I heard Father Lee say, “He has moved to the next world, for God has called him. But his spirit is still with us. His spirit will always be with those he loves. So let us rejoice in his joining God in Heaven.”
Suddenly, I felt distanced from everything that was going on around me, and I just wanted to go far away. I knew I had to do something, and as I stood there, I decided I must push forward with my plans to go abroad, to see new and wonderful things.
Life in Seoul slowly returned to normal. Hanchun went back to veterinary school at Seoul University parttime, and worked part-time as a doctor’s assistant. Jaechun took literature classes at the nearby university in the mornings, and in the afternoons he worked at the CIA office as a translator. He grew very serious, and never breathed a word about his work. He would come home late at night and lock himself up in his room with mysterious documents. Whenever we went into his room to see him, everything was carefully hidden away. Hyunchun started attending the foreign language school two days a week, and the rest of the time he taught at a local typing school. Between the three of them, they brought home enough money for us to live on.
Still determined to go to the United States for college, I kept studying as hard as I could. After Mass one day, I waited by the side door of Father Lee’s vestibule. When he emerged, I asked him if he would speak to Bishop Roh on my behalf to help me obtain a scholarship to one of the Catholic colleges in the United States.
“Your mother told me you wanted to study abroad, Sookan. But you will have to pass the government tests first, and they are so difficult that many college graduates I know are taking the test for the second or third time. Why are you in such a hurry? You are still too young. Go to Ewha University for the next four years and then we will talk about it.”
He must have noticed how hurt and disappointed I was, because he then said he would discuss it with my brothers and my mother later in the week. He was sure, though, that they would agree I was too young to leave home.
I enrolled myself in English classes that were given in the evenings downtown. After finishing the day at Ewha, I would head straight to my English grammar, conversation, and composition classes and not get home until late at night. Mother always kept dinner warm for me. As I ate, she would fill me in on all the news at home and in the neighborhood.
She often asked me if I could stop attending my evening classes so I could come home earlier and spend some time with the family. But I refused to give in, and after a while, Mother stopped asking. Instead, she bought me a bunch of candles for my room so that I could study as late as I wished. The bombs had downed all the electrical lines, and it would take a while before we got power back because we were far away from the center of the city.
My intensive preparation for the government exam left me no time to spend with Bokhi after school. We always made sure to take walks together during recess, and hand in hand, we wandered the well-manicured gardens of Ewha. Bokhi no longer spoke of sand castles and pebbles. She was now too busy taking care of her new, large family. As the oldest girl in the family, she took care of her uncle and aunt and did all the housekeeping and cooking for her little cousins. Although she was busy with all of these responsibilities, she looked content and pretty. She often asked how my brothers were doing, and lately she seemed to show particular interest in Hyunchun. I had seen her looking over at him during the Requiem Mass, but I hadn’t thought much about it. Now I started to notice how flushed she became whenever she asked about him.
Perhaps she felt the same way about Hyunchun as I had about junho. I suddenly remembered Haerin and smiled. I would not be as jealous and protective as Haerin had been. I thought about it for a while, then said, “Bokhi, I’ve been having trouble in home economics class. I’m so behind on our final project that I haven’t even finished embroidering the edges of the tablecloth yet. I like embroidery, but it takes so long and I just don’t have the time lately.”
“But you embroider so nicely,” Bokhi said, trying to encourage me. “Mrs. Ho even said so when she gave you your interim grade. Before the war, you and I were the best in the whole school, remember?”
I looked around to make sure none of my classmates were around and said, “Don’t tell Mrs. Ho, but my mother saw that I had fallen asleep over my embroidery, and she must have stayed up all night finishing my midterm project for me. When I woke up, it was ironed and folded and all packed. I just can’t do it anymore.” I sighed for effect.
When I got home that night, I told Mother that I was sure Bokhi was hopelessly in love with Hyunchun. Mother smiled and said, “Poor Bokhi! Hyunchun thinks of her as a little girl. He sees her as his kid sister’s friend.”
