by Min Jin Lee
Kyunghee thought they should buy another cart and set up in another part of town to try to double their earnings, but Yoseb could not be left alone. He could no longer walk, and the muscles in his legs had atrophied so much that what had once been thick, powerful calves were now bony stalks sheathed with scabs.
He was not asleep, and he could hear them. The women were in the kitchen worrying about Noa’s tuition. They were worried when he was studying for his exams, and now that he had finally passed, they were worried about how they would pay. Somehow, they had to live without Noa’s salary, come up with the cost of the boy’s education, and pay for his medicines. It would have been better if he were dead. Everyone knew it. As a young man, the only thing Yoseb had wanted to do was to take care of his family, and now that he was helpless to do so, he could not even die to help them. The worst thing had happened: He was eating up his family’s future. Back home, in the olden days, he could have asked someone to carry him off to the mountains to die, perhaps to be eaten by tigers. He lived in Osaka, and there were no wild animals here—only expensive herbalists and doctors who could not help him get well, but rather keep him from just enough agony to fear death more while hating himself.
What surprised him was that as he felt closer to death, he felt the terror of death, its very finality. There were so many things he had failed to do. There were even more things he should never have done. He thought of his parents, whom he should never have left; his brother, whom he should never have brought to Osaka; and he thought of the job in Nagasaki he should never have taken. He had no children of his own. Why did God bring him this far? He was suffering, and in a way, he could manage that; but he had caused others to suffer, and he did not know why he had to live now and recall the series of terrible choices that had not looked so terrible at the time. Was that how it was for most people? Since the fire, in the few moments when he felt clear and grateful to breathe without pain, Yoseb wanted to see the good in his life, but he couldn’t. He lay on his well-laundered pallet, dwelling on the mistakes that seemed so obvious in hindsight. He was no longer angry at Korea or Japan; most of all, he was angry about his own foolishness. He prayed that God would forgive him for being an ungrateful old man.
Softly, he called out “Yobo.” He didn’t want to wake the boys, who were sleeping in the back room, and Changho, who slept in the room by the front door. Yoseb tapped the floor gently in case Kyunghee could not hear him.
When he saw her at the threshold, he asked her to bring Sunja and Yangjin.
The three women sat on the floor by his pallet.
“You can sell my tools first,” he said. “They’re worth something. Maybe they’ll pay for his books and his moving fees. You should sell all the jewelry you have. That will help, too.”
The women nodded. Among the three of them, they had two gold rings left.
“Mozasu should ask his boss, Goro-san, for an advance against his salary equal to Noa’s tuition, room, and board. And the three of you and he can work down the debt. During the school breaks, Noa can find whatever temporary jobs he can get and save. The boy has to go to Waseda. He deserves to go. Even if no one hires Koreans here, with his degree he can go back to Korea and work for a better salary. Or move to the United States. He’ll know how to speak English. We have to think of his education as an investment.”
He wanted to say more. He wanted to apologize for not providing for them and for the expense he caused them, but he couldn’t say these things now.
“The Lord will provide,” Kyunghee said. “He’s always taken care of our every need. When the Lord saved your life, he saved our lives.”
“Send Mozasu to me when he comes home. I’ll tell him that he must ask for an advance from Goro-san so he can pay for the tuition.”
Sunja shook her head slightly.
“Noa won’t allow his younger brother to pay for his tuition,” she said. “He’s already told me so.” She didn’t look at him while speaking. “Koh Hansu has said that he would pay for the tuition and board. Even if Mozasu got an advance—”
“No. That’s the foolish talk of an unthinking woman! You can’t take that bastard’s money! It’s filthy.”
“Shhh,” Kyunghee said gently. “Please don’t get upset.” She didn’t want Kim Changho to hear them talking about his boss. “Noa said that he’ll get a job in Tokyo, and it’s true, he did say that Mozasu cannot pay for the tuition. That he’ll manage. You know Noa won’t go if Mozasu pays.”
