Waxing Moon (9 page)

When Mirae took a bath after her illness, she saw herself in full view. She panicked and sobbed bitterly for the whole afternoon, and she stayed up late that evening. When she woke the next day, she refused to eat and stopped talking to all but herself. A month later, when Mistress Yee returned, larger and happier, Mirae was a different person.

Part Two

13

Most of the villagers, including the children, had bathed and came up to the hill all spiffed up in their clean and starched outfits. Soon the full moon would be in view. Some of the men and children played tug-of-war, and some of the women sat eating specialties they prepared only for Harvest Day. It wasn’t a good year, they all knew, but no one complained about the drought or the bad crops or the high taxes they had to pay the government and their landlords. What everyone talked about was the news that had just come from the capital city: a foreign ship had arrived from a faraway land.

“There were nineteen people on the ship,” one person said.

“No, eighteen,” another voice said.

“What does it matter how many there were? They all got killed the instant they set foot on our soil,” a man said.

“What did they do?” a woman asked, chewing on a rice cake.

“Nothing,” another man said.

“Well, they did something. They entered our country without permission,” someone said, sitting down to join the crowd.

“But that doesn’t seem grave enough a crime to deserve death,” said the woman with the rice cake. “And eighteen of them,” she added, horrified.

“Nineteen,” someone corrected her.

“Coming to our country without permission might be a crime. Who knows?” a man said.

“Well, that doesn’t make any sense,” a woman said. “If you come to my house uninvited, should I pull my dagger and kill you?” she asked, rolling her eyes.

“You would be behind bars,” someone said and laughed.

“Surely, I would be for killing a neighbor,” the woman said, nodding her head vehemently.

“Only one of them survived. When all were thought to have been killed, five of the best shamans were summoned from the southern provinces to expel the foreign spirits and the curse the ship had brought. In the meantime, soldiers inspected the contents of the vessel. They found the strangest thing. It was a piece of furniture, but neither chest nor table. As tall as a grownup, maybe even taller, it had a face, round as a pumpkin, and it ticked constantly, and once in a while it gonged all by itself. It had its own mind because sometimes it gonged once, sometimes twice, sometimes even twelve times. What was more interesting was that they found a man, the same kind as the dead, trembling for fear of death, and hiding, horribly diseased, in a barrel where they must have kept food. When he was dragged out, he saw the shamans dance in order to stop the ticking of the tall thing. So he simply touched something on the back of it and the ticking stopped. And so this man escaped his death. The king himself ordered him to stay in the palace,” a man explained, excitedly, foaming around his mouth and waving his hands.

“So he lives?” a woman asked.

“So he does,” someone answered.

Everyone laughed.

“So what did they come here for?” another woman asked.

“That seems unclear,” a man answered.

The enormous moon was coming up from behind the hill, and the children were playing tag in the wooded area. Under the old pine tree, a few women were clicking their tongues about the poor maid at the big house whose skin had erupted in an unsightly rash.

Mrs. Wang arrived and wanted to know where the leftover food was. She was about to collapse, she warned them. The women under the pine tree quickly got up and served the midwife some of the very best food. Sitting on a mat, Mrs. Wang devoured everything. Then she wondered if there was rice wine.

After she had finished a large bowl of rice wine, she said, “Look over there at the moon. How beautiful it is! Everyone is so busy talking that no one’s looking at the moon!”

Everyone turned and looked at the moon. They fell into a brief silence because the moon was so close that they felt they could reach out their hands and touch it. It was translucent, and it almost seemed that
it
had come to see
them
. Mrs. Wang felt briefly levitated. This was why she had come: to see the moon. Of course, there was the food too.

“It looks like a large pearl!” a child exclaimed.

“What is a pearl?” a younger child asked.

“It
does
look like a pearl!” another child said.

“I see a bunny up on the moon,” a girl said.

“There are two of them,” a boy said.

Jaya stood up and bowed to the moon several times solemnly. She was praying for Sungnam. She prayed that he would not be a peasant like his father but someone better, someone with no boss or landlord whose invisible hands would strangle him. She prayed for Dubak, that he would focus on farming and stop going to peasant meetings where they talked about their rights and high taxes and other nonsense. She prayed that she would give birth to a healthy child.

