Waxing Moon (20 page)

Min groaned, pulling her closer to him. But Nani untangled herself from his arms. She said, “I am not going to be your wife.”

Min stared at her, overcome with desire. When he had been with Mirae, he had felt disgusted and good at the same time. He pulled Nani close to him and tried to kiss her. Nani slapped him and said, “Idiot, it’s too late!” She ran away as fast as she could, but she didn’t go back to the restaurant right away. She saw squid catchers unloading their boats at the pier. Thousands of squid spilled out from the net onto a large mat. She asked one of the fishermen how many squid she could free with a silver coin. “Thirty,” he said. So she freed thirty squid while making a wish.

34

When the messenger on horseback from the west coast set out to Mistress Yee’s house to inform her husband, Mr. O had already left for a meeting. All the landlords in the region, with several military officers from the capital city, gathered in a private house to discuss important matters over a late luncheon.

Good-looking maids brought in exquisitely arranged food and drinks and placed them on the low tables. Musicians played ancient instruments from a pavilion in the middle of a pond filled with colorful carp and lotuses bursting into full bloom. It was a closed courtyard, providing perfect acoustics, and from all four sides one could see the musicians and the other visitors. The banquet was sumptuous. Kisengs, professional entertainers who covered their faces with fans, were there to serve the drinks, to tell tales, and to get pinched by the naughty powerful men.

One of the officers gestured to the musicians to lower the volume, so only the flutist was now playing; his tune was as ethereal as the sudden blooms of flowers in the spring season.

“His Highness is concerned about the riots of the so-called peasant revolutionary group here in our region. Most of the members have been captured and beheaded, but some are still around, indoctrinating innocent people. And this is what brings us here together,” the officer began.

“In the capital city, we have implemented a new rule that the immediate family of these criminal peasants be stripped of their possessions, and be ineligible for employment,” another officer said.

“And how may we strip them of their possessions? Do we need to do this by ourselves or do we hire government officers?” a landlord from a neighboring village asked. It brought some laughter around the table.

“We will be providing one officer per one hundred inhabitants. This village, exceeding one thousand inhabitants, will receive ten officers before the moon begins to wax,” the same officer announced.

“In the capital city, we hang the heads of the dead peasants at the entrance of the village as a deterrent,” another officer said.

By this time, not many landlords were listening. Most of them were getting red in the face, and their limbs were relaxed; some of them were making clandestine eye contact with the fan-covered kisengs.

Small conversations broke out in layers while the officer talked loudly at the prominent landlords about various schemes for preventing further riots.

“Who is that girl over in the corner?” asked a landlord with a beard.

In the society of kisengs, there was a strict rule that newcomers were not permitted to engage in conversations with men at a party, unless, of course, the men they were serving initiated the conversation.

“She is a newcomer. Needs much training,” a middle-aged kiseng, named Dimple, replied quickly and poured another bowl of ginseng wine to distract Lord Ahn.

“What is her name?” he persisted.

“She is called Pumpkin,” replied Dimple, smiling.

It was also customary that one didn’t go by one’s real name in the world of kisengs. Each girl had a pseudonym, which she picked when she joined the society. The pretty girl’s pseudonym wasn’t Pumpkin, but Dimple was playing with the landlords. As expected, the men laughed, examining Pumpkin’s hand, which held her fan, and her shoulders, which were encased in silk the color of an orange azalea.

“Exceptional looking!” Lord Ahn exclaimed.

Some kisengs giggled.

“Amuse us with a story,” he suggested to no one in particular.

Dimple began quickly, “Once upon a time, there was a woman hauling water at a well. A general came her way and asked her for some water. He was returning from a battlefield, weary and spent. The woman took a gourd and filled it only half full, and then took a few leaves from a willow branch to drop on the water. The general, very thirsty and impatient, was incensed. He threw the gourd to the ground and chided the woman severely for her odd behavior. He asked once again for water. She did exactly the same, leaves afloat in a half-full gourd. She explained that there was no remedy for choking on water. So she wanted him to drink slowly, blowing the leaves away from his mouth which would slow down his gulping. The general was impressed and grateful for her wisdom. He took her to be his wife.”

