“Here you are,” Second Sister’s cheerful voice flew in seemingly out of nowhere. “I don’t know why I never thought to come here before,” she said and sat drawing her knees up and pulling down her skirt, looking as though she was settling down for a long visit. “So,” she turned to Sonju with a conspiratorial smile and asked, “what do you think about this village life?”
Sonju needed to tread carefully. She was still new in this family. “Hmm. I don’t know yet,” she replied.
“It’s very different from Seoul, isn’t it? I grew up on a farm outside the city, so this is not much different for me.” After a moment’s hesitation, Second Sister asked, “Why did you marry into this family? You must have had many proposals from families of higher standing in Seoul.”
This question was not unexpected, so Sonju had a ready answer. “I kept putting off marriage. Then a suitor for my younger sister came along. An April wedding was agreed, so I had to get married earlier than I would have liked.” She told herself she said enough. Not to give Second Sister time to come up with another question, she asked without a pause, “How did you come to marry your husband?”
“A matchmaker approached my father. After the viewing, my father said this was the best match he could hope for. I didn’t dare tell him I wanted to go to a university. On my wedding day, I felt like a cow being pulled by the nose.”
Sonju’s married-woman routine began early the following morning. It was the day for the workers to till and flood the fields. Before the workers came to eat breakfast, the two maids helped the Second House women in the kitchen. Sonju did the chopping, cutting, mincing, and slicing—the simplest tasks but still challenging for her.
A group of workers arrived. They ate on the rice straw mat in the inner courtyard and promptly left afterwards. Lunch and dinner were sent to the fields. All day long, Sonju had no time to rest, no time to think. She slept well that night without being troubled by the thoughts of her husband or their marriage.
As kitchen work became familiar to her, she stole time between meals to flip through Life and looked up a few English words in the dictionary to maintain her studying habit. She still wanted to teach one day.
When her husband came home that weekend, he still seemed a stranger to her. She knew so little about him. Perhaps there were things she could learn about him that she could like, something she could respect him for. She asked, “What is your goal in life?”
“To go as high as I can in my career,” he replied almost automatically as though that was the most obvious answer.
“How do you do that?”
“Get to know the right people, those who can help me get there.”
Trying to elevate the conversation, she asked, “Is success in career your only goal?”
“What else is there?” He looked at Sonju, baffled by her question.
That was it? Kungu had chosen to study business to become a banker to help poor people negotiate bank loans to start small businesses. Instead of learning anything favorable about her husband, she found him to be selfish and lacking sophisticated thoughts for a man studying at Seoul National. She said very little to him after that, but he didn’t seem to notice her disappointment.
Once in a while, though, she caught him staring at her. “I adore you,” he said to her. “Look at her. Isn’t she perfect?” he said to others. To clan men, he bragged about her family’s influence. Poor husband. That influence had been shrinking since the Japanese occupation in 1910. The next time he said he adored her, she looked at him, searching for flattering words to say to him and saw his eyes glint with a smile. She said, “I like your eyes when you smile.”
During the week in her husband’s absence, she thought that perhaps they would have a different kind of dialogue once he graduated and got a job in a city where they could buy books and magazines and educate themselves. They would have more to talk about. He might even become more thoughtful.
In the courtyard, Second Sister was telling a maid to take the children somewhere to play. Shortly afterward, she came to the veranda and sat. “You have a pensive look on your face. It’s difficult to come to a family such as this, isn’t it?” She extended her arm out as she said, “I want to leave this place and move to a city one day. To anywhere as long as I can live with just my husband and our children.” She dropped her arm on her lap and released a big lung-emptying sigh. “I know it’s not going to happen. Mother-in-Law told me a woman’s body and soul belong to the husband’s family once she is married.” She shook her head. “Everything belongs to the husband—children, property, decisions—everything.”
Sonju drew her knees closer to her chest. “Sometimes I think if I were born low, I could have worked until my nails disappeared to have my own money and live the way I choose to. What an idea. Right? Live the way I choose to.”
Second Sister twisted her delicate lips and said, “Not even men can choose what kind of life they want to have. They have to do what their parents say.”
“But men still have privileges and much more freedom than women do.”
“Very true,” Second Sister said, nodding.
Sonju listened to Second Sister tell a story about Sonju’s husband dozing off during study when he was a middle schooler and waking up when a whip landed on him only to find Big House Master staring down at him and about how the clan was fierce in everything they did, and that education made it possible for the clan’s new generation to marry well and to advance in society. “They believe in good genes too. You will hear them say, ‘One wrong woman ruins three generations.’ You and I met their requirements.” Second Sister laughed, but her laugh didn’t sound cheerful.
