Gathering of Pearls (5 page)

I darted into the little locker room that was reserved for the kitchen staff, and changed into my uniform, a white starched blouse, black straight skirt, and low patent leather pumps. As I tore into the dining hall to sign in, Peggy Stone said, "Sookan, you can slow down. You're the first one here again." Peggy was a senior and the captain of the thirteen waitresses. She asked me to begin setting the tables and to place candles on each one.

Promptly, at ten minutes to six, we were told to light the candles. I loved this part of the evening, when the wicks sizzled in defiance before taking flame, then filled the room with the smell of warm wax. As usual, when all the candles were lit, I stood by Peggy as she dimmed the big chandelier. Though we did this day after day, it was always a wondrous moment for me. The dining hall was suddenly transformed into a magical place, warmed by the dancing pools of flickering candlelight. I embraced this peaceful moment in my otherwise hectic day.

Through the picture window, I could see the students walking toward the candle-lit room. They all looked so elegant in their high heels and gloves. I pictured myself all dressed up, walking with them in a leisurely way, and chatting about the last mixer. But I could not daydream long, for it was time to pick up my tray to begin serving.

I was assigned to serve the four tables near the front of the dining room. Fortunately, my section was nearest the kitchen counter, and I didn't have to carry the heavy serving platters far. Ellen always tried to sit at one of my tables, and once in a while, we could share a few words or a quick glance as I rushed back and forth.

"Sookan," Ellen said as she entered, "why don't you try to leave the library a bit early tonight or wake me up tomorrow morning before you tiptoe out of the room?"

"All right. Why? Anything special happening?" I asked as I motioned for her and her friends to sit down.

"Well, I miss talking to you! That's all." Ellen smiled as she carefully eased off her white gloves. I hurried back to the kitchen to pick up the appetizers.

Later that evening, after clearing the tables and sweeping the floor, I signed out and began the slow walk back to the library. Once the students left, I always ran around as fast as I could hoping to finish up early and have a little more time to study. But I was always so tired afterward; my legs felt wobbly, and my arms and back ached.

That evening, instead of walking across the lawn, I took a shortcut through The Castle. As I was passing through the dimly lit corridors, I saw Marci hunched over a book in a corner chair. She had on a comfortable sweater, her blue wool pants, and penny loafers. Marci never came to dinner in the dining hall. She had once told me she thought the dress code and the formality were "ridiculously pretentious" and a waste of time. She ate at the snack bar, where the senior scholarship students made delicious hamburgers, sandwiches, and french fries until all hours of the night. It was strange to find her here.

"I thought you might come this way," she said. "We haven't seen much of each other lately."

I felt a lump in my throat. How wonderful she was to go out of her way for me. With my schedule, I never had a chance to spend time with my friends.

Together, we headed toward the library, stopping at the post office on our way.

Outside, I paused, wobbling slightly on my weary legs. "Marci, look! It's so clear tonight you can see all the stars."

"Sookan, are you okay? You look so pale and tired."

"Oh, I'll be fine. It's just that there is so much running around in the dining hall. I can't wait to be a sophomore; then, I can do my scholarship duty in the library."

Marci smiled awkwardly and said nothing.

"It's not so bad, really. It gives me a chance to meet other scholarship students. We get to talk a bit while we set up. And I do love that room when all the candles are lit." Suddenly I couldn't stop talking. "I love watching the patterns the candlelight casts on the ceiling and walls. Those few minutes before all the students come in fill me with such a feeling of peace and happiness. It's hard to explain, but those moments carry me through the evening. At night, when I return to the library and am feeling angry about not having enough time to study, I think of the dancing candlelight and it makes me smile. I wish you would come early one day and see it with me." Then, I felt silly for chattering about candles for so long, and quickly opened the door to the post office.