They all clapped.

Lord Ahn pursued his quarry: “How about you, Pumpkin?”

Pumpkin thought for a moment and said, “I heard this story quite recently.”

Caught by the familiar voice, Mr. O, who sat near Lord Ahn, turned around to hear the story.

“Once there was an evil concubine whose jealousy soared up above the sky, for the mistress of the house was having a baby,” Pumpkin began. The gentlemen gave her their undivided attention. “She asked her faithful maid to go and make a voodoo doll. The maid didn’t know what it was for, but her mistress wanted her to make one, so she did. The concubine pierced the doll with a needle between its legs and gave it to the maid to bury behind the quarters of the mistress of the house. The maid then realized what her mistress was up to, but she did as she was told, for a maid has no choice. The mistress of the house died after she gave birth. Sometime later, a dog unearthed the doll. The master of the house wanted to know what it all meant. The concubine accused her faithful maid of the crime. But the wise master of the house said, ‘She is your maid and does what you tell her to do. She might have buried the doll, but the idea must have come from you. So you are the guilty one.’ The master ordered eighty lashes for the wicked concubine and sent her away.” Pumpkin trembled slightly as she ended the story.

The men applauded.

“That was a great story,” said Lord Ahn. “Don’t you think so?” he asked Mr. O, who was unable to utter a word for his heart was pounding so loudly.

Mr. O was aghast. He was at once ashamed, and all he hoped was to leave the place as soon as the meeting was over.

“How about you, Mr. O?” said Lord Ahn. He was asking for a story.

“Oh, I will pass. I am not much of a storyteller,” he replied uncomfortably, his face reddening.

“What’s Pumpkin’s real name?” asked Lord Ahn.

Dimple raised her eyebrows in alarm and sulked, “Master, don’t you like Dimple anymore? I am going to cry if you let me down.”

He laughed, pleased.

Mr. O watched Mirae behind her fan and was impressed with how similar she was to his wife. They had the same body shape and crimson lips and shiny, pitch-black hair. They both carried themselves with aloofness. But he had to say that Mirae—for now he was convinced that the woman was indeed his former maid—was even prettier. Why hadn’t he noticed that while they had inhabited under the same roof?

At the end of the party, Lord Ahn got up and reluctantly walked out, turning back once or twice to see Mirae again. But Dimple took his arm and saw him off. Other kisengs were also seeing off the visitors. Mirae sat in the room while the maids came in to clear the tables.

Mr. O got up and went close to Mirae, dropped the pouch he had on his waist, and said, “I want to compensate you for my misjudgment.”

Mirae looked down at the gold coins that spilled out of the blue silk pouch and then looked up without hesitation. Her eyes were fiery. She smiled suddenly and said, “If Master would like to soothe my scarred heart, he should grant me the ring on his finger for me to live by.”

“The gold coins in the pouch amount to more in value than the ring,” he said. But Mirae didn’t reply. Mr. O was moved. This maid, who could have had Lord Ahn, the richest man in the province, was in love with him! He blushed. Mirae smiled coquettishly, taking his hand to gently wriggle the ring off his finger. At her electrifying touch, he parted his lips involuntarily. As he caressed her hair clumsily, his lungs expanded, making him feel that he was above the floor.

Dimple came in abruptly to have warning words with Mirae, but upon finding her flirting with Mr. O, she was jubilant.

“Ah, Lord O, you are one step ahead of everyone!” she exclaimed excitedly. “This is Cherry Blossom. Her beauty could melt the heart of the toughest samurai on the neighboring island,” she babbled.

Mr. O stood like a broomstick, not knowing what to say. The situation was unfamiliar to him.

