Black Flower (33 page)

Yi Jongdo had taken his son with him and left on the day their contract expired, but the paymaster didn’t know where they had gone. Yeonsu hesitantly asked what had happened to his wife. The paymaster spoke with an overseer and flipped through a notebook similar to an account book, and then he scratched his head and laughed uncomfortably. Yeonsu squeezed the handkerchief she held in her hand. “What is it?” she asked. “We have a different hacendado now,” the paymaster said, “and fortunately this place was not burned. So we can still grow henequen here, and with the price soaring because of the revolution, we have had a good number of buyers.” He deftly flipped through the account book and spoke again. “Hmm, the interpreter paid for your release, I see.” She asked, “What happened to my mother?” The paymaster flashed a smile. “She’s fine. You may find it hard to believe, but not long before your contracts expired she married a Mayan overseer. She’s living at another hacienda nearby. Shall I contact her?” Yeonsu lifted her hand to cut him off. “No, that’s all right.” “She’s living quite happily,” the overseer said. Was this the same woman who had refused to speak to her daughter when she became the concubine of an interpreter? It was not that Yeonsu could not understand her mother, whose actions were not unreasonable. Maybe it was better this way. There was no hope of going back to Korea, her husband was incompetent, her daughter had been corrupted, and her son had left. The long years suddenly felt like a mischievous lie.

Yeonsu finally brought up the reason she had come. “There was a woman named Maria.” The overseer frowned. “There are a lot of women named Maria.” “She lived with the interpreter, Gwon Yongjun. She will have a child with her.” Another overseer stepped in and said that Maria had gone out to work, that she would return in a few hours. “Can we go to Maria’s house?” The men shook their heads and said that they couldn’t allow that; the new hacendado didn’t like that sort of thing. Yeonsu sat down with Bak Jeonghun and drank the tea that they offered. How big is he now? He was born in 1906, so he would be nine already. Why did I not risk my life to escape from that Chinese? But even if I had gotten here, I wouldn’t have had the money to take the child with me. She was shaken by guilt.

When a few hours had passed, they heard the sound of people approaching. A handsome boy who looked just like Ijeong was walking with a Mayan woman toward the storehouse. She had more wrinkles, but it was clearly Maria. The boy bashfully lingered a few steps back as Maria held her arms out wide and the two women embraced and cried. Maria pointed to the child, who had ducked behind her. He spoke neither Spanish nor Korean, but Mayan. Yeonsu spoke to the child, first in Korean and then in Spanish, but the only thing he understood was “Mama.” Maria slowly wagged her head as if to say that she had had no other choice. It was she herself who had done wrong, not Maria, thought Yeonsu, but she could not hold back tears of resentment. That spark of resentment flared into rage at her mother, Lady Yun, who had married a Mayan and left the hacienda. I will never forgive her for the rest of my life. If only she had taken care of him, we would at least be able to speak to each other!

The overseer brought over a guard who had been passing by. He spoke both Spanish and Mayan and acted as an interpreter. Maria asked Yeonsu why she had waited so long to come. Yeonsu told her that she had had no choice. And that she was thankful. Then Yeonsu asked if she could take the child with her. Maria made a strange face. She said something to the child in Mayan and he ran off. Maria spoke for some time to the guard who was interpreting. The guard nodded his head and listened until she finished, then he told Yeonsu what she had said. “She says that the child is her child.” Yeonsu could not believe her ears. She grabbed Maria’s arm. Maria turned away from her. Yeonsu screamed, “That’s impossible!” She argued with the overseer, who flipped through the account book and said, “It says here that the child is Maria’s.” The child ran back to Maria, who pressed her lips together. Moisture glistened in the corners of her eyes. It was not that Yeonsu couldn’t understand her position. But still.

Bak Jeonghun, who had been standing quietly behind them, stepped forward. He approached Yeonsu, who was in a state of panic, and whispered something into her ear. Yeonsu opened her eyes wide, as if she had just come to her senses. Maria had a bad feeling about her look and took a few steps backward, holding the child tightly to her. Yeonsu approached the overseer and spoke.

“How much is he?”

