The Old Garden

by Hwang Sok-Yong

  “Hey, why are you doing this? You think we can’t figure you out?”

  The door opened. There was the factory worker from Choi Dong Woo’s club in Inchon, also handcuffed, followed by the plainclothes. First, the plainclothes slapped the factory worker’s cheek, and then he asked, “Tell me who this is.”

  The real owner of my ID card quickly stole a glance at me and put his head back down. The plainclothes struck him again, this time kicking his shin.

  “What did you say a little while ago, you bastard? You gave him your ID card because Choi Dong Woo asked you to. So who is this bastard?”

  “This . . . is . . . Oh . . . Hyun Woo.”

  The fatigues roared.

  “Was that so hard to say, you dirty little Commies? You know what? First, charge this bastard with obstruction of justice and faking official documents.”

  After the real Jang Myung Goo was taken away, the fatigues finished his cigarette in silence. He finally turned to me, speaking in a calm, smooth voice, “Oh Hyun Woo, it’s all over for you. You’re not under our jurisdiction, you’ll be transferred shortly. So let’s not make it more complicated than it needs to be, shall we? All you need to tell me is what you did while you were in hiding. The case against you guys is already completed, and you are the principal offender.”

  I did not reply.

  “Remaining silent? A Commie does not have that right. We don’t have time to waste. In order to report your capture, we need to know where you’ve been all this time, and only then can we hand you over. We can’t just give you to them with nothing, we all have to save face. So, shall we start? Where were you after May 1980?”

  They interrogated me for three days and nights at the main police station, not letting me close my eyes for even one minute. Then three men in sharp, dark blue suits came to take me away. As they walked into the interrogation room, they did not even bother to cast a glance at me. The detectives stood to attention and yelled something in unison as they saluted. The middle-aged man who came in first kept his hands in his pockets and simply gestured to them with his chin.

  “You’re the chief?” he asked the fatigues.

  “Yes, sir!”

  “We’re from Namsan. So, this is Oh Hyun Woo?”

  Only then did he look at me, sitting on a chair in a corner of the interrogation room. He sized me up with his eyes, as if I were a package that needed to be shipped.

  “Give me all the relevant paperwork . . . And I assume you’ve been doing something with him?”

  “We did some basic interrogation.”

  “Yeah, make sure you give me all that.”

  When the man in fatigues handed him the file he had prepared, the man in the dark blue suit did not bother to flip through, he simply gave it to another man in a suit. Leaving behind the chorus of their salutes, the three men in suits took me out, pushing and pulling. Outside, a black sedan was waiting, its engine on. I sat in the middle of the backseat, flanked by two men, while the man in dark blue took the passenger seat in front. As soon as the car began moving, one of the men struck the back of my head, snarling.

  “Put your head down, bastard.”

  So began my forty-five days in purgatory.

  14

  Darling, which notebook are you reading now?

  You will know it all by now. The reason I took a sabbatical right before you left Kalmae was because of our baby.

  My body was changing. There was no place for me to go. As the new year began, I couldn’t take it any more. I resigned from the school altogether. That year, time seemed frozen. The only reality I wanted to experience was the growth of our baby.

  By that winter, anyone could see that I was pregnant. I was fortunate that the Soonchun lady came to see me several times a day to make sure I was okay and to help me in any way she could. They are really nice people. After you were arrested, we were all summoned to the local police station, then to the state police department, to be interrogated. We brought them so many troubles, but they never once blamed you. Actually, they just wanted to comfort me.

  We worked out that the due date would be sometime in March. That was around the time we arrived in Kalmae, remember? I cannot express in writing what I felt when I first noticed the baby moving inside me. Carrying a living being inside your body feels quite different from simply having a full stomach. It was like there was a new cavity, a deep one, in between my pelvis and my vertebrae, and it contained a brand new organ. And that new organ wiggled and squirmed, touching and kicking my sides and my lower abdomen. It vibrated throughout my whole body, made my heart burst.

