Dear Sookan,
It is midnight. Even your ducks are asleep by the pond. They are big now, perhaps a little too big for our small pond. They waddle all around the yard, and sometimes follow me all the way to the street. I can hear your brothers snoring. They fall asleep so quickly; it is the gift of youth.
I am wearing the sweater you insisted on finishing before you left. How stubborn you were to stay up all night before that long trip. But I do love it, and wear it all the time. It keeps me warm on nights like tonight. The cool weather seems to be setting in already, and in the evening, it is quite chilly here. I wonder if we packed enough clothes for you and if you are warm enough in America.
I was in the greenhouse earlier, checking on my chrysanthemums. They will be fluffy and beautiful this season. When they are in full bloom, I will cut some to give to Father Lee for Sunday service. My contribution each Sunday is so small that I thought of supplementing it with my flowers. It will make me feel that I support my church.
Your older brothers like to wear the thin cotton socks you knit before you left. Inchun pulled out the vest you made, and wore it yesterday. I think he was glad the weather became cool enough for it. He looks so handsome in the vest; the light gray color you chose suits him so well. It was a good thing you learned how to knit as that is one of the things I never learned.
We all miss you. The house feels empty without you.
I read your postcards as soon as our good mailman brings them. He is getting old now, and has been having more and more trouble with his legs this year. But he knows how important your letters are, and always brings them all the way up to the house for me. I am so grateful to him that I offer him a cup of tea every time he comes. He asked me to say hello to you for him.
In the evening, when we are all together, we read your postcards aloud. I am sorry we are not sending you any money. What little you had with you must have been gone long ago. I think your brothers do not write because they have no money to send you. Forgive this helpless mother who sends her daughter so far away and cannot even mail a little pocket money each month.
I am glad you like your new friends and college in America. It must be hard to adjust to the new culture and the new way of doing things. The language alone must cause you problems. Although you sound so cheerful and happy, I can imagine the difficulties you face. I will never know exactly what they are, though. I know you do not tell me things because you don't want to worry me.
I know you will blossom there, though things may be difficult for you now. It is always hard to be away from your homeland. The first year is always the worst, I think. We are all fine. Don't worry about anything here. And please make sure to get enough sleep.
You will see that four years will zoom by. Before you know it, we will be talking face to face.
Your loving mother
I felt melancholy after reading Mother's letter. Despite her reassurances, I could tell that things were difficult back home. I pictured her worried expression, and my brothers' somber faces. I was glad that I had never mentioned anything about my scholarship work in the dining hall, my need to work for pocket money, and my late nights finishing my school work. I was ashamed at not being there to help Mother through her hardships. I knew how much she had always missed my sister, her firstborn, and how she must miss me. Now, she had no daughters at home.
Through her letter, I felt her love and concern for me. But what comforted me most was her deep faith and trust. She was sure I would succeed in America, and would come back to her.
Wiping away the tears that had filled my eyes, I opened my books and began to study. I must do well on my history test tomorrow. I must make Mother proud of me.
Chapter Five
It was a quiet Saturday morning. All the other girls in the dorm were still fast asleep, recovering from the excitement of the mixer the night before. Marci had left Friday afternoon to go home to Scarsdale. I wished I could have joined her; she looked lonesome. Ellen had popped into our room after the mixer, staying just long enough to chastise me for not attending. I tried to explain how far behind I was on my reading, and how early I had to get up on Saturday to baby-sit, but she said, "You just have to make time for it. It's important." Then she kissed me goodbye and left for Princeton to spend the weekend with Kyle.
With my book bag slung over my shoulder, I made my way through the dense early morning fog and headed to the far end of campus where the Bennetts lived. I had promised to be there by eight to baby-sit. The sun struggled futilely to penetrate the haze, and the damp winds sent a shiver through me. It was only mid-October, but the air was chilly. I buttoned my light sweater and ran.
