Waxing Moon (25 page)

41

For half a day Mr. O walked alone like a vagabond. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but he could not stop his legs from dragging him wherever they wanted. He feared he would collapse and not be able to get up again if he stopped. He ascended a mountain and descended to the valley on the other side. He passed a lake with willow trees. He crossed a creek full of trout. When the mountains swallowed the orange sun, he realized that he had walked all day. But he was neither tired nor hungry. With the sun on its nightly retreat, his shadow was no longer following him. So he stopped, feeling strangely less shameful in the dark. He heard himself breathe heavily and felt the weight of his life on his chest. All day long, he had avoided thinking about himself, but now he could no longer push his thoughts aside. The letter that Mrs. Wang had written was like a death sentence whispered into his ear. He hated his own father for having treated him like an inferior, but Min had been his servant for practically all of Min’s short life. Did he know that he was the son of the master he was serving? Judging from the way the dumb servant had looked at him as he was discharged that morning from the local jail, he did know the secret.

At the peak of his youth, when Mr. O had hated his father’s guts, he had partied hard and gotten into a lot of trouble. Hong had been one of his many conquests. He hardly remembered her, actually, and he wouldn’t have recalled her at all had there been no mention of the Snake River in the page that Mrs. Wang had attached to her letter. He hadn’t known that she’d had his baby. And he couldn’t remember now exactly how and when Min had come into his family. There had been many babies in front of his gate. How many of them were
his
babies? How was he supposed to have known that Min was his son? No one had told him. A crime committed without evil intentions isn’t a crime.

He walked on for a while and heard music leaking out from a large house. It was a pub. There were red lamps hanging outside to attract customers. He went inside. He was thirsty.

“Ah, Mr. O, what brings you here?” a woman greeted him from behind.

Mr. O whirled around and recognized Dimple, standing at the entrance with a group of women. Everyone had heard about the fire at Mr. O’s house. Seeing him, the women whispered among themselves, estimating the value of his loss in currency.

“I happened to pass by. I am just thirsty,” Mr. O, taken by surprise, said uneasily.

“I brought my girls here tonight because today is the day when my wretched mother gave me birth,” Dimple said. “So, Mr. O, will you buy me a drink?”

Mr. O said nothing. He was not in the mood for a conversation. He was tired now.

“I’m teasing, Mr. O,” Dimple said. “I wish you a good evening,” she said and bowed low.

Mr. O was guided by a maid through a maze of hallways to a private room.

Dimple entered a room and six women followed her in. Mirae was the last in line. Dimple stopped Mirae and smiled, narrowing her eyes. And she motioned with her chin, telling Mirae to go and see Mr. O. Mirae pouted at the suggestion, theatrically, to express her regret that she couldn’t then celebrate Dimple’s birthday. Dimple pushed Mirae gently out of the room.

Mr. O ordered a bottle of plum wine and told the maid not to disturb him for the rest of the evening.

Mirae was looking for the maid in the hallway. Pressing her ear to each latticed door, she tried to eavesdrop. But she couldn’t tell which was Mr. O’s room.

Soon enough, the maid appeared with a tray of wine. Mirae inserted a silver coin in her sleeve and snatched the tray, saying, “Show me the room.”

Mr. O took off his hat and set it on the low table. The small size of the room comforted him. There was a folding screen against one of the walls. He observed the embroidery. Two young women were on swings that were tied to the branches of a pine tree. One was high up in the air, the other close to the ground. Several young women were standing around the tree, chatting. A few men sat in a pavilion, looking out at the women.

Mr. O opened the closet door. Inside were several red silk cushions. He stared at them mindlessly. He sat by the low table and waited for the maid to bring in his wine. He tried very hard not to think about Mrs. Wang’s letter, but it kept coming back to his mind. He frowned, feeling frustrated because he couldn’t control his mind.

The door slid open quietly. Mr. O was really thirsty. He didn’t look up, but sat up straight, readying himself to gulp down the wine.

A girl brought in a tray and poured the wine into a bowl.

“I’ll do it myself,” he said. He didn’t want to be waited on. But he saw the ring on the finger of the hand that poured the wine; the piece of jewelry glittered under the candlelight.

“May I stay?” Mirae asked. Her voice sounded like an echo of a dream from the past.

Mr. O didn’t reply; he was surprised to realize that he had forgotten all about Mirae.

For the first time, he saw himself in perspective. He lacked the willpower to say no to himself, he admitted reluctantly. He ate whatever looked good on his plate. He didn’t even consider whether it might be poisoned or bad for him. He trusted the world and, until now, there had been no reason not to.