Then she collapsed near Mrs. Wang, who leaned against a tree, humming along with the people who were singing and dancing.

“Mrs. Wang, people over there are talking about the news from the capital city. Have you heard it? About the surviving yellow man, who’s now a friend of the king?” Jaya asked. She held Mansong in her arms without knowing that her nipple had escaped Mansong’s mouth. Mansong was staring at Mrs. Wang with curiosity. She was no longer an infant.

“It’s about time for you to wean the babies. You need to reserve yourself for the coming one,” Mrs. Wang advised.

“It’s hard to wean Mansong. Unlike my Sungnam, she doesn’t take solid food,” Jaya said. In the moonlight, she looked pretty. Everyone looked pretty. It was a beautiful night.

“Look at her teeth. She is behind the schedule. Give her porridge and steamed vegetables. Or else you will not have enough milk for the next one,” Mrs. Wang urged, getting up to go and listen to the group of young men and women talking about the current news from the capital city.

They were discussing the yellow man’s religion and how self-sacrificing those who believed in this religion were. They shared what they owned with others, especially those in need. And they believed everyone was equal. Some of the peasants listened intently, their faces illuminated by the moonlight.

“Dream on,” Mrs. Wang snapped. Everyone turned to look at her. Unintimidated, she continued: “True. We were born equal. But look around. Some are rich, some are poor, some are peasants, some are aristocrats, and some are like Mr. O with no worries about what to eat the next day for the rest of his life.”

People sat, thinking hard. Somehow it seemed Mr. O was to blame for their miserable lives. The hostility toward their landlord was palpable.

“Before you become slaves of some religion, remember that you have been slaves to your landlords. You don’t need another master. That’s my point,” Mrs. Wang said heatedly.

Everyone fell silent. What Mrs. Wang had just pointed out made sense. They were slaves, basically, to the landlords.

“They feed you lunch on Sundays, Mrs. Wang. They give you medicine when you are sick,” a young man protested, licking his lips.

“Well, what was it they gave you last Sunday?” Mrs. Wang challenged him jokingly.

They all laughed and quieted down to hear the answer.

“I was late. When I got there, the food was gone,” the young man said ruefully.

More laughter broke out.

Some of the women were getting ready to descend. Their children were getting fussy, and, actually, they were also getting tired. There were loads to carry, besides their sleepy children. It had been a long, exciting day.

The radiant moon seemed mounted above them, gently brightening the whole world. They collected their belongings, while some of the men drank the last drops of rice wine, babbling on about the rights of the peasants. Mrs. Wang collected leftovers for her dog.

Groups of people began to descend the hill, warning each other to mind their steps.

Mrs. Wang made a sharp turn to go up the hill to her house. She bade farewell to the villagers and they bowed to her goodbye. Her old bones ached as she climbed the steep path. Fireflies accompanied her. Despite the familiarity of the sight, she was still moved by the little creatures, glowing at intervals in midair as if they existed just to amuse her. The air was filled with the pleasant smells of tall grass and wild flowers and ripe fruits. She took the air into her lungs with deep gratitude. Suddenly, she heard footsteps. A fox? A wolf? She stopped, concentrating with every nerve. She didn’t want to attract an animal’s attention right then. It would be a hassle to have to deal with it. But the sounds kept coming nearer and nearer. Then she heard a human voice, singing or crying.

“Who is it?” Mrs. Wang demanded.

A young woman came into view. She was singing in a sad voice, but the words were hard to understand.

“A young woman wandering about in the night. What a pitiful sight! Where do you belong?” Mrs. Wang thundered.

“Where do I belong?” she asked herself in an undertone, nervously. “Oh, why do you ask? I belong nowhere.” She tittered and then cried. Her unkempt hair partially covered her face.

Mrs. Wang grabbed the young woman’s wrist and pulled her close to her. “Let me look at you. You are the maid that belongs at Mr. O’s household. Aren’t you?” Mrs. Wang pulled her a little closer.

“I don’t belong there. I belong in the mountains, where the beasts are and where the ghouls roam about,” she cried, trying to pry her hand from Mrs. Wang’s grip.

