From Wonso Pond (30 page)

All Sonbi could think about right then was that Okchom's mother might be standing right outside her door, and her tiny heart was beating a mile a minute. She hardly caught a single word of what Tokho was saying, which is what always happened whenever Tokho came into her room.

74

“Answer me, girl.”

Tokho was stroking Sonbi's stomach. She didn't want to answer, but neither did she want him to keep on talking like this.

“No, I haven't had it yet . . .”

“Well, I guess I got lucky this time. You be sure to tell me if you're craving something, you hear? None of this shy business of yours . . . Do you feel like eating anything?”

As Tokho said this to Sonbi, he put his lips up to her face and slowly started to lick her all over. Sonbi felt sick to her stomach, but she managed to control it and sat up straight again.

“How about a rack of ribs?”

“Oh, please stop saying that.”

“Hey, that's no way to talk. You've got my boy inside here to think of now.”

Tokho took Sonbi into his arms again and sent a shudder down her spine by licking around her ears. Then he took some money out of his wallet and handed it over to her.

“You take this and buy whatever you want with it. And if you feel a craving for anything, you tell me. Got it?”

Sonbi clenched the money in her hand and thought of the envelope stuck inside her sock. She didn't know how much money it was, but she made up her mind that she'd use it to find Kannan.

“Okay, now please go back. Mother might come out.”

“Oh, who cares if she does? You're number one in my book now. Now that you've got my boy inside you here, don't you worry about that bitch any more. In a couple of months she'll figure things out for herself and we'll just kick her the hell out of here . . . Then I'll make you my legal wife. How about that?”

“Please, please lower your voice. Somebody will hear you.”

“Makes no difference. I'm telling you, you come first in this house from now on. Oh, yes, now listen up! When you get pregnant, I hear you start craving things that taste sour. You have any cravings like that?”

Sonbi felt even more disgusted by Tokho now that he was getting worked up by the thought of his baby. But she began to wonder if indeed, as Tokho assumed, missing her period really meant that she could be pregnant. Tokho had, after all, already dirtied her body, why shouldn't she just bear him a son and take over the reins of power in this family? This thought, Sonbi realized, was taking root deeper and deeper in some corner of her mind whenever she sat like this face to face with Tokho. And now she felt so sick to her stomach that she started to heave.

Taken by surprise, Tokho cupped his hands below her mouth. Sonbi already had a splitting headache, and now as she caught yet another whiff of Tokho's odor from the hands thrust out in front of her face, she turned her head away from him.

“Hell, you must be pregnant! Since when have you been so sick to your stomach?”

Sonbi pushed away from him.

“Oh, please, go back inside. My whole body aches . . . Just for tonight, please.”

“Your whole body? Well, there's no doubt about it then. You've got to be pregnant! You've lost your appetite, right? How would you like me to buy you some fruit?”

“No, no. Now, please, just go back now. Please.”

All Sonbi could think about was that Okchom's mother could be right outside her room, listening to everything the two of them were saying.

“All right, I'll go. But you better take care of that boy of mine. I'll get you some beef ribs tomorrow, and you be sure to eat a lot of them! Got it? You pretty little thing, you. You have my boy inside you, don't you!”

Tokho gave Sonbi another tight hug, and then went back outside. Sonbi sighed and tried her hardest to figure out how much money she was holding in her hand. Only then did she hear the main gate squeaking open and the plodding sound of Tokho stepping through the middle gate. On nights when Tokho visited Sonbi's room, he always tiptoed away from her room back to the main gate. Then he made a point of clearing his throat as he closed the middle gate with a clatter. But now Sonbi clearly heard the sound of footsteps on a wooden floor as they made their way into the inner room, where Okchom's mother slept. As she let out yet another sigh, Sonbi felt something close to jealousy. She listened as the door to the inner room opened and closed again, and only then did she remember the bill in her hand. She was dying to know how much it was worth, and felt around the base of the lamp for a match, which she finally managed to light. She couldn't quite tell what the bill was in the light of the single match, but it looked like one of those ten-won bills she'd always seen in Okchom's wallet. As she watched the glowing tip of the match gradually fade, she began thinking: If I add this to what mom gave when she died, that'll be ten won plus five won. How much is that altogether? A hundred nyang plus fifty nyang makes . . . wouldn't that be a hundred and fifty nyang? And nowadays they call that fifteen won, right? This was the first time in her life that Sonbi had even said the words fifteen won. Maybe I can make it to Seoul with this? she thought, clenching the bill even more tightly in her hand. But then, whether conscious of it or not, Sonbi bent her ear in the direction of the inner room. An unpleasant thought had crossed her mind, and she was feeling an emotion she didn't quite understand.