  “My goodness, it’s alive!”

  I know it sounds a bit absurd, but I did talk to myself. Feeling her every little movement, I desperately wanted to take your hand and place it on top of my belly. It was like watching the silent surface of a vast lake, out of nowhere a pebble or a droplet of water drops in, and delicate waves spread across the lake, slowly but surely altering the whole surface. I put my hands on my stomach.

  “Thank you, my baby,” I whispered.

  Yes, I was grateful. Imagine what it was like for me being left here alone after that rainy night. People say it is easy for the one who left to forget about where he used to be, but the one left behind suffers because she has to live with the emptiness. Whenever I felt the movement inside my belly, I quickly placed my hands on top and clenched my teeth to keep from crying, even if my eyes were already tearing, and promising myself that I would be brave. I ate well, too, swallowing big spoonfuls of rice and finishing all the side dishes the Soonchun lady brought to me, until I scraped the plate. Time flew by, just like it does in the movies. The pages on the calendar fell away, the leaves on trees changed from green to red and gold, fell from the branches, and the world was covered in white snow, and then all of a sudden new buds sprouted up. Time never stopped, it just kept going.

  The day Eun Gyul was born, I did not feel anything in the morning. It was around four in the afternoon when I started to feel pain in my lower abdomen. It was already the end of March, and I was about a week overdue. I had never experienced it before, but I knew instinctively that this was the beginning of labor. I was scared. There was no one around, and I did not know what I needed to prepare. Hugging my belly, I tried to stand up. I was still able to walk and I tried to, slowly, supporting myself with the wall. About a month before, the Soonchun lady had told me to organize everything, so I had neatly folded everything I had collected for the baby—receiving blankets and little cotton handkerchiefs, a blanket made out of soft fleece and a little comforter, loose baby shirts and a waterproof pad—and stacked them in the corner of the room. I walked down to the kitchen and started to boil water in a big barrel, and I placed dried seaweed in a place where the Soonchun lady could easily find it.

  I told myself, surely someone will come to check on me, at least one single person, before it is all over. But the truth was, I was so scared I was shaking. I thought of you, sitting in a darkened cell all by yourself, and tried to be as strong as I could be. My situation is much better than Hyun Woo’s, I told myself. Wasn’t it? I was with our baby, our strong baby. It was like a spiral, as the interval between contractions narrowed, the circle becoming smaller and smaller. The first circle took a while, but then it came faster and faster. I guessed that the tiniest circle at the end meant the birth.

  I do not know where I found the strength to do it, but I got up again and walked toward the door, groping against the wall with my hand. It took a long time for me to climb down from the porch to the ground. First I squatted at the edge of the narrow porch and put one foot down, then placed the other right next to it. I hung onto the porch as I turned my body and raised myself up, and I was finally able to take steps. One by one, faltering, I walked down the narrow path toward the main house. When I got to the bamboo fence around the main house, I touched it with my fingertips and walked like a blind person. The Soonchun lady, who happened to be in the courtyard, saw this pathetic scene and ran to me.
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  “My goodness, Miss Han! What is going on?”

  She told me later that I grabbed her hand so hard it hurt her, but she could not shake it off. I mumbled in a voice that somehow came from deep down in my throat, “Ma’am . . . please, please help me.”

  “Of course! Don’t worry, let’s get inside.”

  She grabbed my arm and tried to pull me in, but according to her, I resisted stubbornly.

  “No, not here . . . Back to our house, please.”

  “Fine, fine. Just wait a second.”

  The vice principal rushed out, too, and each of them took an arm and brought me back home, almost carrying me. The Soonchun lady glared at her husband and kicked him out of the room, then changed me into a nightgown. She put the waterproof pad on top of the futon and draped a bath towel on my knees, then massaged my legs and told me to breathe in, breathe out. The pain was unbearable when the baby’s head came out. I do not remember what happened after that. I think I blacked out.

