Gathering of Pearls

by Sook Nyul Choi

  "Last weekend. I was looking out the library window when I saw you sitting under a tree with Kyle. He was lying down, resting his head on your lap."

  "Well, what did you think?" she asked.

  "Oh, he is very handsome, and he is so tall! I could tell when you walked down the hill together. I thought it was sweet the way he bent down and kissed you. It was like a scene out of the movies."

  "You mean you saw us and never said a word to me?" Ellen said, wide-eyed.

  "Well, whenever I saw you, you always had something exciting to report. Besides, I needed some time to think about it all."

  "To think about what?"

  "Everything is so different here," I said slowly. "In Korea, such a thing would not be possible. Even married couples do not show such affection in public. There is no hand holding, no kissing, and no resting under trees together. But what is shameful in Korea seems accepted and natural here. Sometimes the differences are so mind-boggling that I need to give myself time to get used to the new ways of thinking. But it's funny," I mused. "In many ways I feel so comfortable here—sometimes even more comfortable than I felt at home."

  "What do you mean, Sookan?" asked Ellen.

  "Well, for one thing, I feel the same warmth and closeness toward you and Marci that I do toward some friends I have known for years at home. I come from so far away and look so different from you that I am sometimes surprised at how at ease I feel with you and Marci—and it has only been a few months. Isn't it strange? I think it is because your culture encourages people to speak openly and frankly." I looked at Ellen helplessly. I was not sure if I had made any sense to her, because I myself was not completely sure of why I felt so much at home in such a new and different environment.

  "Friendships are special," Ellen said. "Friendships can cut through a lot. Are you sure you can't make some excuse and come home with me for the weekend?"

  "I'm sorry, Ellen. I can't. But you'll have a great time with Kyle." Then I asked, "Don't your parents mind that you spend so much time with him when you go home for the weekend?"

  "Of course, they wish I would spend more time with them, but they actually don't know much about Kyle yet. I tell them that I go to Princeton to visit my cousin and go out with his friends, one of whom is Kyle. I'm an only child, and I know it will be hard for them to accept that Kyle and I are so serious. But soon I'll tell them, and they will just have to get used to the idea. Kyle and I are in love; we are meant for each other. He is the man I will marry." She spoke with such conviction. "I am eighteen years old, after all. I have to lead my own life."

  I was too startled to respond. I was amazed at her independence and her ability to decipher so lucidly what was important to her. She was in charge of her own life. This would be unthinkable in Korea, where the happiness of both families was more important than the happiness of the couple themselves. Young girls' lives were tied to the family. Love was not the determining factor. But seeing Ellen so happy and so madly in love with Kyle, I began to wonder if she were not right.

  "Sookan, I've been wanting to ask you something. I know it's a chore for you, but would you wear your beautiful hanbok for Thanksgiving? I'll help you iron it and get dressed and everything. Would you mind terribly? It's so pretty," Ellen rambled, "and I want to show you off."

  "I have a better idea, Ellen. You can wear it. We'll surprise your parents and Kyle!"

  "Can I? Do you think I'll look good in it?" Ellen asked rhapsodically.

  "You'll look beautiful. You can wear the winter hanbok, the deep blue one."

  The bell rang for lights out. I got ready for bed in a hurry, and shut off the lights.

  "Sookan? Have you ever kissed a boy?" Ellen asked, tucking herself in her bed.

  "No."

  "Hugged one?"

  "No," I said, embarrassed and annoyed.

  "Don't you ever want to fall in love, get married, and have a family? Are you really planning to be a nun like your sister?"

  "I've always just assumed I would be a nun," I said. "Ever since I can remember, my sister has told me of all the things we would do together as nuns. It sounded fine before, but lately I'm not sure. My sister does find her work fulfilling; she teaches children, and she helps so many people. I think I would like to do that, too."

