worriedly as he watched the unexpected stranger on the wooden bench.

Mrs. Wang patted Tiger. Min sat there, staring at his feet.

Mrs. Wang tapped him on the shoulder, and he raised his head wearily. He looked drowned in exhaustion. “Go feed my stove with the logs behind the house.” She unlatched the cage and let the chickens out as she walked to the kitchen to find some food for Tiger. In a minute, Min carried a bundle of split wood to the stove in the kitchen. Mrs. Wang left the kitchen with a day-old barley soup in a bowl. As soon as she poured it into his bowl, Tiger gulped it down noisily.

Mrs. Wang went back to the kitchen and put water in a pot. She dropped a few cornhusks into the water and let it boil. She also soaked rice in water for lunch.

“When you are done, wash your hands and come on in,” Mrs. Wang said.

She went into her room and pulled her journal out of a drawer.

Twice blown by fate, Mr. O howled like a dog,
she began. She wrote the details of the birth, and she finished with a sentence,
I hope I need never return to Mr. O’s.

When she put her brush down, she realized that Min was lingering behind the latticed door on the open wooden floor. Mrs. Wang clucked her tongue, pitying him for being utterly inadequate. Opening the door, she motioned to him to come in.

Min came in like a cautious, shy cat and sat near the door.

“Find a warmer spot to sit or, even better, lie down so that the heat will soothe your aching muscles,” Mrs. Wang said, getting up to go back to the kitchen.

She brought in the food and the cornhusk tea on a tray. When she entered, Min was asleep. She decided that sleep was a better remedy for him than food at the moment. She covered one bowl of rice for Min, and she began to eat the other bowl of rice.

As she was eating, she couldn’t help but examine Min’s face, his long legs, and his ragged outfit. Something about him reminded her of someone she knew. She held her chopsticks in midair and thought for a moment. The shape of his chin, angular and awkward; there is another person who has that chin. The lips, full and shapely.

But when she was done eating, she had to go to her drawer and pull out her old journals. Once in a while, she reread them. She had to dig deeply. The pages of those books at the bottom were brownish yellow and frayed. She was thinking, eighteen years perhaps, appraising Min.

The book was bound with bamboo sticks and waxed cotton threads used for kite fighting. She had done it herself. Nowadays, there were blank books she could buy at the marketplace, but back then she had to cut the papers and starch them to give the pages stiffness and longevity. She flipped through the pages, recognizing some names. Some of the babies from that time were having their own babies now. Dubak was one of them.

She couldn’t find the journal entry with Min’s name at first, but then there was a record of a baby boy, born in a hut by the Snake River in the neighboring village, which she had no recollection of. But it said a woman named Hong, pregnant out of wedlock, apparently had tried to kill herself (it didn’t say how), but she survived. Mrs. Wang looked closely.

She appeared to be no more than seventeen and was extremely shy. During her labor, she made no peep, enduring her pain like a cow. In fact, her eyes resembled those of a cow. A handsome baby boy was born, and I knew I wouldn’t see her again. So I asked her what she intended to call her son. She didn’t seem to have thought of a name for him yet. She just wrote O on my palm, which I presumed was his last name. Then I realized she couldn’t talk. She was mute.
How silly I was, not to have recognized that from the beginning! Had I been a little more sensitive, I wouldn’t have interrogated her with all my questions. As I was leaving her hut, she tried to offer me a few copper coins, but I didn’t have the heart to take them. I pulled a silver coin from my pocket and left it before the entrance. I didn’t have a good feeling about this woman. She carried a smell of loneliness. In fact, no one showed up to cook kelp soup for her. But I had to tell myself that her private life was none of my business. I wish her all the best.

Mrs. Wang read the journal entry once more and sighed. Min groaned in his sleep, twitching his lips. She looked at him once again. She shook her head.

Her floor was getting warm now and it felt good. She lay down and closed her eyes, trying to recall the woman in question, but she could not remember anything about her. Her eyelids were getting heavy and her limbs were softening. The previous night she had hardly slept, and she could feel the effect of it in her joints. She fell deeply asleep and had various dreams, none of which she could recall when she awoke to her dog’s wild barking.

She sat up, feeling dazed. She was also extremely thirsty. But first she had to check on why her dog was barking so fiercely. She stepped out of her room. Beyond her bamboos spread a crimson sheet of the sunset. Her lungs expanded as she breathed in the fresh air. Each time she saw the sunset, she was happy that she had settled up on the hill, remote from anyone else. Down in the valley, where the land was more expensive because of conveniences, such as the proximity to water and the market, it was now getting overpopulated. Unlike other people, Mrs. Wang often needed time alone.

Her dog was barking toward the wooden gate and jumped around happily to see Mrs. Wang. Then he went to the gate to bark again.

“What’s behind the gate?” she asked Tiger, examining her wooden gate, loosely put together and the upper hinge still out of order.

He stared at her innocently.

Mrs. Wang gathered her chickens and coaxed them into the cage. Suddenly, she remembered that Min had slept in the room with her. She turned around to check for his shoes, but they were gone. She hurried to her room and realized that she had been reading her old journal before going to bed. A few books were out on the low table, and the one she was reading was placed now near the latticed door. Obviously, Min had removed it from the low table to read it by the light near the door. Mrs. Wang lit her candle and sat to check on the open book. It was the page about a baby boy of Hong being born in a hut by the Snake River. But he couldn’t have deduced anything from that page—unless, of course, he had other relevant information about his birth.

Her stomach growled. She put her journals back into a drawer and went to the kitchen. The cornhusk brew had been removed from the stove. She had planned to give it to Min for the swelling. A few things were missing, she realized. Dried meat that had been hanging from the ceiling, along with the garlic, was gone. A bottle of ginseng wine, which she had received as a gift, was also gone. She went to her room and checked her money jar. Untouched.