75

It was evening, now well into summer. The sky had been overcast all day long, and Sonbi glanced up at it as she made her way out to the
kitchen. It seemed certain that Okchom's mother had found out about what was going on, for she and Tokho had fought throughout the night. The woman hadn't eaten any breakfast, and for lunch someone had sent an errand boy from the township office with some noodles. She lay in bed like an invalid, her head wrapped in a towel. Sonbi hadn't slept a wink all night either, and all she'd been able to do today was sit quietly in the kitchen, worrying about what might happen next and staring out the door at a sky as dark and overcast as her own state of mind. She washed out some rice and put it into the pot, ready to be boiled, but then she didn't know what else to do with herself. She paced back and forth for a while and then went into the pantry to scoop up rice—until it dawned on her that she'd prepared some already. What's gotten into me, she wondered, leaning up against the cupboard and trying to calm herself down.

But her efforts were in vain. Okchom's mother had found out! She must know, Sonbi thought. But then again, she couldn't have found out! I wouldn't still be here if she actually knew about it. She would have kicked me out of the house last night . . . Sonbi then heard something crack, and she looked down in alarm. The gourd scoop filled with rice, which she'd been holding in her hand, had fallen against the kitchen slop pot placed just below it. Now both the scoop and the pot had cracked. The rice had spilled out of the gourd into the water, and now everything was gushing out of the broken pot. Sonbi frantically tried to gather the rice from the floor. She could hear the sound of angry footsteps approaching.

“That little bitch, what the hell has she screwed up this time!”

Her hair a tangled mess, Okchom's mother bolted through the breezeway and down into the kitchen. She then grabbed hold of Sonbi by the back of her hair.

“Oh, you bitch! If you don't like it here then just get the hell out—don't you dare start breaking our dishes! I'll rip you to pieces, you bitch . . . Now get out!”

It was as though Okchom's mother had been holding back until just this very moment. She started ripping out clumps of hair from Sonbi's scalp. Sonbi had no intention of fighting back, and it was with nothing but sheer horror written on her face that she allowed the woman to slap her around at will. Okchom entered the kitchen, her eyes wide in alarm.

“What's going on here . . . ? Oh, my . . . just look at her . . . Ah, hah, ha.”

Okchom let out a peal of laughter and pointed to Sonbi's clothes, which had been thoroughly drenched by the spilled water and then soiled by the dirt floor. Having spent day after day in the same boring routine—eating, sleeping, and playing the piano—Okchom now watched this fight play out before her eyes with the excitement of someone desperate for anything new to happen. But it was also with a certain relish that she greeted this new development. Okchom had long suspected that Sinch'ol was more fond of Sonbi than he was of her, and her jealousy had led her to hate Sonbi. Now she felt the impulse to give Sonbi a good slap across the face. Okchom's mother, however, was still whacking Sonbi around the kitchen floor, pushing her face down to the floor and then pulling it up again, while Sonbi put up no more resistance than a lamb. At first, Sonbi's face had stung with each slap the woman delivered, but the longer she continued, the less conscious Sonbi was of the attack, and the less pain she felt with each blow. How she only wished she might die after this beating! For how could she bear all the humiliation and the pain? How else would she escape this terrifying family? And yet, now that she'd had a taste of their whip, she felt freed from some of the anguish in her breast.