But I knew things would soon change. Bokhi now had an excuse to visit frequently. She immediately started coming over to help me with my embroidery. She came often in her pretty dresses. As the deadline for my project drew nearer, she started staying later and later. As she worked on my tablecloth, she chatted and laughed with my mother. I was glad to see Bokhi and my mother so happy in each other’s company. Bokhi had lost her mother and my mother would soon be losing me, in a sense. It was not long before Hyunchun noticed how pretty and talented Bokhi was. Hyunchun had a sharp eye when it came to girls.
I realized that Bokhi no longer came to see me. As long as Hyunchun was home, I don’t think she even noticed whether I was there or not. It was hard to be shoved aside, even though I was the one who had brought the situation about. Studying in my room, I could hear my mother, Bokhi, and Hyunchun talking. Hyunchun had started coming home earlier and earlier, and would check in on their progress. He had suddenly developed quite an interest in embroidery, and always seemed to have lots of questions. His hearty laughter blended with that of my mother and Bokhi, and I suddenly felt strange. I wanted to close my books and rush to join them. Better yet, I would take Bokhi out for a walk and come back alone to sit with Mother and Hyunchun myself.
A gust of cold wind blew through my open window, and the fresh air helped clear my head. I had to laugh. How silly I was being! Petty and jealous, just like someone I once knew! I smiled at the thought of Haerin yanking Junho’s sleeve when Junho and I tried to linger and talk. I should be happy that my best friend, my brother, and my mother were getting along so well.
The irony of it all! I studied furiously so that I could leave here, while Bokhi tried so hard to become part of my family. I wondered why I wasn’t happy staying at home and why I wanted so desperately to go far away.
Chapter Eleven
My three brothers worked continually on the house. They put walls back up so that each of us would have our own bedroom, as we had before. Hanchun began filling his room with medical textbooks, which delighted Inchun, who constantly borrowed them. With his colored pencils, Inchun would copy the diagrams of skeletons, labeling each bone with its Latin name. Jaechun once again started to collect all sorts of literature, as he used to before the war. He built himself a wall of bookshelves, which he quickly filled. Books in English, Russian, Chinese, Korean, and Japanese were neatly arranged in alphabetical order, just like a library. I checked Jaechun’s book collection every day, and almost always found that something new had been added. He even picked up halftom or charred books and placed them carefully on his shelves. He also began to collect classical music records, which he listened to as he read late into the night. I liked hearing the soft strains of Bach fill the house as I studied.
Hyunchun’s room was bare. Until recently, he had not spent much time at home. His job teaching typing seemed to keep him busier and busier. Mother and I chuckled about his tremendous success at the typing school. We were sure that many girls registered for his class because of his good looks and charm rather than his teaching expertise. He typed no better than I did, and often looked at a book called All You Need to Know About Typing.
Every Sunday, we had a large family dinner and invited many friends and neighbors. Father Lee was a regular guest, and Teacher Yun and Bokhi often joined us. The dinners lasted for several hours,
as the men all discussed their jobs, school, and, of course, international politics. Mother rushed back and forth from the kitchen, constantly bringing more hot food, tea, and warm rice wine. She beamed as she watched everyone enjoy her cooking, and she listened attentively to the discussions.
One Sunday evening, I left the table early to go study for the government test. The setting sun shone warmly on the wide pine boards in the hallway leading to my room. It seemed an inviting place to sit and relax, and so I sat down, basking in the setting sun and staring out the window at Mother’s green garden. The sound of distant voices, laughter, and the rattling of chopsticks and dishes was comforting.
Why couldn’t I just sit in the dining room with the rest of the family and enjoy being with them? Why was I always running around trying to learn more and do something different? Why did I want to leave and go so far away, especially now that everything seemed to be settling down? I always felt so empty, restless, and incomplete. What was I searching for? I didn’t know exactly, but I felt I had to go away to find something that would fill the emptiness inside me.