Waiting for me was a letter from my sister and a note from Miss Mullen in the job placement office. I opened the note first, which said, "The local Girl Scouts club would like you to speak about Korea this Saturday at noon. If you could wear your native outfit, it would be a great treat for them. Let me know."

I was glad to hear from Miss Mullen, but I was worried about not having enough time for all of my work.

"What is it?" asked Marci, who must have noticed that I was upset. I handed her the note.

"Sookan, if you don't want to, you should just say so," Marci said, after reading the note.

Taking a deep breath, I said, "No, I should do it. 1 am the only Korean here and if I say no, there is nobody else who can talk about Korea to the little girls."

"Yeah, but if it's too much, you just can't. Miss Mullen of all people will understand. She knows how many jobs you work."

"I know. But I feel that I should do these things. I understand that I am a foreigner and look different, and that people are curious about me. It is my duty to help people understand me, and my culture. And I like meeting new people. I think I would really enjoy meeting the Girl Scouts." I sighed. "It just gets so hard after a while. I keep falling further and further behind in my studies, and I'm beginning to worry that I might actually fail some of my courses. And I'm sometimes tired of this feeling that I always have to explain myself. I have to work for every little bit of acceptance and understanding. Sometimes I wish I could get lost in the crowd, and just go about my business. That's why I don't really like wearing my
hanbok.
It makes me feel so different and so all alone. It must be a comfort to be like everyone else. There's so much pressure when you're different."

Marci was deep in thought, and I wondered if she had even been listening to me. It was silly of me to go on and on. Maybe it was too hard for Marci to relate to what I was saying. After all, she had grown up fifteen minutes away from here.

"I think I know how you feel," Marci said, to my surprise. "I might look like everyone else, but I feel out of place here. I'm out of place even in my own home. I feel like an oddball wherever I am."

I didn't know how to respond. I knew Marci was shy and still trying to settle in at school, but I was surprised by her words.

"My parents and my sister are so much alike," she continued. "My parents adore her. Dad and Susan are always talking about photography together, and Susan and my mom are always shopping or going to the beauty parlor together. She is everything they hoped for in a child. She's outgoing, popular, and beautiful. I know that when they look at me, they wonder where they went wrong, and why I didn't turn out more like Susan." Marci looked down at her feet while she talked. "Every once in a while, I try to fit in and be what my parents want me to be. I keep trying to develop an interest in photography, but I can't. It's just not who I am. My father actually wants me to take over his chemical company someday! I can't think of anything I would like less. It's a waste of time for me to pretend to like things just to please them; I refuse to do that anymore. I know what I want for my life. I want to be a classics professor."

Although Marci spoke matter-of-factly, I was amazed at how strong and clear-minded she was. I could never say such things. I even felt bad when I thought those thoughts. In Korea, you must do what is expected of you and live up to your responsibilities. It is so important not to let your elders down. I was shocked to hear Marci say these things, but strangely invigorated.

I didn't know what to say to her, so I just stared silently at the letter in my hand. It was the first piece of mail from my sister. My heart started to pound. I was afraid to open it. I knew I had disobeyed her by not writing, and I feared her letter would be an angry one.

Looking at the envelope, Marci said, "Hmm, a letter from home."

"It's from my sister. I still haven't written her," I replied sheepishly.

"Well, you probably want to read it. I think I'll head back to the dorm, anyway. I'll see you later, okay?"

Nodding my head with an anxious smile, I said, "Thanks, Marci. Thanks for waiting for me. See you later!"

I sat down in a corner of the post office and carefully opened Theresa's letter.

My dear little sister Sookan,

Tonight, in the peace of my room, I have decided to write you because you are my loving sister and you have been in my thoughts constantly since your last visit to the convent. I have much other work to do, but you are important to me.

It was another crazy day. My work at the hospital and the school is difficult, and often, very sad. It has been over a year since the war ended, and still, so many people are in need of so many basics. I cannot wait for you to return and join me in my work. We can do much good together. It is a noble life to help others. As a nun, you can do so much more for the needy, without the obligations and impediments that married life places on you. Why be a slave to a man? Why fill your days washing his socks and making his dinner? You can be helping people who truly need you.