“I should be dead,” Yoseb said. “I’d rather be dead than listen to this. How can that boy work and go to a school like Waseda? Impossible. A boy who studied hard like this must go. I’ll ask Goro-san myself if Noa can borrow the money. I’ll tell Noa that he has to take it from him.”
“But we don’t know if Goro-san will lend it. And asking him could hurt Mozasu’s job. I don’t want to let Koh Hansu pay for the fees, either, but how else? We can make it a loan, and we can pay it back in increments so that Noa doesn’t owe him anything,” Sunja said.
“Borrowing from Goro-san and hurting Mozasu’s future in pachinko is far better than taking money from Koh Hansu,” Yoseb said firmly. “That Koh Hansu is bad. Take money from him for Noa, and there will be no end to him. He wants to control the boy. You know that. For Goro-san, it’s just money.”
“But why is Goro’s pachinko money cleaner than Koh Hansu’s money? Koh Hansu owns construction companies and restaurants. There’s nothing wrong with those things,” Kyunghee said.
“Shut up.”
Kyunghee pursed her lips. The Bible said that a wise person must rein in his tongue. Not everything you wanted to say should be said.
Sunja said nothing as well. She had never wanted anything from Hansu before, but she reasoned that it would be preferable to ask a man who had already offered the money than bother a total stranger. Goro had already been so gracious to Mozasu, and Mozasu was very happy in his job. She didn’t want to bring shame to Mozasu, who had only just started out. The boy had been talking of opening his own parlor one day. Besides, she knew Noa wouldn’t allow Mozasu to borrow that money. Yoseb could insist all he wanted, but Noa would not listen to this.
“How about Kim Changho? Can he help?” Yangjin asked.
“That man works for Koh Hansu. Changho doesn’t have that kind of money, and if he got it, he would have gotten it from his boss. These debts are not easy, but Goro-san is the best option. He won’t charge some exorbitant rate, or hurt Noa. Mozasu will be fine,” Yoseb replied. “I’m going to rest now.”
The women left the room and closed the door.
The next day, Hansu asked Noa to come by his office in Osaka with his mother. That same evening, without telling the family, the mother and son went to see Hansu. The office had two receptionists, dressed in matching black suits and crisp white shirts, and one of them brought them tea in thin blue porcelain cups on a lacquer tray lined in white gold foil. The waiting area was filled with beautiful floral arrangements. As soon as Hansu’s call ended, the older one ushered them into Hansu’s immense, wood-paneled office. Hansu sat on a tufted black-leather chair behind a mahogany partners desk from England.
“Congratulations!” Hansu said, getting up from his big chair. “I’m so glad you could come. We should go have sushi! Can you go now?”
“No, no, thank you. We have to get home,” Sunja replied.
Noa glanced at his mother, wondering why she wouldn’t go to dinner. They didn’t have any plans. After the meeting, they would likely just go back home and eat something simple that Aunt Kyunghee made.
“I asked you to come today because I want Noa to know that he has achieved something great. Not just for himself or his family but for all Koreans. You are going to university! And to Waseda, an excellent Japanese university! You are doing everything a great man can do in his time—you are pursuing your education. So many Koreans could not go to school, but you kept studying and studying. And even when the exams were not good, you persevered. You deserve a great rew
ard! How wonderful! I’m so proud. So proud.” Hansu beamed.
Noa smiled shyly. No one had fussed nearly this much. Everyone at home had been happy, but mostly they had been anxious about the cost. Noa had been concerned, too, about the money, but he felt that somehow, everything would be okay. He had worked since high school, and he would keep working even at Waseda. After getting into Waseda, he felt like he could do anything. He didn’t mind working in any kind of job as long as he could go to classes and study.
“I am sorry to ask this, but a while ago, you had said that you may be able to help Noa with the fees,” Sunja said. “Do you think you could help us?”
