The calligrapher's daughter_ a novel - Eugenia Kim [119]
The day after our wedding, Calvin would leave for Busan to meet his policeman friend, who would help secure our visas. Meanwhile, Calvin’s father would escort me to Pyeongyang to apply for my passport. If my papers were issued that day, I’d have time to catch the train and reach Busan to travel with Calvin, who had a nonrefundable ticket for a steamer departing September 2. The unlikelihood of an immediate issue of my passport prompted contingency plans, so I delayed in purchasing a steamer ticket. If my documents weren’t ready in time to cross the Pacific with my husband, I would stay with my in-laws and take the following week’s ship, or travel later if necessary. We would rendezvous in San Pedro, spend a few weeks in Los Angeles at Calvin’s brother’s house, acclimating and practicing English, then we’d cross the United States together by train. A complicated arrangement, but the best that circumstances would allow, and one we trusted to God.
The sun emerged over the distant hills and I felt a sheen of warmth. “Rain coming,” I said. “Kira and I left the laundry out—”
“Don’t worry. You know she’ll take care of it this morning. Walk slower. You mustn’t sweat.”
“I’m not sweating from heat.”
We spoke freely since the rickety cart prevented Byungjo or Dongsaeng from hearing us. As we neared town, I felt a mix of excitement, dread and sadness. My string pouch swung from my shoulder, heavy with school transcripts, identification papers, an American pocket atlas—another parting gift from the Bennetts—the worn Chinese-English phrasebook and some cash. I’d wrapped the bulk of my money in my skirt bindings and carried a bundle packed in anticipation of my wedding day: cosmetics, the dress from Jaeyun I’d wear for my passport photograph which would be taken by the conference photographer, Western-style underwear after Calvin wired to say a donated wedding dress was waiting for me, and a night dress to sleep in, the mere thought of which made me burn with embarrassment.
Mother said, “Najin-ah, don’t be nervous. God will ease your mind if you pray.” Startled to think that she had read my mind, I reddened further, but she said, “Yah, did you wish for a traditional wedding? Instead of walking you might be riding in an automobile sent by Reverend Cho! Think of that! In the olden days the palanquin carriers tried to disgrace the bride by making her vomit the entire way.”
“All the more reason to be grateful for a Christian wedding. No humiliating games and drunkenness.”
“Lucky for you, your future minister-husband will never drink.”
I looked at her sideways. This would be her first train ride, her fourth journey overall and her first without traveling in a palanquin, which was how she’d traveled from Nah-jin to Gaeseong to be married. “Are you nervous?” I asked.
“Certainly not! Well, maybe just a little, but I have you to show me all the modern ways.”
“I’m nervous about being in front of a hundred ministers.” Reverend Cho had invited all the conference attendees to the wedding.
“You’ve stood before more than a hundred students and each one learned something from you. Be reserved and stand straight. Say a prayer if anything upsets you.”
“I think I’ll be fine. Honestly, I’m more excited about tomorrow than today.” I saw my wedding day as a springboard for the adventure of travel and college, rather than the fearful beginnings in a new household with unknown in-laws. “Aiu! Not very bride-like. What’s wrong with me!”
“Every bride is different, especially one embarking on an American journey.”
I pushed my hair behind my ear to see my mother’s face better in the weak slanting sunlight. My short hair tickled the back of my neck.