Gathering of Pearls (10 page)

"I haven't taken any good pictures yet. I haven't gotten around to it."

Mr. Gannon banged on the table and shouted, "Damn it, Marci! Look at me when you speak to me."

I was stunned. I didn't know what to do. Mrs. Gannon sighed, and said, "Marci, dear, you apologize to your father. "

Marci stood up and threw her spoon across the table. "You always take his side. You've been traveling the world, leaving me home alone with Martha ever since I can remember. Do you have to humiliate me when I bring my best friend home for Christmas? I should have known it would be a mistake. Come on, Sookan, let's go upstairs to my room."

I had never seen a young person speak to her parents that way. I was so startled by the whole exchange that I couldn't move. I just sat there and stared at Mr. Gannon. He watched Marci storm up the stairs, and his expression grew dark. I saw his cool, cavalier façade crumble. He seemed dejected and helpless. He looked into my eyes, searching for something that would help him understand.

"I'll bet you'd never talk back to your father like that," he said in a low voice. "In Asia, you listen to your parents, don't you? Children in this country can learn a few things from you."

"Dear, don't worry," Mrs. Gannon said to him. "She's just going through a rebellious phase. She has always been stubborn like that, ever since she was young. She never seemed to do what we told her to."

I asked them if I could be excused, and ran upstairs to see Marci.

Marci had the entire second floor to herself. In contrast to the downstairs, where every corner housed the appropriate painting or statue, the second floor was practically bare. Marci's room had two beds, a dresser, a mirror, bookshelves, and a large poster of the Greek Pantheon.

Marci was staring out the window, puffing on a cigarette. "Want one?" she said, turning toward me.

"No, thanks."

"Why not? Try it!" Marci dared me. "Just to find out what it's like."

"Does it make you feel better?" I asked.

"Yup. They would hate it if they saw me smoking." She blew a smoke ring into the air. "I'm sorry for ruining your first Christmas dinner in America, Sookan."

"Oh, don't worry about that," I said.

"I guess I should have warned you. We've been having these scenes ever since I was in high school. My parents just want me to be something I'm not. They don't understand that I have my own tastes and interests. I'm just very different from my older sister and from them. I feel like I'm going to burst whenever I'm near them. I think they hate me."

Marci had begun to cry, and quickly wiped her eyes. I couldn't think of anything to say to make her feel better. We sat there in silence, staring out the window.

After a while, I said, "Maybe I
will
try a cigarette. May I have one?" She tossed me the pack, then lit the end of my cigarette with her silver lighter.

"Come on, you have to inhale to get it to light," she said impatiently.

My lips hugged the small cigarette tight and I took a deep breath. I imagined myself tilting my head back and blowing smoke rings at the ceiling like Lauren Bacall. Instead, I started to cough, and I could feel my face turning red. My throat burned and my chest ached. Marci pounded on my back and I stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray.

She began to laugh. "You make a pathetic smoker," she said. "You know, Sookan, I'm so glad you're here. I really am."

"I know, Marci. I'm glad I'm here, too."

The moon had risen, and we watched the shadows of the falling snow. I pulled a blanket onto the floor, and lay down on my back so I could stare up at the sky. Marci did the same, and we silently watched the snow fall. I felt as though I had known Marci a very long time.

After a long silence, I said, "You know, Marci, I have to tell you something."

"What?" she asked.

"I think you're wrong to believe your father hates you."

"He does. I know he does," she said.

"Marci, he does not. I saw it in his eyes when you stormed out. All of a sudden, he looked so sad. I think he is just impatient for you to enjoy all that he can provide for you."

Marci didn't answer. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything, but I thought she should know what I felt.

After a long while, she said, "Why does he always have to tell me what to do with my life? I'm eighteen now—almost nineteen, actually. I need to live my life. It's
my
life!"

I stared at her thinking how refreshing those words sounded to me. It's
my life.
I had never said those words aloud. I felt it sometimes, but I would never dare speak it.