“Please, Lord O. Let me know what you would like. If you would like to have a meeting with Cherry Blossom, I can arrange it. Just name the time and the date,” she said, twisting the end of his sleeve.

He forced an awkward laugh because he thought it was the right moment to laugh, but it did not make him feel more comfortable. He hurried out, still laughing awkwardly. As he got on his horse, he had a hunch he wasn’t going to be able to sleep that night.

When he got home, the news awaited him from the west coast that his wife would be delayed by a day, due to a violent stomachache. He was relieved.

35

Dubak’s wife, Jaya, came home from the open market feeling furious. A vendor had refused to sell to her, accusing her of having killed her mother-in-law. “You stuffed the old woman with sticky rice cake,” he shouted, attracting attention from the shoppers and other venders. And it hadn’t been the first time she was humiliated in public by a stranger. She cried, screwing up her face, when she got home. Her neighbor was babysitting her son, but Jaya didn’t feel like picking him up right away. Instead, she sat on the floor where red peppers were drying on a straw mat. She had been going out of her way to make interesting dinners for Dubak after the funeral of his mother. He hadn’t really forgiven her for who knew what, and he still had his doubts which he could use against her should an occasion arise. But for now, his wife was feeding him well—the gods only knew how she managed to, with their meager household budget—and she cooperated in bed pretty much every time he was stiff before dawn. She used to push him away, hitting him between the legs with a pillow and complaining that it was an insane hour for such activity.

Today, Jaya had visited the market because she heard the news of the squid arriving from the west coast. Dubak loved seafood, but it was hard to get it, except in the spring, when the road from the west coast was no longer frozen and the weather was not too hot to make everything go bad immediately. Jaya had meant to stuff squid with ground-up soybeans, greens, and chopped carrots, and steam them on the cooking rice. She would have sliced the colorful dish and arranged it artfully. The taste would have cheered up any sulking heart. But now she saw her stupidity plain and clear. It didn’t matter how hard she worked to make sure her husband wouldn’t try to stab her again. The whole village was bloodthirsty.

“You can have my innocent blood,” she said and took a rope made of straw.

She walked over to the totem poles at the entrance to the village. She lowered her head and proclaimed that she was innocent. She had fed her mother-in-law rice cake, true, but who could have predicted that the old woman would choke and die like that? Jaya cried mournfully, telling the totem poles once again that she was innocent. It was true that her senile mother-in-law, who had wanted to be served a meal every time she turned around because she had forgotten she had just eaten, was a nuisance. Whenever Dubak came home, the mother complained that Jaya starved her. And sometimes she did starve her, but just a little. Who could have withstood such a mother-in-law? She had done a decent job taking care of her. When her mother-in-law choked on the rice cake, she didn’t know what to do but watch her die. She tried to pour water into her mother-in-law’s mouth, but it was no use. She turned blue and ceased breathing.

Jaya wiped her eyes and said accusingly, “I am going to kill myself to teach the villagers a lesson.
They
will be the murderers!” She prayed that she would be reborn a bird, never again a woman, a poor woman. And then she turned around and walked to the twin pine trees. She threw the rope over a branch of one. She tied a knot and stuck her head in so the rope went around her neck. Holding the other end of the rope, she began to pull. She jumped and pulled the rope at the same time, and she felt it suddenly tightening on her neck. She was just slightly above the ground, but it was enough to choke anyone to death.

Mistress Yee’s carriage was just passing the totem poles, and the servants stopped when they heard the sudden thud coming from over by the twin pine trees. The branch couldn’t endure the weight of a pregnant woman: it broke and Jaya fell on the ground. She was moaning. Nani ran over and found what had happened.

“Have you lost your mind!” she exclaimed.

From the carriage, Mistress Yee inquired after the noise and why the servants were stopping. One of them said that there was a woman crying under the twin pine trees. The other said it might be Dubak’s wife.

“That’s not a reason to stop!” Mistress Yee cried from inside. Her legs had been cramped for so long. She wanted to get home as soon as possible.