I heard a knock on the front door. Jaechun answered the door, and then, I heard the murmur of men’s voices. I remained in the hallway, and saw Jaechun walk back to the dining room. Mother then rushed to the door. “Oh, come in!” she said with surprise. “Oh, of course, this way.” Mother and the guest stepped out of the front alcove into the hallway, which was within my view. The guest was Junho.
“Sookan,” she called. “Look who’s here! It’s Junho. He wants to visit with you for a while.” She led him to me. “You can either sit in the living room, or you can go to your room and talk. Your room is pretty at this hour with the sun setting.”
She left Junho and went back to the dining room. Everyone in the dining room fell silent, and then I heard Mother’s voice. I was sure Jaechun and my other brothers were demanding an explanation.
I was stunned to see Junho standing nervously in front of me. But my initial shock quickly turned to elation. How brave of him to come here and ask to see me. It was clever that he asked to see my mother first instead of asking for me. I wouldn’t have known what to do.
“My room is around the comer, at the end of the hallway. It’s small, but we can see the whole city from there,” I said nervously. He followed me, having already regained his composure.
Mother appeared right behind us, carrying a small chair to my room. She saw to it that we sat opposite each other at the table in my room, and said, “I’ll bring you some tea. Junho, have you eaten? I can bring in some snacks.”
“Oh, thank you, but I can only stay a few minutes,” he said emphatically. “There is no need for you to bring any tea. I must be going very soon.”
“Well, all right, then. But if you change your mind, it’s no problem. I hope you will stay awhile.” She walked out and closed the door halfway.
I remembered telling Junho that I lived at the foot of Namsan Mountain, but I had never expected him to show up here. Still amazed to see him before me, I stared at him, studying every noticeable change. His strong but gentle features were now more chiseled and distinct. There was a maturity and strength that I hadn’t noticed before. He wore a dark suit, and clutched a Dongkuk University hat in his hand, so I knew he was a student there. From my room, I could even see some of his university’s buildings.
“Would you like to put your hat down?”
He responded with an embarrassed smile. Though he seemed calm and composed, I saw his hand tremble as he placed his cap on the desk.
“How long have you been a student at Dongkuk University? And how long have you been in Seoul?” I asked.
“I have been here several months. Since I graduated from Pusan High School. I live at a boarding house near the university.”
“Oh,” I said awkwardly. There were so many things I wanted to tell him. I wished I could tell him how happy and excited I was to see him. I wanted him to know how I treasured our photograph, and that I could recite his poem by heart. But I just sat quietly and watched the sunset from my window.
“You have a beautiful view from here. Your house must have been wonderful before the bombing,” Junho said as he gazed at the orange sunset.
I smiled, and I felt like crying out, “Junho, how glad I am to see you! How often I thought about you!” But I couldn’t seem to say a word. I was so frustrated at not being able to express my feelings.
“Are you planning to go abroad to study?” he asked with great urgency.
“Yes, I will leave as soon as I pass the government exam. I’m taking the test right after graduation. Father Lee promised to help me apply for a scholarship. I have filled out all the paperwork, and Teacher Yun has written my recommendation.”
Then, anxious to know whether it was true that he wanted to be a priest, I asked, “What are you studying now? Medicine? Philosophy? Theology?”
Junho took a long breath and smiled. “Well, there have been a lot of changes in my life since our last long conversation. I am not going to be a doctor. I am now studying literature at the university, but eventually I want to enter the seminary in Seoul.”
I thought of how Dr. and Mrs. Min and Haerin must blame me. I knew they must miss him now that he was so far from Pusan. Was I responsible for his coming to Seoul? Had he decided to go to the seminary because I had told him of my plans to enter the convent? I thought of our days in Pusan together. He was always reading poetry, philosophy, and theology, and pondering the meaning of life. Perhaps he was meant to go to the seminary. I couldn’t have changed all his plans.
Junho looked into my eyes and asked, “Do you still have the picture?”