Here, another one of those attractions was being openly presented to him. To be fair, he didn’t seek attractions out: they walked into his life.

Of course, he could tell Mirae to leave him alone. But why would he do that? She wanted to be seduced so badly. Who would say no to that? Maybe he could save himself some trouble later on. But what trouble could being with this pretty girl for an evening possibly bring to him? A baby at the gate. No, he was determined not to have that happen again. His new house was going to face west, which meant that his gate would be more exposed to the passers-by. Anyone trying to drop a baby and run would be noticed.

He was thirsty. He drank three bowls of wine without a break. And it felt good.

“Pour me another one,” he said.

Mirae shot a glance at Mr. O as she poured the wine.

“How is your life?” Mr. O asked, looking at his ring on her finger.

“When I left Master’s house, I thought becoming a kiseng would be the only way I could have a chance to see you again. So at the moment, I am ecstatic. But tomorrow, when you leave, I might feel differently,” Mirae said.

He hadn’t planned to stay overnight. Mr. O drank his wine and leaned against the side cushion. “Move the candle nearer to you.”

Mirae moved the candle from his side to her side.

“You are exquisitely made.”

Mirae closed her eyes briefly, her eyelashes fluttering, and then opened them to stare at Mr. O.

“What do you want from me?” he asked.

“I have it already,” Mirae said boldly.

Mr. O laughed, pleased. “You are clever,” he said. “Is it money you want?”

Smiling divinely, she said, “I would like a little wine.”

Mr. O sat up and poured wine for her. Mirae drank it at once, like a thirsty man.

“Would you like another one?” he asked.

She stared at his lips intently. He poured another bowl of wine for her.

“I would like to taste it from your mouth,” she said, looking directly into his eyes.

He didn’t quite understand what she meant, but it sounded good. He smiled mischievously.

“Please, you drink it,” Mirae suggested.

He drank the wine at once and crawled on his knees like a dog to Mirae. As soon as her lips met his, he forgot all about his burned house and Mrs. Wang’s shocking letter. He forgot all about his wife, who might have a seizure if she found out about his clandestine meeting with her former maid. And he forgot all about his father’s nasty, invisible eyes, which had seemed to watch him all day.

Life was sweet and short, after all. And it was a waste of time to worry about things that hadn’t happened yet.

Life was fair. After the torture of the day, the most beautiful girl in the universe was rewarding him with the sweetest, bone-melting caresses. She was it: she personified happiness.

42

Mistress Yee’s jaw dropped. She couldn’t speak anymore. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Min had been released. Her husband had confessed to burning the house down. And now he was missing. The ground under her feet was crumbling, but there was no one around to blame or to abuse.

Mistress Yee was now lying on her silk mat with a bandanna around her head to prevent it from exploding. Nani brought in an herb drink that Dr. Choi had recommended for calming Mistress Yee’s nerves, but Mistress Yee waved it away.

Knowing that at that moment nothing would help, Nani closed the door and left her mistress alone. Walking back to the kitchen, she felt strange. What had Mrs. Wang said in the letter that made Mr. O lie about the fire?

Nani sat in the kitchen and sipped the drink meant for Mistress Yee. Her own nerves definitely needed calming.

“Big Sister, what are you drinking?” Soonyi asked, panicked.

“You have some too,” Nani suggested.

“That’s for the mistress,” Soonyi said in a hushed voice.

“She doesn’t want any.”

“Do I have something on my face?” Nani asked.

“No, but what’s happened to you, Big Sister?”

Nani sighed. Only the night before, she had wailed about Min. She had acted like a wild beast in front of Mrs. Wang. Min survived, as Nani had hoped. But an innocent person, her master, was now regarded as a lunatic. And her mistress was unable to throw one of her infamous fits because the shock was too great.

“I am hungry, Big Sister,” Soonyi said.

“You eat with Chunshim. Take the porridge for Buwon. I need to go see Mrs. Wang. I will be back soon,” Nani said, getting up.

“Big Sister, you disappeared last night too. It was real hard to fib about you being here when you weren’t,” Soonyi said.

“If anyone looks for me, tell the truth. I will be with Mrs. Wang. But it’s not going to take long,” Nani said.

“Do you think she knows where Mr. O is?” Soonyi asked. But Nani ran out of the kitchen without answering.

She ran up the hill and passed the old pine tree. By the time she reached Mrs. Wang’s house, her throat was dry and she was coughing. Tiger barked from inside. Nani impatiently unlatched the door.

“Mrs. Wang, Nani is here. Mrs. Wang, are you here?”