“What’s your problem?” Mrs. Wang asked, looking at her fiercely. Without waiting for her answer, she continued, “Do you think roaming about in the mountains, at the graveyard, will lesson your sorrow? Alter your tragedy? Change your life? You are mistaken, my child,” she said and laughed exaggeratedly. “You had beauty no one could surpass before the illness struck you. But beauty is fragile, unreliable. It’s seasonal, like that of an annual flower. An annual flower is pretty because of its appearance, but a perennial is worthy because of its nature. It comes back. It endures. It is persistent.” Mrs. Wang stopped here and thought about what her point was. She had to admit that she was shocked to run into this young maid, whose beauty had once been stunning. Now her face, even in the moonlight, was visibly bumpy from chicken pox.

“What do you know about me? You know nothing about me. You don’t know what I had. Who says I am a maid? I was about to fly. I was even prettier than my mistress. She herself said that to me. Do you understand?” Mirae shrieked and fell on her knees.

“Go back to the graveyard and dig up the corpses and find out who was the best looking when they were alive. Ask if that makes any difference in the coffin beneath the earth. You imbecile! You are not worth speaking to.” Mrs. Wang passed around the maid and walked on briskly. But still, she looked back, concerned. She was relieved when she didn’t see Mirae anymore.

As she pushed her squeaky gate open, she felt good and tired. There was no place like her little place. Her dog, at seeing her, went amok, jumping around and whining. She fed the creature with the leftovers from the festival. It was getting chilly. She emptied the remaining charcoal from a metal pail into the furnace and lit a fire. She should, she thought, go to the market soon to prepare for her winter hibernation. First of all, she wanted to buy a load of dried fish and some garlic. She had enough wild greens, all dried and bunched up, dangling in straw ropes from her eaves, to last the winter.

14

On the same day at Mr. O’s—even before the annual memorial service for the ancestors, which normally took place right after dawn—Min took a bundle in a basket to Nani, who was busying herself in the kitchen with Soonyi.

“What’ve you got there?” Nani asked, casting her glance to the dates and nuts she was arranging on wooden plates used only for the memorial service.

Before he revealed what was in the basket, the baby inside whimpered like a puppy. Nani raised her eyebrows in surprise, although this wasn’t the first time that he had brought in a baby from the front gate, abandoned by some wretched soul on a day of celebration or a dead one from the field ditched by an unfortunate woman out of wedlock. Now that Nani’s mother had passed away, and also Mistress Kim, there was no chance that this baby would get to stay in the house. Mistress Yee would throw a tantrum when she found out that the baby was there, and everyone in the household would be walking on eggshells for days. Nani wasn’t afraid of that. She was used to Mistress Yee. But it wasn’t always trouble-free to relocate the baby. Min must have felt extra sorry for these abandoned babies because he had once been a baby in a basket. Nani remember her mother talking with other maids about Min almost a decade before, summarizing in whisper the reasons why people abandoned their own children. “Scarcity of food after drought and birth out of wedlock are the common causes of such a terrible act. But sometimes, well, rarely, the master of the house planted his seed somewhere illegitimate. And doesn’t one have to reap what’d been sewn one way or another?”

Min stood there like a totem pole. Without saying anything Nani sliced off the top parts of apples and pears, as was the custom when preparing offerings for the memorial service.

“What are we going to do about this?” Soonyi asked, but her concern was superficial.

Nani stripped the smoked beef as if she heard nothing. The baby moaned pitifully, with the last bit of energy left in its system. Min looked grim but still stood there, planted. Nani arranged chestnuts on a plate. They were raw. She couldn’t remember whether chestnuts were supposed to be cooked or arranged raw on the table for the memorial service, and she was sure that Mistress Yee had no clue either. Her remarkable ignorance about housekeeping was advantageous to her inferiors, except that when Nani wanted to know something there was no one to learn from.

She wiped her hands on her apron, thinking intently about what to feed the infant if she should end up having to do so. Unexpectedly, Min picked up the basket and left the kitchen. Soonyi stood up and opened her mouth to say something, but she didn’t, she just looked at Nani sheepishly. After a few moments, Nani ran after Min. Near the well she pulled his arm and said, “Where’re you going?”