Since that talk, Sonju pictured herself growing old among her husband’s family and becoming another Second Sister, or worse, First Sister. Sonju observed that in spite of her pretty smiles and polite words in public, Second Sister was quite lively and animated especially when she complained about being trapped in this household. On the other hand, First Sister was cocooned in her silence, standing in the same spot in the kitchen doing the same task day in and day out. Sonju wondered whether First Sister was always that way or if life had altered her. Regardless, First Sister should be treated with the respect due to being the wife of the first son, but she wasn’t. One couldn’t tell her from the servants or peasants. This slow moving, gloomy woman went about the day wearing a long, drab, muslin Korean dress, speaking rarely and being rarely spoken to.
Once in a while, Sonju would catch First Sister stealing glances at her, and when their eyes met, this awkward woman would turn her head. Every time that happened, Sonju felt vague unease at the difference between them in the way they were treated.
One day, after finishing the evening chores earlier than usual, Sonju took First Sister’s hand and led her to the veranda. “First Sister, sit with me. I don’t know much about you. Tell me about your husband. What was he like?”
First Sister rubbed down her muslin skirt a few times, and dipped her head. “… Umm, there isn’t much to tell.” She glanced at Sonju. Sonju nodded, urging her to continue. “I didn’t come to know him that well,” First Sister said. “Right after the marriage … Father-in-Law sent me to a boarding school in Seoul for a year.”
“What was it like after you returned?”
“Umm … my husband traveled for his work. When he came home, his parents … There wasn’t much time for me. That was my married life. Yes, it was.” She rocked back and forth, her eyes drifting sideways toward the juniper fence at the end of the garden on the left. “It might have been different for me … umm, had I borne a son. I would’ve held a place in the family. Instead … I’m called a husband killer. That’s my fate. Yes, it is.”
Sonju gasped. A husband killer! This woman with the dull countenance of resignation and halting speech, beaten down, not belonging anywhere, rocking, and always looking down or away—and someone called her a husband killer. Sonju first felt rage, then bleak helplessness and sorrow. She stared down at the wooden planks of the veranda so overwhelmed by her emotions that she didn’t notice First Sister quietly leaving.
The next day, Second Sister confirmed that it was Mother-in-Law who called First Sister a husband killer. “I heard it just once, but once you hear it, it stays with you.”
Sonju didn’t feel like talking to anyone after that. She avoided looking at First Sister because she would have felt even more helpless. Things got worse for her when one day she witnessed something odd and disturbing between First Sister and her daughter: Jinwon passed by her mother in the living room but neither she nor her mother acknowledged each other. Then several days later, it happened again. So, the next time Sonju was alone with Second Sister, she asked, “First Sister and Jinwon act like they are invisible to each other. Have they always been like that?”
Without taking her eyes off the heap of garlic she was mashing on a cutting board with the blunt end of a knife handle, Second Sister said, “When I married, Jinwon was eight years old. Even then, she hung around her grandparents most of the time. They doted on her, the only child of their first son.” Scraping the garlic into a small bowl, she said, “I’ve never seen Jinwon go to her mother for anything.”
That still didn’t explain their strange behavior. Sonju argued, “They sleep in the same room. They must talk to each other.”
Second Sister turned to Sonju. “Once in a while, I hear them talk but their conversation is very brief—a short question and an answer. I once saw First Sister giving Jinwon a small plate of rice cakes she had saved. Jinwon took them and walked away without saying a word.”
Warm April sun filtered into Sonju’s room through the papered windows and doors and made her mellow. She sat against the wall resting her hands on her raised knee and thought about her sister who was now two days married to a medical student who came from a highly-esteemed family. Her mother had at least one daughter who married well, she mused smiling. The warmth in the room made her sluggish and sleepy. She was eyeing a pillow to rest her head for a nap when Jinwon appeared with a gush of energy. “Little Auntie, come with me,” she said with impatient haste.
“Where are we going?” Sonju didn’t hide her irritation in her voice. She would rather not see or talk to Jinwon or Mother-in-Law for a while. They were both cruel.
“You’ll see,” Jinwon grabbed Sonju’s hand, pulled her up off the floor and led her to one of the servant’s rooms.
“Why are we …?” Before Sonju finished the sentence, they entered a room where Mother-in-Law was sitting on a small bench in front of a loom weaving fabric. Sonju was in no mood to talk to her Mother-in-Law. “I am sorry, Mother-in-Law. I interrupted you,” she said and tried to leave, but Jinwon held onto her arm.
After she added one more row to the fabric, Mother-in-Law stopped. “This is my hobby room.” She turned to Jinwon, and with a gruff voice, asked, “What do you want?”
Jinwon ignored her grandmother, picked up two pillows, and placed them on the floor. She sat on one and pointed the other to Sonju. “Grandma, we’re going to tell Little Auntie about our family. Start with how Second Uncle got to marry his wife, please. I like that story.”