I was apprehensive about the day ahead of me. I had baby-sat often in Korea, but I wondered if I could handle the task in America, speaking English. To make matters worse, these were the children of my professor. What if they don't like me? What if I can't keep them entertained or if they are naughty? I ran faster to rid myself of these nagging doubts.
I came across a little brook, and bent down to pick out one of the shiny pebbles from the stream. I dried it, warmed it in my hands, then put it deep in my pocket. I wanted to keep a bit of nature with me. Small river stones somehow comforted me. They seemed so peaceful and carefree, glittering and dancing with the undulations of the cool, clear water. I would have loved to sit and listen to the stream while waiting for the sun to conquer the fog and shine through the leaves of the tall trees. I loved this part of campus, and regretted that I did not usually have time to walk and rest here.
When I knocked on the Bennetts' door, I heard the sound of four feet charging toward it. A boy with short brown hair and a girl with long brown curls flung open the door. They stared at me shyly as they tried to catch their breath. Then the boy bellowed, "Mom! Mom!"
"Hello," I said as I entered the house. "My name is Sookan. And you are Jimmy and Sarah, right?" I was relieved that I had remembered their names.
A frail-looking woman dashed out of a back room and said, "You must be Sookan. Miss Mullen speaks so highly of you. I'm glad you have the time to baby-sit. Professor Bennett and I have to go into the city this morning, but we should be back by three. I see you already met Jimmy and Sarah. Children, did you say hello to Sookan?"
"Hello," they said in unison, before running toward the kitchen and shouting, "Dad, Dad, your student is here!"
"Great! Bring her over here into the kitchen. We can all have breakfast together before Mom and I leave." His familiar voice rang through the house.
Sarah and Jimmy rushed back and, staring at me as if I might vanish, escorted me to the kitchen without a word. They both studied my every step.
Hesitantly I asked, "How old are you, Jimmy?"
"Six and three-quarters."
"And you, Sarah?"
"Five. But I can do almost everything Jimmy can," she said, poking her brother in the ribs.
Jimmy seemed annoyed at this presumptuous remark, and raced ahead of us into the kitchen. Standing at the stove was Professor Bennett wearing a large red apron that said "Best Chef" in bold black letters. He waved us in with his spatula, and said, "Sookan, come on in. You can sample my cooking."
I could hardly believe my eyes! Never before had I seen a man cook or even enter a kitchen. Cooking was a woman's job. Mother was always in the kitchen alone, except when I kept her company. At mealtime, she and I always did the serving, and afterward, we always cleaned up. My brothers just sat at the table, and talked and laughed and ate.
Though tired and flushed from cooking, Mother never seemed happier than when she watched her sons gobble up all the food she had spent the day preparing. She would busily run back and forth between the living room and the kitchen to make sure they had as much as they wanted. I, on the other hand, derived no joy from this task. I knew I was doing my duty as a daughter and sister, but I. resented the fact that it was always Mother and me who had to do all the work. Wouldn't it be wonderful if the men would serve us sometime? I used to think to myself
, knowing all too well that this was a fantasy. But now, right before me, was my very own professor slaving over his family's scrambled eggs. It seemed like a miracle to me.
I stood watching Professor Bennett as he turned over the bacon, then instinctively pivoted to catch the toast as it popped from the toaster. He skillfully buttered the bread and placed it before his children.
Mrs. Bennett appeared from upstairs and said, "Sookan, why are you still standing? Please, have a seat."
"Oh, I thought I should wait until you and Professor Bennett sat down," I said. It was rude to seat oneself before one's elders. And besides, I was too shocked at the sight of a man cooking to even think of sitting.
"Sookan, please sit down. Make yourself at home. Walt will serve us this morning. Every Saturday and Sunday, he gives me a break from kitchen duty." She smiled affectionately at her husband.
As we sat and ate, I confessed how surprised I was to see a man working in the kitchen, and how different things were in Korea.
Professor Bennett just smiled and said, "It's amazing how well you are doing in this strange land, Sookan, and how quickly you've adapted. It's hard to believe you have been here less than two months. Sarah, Jimmy, don't tire her out too much today." I blushed at his kind remarks.