“Umma, no.” Noa flushed. “I can get a job. That’s not why we’re here. Kim-san said that Koh-san wanted us to come by to congratulate me. Nee?” Noa was surprised by his mother’s request. She didn’t like to ask for anything. She didn’t even like taking free samples at the bakery.
“Noa, I’m asking for a loan. We would pay everything back. With interest,” Sunja said. She hadn’t wanted to ask now, but it was better this way, she thought. Now he would know the terms from the beginning. There was no way to do this perfectly, so she had to just say it. “The tuition is due now, and if you could help us, then we can write up a loan paper, and I will stamp it with my hanko. I brought it.” Sunja nodded for emphasis. For a second, she wondered: What would she do if he said no?
Hansu laughed and shook his head dismissively.
“That’s not necessary, and Noa need never worry about tuition, board, and fees. I’ve already taken care of it. As soon as I heard the great news from Kim Changho, I sent the money to the school. I called my friend in Tokyo and found a good room near the school, which I will take you to see next week. Then I asked Kim Changho to ask you and Noa to come by so I could invite you to dinner. So, now, let’s go eat sushi. The boy deserves a magnificent meal!”
Hansu looked at Sunja’s face with pleading in his eyes. He wanted so much to celebrate his son’s great accomplishment.
“You sent the money? And found a room in Tokyo? Without my permission? It’s supposed to be a loan,” she said, feeling more anxious.
“Sir, it’s far too generous. My mother is right. We should return the money to you. I will get a job in Tokyo. Perhaps you can help me with that rather than pay the fees. I’d like to earn it myself. I feel like I can do that.”
“No. You have to study. You had to take that exam again and again, not because you are not smart. You are very smart. You didn’t have the time to study like a normal student. You took much longer than you needed because you didn’t have schooling and you had to work full time to support your family. You didn’t have all the proper tutoring that the average Japanese middle-class child would have had. And during the war, you were in that farm without any lessons. No. I will no longer watch idly while you and your mother pretend that the rules of human performance do not apply to you. A hardworking scholar should not have to worry about money. I should have forced my way earlier. Why should it take many more years for you to graduate from school? Do you want to be an old man by the time you finish Waseda? You study and learn as much as you can. I will pay,” Hansu said, laughing. “Do it my way. Be smart, Noa. This is what I can do for the next generation as a responsible Korean elder.”
Noa bowed.
“Sir, you have been very kind to our family. I am very grateful.”
Noa looked at his mother, who remained seated quietly by his side. Her hands twisted the handle of her homemade canvas bag, stitched from Mozasu’s leftover coat material. He felt sorry for her, because she was a proud woman, and this was humiliating for her. He knew she wanted to pay for his tuition.
“Noa, can you go outside and ask Mieko-san to call the restaurant for us?” Hansu asked.
Noa looked again at his mother, who seemed lost in her heavily upholstered chair.
“Umma?”
Sunja glanced up at her son, who was already standing by the door. She could see that he wanted to go to dinner with Hansu. The boy looked so handsome and pleased. She couldn’t imagine what this must have meant to him. Noa had not refused Hansu. He had already accepted the money, because the boy wanted so much to go to this university. In her mind, she could hear Yoseb yelling at her—to stop this now, that she was a foolish woman who had not thought this through. But the boy, her first child, was happy. He had done this tremendous, near impossible thing, and she could not imagine unmaking it to the thing it was yesterday, before he had passed—this glittering, brilliant object that could be taken away at a moment’s notice through lack of money. She nodded, and her son understood that they would dine with Hansu.
When the door closed, and Hansu and Sunja were alone in his office, she tried again:
“I want this to be a loan. And I want papers so I can show Noa that I paid for his school.”
“No, Sunja. This, this I get to do. He’s my son. If you don’t let me do this, I will tell him.”
“Are you crazy?”
“No. Paying for his school is nothing to me financially, but it is everything to me as his father.”