  "But Sookan, you can be married and do all of that! You can be married, have a family, and still be a teacher, or a social worker, or a volunteer if you want. You don't have to be a nun to help people!" Ellen continued to talk as I drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter Eight

  The assembly hall was packed and bustling. It was freshman election week, and there were many committees to be chosen: the student council, the student-faculty liaison committee, the dance committee, and others. For the past several days, Ellen had been lobbying to chair the dance committee, and her bridge buddies were all campaigning for her. As Marci and I walked into the hall, we saw Ellen behind the refreshment table, pouring hot beverages, handing out cookies, and chatting with everyone.

  Marci and I took seats in the back. Marci had brought two books, Agamemnon and The Last Days of Socrates. She had no interest in school elections, and immediately immersed herself in her reading. No one was excused from this daylong meeting; we all had to participate in the election process. Many girls had brought their knitting.

  I had my airmail stationery with me and hoped I would have a chance to write to my sister. Her words haunted me. I couldn't bear knowing that she disapproved of me.

  I would write her a long letter and fill her in on some of the things that I had been doing.

  The nomination process began. Ellen, nominated for the dance committee, walked to the stage to make her speech. Her voice, which often sounded shrill in the hallways of the dorm, was forceful and resonant in the assembly hall. Ellen accepted the nomination, and told us that she was very well qualified for the position, having run many dances at her high school. She reminded everyone that she had attended every single Friday night mixer so far, and had helped organize the refreshments each time. She wrapped up her speech with many new ideas, such as a winter ball and a spring swing dance, which she would organize if elected. The applause welled forth. After that enthusiastic speech, no one doubted that she was the best-qualified person among us to chair the committee. I became so caught up in the excitement of the nomination process that I listened to every speech, and even forgot to drink my hot chocolate.

  Nominations for student council were next.

  "Sookan Bak," they called. I was stunned. I could not believe someone had nominated me. My heart started to pound. I wanted to accept the nomination. I would have loved to serve on the student council, and I was sure I could do a good job.

  But when it was my turn to make a speech, I heard myself saying, "Thank you for nominating me. But I cannot accept."

  One of the girls sitting in front of me turned around and said, "Sookan, why not?"

  Another girl said, "You have a good chance. We will vote for you."

  I thanked them, but said, "It's the time. I just can't manage another thing. As it is, I can barely pass my courses."

  I thought it had been Ellen who had nominated me, but I heard her explaining, "She is already so busy. I know she just doesn't have the time. That's why."

  I looked at Marci. She was busy taking notes on her reading, oblivious to what went on around her. I knew she had not been the one, either.

  They moved on with the proceedings. I was still surprised that my name had been called. I had hardly been able to get to know my classmates because I was always busy running from one thing to another. It made me happy to know they liked me enough to nominate me, and I was deeply sorry that I hadn't been able to accept.

  After I declined, I sat, slumped and disappointed, in my seat. I was tired of always feeling so overwhelmed, so harried. Why was I not like every other college student, just worrying about my studies?

  I looked blankly down at the untouched stationery on my lap. I had to write to Theresa t
oday. I got up, and headed to the little lounge next to the assembly hall. There, I started to write.

  My dear elder sister,

  I received your letter and deeply apologize for not having written, as you had asked. Although everyone at home is always on my mind, my college schedule does not leave me much time for writing letters. I will do my best in the future'.

  A few weekends ago, I was at my English professor's house, and he cooked breakfast for his children and his wife and me. It was wonderful to see a man cooking for his family. The whole family was together in the kitchen, talking and setting the table while he worked. I thought how nice it would be for Mother to have our brothers keep her company in the kitchen and maybe even try cooking. I wish such things were possible in Korea. I know our brothers help in many other ways, but it was surprising and so nice to see a man in the kitchen. And he was a good cook, too. I just thought I would share this with you because you said you wanted to know everything I see and do here. America is so very different.

  Another thing I have marveled at is the open communication between different age groups. Freshmen can talk to seniors about all sorts of things. They can be good friends, and go places together. The distinction in rank and age is not so rigid as in Korea. It is not that people are impolite here. It is just that everyone is friendly to each other, regardless of status.