The professor did the dishes while his wife finished getting dressed. The children and I stayed in the kitchen and helped him. How wonderful to all be in the kitchen, talking and cleaning up together. I kept thinking of my poor mother, who would never have such an experience.
After Professor and Mrs. Bennett left, Sarah brought out her favorite book, Madeline, and asked me to read it to her. Jimmy had taken out his train and was racing the wheels with his hand. The house was abuzz with the sound of the whizzing train.
As I read to Sarah about the twelve little girls who ate, brushed their teeth, and slept in two straight lines at their French convent school, Jimmy looked over my shoulder and began correcting my pronunciation. It must have been awful for them to hear the way I mispronounced things. Each time Jimmy corrected me, I reread the words and tried to imitate his pronunciation and intonation. He seemed pleased when my words sounded like his. Sometimes he made me repeat a phrase two or even three times. I followed his instruction and we made our way through Madeline. To my surprise, Sarah did not complain once. By the time we finished the book, Jimmy was seated by my side; he seemed delighted to be my teacher, and I appreciated his help. Only a child would correct every little sound and syllable so honestly and enthusiastically. I thanked Jimmy for correcting me, and he turned bright red, then disappeared into his room.
Sarah, who had been watching me intently as I read, said, "Your eyes are so black and tiny. Let's have an eye fight." She got up, stood directly in front of me, and began steadfastly glaring at me. I knew this game. We played it in Korea, too. I sat and stared back into her big brown eyes, and I tried not to blink. She was so serious, and wore such a stern expression for a little girl that I broke into laughter.
Sarah clapped with glee and said, "See, your eyes are too small to win the eye fight."
"No, no. It's not because they are small. It's because my eyes are tired from reading so many books and not going to sleep early enough," I said, feeling weary all of a sudden.
"Then close your eyes and sleep, and I'll comb your black hair. All my dolls have blond hair. Can I comb yours?"
I nodded, closed my eyes, and rested my head on the sofa, letting my hair fall over the back of it. Sarah's plastic comb soon got tangled up in my thick hair, and she tenaciously yanked and yanked to get it free. I tried to rest my eyes and let her play. I could hear Jimmy enjoying his electric train in the next room. After a while, I felt something sharp digging into my scalp. "Oh, Sarah, that hurts!"
"Look, I fixed your hair with pins and ribbons," she said with delight as she handed me a mirror. I had to laugh. She had made me look like a cartoon character from outer space. My hair was standing up in all directions, and was adorned with ribbons of every color.
She then began removing the pins, pulling my hair along with them. I heard myself scream, and Jimmy immediately ran over to us. "Sarah, I'm going to tell Daddy that you were mean to his student," he threatened. To me, he said, "You are too nice. Nobody lets her play with real hair. Not even Mommy."
Sarah pouted, and glared at Jimmy. I was sorry I had let out a scream and said, "Oh, it's all right, Jimmy. I said she could play with my hair. We will stop for now, though. Okay, Sarah?"
Then, to make Sarah laugh, I picked up her little hand and said, "Look how cute and small your hands are compared to my big ones!" I remembered how this used to amuse me when I was young.
Sarah put her hand against mine and we stretched our fingers as much as we could. I noticed how light and pink her skin was against mine. "I think God ran out of pink paint when he was making me, and used the yellow paint he had left over."
"No," she retorted, "that's not why. He is God. If he wanted to, he could have made more pink paint. He wanted to use yellow paint for your hand. It makes you special!"
Jimmy looked over at us and clearly thought this was ludicrous prattle. He made a face at his chatty little sister, and went back to racing his train around the living room.
When we finished lunch, the phone rang. It was Mrs. Bennett. She and her husband couldn't be back at three as they had planned. She asked me if I might stay with the children until the evening. She would drive me back to the dorm when they returned.