“You’re not his father.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Hansu said. “He is my child. He has my ambition. He has my abilities. I will not let my own blood rot in the gutters of Ikaino.”
Sunja gathered her bag and got up. Yoseb was not wrong, and she could not take this back.
“Let us go then. The boy is waiting outside. He must be hungry,” he said.
Hansu opened the door and let her out first.
14
December 1959
On a Saturday morning when the others would be at work, Kyunghee wanted to go to church. Missionaries from America who spoke Japanese but not Korean were visiting their church, and the minister had asked her to help him greet them since her Japanese was so good. Normally, she couldn’t get out of the house because she wouldn’t leave Yoseb by himself, but Changho offered to watch Yoseb. It wouldn’t be for very long, and Changho wanted to do one last thing for her.
Changho sat cross-legged on the warm floor near Yoseb’s bedding to help him do some of the stretches the doctor had recommended.
“You’ve made up your mind, then?” Yoseb asked.
“Brother, I should go. It’s time I went home.”
“Really, tomorrow?”
“In the morning, I’ll take the train to Tokyo, then head to Niigata from there. The ship leaves next week.”
Yoseb said nothing. His face contorted a little in pain as he lifted his right leg toward the ceiling. Changho kept his right hand beneath Yoseb’s thigh to steady him down slowly. They switched to the left leg.
Yoseb exhaled audibly after doing two more sets.
“If you wait until I die, then you can take my ashes and bury me there. That would be a good thing, I suppose. Though I think it doesn’t much matter in the end. You know, I still believe in heaven. I believe in Jesus, even after all this. I suppose being married to Kyunghee will do that. Her faith brought me closer to the Lord. I am not a good man, but I believe that I am saved. My father once said that when you die and go to heaven, you get your body back. I can finally get rid of this one. That will be good. And I feel ready to go home, too.”
Changho put his right arm beneath Yoseb’s head, and Yoseb raised his arms above his head slowly, then lowered them. His arms were much stronger than his legs.
“Brother, you can’t talk that way. It’s not time. You’re still here, and I can still feel the power in your body.”
Changho grasped Yoseb’s good hand, which was unmarred by burns. He could feel the man’s delicate bones. How had he survived for so long?
“And…if you wait…if you wait until I die, then you can marry her,” Yoseb said. “But you can’t take her there. I ask that. I ask that of you.”
“What?” Changho shook his head.
“I don’t trust the communists. I wouldn’t want her to go back home when they’re in charge. And this can’t last fo
rever. Japan will be a rich country again soon, and Korea won’t always be divided. You still have your health. You can make money here and take care of my…” Yoseb couldn’t say her name then.
“I’ve made her suffer so much. She loved me when I was just a boy. I always knew that we’d be together, even when we were kids. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. You know, I’ve never wanted to be with another woman. Ever. Not just because she’s so lovely, but because she’s so good. Never, not once, did she complain about me. And I have not been a husband to her for such a long time.” He sighed. His mouth felt dry. “I know you care for her. I trust you. I wish you didn’t work for that thug, but there aren’t that many jobs here. I understand. Why don’t you just wait until I die?” The more he said these things, the more Yoseb felt that it was right. “Stay here. I’ll die soon. I feel it. You’re needed here, too. You can’t fix that country. No one can.”
“Brother, you’re not going to die.”
“No, I must. We must try to build a nation again. We can’t only think of our own comfort.” Even as Yoseb said this, Changho felt the possibility of being with her again, something he had given up.
As Kyunghee walked home from church, she saw Changho sitting on the bench in front of the convenience store, a block from the house. He was reading a newspaper and drinking juice from a glass bottle. Changho was friendly with the owner, and he liked this quiet spot beneath the tarpaulin awning on the busy intersection.
“Hello,” she said. Kyunghee was happy to see him. “Is he okay? It’s not easy being cooped up, is it? Thank you so much for watching him. I better go back. You stay.”
