The calligrapher's daughter_ a novel - Eugenia Kim [15]
“How many students are there?” I trailed my hand along the iron bars that fenced the back lot of the Japanese police station, my fingers bouncing happily across the cold metal.
“Najin-ah! Look how dirty you’re getting! Keep your hands closed.”
I did so, smiling. Even her scolding couldn’t dampen my excitement.
“The school is small, four grades, but they aren’t all full. Since you’re just of age, you might be among the youngest. Maybe you’ll find an older girl who can be an unnee, an elder sister to you. You’re a very lucky girl. I dreamed of going to school, but it wasn’t considered proper.”
“But then how did your brothers teach you?”
She gave me a look and recited under her breath, “What one says isn’t only heard by mice in the night, but by birds in the day.” In the silence that followed, I tried to walk modestly, ladylike, invisible. “I didn’t say anything last week about finding you hiding outside of Father’s room, and I don’t think I need to speak of it again.”
I nodded apologetically and resolved to stop eavesdropping. I wouldn’t have time! Mother’s lips were set, but her eyes—wide apart and curved upward at the outer edges as if always smiling—were soft.
“Najin-ah, be cautious with the things you overhear. The days are unpredictable— Well, you must promise to always ask me about anything you don’t understand. It’s wrong to be secretive, and there’s no need to worry about things that confuse you or seem strange. Asking questions is sometimes the best way to learn. And be careful with what you say to others, as these are difficult times. Will you remember this?”
I promised, and tried to think humble so I would appear humble. After a contrite while, I cautiously asked, “Umma-nim, can you please tell me how you were educated?”
I sensed her smiling. “In those days, a girl of our class never set foot outside her family’s gate until her wedding day, and then she’d go by palanquin to her husband’s family’s house.”
“That’s awful!”
“Daughter, you must learn to control your emotions. Such expressiveness isn’t becoming for a young lady.” My mother sighed. “Decorum, quietude, acceptance. Keep these things in your mind always.”
“Yes, Umma-nim.” Unfairness rumbled in my belly—I couldn’t help it!—but I squelched it by silently chanting the triple mantra of her admonition.
“And it wasn’t awful at all. My mother taught me all there was to know to become a woman, and anything I needed, and much that I merely wanted, was brought to me. Your grandfather’s house was the largest in the province, and I had the entire enclosure to roam. You’ve heard Cook talk about how our gardens were famous for beauty and variety. I kept quite busy, especially as I grew older and took care of my brothers.”
We reached a field stippled with hilly brush between our neighborhood and downtown. Habitually, on this route to and from church, neither of us spoke when we passed the checkpoint, where two silhouettes of policemen were now framed in the guardhouse’s cloudy window. Once the checkpoint was well behind us, Mother continued. “Still, like you, I was curious about the world outside, so your grandfather gave my brothers permission to pass their lessons on to me, as long as it didn’t interfere with their examinations or disrupt the household. When they told me what they’d learned, I drank from their lessons like a thirsty fish! Eventually, since your grandfather was the kindest of men, I was allowed to sit outside their studio when the tutors came.” Her voice grew lighter, as if lifted by an inner breeze. “This is also how we learned about Jesus. A teacher brought news of foreigners and gave your grandfather a Bible. Then, after we became Christians, everything changed.”
“Is that when you were allowed to go out?” I’d heard this part of the story before.
“Not only did I go out, but your grandmother also, the two of us, like commoners! We walked to church, you see, and actually sat in the same building as the