Min yanked his arm back and walked on. Nani grabbed his arm again and asked, “What are you trying to do?”

Min stared at her briefly and walked away again. Nani remained behind and muttered, “What’s he going to do with the baby? Is he going to starve it to death?” She realized that she had hurt his feelings. She walked slowly back to the kitchen.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” Nani shouted hysterically when she saw Soonyi take a bite of mugwort-flavored rice cake. “That’s for the memorial service. You know very well you can’t taste food before the service!” Her voice turned metallic. “Get out. You are no help. Go get Mirae. What’s she up to? Wake her up!”

Soonyi sprang up and left the kitchen, pouting and stomping. She climbed up onto the raised entrance and walked gingerly toward the bedroom. Holding the ancient door-pull, she took a deep breath before she entered. She was afraid of Mirae. Her appearance scared her. She dreaded confronting her because she didn’t know what to expect each time. “Don’t drop your jaw and stare at her. And don’t scream,” Nani had advised her. When Mistress Yee first saw her own maid after she returned from her extended stay away, she did exactly that: she dropped her jaw and couldn’t speak for a long moment, and then she heaved a sigh as if she were in great pain and finally said, “Get that out of my sight!” It was typical of Mistress Yee, but it was cruel nonetheless. No one called her bosom buddy, nevertheless everyone felt sorry for her when her own mistress called her “that” just because her skin was now disfigured. It was unjust, unfair, heartless, everyone had grumbled quietly, frowning.

“Are you up?” Soonyi asked feebly, knowing very well that there would be no reply either way.

Mirae’s upper body was in the sunlight coming through the window, and her eyelashes fluttered as Soonyi spoke. Soonyi didn’t know that Mirae had gone to bed not long before. Nowadays she disappeared in the middle of the night and slipped in quietly before dawn. And she slept like a log until after breakfast. People got used to what they thought of as temporary madness. They were expecting her to get better sooner or later. In the meantime, Nani had to take over her job as well.

“Are you still sleeping?” Soonyi made another attempt, weakly. “Nani wants you.”

Mirae opened her eyes ever so slightly and then closed them again. Soonyi slid toward Mirae on her knees. Mirae’s face, unlike when she was fully awake, appeared to be peaceful, expressionless, and undisturbed. Her skin didn’t look too bad. Soonyi inspected her face indiscreetly, holding her breath, puckering her mouth, and narrowing her eyes.

“So what do you think?” Mirae asked, opening her eyes, looking up directly at Soonyi. Her tone was neutral.

Surprised, Soonyi pulled herself back and turned red. Mirae didn’t scream, nor did she look upset.

“I have two eyes, one nose, and one mouth, just like anyone else,” Mirae said calmly.

Soonyi felt mortified. Not knowing how to respond, she kept her mouth zipped.

“What does Nani want?” Mirae asked, cocking her head.

“She wants you to help out, I guess,” she said, her voice weakening at the end. She couldn’t remember exactly what kind of help Nani wanted of Mirae.

Mirae flung her covers aside, went to clean her teeth with sea salt, and then marched to the kitchen. Soonyi followed her. She felt tense, interested in what Mirae was up to. She hadn’t been in her right mind, let alone cooperative or working, since she had recovered from her illness.

In the kitchen, there was nothing much more to be done. Nani was cleaning up and getting ready to deliver the wooden vessels for the memorial service. When she saw Mirae, however, she stopped her hands and waited for Mirae to say something. But Mirae said nothing. She simply picked up one of the trays and walked toward the master’s quarters.

“What is she up to?” Nani said in an undertone, standing with her arms akimbo, just as her mother would have done. “Don’t just stand there. You carry a tray too,” Nani reproached Soonyi.

“What are you so mad at me about?” Soonyi sulked, furrowing her forehead.

“I’ll be right back,” Nani said and left the kitchen. She walked briskly to the storage room, hoping to find Min with the baby in the basket. She felt bad that she had dismissed him earlier. So compassionate and softhearted, he couldn’t ignore the abandoned baby. But Nani was so busy with no extra hands to help her. The kitchen maid hadn’t yet returned from her mother’s. All she heard from her was that her mother would be dying any minute now. In any case, she was glad that Mirae had finally collected herself and gotten up. Hopefully, she would go back and tend to Mistress Yee.