  Today is election day at the college. I have enjoyed seeing my friends stand up on stage to give their campaign speeches. They talk about themselves and their accomplishments, and why they are qualified for the position. It is such a contrast to Korea, where a woman would never think of expressing herself. Here, the nuns encourage all the girls to speak for themselves. They encourage us to study hard, but also to be sociable, to learn to mingle with other college students, both male and female.

  Here, they do not place so much emphasis on patience, humility, family harmony, and silence as we do in Korea. It is a much more open, equal, and individualistic society. Americans' different attitudes and ways of viewing things make it difficult for me to continue to act the way I did in Korea. I try to follow your advice as much as I can, but I often have to modify my actions and even my way of thinking in order to fit in here.

  Although the culture is so foreign to me, I have not had trouble making friends. At first, most of the girls were very curious about me and my life in Korea. They asked what we eat, what kinds of beds we sleep in, if we use chopsticks, if we sit on the floor, what religions we practice ...But after the initial barrage of questions, it all became very relaxed.

  Everything is still so new, and for now, I am busy trying to learn and adapt as quickly as I can. But it is strange, for although there are many things to adjust to here and the language is still difficult, I do like it and already feel fairly comfortable. I miss you and think of you every day.

  Your younger sister, Sookan

  My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a familiar voice. "Sookan, there you are!" said Ellen. "You missed afternoon attendance. They gave you five demerits for disappearing from the meeting."

  I was horrified. I had never gotten a single demerit before! I had been so absorbed with trying to write the letter to my sister that I completely forgot about the meeting.

  "Don't worry. It's only demerits," Ellen said. "People get them all the time. I got ten last weekend because Kyle brought me back ten minutes past curfew. It's not that big a deal." She stared down at my letter. "Come on, Sookan. What's the matter? Is everything okay back home?"

  I nodded and followed sheepishly, feeling like a criminal for getting demerits. Everyone probably thought I snuck out of the elections on purpose.

  Chapter Nine

  The next day, Ellen and I took the train to her parents' farmhouse in New Jersey. While Ellen dozed off, I decided to write a letter to Mother.

  Dearest Mother,

  My roommate, Ellen Lloyd, and I are on our way to her home for Thanksgiving weekend. Thanksgiving is a big holiday here. It's a fall harvest festival, like Chusok in Korea. Everyone goes home to be with family. I'm bringing Ellen's mother some of the lovely hand towels you embroidered. I know she will love them. Handmade goods are especially treasured here.

  I am doing well and hope no one is anxious about me. Everything is fine here and I have all that I need. So please don't ever worry about sending me anything.

  Did I tell you how much everyone loves to see me dressed in the hanboks you made? I've already worn them several times. The nuns keep asking me to wear them to Sunday Mass. Also, the college administration office often calls me and asks me to wear a hanbok to greet parents and special guests. Many of my classmates and even the nuns come up to me to touch my dress and admire your embroidery. I tell everyone that you made it. My roommate likes the outfits so much that I am thinking of giving one to her. I hope it is all right with you.

  The first few times I wore a hanbok on campus, I felt awkward and strange because I stood out so much. But now I am used to it. I know I will always be different and that people will always be curious about me. It is quite a responsibility being the only Korean in my class, for I want to make a good impression so that Americans will think well of Koreans. I want to make everyone at home proud of me.

  I hope you are not working too hard, and that you are not still carrying so many things to the convent. I can't help worrying about you.

  Your loving daughter, Sookan

  When we arrived at the station, Ellen's parents were already waiting for us. I thought Ellen was the luckiest person on earth to have both her parents there waiting to greet her. They rushed over as we stepped off the train, and they each gave me a big hug as Ellen introduced me. I was suddenly lonely for my mother and brothers. I would not see them for four years; it was too far and too expensive for me to visit home.