The midwife came out of her room and said, “Is this your new job? Showing up here uninvited every night?”

“I am sorry. I came here because I didn’t know where to go,” Nani said.

“If you don’t know where to go, don’t come here. Stay where you belong until you know where you want to go,” Mrs. Wang said, annoyed. She had just put Mansong to sleep. And she was ready to enjoy her time alone.

“Did you hear the news?” Nani asked.

“The birds chirped all day long,” Mrs. Wang replied.

Nani knelt in front of Mrs. Wang. “Thank you, Mrs. Wang. Min has been released from jail.”

“I live on the mountain because I don’t want to hear every bit of news there is,” Mrs. Wang said.

“But Mr. O is missing. And Mistress Yee has fallen ill.” Nani said despondently.

“And you think it’s all your fault, or is it mine this time?” Mrs. Wang said.

“I don’t know. Min is responsible for the fire. But Mr. O is being punished now.”

“Ah, you wish to go back to yesterday and do nothing about Min so that he would be hanged by now, and Mr. O would be at home, and Mistress Yee would be as healthy as a horse?” Mrs. Wang asked.

“No!” Nani shouted involuntarily. “I don’t know,” she whispered.

“Then let your tongue rest. Mr. O will be home soon. It would be unnatural if Mistress Yee didn’t fall ill when her house had burned down and her husband was missing,” Mrs. Wang said.

Nani was silent, wondering how Mrs. Wang knew all she knew.

“Mrs. Wang, I am starving,” Nani said.

“Make yourself at home and eat whatever you find in my kitchen, child. I am tired,” Mrs. Wang replied.

Nani bowed and went to the kitchen. Water was boiling on the stove. She took the water and poured it into the pot that held rice from breakfast.

Mrs. Wang came in and said, “There is cucumber kimchi Jaya brought today. You can have that, too, with your rice.”

“Mrs. Wang, I have a wish,” Nani said.

“Don’t you like cucumber?”

“No. Yes, I do,” Nani said. She got up and took Mrs. Wang’s hand.

“What is it?” Mrs. Wang asked.

Nani knelt down, still holding Mrs. Wang’s hand. “Mrs. Wang, I would like to be a midwife.”

“When did this idea come to you?”

“I can’t remember,” Nani answered hesitantly.

“Why do you want to be a midwife?” Mrs. Wang asked.

Nani thought for a moment. She knew Mrs. Wang well. She didn’t want to say anything unconvincing. Finally, she said, “I don’t want to waste my life being a maid. I want to do something more interesting.”

Mrs. Wang weighed Nani’s reply in her mind for a moment and asked, “Wasn’t it yesterday that you professed your love for Min? Aren’t you going to marry him, now that he is free?”

“No, Mrs. Wang. It turns out that I am more in love with my life than with him. I didn’t want him to be hanged because he didn’t deserve hanging. I cannot put the reason behind this into plain words, but if he set his master’s house on fire there must be a reason for it that I don’t know. And no life was harmed in the fire, so I thought he should live too. But to answer your question, I don’t intend to marry him,” Nani explained clearly.

“You can’t have a family and have this profession too,” Mrs. Wang said.

“I know, Mrs. Wang. You can’t deliver your own baby,” Nani said.

“That’s not my point,” Mrs. Wang said. “You can’t have two lovers.”

Nani blushed at the word.

“What I mean is that you have to choose only one. Or else you will fail in both jobs,” Mrs. Wang said.

“I know,” Nani said, vaguely understanding what Mrs. Wang was saying.

“You know how to read and write?” Mrs. Wang asked.

“Yes, I do. I read better than I write. But I will practice,” Nani answered quickly.

“You really need to know how to write. You will be recording all you do every time you deliver a baby,” Mrs. Wang said. “The first thing you do is get to know the women in the village. On a good day, I go around and visit with every pregnant woman to check the position of the fetus and the complexion of the expecting mother and so on. But all this you will learn in time. When you come next time, you will go with me to pick medicinal plants in the wild. I will teach you all I know. But again, you will have to write down the things I say.”

“I will practice writing before I come,” Nani said.

“Well, now, eat your dinner. And do the dishes before you go. I hate doing the dishes,” Mrs. Wang said. And she went to her room to sleep.

Nani was feeling wonderful. She looked up at the velvety night sky and felt her mother was watching her. But she couldn’t leave the house, for she feared the spirits in the mountain. She stealthily entered Mrs. Wang’s room and lay down next to her. Mrs. Wang was snoring. Nani pulled the pillow away from Mrs. Wang, which made Mrs. Wang stop snoring immediately.