The calligrapher's daughter_ a novel - Eugenia Kim [78]
“This person?” I blurted in surprise, mouth agape.
“I’m afraid it’s not much. Housework, you know. Some babysitting, but it’s a start. We certainly need more Korean Christian teachers for our flocks. What do you think?”
I rudely grabbed Miss Gordon’s hand. “Yes, please, thank you!”
“Wonderful,” said the missionary, squeezing my hand in return. “Then it’s settled.”
“I—I’ll have to ask my father’s permission.”
“Of course, I should’ve thought of that. Here’s a better idea. I’ll have Harlan speak to your father, and you can start a week from Monday.”
I concentrated on not exposing my teeth in my grateful smile.
DESPITE THE HONOR of having the school director himself request my services, Father said it was undignified for his daughter to work as a servant, even if it was for good pay, and refused permission. Then, the evening after Director Gordon’s visit, I heard him say to Mother, “You ask me to contribute to such a frivolous pursuit as a ladies’ journal?” I opened my window to hear more. “There’s nothing left!” he said. Then, “What little there is from Manchuria goes to Shanghai. You dare question me on this?” Mother said something, and he quoted a proverb, “What kind of man would send out his women to work!” And a little later, “Then let her shame this family, but don’t speak of it again!”
By the end of August, I had two jobs. The Gordons already employed a cook and an industrious housekeeper, so my responsibilities were simple: tidying the children’s rooms and tending the garden. As a second job in the late afternoon, I tutored the children in Japanese language and grammar. If she happened to be around, Miss Gordon sometimes took part in those lessons as we sat around the dining room table, casually joining the children to recite “this is a yellow pencil,” which provoked me to extreme discomfort. However, Harlan Jr. and Christine behaved better when their gomo-nim, father’s-side aunt, was there. When we learned that all Ewha applicants were required to have some musical proficiency, Miss Gordon gave me lessons on the church’s pump organ. Over time I felt easy enough in my patron’s company to correct her Japanese and laugh with the family at her domestic ineptness, such as the time she baked Christine’s birthday cake, which sank to the bottom of the pan, looked like a sponge and tasted like ash.
I rose hours before dawn to iron, shell peas, patch clothing—any housework I could do without waking my family. On clear summer nights, I weeded the kitchen garden by moonlight. On winter mornings, I swept snow off the porches. Then I’d walk across town to the Gordons’ tall house behind my old primary school, which reminded me always of Teacher Yee.
TWO SUMMERS INTO my job, my savings for college were nearly met. On a humid evening I decided it was time to alert my mother, upon whom I relied to gain final permission from Father. If he said yes, I could enroll for the fall.
Beetles creaked in the underbrush and mosquitoes buzzed beyond the circling smoke of smoldering goldenrod. At her writing desk Mother displayed a letter from Imo.
I sat nearby, my back erect, my braid hanging straight and almost touching the floor. “How is she? How is the new house and her family?” After the royal family had been taken to Tokyo, Imo had purchased a traditional house of wood and mortar far from the palace, in the well-to-do Bukchon neighborhood, and had invited a struggling cousin’s family from her husband’s side to live with her.
“Things seem to be working out well. She’s quite fond of her young nephew, and his parents are very helpful around the house. She asks if her favorite niece will register at Ewha this fall.”
I smiled at this serendipitous opening. “Umma-nim, I’ve saved enough money. Director Gordon says I’ll have a job teaching at the school when I’ve graduated. And when I’m in Seoul I think I can get tutoring jobs to help pay Dongsaeng’s high school expenses. Miss Gordon says she’ll give me the names of missionaries she knows there.”
Mother clasped her knees. “If your room and board is too expensive,