The male servants hollered to Nani to come back as they were walking away.

“My water broke!” screamed Jaya.

“Oh no!” Nani didn’t know what that meant, but it seemed like an emergency.

Nani ran to the male servants and announced that she had to look after Jaya.

Nani was frightened and asked Jaya if she should run and get Mrs. Wang.

Jaya said that she would be dead by the time Mrs. Wang arrived. And then she began to scream from the extraordinary pain. Her contractions began and her labor proceeded rapidly.

Nani trembled for a minute and then calmed down as the contraction momentarily subsided. She had witnessed two births. And she remembered what Mrs. Wang had done with Mistress Yee. Nani pulled a handkerchief out of her sack, folded it into a ball, and stuffed it into Jaya’s mouth.

Jaya spat it out and said, “What the hell! I am no Mrs. Kim. I will scream as much as I want!” Tears oozed out of the corners of her eyes. “Look, I want you to tie the other end of this rope around the pine tree, will you?”

Nani did as told, instinctively understanding what it was for. Much sooner than she had anticipated, the pain returned to torture Jaya. Nani offered Jaya her wrist to hold, as she had done for Mistress Kim, but Jaya held onto the rope and pulled it with enough strength to uproot the tree. She screamed like an animal, tormented by an invisible enemy. Nani clenched her teeth and wiped the sweat off Jaya’s forehead and chest.

“Nani, here it comes! Pull!” Jaya screamed.

Jaya pushed. The baby’s head emerged. Jaya pushed again. At the third push, the whole bloody boy came out, and Nani caught him. She held the squirming body in her hands. She couldn’t help but shed tears as she carefully wrapped the wet, wrinkled newborn in her handkerchief.

“Nani, give me the baby and run to my home. Get a pair of scissors and bring them to me,” she said.

Nani ran. Then she stopped. She didn’t have to go to Jaya’s house. She should just run to the closest house.

She ran into Quince’s house and yelled, “Anyone home?”

Quince looked out from her kitchen, unimpressed. “What’s the fuss?” She got up when she saw Nani’s bloody hands and shirt.

“Jaya had her baby by the twin pine trees. I need a pair of scissors, quick!” Nani said frantically.

At the mention of Jaya’s name, Quince snorted and said, “I’d be a dog if I helped her.”

“A dog knows when to bark and when to whimper. If you don’t help a woman who’s just had a baby, you are no better than a dog. Give me a pair of scissors right now or else you won’t be working for Mr. O anymore. And your husband: he just returned from the west coast, escorting Mistress Yee. I will go over now and tell Mistress Yee that he no longer wants to be employed. Should I do that?” Nani shot her an indignant glare.

Quince laughed. But there was no need to cross Nani. Her large buttocks jiggled as she stepped up on the stone step to her room to see if her sewing box was there. She pulled out a pair of scissors from a woven basket and handed them to Nani. “Calm down, child. Nothing bad is going to happen. Once the baby’s out, the baby’s fine.”

“Give me a sheet or something to wrap the baby with,” Nani demanded. “I had only a handkerchief.”

“Sure.” Quince pulled a dry sheet from a clothesline and folded it into a small square. “What did she have?” Quince asked. Her tone was suddenly intimate and interested.

“It’s a boy,” Nani said, showing mild annoyance.

Remembering what Mrs. Wang had done, Nani went to the kitchen and dipped the scissors in water briefly. Then she put them in the fire for a few moments until they stopped sizzling. And then she dashed out.

She cut the umbilical cord, feeling extremely anxious. She didn’t know if it caused the baby or the mother any pain.

Jaya thanked Nani profusely and cried, remembering how she had tried to kill herself. She thought she would name her son Soseng, Rising from Death.

Nani walked home feeling proud. Her chest was wet with the sweat of exertion. But there was something that made her chest cold besides her own sweat. She touched it mindlessly and found the jade necklace. She held it in her palm for a moment and said out loud, “My dear boy, I wish you the best of luck.”