  From far away, I heard a baby crying, the Soonchun lady shouting. I lay there with not an ounce of strength left in my body, while she washed and swaddled the baby and placed her next to me. I turned to my side and touched her hand, so fragile, like water. It moved, writhing softly. Two eyes tightly shut, and what seemed to be just a trace of a mouth flinched and winced, as if she were smacking her lips. Sometimes a low, weak moan escaped. I was caught off-guard by something dribbling down onto the baby’s blanket. I was not thinking, I did not feel it, but tears were rolling down my cheeks. I turned again to look up at the ceiling and put an arm over my forehead to shield my eyes from the light. I cried again without feeling.

  “What are the tears for? You just gave birth to a beautiful, healthy baby.”

  The Soonchun lady had already prepared the seaweed soup and was bringing in a bowl on a small tray. I did not mind her chiding me a little, but I kept my arm where it was and cried a little more, although to do so was meaningless.

  “I know, it’s because of the baby’s father, but . . . you’ll chase away all the good luck.”

  Really, it was not like I felt that tragic or sad. Yet they were not tears of joy and happiness either. I remembered a woman I saw once, at the end of a market day. She was sitting there vacantly, and she made no effort to sell her sesame plant leaves, which were divided into little batches and placed on a small wooden board. Her face was deeply tanned, and she was breastfeeding a baby, who seemed to have fallen asleep while still sucking on her nipple. The baby was naked except for a dirty, ragged T-shirt. It looked like both the baby and the mother were frozen in time, in a daze. Why were they just sitting there? There was neither reason nor meaning; they did not try to sell and they did not attempt to leave the marketplace. I can’t imagine them ever smiling or crying. I do not know why I was reminded of that woman when I was lying there, soon after giving birth to Eun Gyul.

  “You should eat first. Your milk will start only after you eat some seaweed soup.”

  She helped me by putting her hands under my armpits and pulling me up. I looked down at the little tray for a while without saying anything, then I picked up the spoon and devoured it, as if I were starving.

  That was how our little baby came into this world. Soon after you were confined to your little cell, heaven provided us with a small but beautiful bridge that would forever connect us. I did not tell anyone, and I spent the first three months of the baby’s life with her alone. And soon we returned to the most peaceful season you and I spent together, the beginning of summer. I carried Eun Gyul on my back and brought her to our laundry spot by the stream. I placed her under a tree and spent the whole day there, washing clothes and eating and smoking and talking to her.

  “Eun Gyul, look! This is a frog. I think he wants to be your friend.”

  It hopped over to the blanket she was lying on, and Eun Gyul stared back at the cute little frog. So I talked to the frog as well.

  “You must be the good frog who listens to your mom.11 Did you come to see Eun Gyul?”

  It was marvelous to see two newborns finding each other. We are all born alone, but some of us manage to run into each other’s lives.

  A year after you left Kalmae I was beginning to feel restless, like a wolf during the full moon. My stomach was constantly in knots, I was filled with anxiety from my heart to my belly, and I kept fretting. I could not sit still next to Eun Gyul, so I would pace around the room. I would open the door to look outside at the view that never changed. Or I would put her on my back and walk to the edge of town and watch the buses that came and went for a long time, sitting on the bridge railing.

  After a few anxious days, I finally decided to write to my sister. I could not bear the loneliness any longer, I had to tell someone that I had a baby. And I could not bear the fact that my memories of you were gradually fading too, leaving behind just enough so I could manage. There was no reply from Jung Hee. Of course, there was no reply because I did not tell anyone the address of our home in Kalmae. When I occasionally called my mother or Jung Hee, I always did so from the school, and all I ever told them was that I was fine. I also told them I was not able to go to Seoul for a while because I was working on my first solo exhibition. Jung Hee told me later that she had been going crazy. Out of the blue, she got a letter saying that I was going to be someone’s wife, with some vague reference to the change in a woman’s life when she becomes a mother. Jung Hee was old enough to guess what was going on.