Okchom's mother eventually ran out of steam. She stepped away from Sonbi and smoothed her hair back down into place.

“Now, get out of here, you bitch! And to think I raised you like my very own daughter . . . If you'd ever used that head on your shoulders, you might have at least thought about that. But instead you have the gall to . . . Oh, I knew all along what you two were up to, though I held my tongue. You little slut!”

“Oh, Mother. How embarrassing! You don't suppose that Father could have done anything like that, do you? But then again, I bet she's capable of anything. I caught her standing face to face with Sinch'ol one night. For all I know she and that idiot Sinch'ol have had some sort of affair. Oh, she looks like an innocent fool on the outside all right, but she's really just a double-dealing little . . .”

Not a moment had gone by when Okchom had been able to forget Sinch'ol, and she had grown to hate him even more because of this. She had allowed herself to play out every possible scenario in her mind, including one with Sonbi. Okchom jumped forward and slapped Sonbi
across her face, though it was already red as blood. Sonbi was driven back ever further into the corner of the kitchen. Now she really felt like she wanted to die.

Just then Tokho came in.

“Hey, what's going on here?”

“Well, I didn't want to say anything at first Father . . . but it looks as though Sinch'ol and that girl had some sort of relationship.”

“What? With Sinch'ol?”

Tokho stared at her with wide-eyed suspicion.

76

“Are you sure?”

“I am positive. I distinctly remember seeing that girl and Sinch'ol late one night standing face to face with each other, chatting away about something in the moonlight. And just think about it. After we went back to Seoul, didn't Sinch'ol keep trying to get us to send her to Seoul? I didn't understand it back then, but it all makes perfect sense now. Something was going on between the two of them, but I just never put all the pieces together.”

Okchom spun back around to face Sonbi.

“You and Sinch'ol had some sort of relationship, didn't you? Admit it, you whore, or I'll kill you!” threatened Okchom.

Tokho also glared at Sonbi with terrifying eyes. He'd been convinced that she was pregnant with his child, and had fed her every sort of delicacy imaginable. At the very thought of this, Tokho was beside himself with rage. As Sonbi looked up at Tokho, she felt tears coming to her burning eyes. Of all people, Tokho, at least, should have made an effort to understand her pain at being so grossly mistreated. Tokho took several steps toward Sonbi.

“Is it true you had a relationship with Sinch'ol? I went out of my way to take this girl in off the streets, and here I am, the innocent one, being made into the villain with all these false accusations . . . Now, look here, dear, if you don't believe me, just ask this girl for yourself. Do you really think some slut trying to get to Seoul, who's already hooked up with that boy Sinch'ol, is going to do what I tell her to do? Think about it. Being a little suspicious is one thing, but have some sense, will you? . . .
Now, tell me, did you have something to eat today? Did you eat any of the noodles the delivery boy brought from the office?”

Tokho felt awkward standing in front of Sonbi, so he took Okchom's mother by the hand and led her back into the house.

“Now, get the hell out of here. We don't want you in this house any longer,” shouted Okchom, following her parents out of the kitchen.

Sonbi now knew for certain that she'd have to leave. Listening to all these outright lies—even from Tokho, whom she'd actually come to trust—proved to her that he planned to send her packing. Well, so be it! she said under her breath, as she made her way back into her room. The fury inside her now raged with such intensity that her whole body trembled. But not a single tear did she shed any longer. She collapsed on top of her bundle of things and waited for night to come.

And, oh, that night! With her bundle clutched to her side, she made her escape from Tokho's household. The night was as black as ink in all four directions. It wasn't raining, as she had feared it might earlier, but the wind was slowly gathering speed. Sonbi made her way up to the road that led into town. A gentle breeze blew warmly against her stinging face. Lightning flashed in the eastern sky, illuminating the mountains every so often. The sound of thunder rumbled in the distance with each flash. Once, Sonbi would have been terrified by a night like this, but nothing could have frightened her now. She was so firm in her determination, she was ready to take on anything, even death.