Mother-in-Law snorted at Jinwon, then turned her eyes to Sonju. “My oldest son had died some years before, but my second son, even though he was getting on in years, kept putting off marriage. Finally, my second son agreed with one condition. He wanted a woman from a long distance away.” She turned to Sonju. “You have seen your father-in-law’s deformed hand. My son believed deformities came from intermarrying.” Sonju had seen Father-in-Law’s left hand with no fingers and had assumed an accident. If only her parents had known of this major blemish in their daughter’s new family.
Mother-in-Law continued, “My husband and I traveled to many places to search for a suitable woman. Every time we came home, I would show my second son the pictures of the young women I viewed but he would tell me not to rush. We were getting tired of traveling so much, and the farm needed our attention. Someone told us about this young woman not far from here whose family had originally come from North Korea.”
Jinwon nodded to Sonju as if to say, “This is the part.”
“I showed my son her photograph in her high school uniform. To my surprise, he put it in his coat pocket.” Mother-in-Law smiled, seemingly lost in memory.
With a grin Jinwon said, “Second Auntie says her husband used to carry that picture in his wallet. She showed it to me. She thinks the story is funny.” Sonju thought it rather sweet. Jinwon turned to her grandmother. “Now, Grandma, tell us about your marriage and how poor your family was.”
Mother-in-Law smiled showing all her teeth. “We were poor. Very poor. On my wedding day, I could see my face in the breakfast bowl. My mother used a lot of water to stretch a spoonful of barley into a meal. My brothers worked on empty stomachs on other people’s farms.
“We all heard about the young man in the Moon clan who couldn’t marry a woman from his class because of his deformed hand. His family was looking for a healthy maiden from a healthy stock. My parents said his deformity didn’t matter because he wasn’t going to work with his hands anyway. I was relieved that my family and I wouldn’t be hungry again.”
Jinwon waved her hand to stop her grandmother. “Now, tell us about your name.”
“My husband taught me how to read and write. It wasn’t difficult at all to learn. I was already good with numbers.”
“Next,” Jinwon said, rolling her hand in a prompting gesture.
“Before marriage, I was called Pretty. My parents never bothered to give me a legal name because I was a girl.”
After a quick glance at Sonju, Jinwon said, “Grandma, tell Little Auntie why you needed a name.”
“My husband told me that if I didn’t have a name, it’s like I didn’t ever live, and that I must have a name so that our children and our children’s children and their children would know their lineage.” With a wide grin, Mother-in-Law said, “He named me Chusun. That is my legal name.” Mother-in-Law seemed proud of having a legal name as if it were a thing of honor. Sonju was touched by it.
Jinwon exclaimed in mock disbelief. “She had no name! Can you believe that, Little Auntie?” Then her head turned to her grandmother. “And besides, Grandma, your name sounds like a man’s. That’s what happens when you let a man name a girl.”
Mother-in-Law gave Jinwon a scornful look and turned back to Sonju. “My Mother-in-Law died soon after I married, so I became the lady of the house. I got along with the clan’s female kin and handled many family affairs and chores.” She leaned an arm on the loom, her smile slow and widening. “You should have seen your father-in-law when our first son was born. He was so proud of the baby boy with no deformities.”
“That’s my father, that baby.” Jinwon said to Sonju.
Sonju gave Jinwon a nod. Second Sister had told her some time ago that some of Mother-in-Law’s children died young. Now she wondered if those early deaths had anything to do with birth defects. “How many children did you give birth to?” she asked.
“Seven. Three died young. One died at birth, another choked on steamed sweet potato when she was three, and the third one was found dead one morning. He was two months old.” She nodded several times to herself. “Then my first son …” She stopped and stared into the distance for a long moment, then turning back to Sonju, said, “He did everything early—walking, talking, reading. He was the smartest boy in the clan. He went to the best schools in Seoul starting in kindergarten, then Seoul National and then promotion after promotion at his work.” She seemed to come alive by the memory. The corners of her mouth rose, her eyes were dreamy. Then a cloud came over her face. “The day my son died, my exceptional son—he was only twenty-six—my world changed.” She choked back a sob, and her body slumped. She recovered, but the lines on her face seemed more pronounced as if pulled down by the weight of her loss.
After seeing the death so grieved, Sonju could now understand her Mother-in-Law’s anger thrown at the widowed daughter-in-law however misdirected that might be. Mother-in-Law continued, “My second son became the oldest living son. He had never been a very healthy boy. He often fell ill after some hard, physical activities.”
In tender voice, Sonju said, “He seems healthy now.”
“That’s the worst thing, a child dying before the parent. It is so unnatural. And I have experienced it four times over.”
Sonju took Mother-in-Law’s veined hands and stroked them. “Leave me.” Mother-in-Law said in a thin voice.
Jinwon got up to leave. “I’m going to Big House. I hope I find some clan boys there.”
Sonju returned to her room, thinking about tears Mother-in-Law would shed alone. Her heart ached. She must be good to her mother-in-law, she said to herself.