While I was still savoring her words, Marci said, "Oh, Sookan, you wouldn't understand how frustrating it is to have to deal with someone as domineering and pushy as my father. He wants to control my entire life. He makes me feel guilty for not being like my sister and for not liking chemistry and photography as much as he does."

"But I
do
understand," I said firmly.

"How can you? Your family is a million miles away. You never even see them."

"I wish it were all that simple," I said. "Family pressure has a way of finding you, no matter how far away you are."

Marci looked at me questioningly.

In a rush, I started explaining. "It's my older sister. She has plans for me. She is waiting for me to return to Korea and join the convent, to work side by side with her. Ever since I was little, she has been telling me this. And I always looked up to her, and I always believed that she knew what was best for me. Now, I'm not sure of what I want to do with my life. But, she has her idea of exactly what type of person I should be, and how I should act. And now, I'm disappointing her. I finally wrote and told her about my life here, the things I do, and the things I've seen. She wrote back and said she is worried that I am becoming too American and forgetting Korean traditions and customs. She told me that I am too impressionable and that she is disappointed with me. It's all so confusing for me sometimes. I am just trying to get through the school year. And yet, every day I worry about disappointing everyone back home. I hear you and Ellen saying that you're eighteen years old and have to lead your own lives, but in Korea, it wouldn't matter if I were
fifty
years old. I would still have to obey and respect my elders. It is my duty and obligation. If I fail, I bring shame on myself and on my family. I don't want to disappoint Theresa or the rest of my family, but more and more, I'm not sure that I want to be the type of person my sister wants me to be. I'm not sure anymore that she always knows what is best for me." Out of breath, I fell silent.

"Throw her letters out and don't think about them," Marci said.

"I can't throw them out. I am so far away from home, and I miss my family so much. I miss Theresa, too. I have always been an obedient younger sister. I feel terrible knowing that I am disappointing her and not living up to my duties, but at the same time, I can't help feeling angry toward her for making me feel bad. Then, I keep thinking that it's my own fault. She probably thinks I'm having an easy life in a rich country and that the nuns at school are giving me everything I need."

"Well, why don't you tell her the truth, then?" Marci asked.

"I can't. My mother would worry about me too much. And my brothers would feel even guiltier for not being able to send me any money. Sometimes I wonder if my sister is being hard on me because she knows I am doubting and questioning all sorts of things. In her letter, she told me to think and pray. She also included a list of things I am to send her for her students. I think she wants to keep me busy doing things that will make me remember her and the convent."

"Sookan, your sister sounds very arrogant and controlling," Marci said emphatically. "She thinks she knows everything. But she doesn't know what goes on here, and she can't determine what's best for you. You need to live your own life, not just imitate hers. You have to break free of her."

"But, I can't. I would be a disgrace to my family," I said.

Marci and I sat quietly for a long time, both looking outside and listening to the distant noises from the street.

Back at school, I spoke to my Greek and Roman culture professor, and, to my great relief, he said he would let me take a makeup exam. Then, I signed up for a visit with Sister Reed.

When I entered her office, she walked me over to her sofa and said, "Sookan, let's sit here and visit for a while. I'm glad to see you looking so much healthier."

As I took my seat, I drew in a deep breath to brace myself for the discussion ahead of me.

"I just got off the phone with Professor Bennett," Sister Reed said. "What do you think of dropping the second half of world literature, and taking it this summer? Professor Bennett will be conducting a summer session. That way, you can do all the assigned reading and actually enjoy those wonderful novels. I hear you already spoke to Miss Mullen about a summer job, and she says she can arrange your hours so that you will be free to attend the world literature lectures."

I thought about it and said, "Thank you for arranging all that. But I'm afraid that I may not have enough credits to meet my freshman requirements and my scholarship might not be renewed. My family would be so disappointed."