“Yes!” I said.
“The poem, too?”
“Yes!”
“May I have them back? That is why I have come,” he said in a low voice as he looked down at his hands.
“No, I can’t give them to you. I won’t!” I retorted, surprised and confused. My face grew hot. Why did he want them back?
Junho watched my face flush with anger and embarrassment. Then his eyes twinkled gently, and a smile came to his lips. He let out a long breath of relief.
“I must go now,” he said, as he stood up.
Still sitting, I looked up at him and realized that he had not come for his poem or our picture at all. He just wanted to know if I still cared. He seemed relieved and happy that I wouldn’t give them back to him. Sorry that I had ever doubted his everlasting friendship, I watched the last glorious rays of sun cling to the distant hills of Seoul. Although he didn’t say that this was the last time we would see each other, I somehow sensed a finality in this meeting. I felt that he had come here to close a chapter in his life. Helplessness engulfed me and I sat in silence.
His voice trembled as he said, “Sookan, don’t look so sad and dark. I will never stop thinking of you. Nothing will end; nothing ever does. Everything good that touches our lives becomes part of us forever. You know that.” I nodded in silence.
“We’ll always be friends,” he said. “We’re taking the same path, you know: you will eventually go to the convent, and I will be at the seminary. We will help others, and in doing so, our lives will be rich and meaningful. Who knows? Maybe someday we will even work on the same project together.”
I managed a small smile and asked, “When are you going into the seminary?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I have met with the Fathers there already. Now I must wait patiently. When they call me, I will go. ”
I heard Mother coming down the hallway, and could see the glow of the candle she was bringing to us. She watched us as we gazed at the sunset, and said, “You know, Junho, I often think of the fine hymns you and Sookan used to sing.”
“Thank you,” he said pensively.
Mother placed the candle on my desk and walked out. Junho and I both realized that it was now time for him to go. It would not be proper for us to chat unchaperoned in my room any longer. I knew my brothers wore disapproving scowls as they anxiously
waited for him to leave.
There was so much I wanted to talk to Junho about, but we didn’t have the time.
“I’d better go before I get you into trouble with your mother and brothers.”
I stared helplessly at the flickering candle. I wished he could stay just a few minutes longer. As if he read my sentiments in my gaze, he sat down again. In silence, we both watched the candle burning, shedding hot tears of wax.
Sadly, he softly whispered, “I must go.” He turned to the door and walked out of my room.
I desperately wanted to say, “Let’s see each other just one more time before you enter the seminary.” But I couldn’t utter a sound. My mouth was parched, and my lips glued tight. My body trembled with sadness and anger. Why can't we sit and talk? What is wrong with that? I thought.
I rested my gaze on his broad shoulders and followed him with my eyes. I thought of the happy days when I stood next to him and reveled in the sound of our voices ringing through the chapel. Quickly I caught up with him in the hallway. “Did you sing much after I left the choir?”
Stopping briefly, he said, “No, I dropped out of the choir when you stopped coming. I haven’t sung once since. I don’t think anyone else can sing with me as you did.” Then he smiled, knowing how happy he had made me.
My family and friends were still in the dining room, and we could hear low murmuring and the sound of silver chopsticks clinking against each other. When Junho reached the alcove by the front door, he slipped on his shoes and took a long look at me, as if for the last time. “You’ve gotten so tall. You almost come up to my shoulders now,” he said as he moved to my side, just as we had always stood in choir. “Well, good luck on your test,” he added with a forced smile.
He opened the door and ran down the stone steps. Without uttering a word, I followed him. When he reached the bottom, he kept walking without looking back. I stopped and watched as he disappeared into the darkness.
Rubbing my teary eyes, I wanted to shout, “Come to visit me just once more, or maybe we can meet somewhere!” But suddenly I felt it was all hopeless. What was the sense? What good was one more nervous visit? I would be leaving for a faraway place and he would be going his way.
Echoes of the White Giraffe Page 9