The overseer glanced at Maria and held up ten fingers. “It’s because of the inflation.” He scratched his head. Bak Jeonghun took out two 50-peso notes with Carranza’s face printed on them and handed them to the overseer. At that moment Maria grabbed the child and ran away. An overseer on horseback chased her down and lashed at her with his whip. Yeonsu shouted, “No! Stop it!” Maria collapsed and the overseer took the child and gave him to Bak Jeonghun. Yeonsu ran to Maria and lifted her up. Maria shook her off and collapsed to the ground, raising her hands to the heavens and pouring out curses in Mayan. When Bak Jeonghun approached her, took out 100 pesos more and handed them to her, Maria grinned like one gone mad. Then she folded up the bills and put them in her mouth. The overseer and the paymaster came running, but Maria did not open her mouth. She stubbornly chewed and swallowed the bills. When the furious overseer kicked Maria, Bak Jeonghun struck him in the face with his fist and then took a pistol from his pocket and aimed it at them. The overseer and the paymaster raised their hands. Bak Jeonghun took the child and Yeonsu and left the hacienda.

They went to Mérida. The child thought of this quiet man as his father and stuck close to him. They slept at the splendid Grand Hotel near the cathedral. They could not talk with the child at all, yet he was quickly captivated by the warmth Bak Jeonghun showed him. Furthermore, in the child’s eyes Bak Jeonghun was a very rich man, a man who ate in the finest hotel and restaurant in Mérida. Having never before left Yazche hacienda, the child enjoyed the magnificent night streets of Mérida so much that he did not sleep. And he stuffed himself with food until he thought his stomach would burst. But Yeonsu did not eat a thing.

Bak Jeonghun left the woman and child at the hotel and went to the branch office of the Korean National Association, not far away, to visit his fellow soldiers Jo Jangyun, Kim Seokcheol, Seo Gijung, and others. For the first time in ages, he drank with men who were glad to see him and got very drunk. And he spoke frankly in his native tongue of everything that had happened to him. He returned to the hotel well after midnight and fell asleep. When dawn came, he took the woman and child and left for Veracruz.

N
OTHING HAD CHANGED
in the port of Progreso—the stretches of fine white sand like swimming beaches, the piers that stretched out into the ocean, the large ships floating far off, and the small ships shuttling among the wharves. Ijeong thought of when he had first arrived here ten years before. During that time he had become a member of Villa’s army and killed countless people. His words grew fewer and his wounds grew greater. He looked at his hands. They were softer than they had been in the henequen fields, but his right hand was thick with calluses where he had held his gun.

Just as he had done on that day ten years ago, Ijeong boarded a train at Progreso station. The train cut across the charred black henequen fields and let him off in Mérida only thirty minutes later. The mood in Mérida was chilly due to Governor Alvarado’s arson. He took another train there for Yazche hacienda. Unexpectedly, when he finally came to stand before the gate, he felt no emotion at all. He only felt serene. Perhaps it was because he had no more than a vague hope that she might be there. He walked into the hacienda. The old paymaster sat in the office, and he laughed when he saw Ijeong. “What is it this time?” Ijeong asked back, “This time?” “It’s only that we’re being visited by a Korean a day these days. Have you come for a child as well?” Ijeong shook his head. “A child? No. I came for a woman.” Ijeong described Yeonsu—her age, appearance, family relations, and so on. The paymaster stared at Ijeong as he might at a curious animal, then shrugged. “She was here last week. She came with some man and took a child with her.” Ijeong furrowed his brow. “What on earth are you talking about?” The paymaster said no more. There was nothing more to say. Ijeong returned to Mérida and saw Jo Jangyun for the first time in seven years. Jo Jangyun stared in surprise at Ijeong, now a dashing young man. He embraced him and tousled his hair. “So you’re alive. We thought you had gone to the United States.” Ijeong stroked his beard. “I almost did.”

Jo Jangyun and Kim Ijeong stayed up all night, talking about everything that had happened since they had last met. Ijeong heard about Veracruz, Bak Jeonghun, Yi Yeonsu, and the child. He buried his head in his knees. “A lot has happened. I’d better go to Veracruz and pay her a visit.”

Jo Jangyun said, “Don’t go. You can trust him. I heard that he was Obregón’s barber. And even if he weren’t, he is not a man who would starve his own wife and child. Forget the child whose face you’ve never seen. Bak Jeonghun will raise him well.”