"My dear, you needn't worry about that. We all think you are an extraordinary young woman, and we all admire what you have been able to accomplish. Your scholarship is not in jeopardy, I can assure you that. You should not worry about your family either. The college will send a special letter to them along with your first semester's report card. This college does not measure a student's accomplishments by grades alone." She smiled. "If you do want to get more credits this semester, however, I think you might consider taking an art or music course. It would be fun for you—and having fun is important, too. You still have three and a half years ahead of you to take all the courses you want. And as your English continues to improve, the course work will become easier and easier. For this semester, why don't you at least take one class that you can really enjoy?"

I felt numb and could not find anything to say. She had gone to a great deal of trouble, and I was grateful to her for discerning my needs so well. I had been wanting to take a painting class. Every time I walked by the large, sunny art studio and saw the students peacefully working at their canvases, I thought about how lucky they were. I would never have chosen to take painting on my own, for fear that my sister might say I was wasting my time. I was sure she would tell me that I could have taken painting at home, and was missing the opportunity to study more important matters in America.

"Sookan, I hope that this sounds all right to you. I think it will work out well, but you can give it some thought. Now, I have something for you."

Sister Reed went to the tall, wooden file cabinet, unlocked the bottom drawer, then pulled out a red velvet box.

"These are for you," she said. "My aunt gave them to me shortly before she died five years ago. She asked me to make a special present of them on her behalf when I came upon a truly extraordinary young woman. I know she will be happy that I have found someone so deserving. Here, these are your little treasures now."

She had once before told me that I was extraordinary, but I hadn't given it much thought. Now, I was overwhelmed. My hands trembled as I reached out to accept the precious velvet box. I opened it, and could not believe my eyes. A string of cream-colored pearls with a platinum-and-diamond clasp lay gracefully draped in the box. Next to the necklace was a shiny platinum pin in the shape of a wishbone, with a single pearl in its grasp.

"Sister Reed, thank you, but these are too precious for me to take," I said.

"They are perfect for you. I am looking forward to seeing you wear them." She picked up the pin and held it against my chest for a minute. "It looks beautiful on you. Now, put the box in your book bag and I'll let you get back to your busy schedule." She hugged me and gave me a gentle kiss on the forehead.

I didn't tell anyone about Sister Reed's special gift. I went straight over to see Miss Mullen, and signed up for an extra office job on Saturday. I wanted to save up some money to buy a pair of new high heels, and then I would get all dressed up, show Sister Reed, and surprise Ellen at a Friday mixer.

I had half an hour before work at the dining hall, and I decided to write home.

Dear Mother, Older Sister, and Brothers,

I hope you are all well and had a good Christmas and a happy New Year. Forgive me for not writing for so long. I am fine, but have just been very busy here with college life.

Second semester is about to begin. My English has improved some, but I still depend heavily on the dictionaries I brought with me. They are now quite tattered, and I have to handle them carefully. This semester, I will be taking medieval philosophy; Europe in transition, 1453–1815; religions of the world; and painting. I am excited about taking an art class. If my paintings come out well, I plan to give them to my friends Ellen and Marci in June when they both leave for summer vacation.

Let me tell you how I spent Christmas here in America. For the first time in my life, I cooked a Korean dinner. I wanted to do something special for my roommate, Marci, my English professor and his family, Sister Casey, and Sister Reed. It was a wonderful evening. Everyone seemed to enjoy the food I prepared. I was surprised it turned out so well. Perhaps it tasted all right to me because I have forgotten how delicious Mother's cooking is.

I will write again soon. Meanwhile, I hope everyone is in good health.

My love to all,
Sookan

At the dining hall while setting the tables, I heard familiar footsteps charging down the hall, and saw Sarah and Jimmy running toward me.

"Sookan, we looked for you in the library. We went all around the reference room, and through the stacks," chattered Sarah. "We found your book bag, but not you. Mommy said to give this to you." She handed me an envelope.