  I just wanted to make sure that I was not completely alone in this big, big world. I regretted sending such an incomprehensible and absurd letter as soon as I sent it. I meant to write again to tell her more clearly what had happened and to let her know exactly where I was, but she wrote to me first. I got her letter when I finally made my way to the school to hand in my resignation.

  My Dear Sister Yoon Hee,

  I could not believe what I was reading. You were always like that, even when you were a little kid. I know you are an artist and all that, but really, there are too many gaps in your story. What do you mean you got married in secret? And this happened not recently, but a while ago? And you don’t explain anything?

  To tell you the truth, we were getting a little worried about you. Mom just bought two more stores, so she’s really busy. And I’m busy because of school and my boyfriend, so yes, I admit that it’s not like we were thinking about you all the time. Nevertheless, you did not call, you did not write for months. We called the school and all they could tell us was that you were on sabbatical, no one knew where you were staying or how to get in touch with you. You’re a grown-up, but you’re also a daughter of this family! Even our mom, the busiest, the most intrepid person there is, was worried. She told me that I should go down there to find you if you remain elusive after school starts in fall. So, as soon as you read this letter, I want you to turn yourself in!

  I am still worried about you, but I always believed in your judgment. Father always said, and I know this sounds horribly old-fashioned, but . . . he always wished that you were a son. Also, Mom always said you were the most considerate and patient person. When Father was sick, he didn’t ask me to do much when I nursed him. He just kept asking when you were coming home.

  You are in love, are you? And he is an activist who went to prison. Indeed, there are many of them around us. Last year, I joined a volunteers’ club. There was a man who had one year in medical school left, and I really liked him. Once a month, he took us to the poorest neighborhoods to volunteer at free clinics, but I have not seen him this semester. I don’t know where he is now. Somebody told me that he quit school and is working at a factory. I think he’s going through a phase and I’m sure he’ll come back to school more mature and experienced, and become a better doctor. Sorry if I sound too callous.

  By the way, your last sentence was quite mysterious. You wrote it as if you are a mother now, that it was based on your own experience. A woman who has become a mother is not the woman of before? I read your letter and read it again a
nd again so many times. My dearest sister, did you really have a baby alone in a small village deep in the mountains? What are you, a tragic heroine? Why are you doing this to me? You always treated me like a child. I’m old enough to have finished school if I didn’t go to medical school, and I have lots of friends who are engaged and married. Please, please write back to me as soon as you read this. And write clearly on the envelope your current address.

  I sent her a short letter saying that I’d soon let her know where I was, but I delayed until it was almost October. Then I wrote to her again, this time writing that I would not stop her from coming for a visit. As she had requested, I wrote my address in Kalmae clearly on the envelope.

  I think she must have left the moment she received the letter. Within a week, she appeared. I had fed Eun Gyul and put her down for a nap, and I had a rare moment to sit in front of my easel, when I heard the Soonchun lady calling from outside.

  “Miss Han? Eun Gyul?”

  I got up and looked out through the glass window. Jung Hee and the Soonchun lady were already kneeling on the porch to take a look inside the bedroom. I just stood there, my arms crossed, and watched them instead of saying anything. I saw Jung Hee step into the room, so I went back to the studio and quietly opened the door that connects it to the bedroom and peeked in to see what she would do. Jung Hee bent over to look at the sleeping baby, her head slightly tilted, and she carefully studied Eun Gyul’s face. The vice principal and his wife walked into the room and sat right behind her, as if they wanted to observe the baby’s face from the exact same angle as Jung Hee’s.

  “Look, isn’t she adorable? Not a single thing in that face that is not pretty!”

  I could not wait any more. I pushed the door open a little further and called my sister’s name in a small voice.

  “Jung Hee . . .”

  As it was in her nature, she did not hurry, she simply raised her head slowly and quietly met my eyes. I saw her eyes fill with tears.