I, of course, said yes, but was concerned. I had so much studying to do, and I had promised myself that I would write a letter to my sister. I had already let too much time pass without writing to her, and I knew I was disappointing her.
Suddenly, I realized that Sarah and Jimmy were staring at me and looking worried. I smiled and said, "What would you like to do? Your parents will be late, but everything is okay."
"Oh, goodie. We can play some more," said Sarah. "Let's take a walk to the millhouse."
"Yeah, we can look for garden snakes," added Jimmy.
"Yuck! They're all hibernating anyway," said Sarah, as she stuck her tongue out at her brother.
We took a walk to the old stone millhouse, and peeked inside. The roof had blown off long ago, and all that stood were the walls. Tall grass was growing inside, and the building smelled damp and earthy. It looked like one of the old Roman ruins in my textbooks. We kept walking alongside the stream. Jimmy watched for garden snakes, while Sarah held my hand and helped me pick wildflowers. I felt comfortable with the two of them and decided not to think about school or anything else that I had to do.
We went back to the house, and played for the rest of the afternoon. I drew flowers and trees with Sarah, and snakes and bugs with Jimmy, and we made all sorts of cut-out decorations. It had been a happy, exhausting day for all of us.
After supper, the children finally got to sleep, and I tried to read the books I had brought with me. But my mind wandered. I thought of how much I had enjoyed playing with the children, and it made me uneasy to know that I was going to be paid for being with them. In Korea, we never got paid for watching the neighbors' children. It was just something we did without a second thought.
My schoolbag was bulging with books that needed to be read. But I wanted to do something special for the Bennetts. I looked around the house for ideas. I had already tidied up all the rooms. Then, I saw what I was looking for.
In the far comer of the house was a small greenhouse. Inside, the plants seemed terribly neglected. Dead leaves hung limply from some. Others seemed to be growing lopsided with abandon. Several were completely dead. Empty clay pots, bags of soil, and gardening tools cluttered the corners.
Before I started to work on the greenhouse, I went back to check on Jimmy and Sarah. They were both asleep, but I left their doors ajar so that I would be able to hear them if they woke. Then, I returned to the greenhouse, began to pick all the brown leaves off, cut the dead stems, and tie sticks to some of the plants to get them to stand straig
ht. I watered everything, wiped down the leaves of each plant, transplanted some overgrown jade plants to bigger pots, and tidied up the room. I gathered all the cactuses on one side, placed all the African violets in front of the window, and put the big jade plants in the center. I had often watched Mother work in her greenhouse, so I felt comfortable here.
When I looked at my watch, I realized I had been in the greenhouse for several hours. I looked at my work, and was pleased. But suddenly, I began to worry that the professor and his wife might not have wanted me to touch their greenhouse. It hadn't even occurred to me before. When I saw the neglected garden, I just instinctively wanted to take care of the plants. I would have to tell them, and apologize for just plunging ahead without even asking. I would tell them as soon as they got home. I stood by the window, watching for their car, but after a while, decided to sit down and read.
Mrs. Bennett gently woke me at midnight and said that her husband would drive me home. I had missed curfew, but the professor would explain it to Sister Casey at Mass the next day. I grabbed my things together and rushed to the car.
The following Monday, when I returned to my dorm from the library, the receptionist at the front desk pointed to a long white box tied with a red velvet ribbon.
"Sookan, that's for you. It came this afternoon."
The box was marked "Valerie Florist." I said I would ■be back to get it after I dropped off my books. As I was heading up the stairs to my room, I ran into Ellen.
"Oh, Sookan, I was coming down to pick up your flowers. I wanted you to see the box waiting for you at reception, but they've been there all afternoon, and I was just about to give up on you. Wait here, and I'll get them and we can walk upstairs together."
Ellen beamed as she put the box down on my bed.
"Open them up! Let's see who they're from! Do you have an admirer that I don't know about?"
Marci, who must have heard Ellen and me talking as we walked down the corridor, poked her head into our room, and said, "What's this?"
Gathering of Pearls Page 3
