The calligrapher's daughter_ a novel - Eugenia Kim [75]
“It might be the same fellow I saw two weeks ago,” she whispered. “See if his face is pockmarked.”
“Who is he?”
“A kid. He yelled something. I think it was lewd.” Kira spoke only enough Japanese to get by in the marketplace.
I tightened my grip on the buckets. Beads of sweat formed on Kira’s forehead beneath the weighty basket. We walked forward slowly.
“Who is it? Excuse me, what do you want?” I called in Japanese. The path curved in front of us and we were footsteps away from seeing who was behind the rock twenty meters ahead. “We have no money. Just water and laundry.”
He leaned against the rock, not such a young man, his trousers unbuttoned, stroking himself. His lips grim, he stared at our bare legs through black slits of eyes, his scarred cheeks bobbing in and out of deep shade.
“Bastard son of a pig!” said Kira. She pushed me. “Don’t look, Ahsee!”
I saw his hand work faster and the two points of his canines as he laughed out loud. “Son of a pig!” I screamed in Japanese as Kira pushed me to run.
“I’ll be waiting for you next time, whores!” he yelled.
We ran to our west gate, panting, the water splashing, and I turned in time to see his blue-gray back slipping into the far woods. Inside, Kira bolted the gate firmly and unloaded her basket, her fingers shaking. The sound of wind filled my ears, but no breeze struck my face, surprisingly wet with tears. My back to Kira, I dipped my fingers in the bucket, wiped my face and stood tall. “Nothing but scum!” My harsh tone surprised me.
Kira hunched down, her head between her knees. “Shame! Shame!”
I squatted beside her. The high sun darkened the gaps in the dense bamboo grove behind us. My heart pounded, and I stopped the words heathen Japanese filthy pig from tumbling off my tongue, shocked that I had such words at ready. I said tightly, “We won’t send you to the stream again without Joong.”
“You mustn’t tell him! What will he think of me then!”
I considered what to do. Joong might indeed find fault with his bride if he knew she’d seen another man’s sex.
“Can you draw from the town pump instead?”
Kira wiped her eyes and nose, shaking her head. “That water is foul!”
“Then we must tell Mother that we saw a soldier near the stream, nothing more. That’s enough cause for Joong to accompany you. If nobody is going with you, wash clothes in the courtyard from now on. Never mind about wasting good water.”
“It scares me to think how many hot summer days we bathed and swam there.”
“Remember those as days of happiness. Freedom. They’ll come again, Kira, I’m sure of it.”
“Ahsee has come back a woman. Wise and strong.”
“No,” I said, untying my skirt. “Older, perhaps, but still not much of a woman.” I thought of the soldier and shuddered. We walked back to the house, and Kira spread the clothes out to dry while I emptied the water buckets in the cistern, wishing it was bath day. I wondered if I should withhold the real story from Mother. Father would be appalled to hear of such a thing. How could I speak of it? I was unwilling to tell my mother of vileness so close by. There were no words to convey the filth I felt coated with, no words to explain how home had become so suddenly fragile.
The moon rose, and Father and Ilsun were ensconced in their rooms. I joined my mother in the weaving room and told her the story I’d prepared.
“There are more and more soldiers everywhere,” said Mother at her loom. “Your father thinks they still fear a national rebellion after the emperor’s death.”
It made sense that this soldier was part of an increased and nervous military presence. “But Umma-nim, this man was alone. He looked at us the same way that Yee Sunsaeng-nim talked about the soldiers at her house.”
Mother worked the shuttle without speaking for a while. “So, when did Yee Sunsaeng-nim tell you what had happened to her?”
I frowned at my stitches. In Seoul I had often thought of Sunsaengnim, and her frequent presence in my mind tarnished the promise of secrecy I’d sworn. “Forgive me, Umma-nim. She spoke to me about a month before she died. I