  The Lloyds' large wood-frame farmhouse sat in the middle of an enormous field that seemed endless. As Ellen's mother watched me survey the land, she said, "We have sixteen acres here. The house and all the land used to belong to my grandfather. He built the house and barn himself. You and Ellen will have to go for a long walk this weekend."

  Kyle arrived a few hours later, and Ellen's parents seemed delighted to meet their daughter's boyfriend. Kyle was warm and friendly. He enveloped my hand in his big palm and shook it for a while, then said, "Good to meet you, Sookan. Ellen tells me you are a wonderful roommate and a great listener!"

  "Maybe because I'm never in our room, and when I am, I fall asleep while she is talking to me," 1 said.

  "Sookan, she puts me to sleep, too," said Ellen's father with a smile.

  Ellen laughed and pretended to pout at her father. Her father winked at me and chuckled joyfully. It was so loving and lighthearted. I don't ever remember giving my father such a look. In Korea, children are not even supposed to look grownups in the eye. We love our parents, but the way we express our love and respect is much more restrained and prescribed.

  Mrs. Lloyd beamed at Kyle. I could almost hear her thinking, What a fine young man for Ellen to date while she is in college. And after Mr. Lloyd fixed Kyle a drink, the two men talked and laughed like old friends. How refreshing it was for me to see them so relaxed at their first meeting. In Korea, it would be inconceivable to bring a boyfriend home for a holiday dinner; only husbands, and maybe fiancés, were allowed.

  As Ellen's mother got up to begin serving dinner, Ellen said, "Oh, Mom, wait. Sookan and I have a surprise for all of you. We need to go upstairs for a while. Can you hold dinner just a bit longer?"

  Before her mother could answer, Ellen dashed up the creaky stairs, pulling me by the hand. In her room, she quickly put on the hanbok I had brought. She had seen me do this many times, and knew exactly how to wear it. I smiled as I watched her struggle with the bow, though, and went to fix it for her so that it would hang properly. We then pulled her hair up in a sweep. With her creamy white skin, blue eyes, and golden hair, she looked splendid in the deep blue hanbok. The long skirt hung beautifully on her, and the silver
cranes embroidered on the hem seemed to take flight as she twirled around in front of the mirror.

  "Ellen, you look stunning! It fits you perfectly," I said. "It's yours. You must keep it."

  "I couldn't possibly! Your mother made it for you. And it's too expensive to give away. It's all silk," she said.

  "I have three others. If my mother saw you, she would insist you keep it. Besides, you look so beautiful in it that I wouldn't think of wearing it anymore."

  "Thank you so much!" she said, giving me a big squeeze and a kiss. "I do look gorgeous, don't I?"

  "Yes, you certainly do, Ellen." I beamed at her. It was the first time I had heard any girl declare her own beauty, and I liked it. In Korea, it is considered rude and shallow to compliment oneself. The proper answer would be, "No, I am not beautiful; it is the dress that is beautiful."

  To tease Ellen, I repeated the things my mother used to say when I was little and got all dressed up in my hanbok. In a stern voice, I said, "Lower your head, young lady, and fold your hands gracefully in front of you. Now take small, delicate steps, and hold your chima just so." Ellen looked at me wide-eyed, then played along by following my direction. She bowed deeply to me, and we both burst out laughing.

  "Let's go show the others," Ellen said. "Wait, let me compose myself as you said ... for the full effect, you know." She gingerly made her way down the stairs in her long gown. As I skipped down after her in my comfortable skirt and blouse, I thought about what our college physical education teacher always instructed us to do: "Chest out, shoulders back, chin up." What a difference from the Korean way, which I had just explained to Ellen.

  As we appeared, a hush fell over the room. "Look at our little princess," Mrs. Lloyd finally exclaimed with surprise. Kyle could not take his eyes off Ellen, and sensing his gaze, she acted even more demure, playing the enchanted princess from a faraway land.

  Suddenly, her father broke into a guffaw. "Ellen, I never knew you could be silent for so long!"