As I have said many times before, you must not forget those less fortunate. I have not heard from you yet, and wonder about your life in America. Remember, you should be keeping a journal each day; it is important for your spiritual growth to find some quiet time at the end of each day for reflection and prayer. Simply send your journal entries to me once a week. I will keep them for you and give them to you when you return. This way, I can know what your life is like, and we two sisters can share everything. We can share all our thoughts and feelings, as well as a mutual objective. I still have no idea as to what your first day was like. How can we be close and be of one heart and mind if I do not receive a letter from you? It is already the end of October, and not a single piece of correspondence from you. I hope and pray you do not lose sight of our goal. I pray that you will not allow yourself to be swept away by American culture and all the things you see in such a rich country.

Judging from your hurried postcards to Mother, it sounds like you are having a wonderful time with your new friends. How difficult could it be to find a few moments to send me a letter? Please write and share your life with me so that we will not grow apart during these four long years.

You are always in my prayers.

Your loving sister, Theresa

I folded the thin airmail sheets and put them back in the envelope. I thought of my high school days, when I had faithfully visited my sister on the first Sunday of each month, the only time visitors were allowed. In the quiet, sunny sitting room, she would ask me about everything that happened at school and at home, and about everything going on in the neighborhood. She would speak of her calling and her work. She spoke with such feeling and conviction. I looked up to her. Everyone did. I listened to all the plans she had made for me. She spoke about how we would work side by side helping many people, comforting those in despair, and teaching young children. It all sounded fine then.

But now, as I read her letter, she sounded very different to me. It was as if I had never known her. Her tone was so much less kind than Mother's. I wondered if my sister still loved me. She didn't seem to understand the difficulties of facing a new culture and language. Didn't she realize that I might be struggling to settle into college life and to keep pace in my classes? Mother understood without my ever saying a word.

I didn't know what to think. Perhaps Theresa was right to be angry with me. She had asked me to tell her everything about my new life, and I had disobeyed her. I had neglected my duties as a younger sister. Perhaps I was being selfish, always busy with my own life and ignoring her wishes and needs. Was I becoming shallow? How could I be a good person when I had disappointed my own sister? Maybe I should have been honest about my struggles. But I hadn't wanted to worry Mother. I felt like such a failure.

How foolish I had been even to think of stopping by a Friday mixer! I didn't have time for such things. My sister would be very disappointed to know that I was wasting my time in that way. I heard the dorm bell sound and realized I had been sitting in the post office for quite a while. Wiping my tears away, I quickly gathered my books and rose from the hard bench.

From the large library window, I looked out at the maple tree, trembling against the gusts of November wind and surrendering its dry, brown leaves. Fall was almost over and I hadn't had a chance to take even one photo of the beautiful foliage.

It was late. I gathered my books and headed toward the dorm, looking forward to hearing Ellen's cheerful voice. Blanketed in the shadow of trees, the brightly lit dorm was like a beacon. I rubbed my tired eyes. The endless hours of studying, the scholarship work, the responsibilities of being the only Korean student, and my worries over disappointing my family all overwhelmed me. I still had not answered my sister's letter, but her voice rang in my ears.

When I rounded the corner toward my room, I saw Ellen in her powder pink bathrobe, satin slippers, and head of pink curlers, standing in the hallway saying good-bye to some friends. As soon as she spotted me, she rushed over. "Hi, stranger. Give me some of those books; I can't even see your face! You know, you're so rarely here that Kyle is beginning to think I've made you up. Why don't you come to this Friday's mixer and then come home with me for the weekend? Princeton is playing Dartmouth, and Kyle invited both of us. He wants you to meet his roommate, too. Princeton is only fifteen minutes away from my home, you know." She excitedly said all of this in one breath.