Pausing in front of the storage room, Nani looked about before she opened the door. Min couldn’t be in there, for she was the only one among the maids and the servants entrusted with the key. Her mother had given her the keys to various places before she died, and Mistress Kim had entrusted her with them. Still, she went in. The smell of the fabric and the paper and the wooden boxes made her sneeze. She looked up and down. There were bolts of silks and cottons stacked up. She took down one particular roll of silk and touched it aimlessly, thinking about something totally unrelated. Mrs. Wang’s house was what stirred her mind. She would have liked to have a house—a cottage with a thatched roof—and her own animals, and her own little patch of vegetable garden, away from everyone, maybe with Min. “Crazy,” she said aloud, thinking of Min and how he had run away from her with the baby earlier. “Crazy,” she said once more.

“Crazy is right!” thundered a voice.

Stupefied, Nani dropped the bolt of silk, which fell on the ground and rolled, unfolding itself until it reached the shoe of Mistress Yee who seemed to have been transported into the storage room magically. Nani wanted to pick up the silk, but her body was unwilling to move as quickly as she would like. When she finally bent down, Mistress Yee barked, “Get your filthy hands off my silk!”

Nani flinched, her lips quivering. She didn’t know where to fix her glance. She was supposed to be in the kitchen. What would Mistress Yee do now? Her stomach knotted.

“I didn’t know I was breeding a thief under my own roof. How did you get hold of those keys?” Mistress Yee asked, narrowing her eyes. She walked on the bed of silk toward Nani, whose eyes were brimming with tears. She wanted to say that she wasn’t a thief. But she felt so small, powerless, overwhelmed. The storage room seemed to have darkened. It was hard to see what expression was on Mistress Yee’s face. She could only hear Mistress Yee’s heavy breathing and the rustle of her dress as she approached.

Many months pregnant, Mistress Yee ballooned in the middle. So when she stepped on Nani’s foot, Nani thought that it was an accident. Except she didn’t remove her foot. Mistress Yee pressed until Nani cried.

“Where did you get the keys?” Mistress Yee pressed harder on Nani’s foot. Her crimson lips parted, fuming fiery air, right above Nani’s nose.

“Mistress Yee, I didn’t take them. They were given to me. Mistress Kim gave them to me. She used to send me here to fetch papers and brushes and other things,” Nani quickly said.

Mistress Yee slapped her and shrieked, “Don’t you ever mention the dead woman’s name. It will bring bad luck to my baby.” She released her foot and said, “I am taking your wage for this month since you ruined my silk.”

Nani cried all the way to the kitchen.

“What is the matter, Big Sister?” Soonyi asked.

Nani sat by the stove in the kitchen and cried more. Mirae entered and said, “We need the rice liquor. They are about to start the ceremony.”

“The hell with their ceremony!” Nani shrieked. She took off her shoes and cotton footwear. The top of her left foot was bluish yellow.

“What happened to your foot? Big Sister, it’s blue!” Soonyi shouted excitedly.

“Shut up,” Mirae uttered quietly. “Where is the liquor?” she asked, unperturbed.

Nani ignored her and tended her foot as if it were a baby.

“Your foot will get better in a little while, but the liquor is needed right now or else she will turn your other foot blue to match,” Mirae said.

Soonyi quickly got the jug of rice liquor from the cupboard. Mirae snatched it, poured a bit into a small ceramic cup, and looked at Nani. “Drink it,” she said to Nani, and left the kitchen.

“Don’t mind her. She is out of her mind,” Soonyi comforted her. “And she shouldn’t pour the liquor before the ceremony.”

Unexpectedly, Nani took the ceramic cup and drank the liquor all at once. She screwed up her face as the heat of the alcohol rushed down her chest. The heat immediately spread into her shoulders and stomach.

Never having seen Nani drink, Soonyi whispered, “Big Sister.”

“Don’t speak to me right now,” Nani said and turned her head toward the wall. Her eyes were brimming with tears.