I
JEONG STAYED IN
Mérida for a few days. Going to Veracruz, as Jo Jangyun had said, didn’t seem like a good idea. Yet since he had heard the bell of Celaya, whenever he closed his eyes he saw Yeonsu’s face. Maybe he just longed for someone to comfort his body, worn out from war and revolution. That was something he could never get from Jo Jangyun and the others. He envied Bak Jeonghun his good fortune.

I’ll just go see her. With no certainty that she would be happy to see him, he boarded a ship for Veracruz. When he arrived, he went to the address that Jo Jangyun had given him and found the barbershop. He loitered out front as customers went in and out and food sellers went up and down the street carrying round baskets. People got their hair cut, got shaved, and ate tortillas. He couldn’t see Bak Jeonghun, let alone Yeonsu. From afar he heard the cathedral bell. The school annexed to the cathedral must have let out, for he heard the sounds of children chattering as they rushed out. A short while later, a child pushed aside the barbershop curtain and went in. His face was that of an Asian. The child went into the courtyard next to the shop and splashed in the water. Not long after, when the shadows grew long, a woman stepped out of the shop. Ijeong knew this woman, who turned in the direction of the market. She was dressed like a Mexican, but from the way she walked he had no doubt it was Yeonsu. The baby fat was gone from her cheeks and the line of her chin was sharper, but it was definitely her. Yeonsu spoke in Korean, “Seop! I told you not to do that, didn’t I?” The child mumbled something in Mayan and went back into the barbershop. Even though she was scolding the child, her face brightened with happiness.

When Yeonsu’s shadow had disappeared, Ijeong went into the barbershop. José paused in cutting a customer’s hair to greet him. He seemed a little nervous at the arrival of a strange face. Only Ijeong himself was unaware that there was an irreversible darkness in his face, the face of a man who had been through war and committed meaningless murder. Ijeong sat down in a barber’s chair. A man who had been putting charcoal into a stove to boil shaving water took off his gloves, brushed off his hands, and approached Ijeong. It was only after he had tied the cloth around Ijeong’s neck out of habit that his eyes met Ijeong’s in the mirror. Bak Jeonghun spoke in Spanish.

“How would you like it cut?” When it came to cutting hair, at least, he had never spoken Korean. He had used Spanish from the moment he had begun to learn the trade. Ijeong answered in Spanish. “Short, please.” Bak Jeonghun sprinkled a little water on his hair and wordlessly began to cut. The child came running in from the courtyard and watched his father work, but he soon lost interest and went back out to the courtyard. Ijeong said nothing. Neither did Bak Jeonghun. Only José watched out of the corner of his eye as a strange silence fell between the two Asians. Tension hung in the air. Ijeong noticed the portrait of Obregón that hung on the wall. He started speaking in Spanish. “The revolution appears to be almost over.”

“That’s what they say. General Obregón, he certainly is something, isn’t he?”

At that old José interrupted. “He was Obregón’s barber, you know. He fought in the Battle of Celaya.”

Ijeong closed his eyes. “Ah, is that so? I was there too.”

The scissors snipped thin air. José stole a glance at Bak Jeonghun’s scissors. It was the glance of a skilled barber. Then Bak Jeonghun suddenly spoke in Korean.

“Which side were you on?”

“Villa’s side.”

“Many died.”

“It is always like that in war.”

“They say that they are hunting down Villa’s people these days.”

“Who knows when the situation might change again?” Ijeong said. “So why were you on Obregón’s side?”

“He came here and took me with him.”

“Is that all?”

Bak Jeonghun stopped cutting and lathered Ijeong’s face.

“I have no interest in those sorts of things. I just want to live here quietly with my wife and child. What about you? Did you really follow Villa because you liked him?”

“Yes. I was hot-blooded.”

Bak Jeonghun held the razor blade to Ijeong’s left cheek and gently brought it upward.

“And now?”

Ijeong hesitated for a moment.

“In truth, I still am.”

Bak Jeonghun pointed to the child playing outside.

“He is your son. But if it’s OK with you—well, no, even if it’s not OK with you, there isn’t much choice—I would like to raise him. Until your blood cools.”

The razor blade passed beneath his ear.

“I will not take him with me. I am in no position to raise a child.”

“If you are not going to take him with you, it would be better if you left now.”

Ijeong raised an eyebrow.

“His mother will be returning shortly.”

Bak Jeonghun stopped shaving and brushed bits of hair from Ijeong’s neck. Ijeong tried to pay him, but Obregón’s barber would not accept the money.