The kitchen staff was tidying the front room and Lady Cho and Sonju were reviewing the menu when Miss Im sauntered in from the bedroom and announced, “I have something to tell you.” Her eyes glinted as everyone turned to hear her. “I accepted Roger’s proposal.”
Miss Im in America, Sonju thought, though it was not unexpected, America was so far away. She couldn’t bear to lose yet another friend.
Lady Cho put aside the menu and the shopping list. “How exciting! When is the wedding?”
“June third. Roger took a teaching position at a university in Texas. He starts in August.”
Yunghee cocked her head. “You’re actually going to marry an American?”
“The American.” Gija corrected Yunghee, then turned to Miss Im. “You are one brave woman.”
The cook said, “I like our American. He likes my cooking.”
Miss Im turned to Sonju. “You haven’t said anything.”
“I’m happy for you and Roger, but you’re going to leave behind everything familiar,” she said, but inside, she was already mourning the loss of a friend to a land far away. She recalled her former mother-in-law’s fear of losing her youngest son and his family and being forgotten.
“How difficult can life be in America?” Miss Im replied with certainty in her voice. “I’ve gone through worse things.”
Sonju reconsidered her sentiment. “You’re right. Knowing you, you’ll do fine.”
“Yes, she will do fine,” Lady Cho said hastily.
Two weeks later, a young woman delivered Miss Im’s wedding dress of white silk with lace trim around the neckline and at the end of the sleeves. Miss Im carried it to the bedroom, held the dress up to herself and posed in front of the mirror.
Yunghee scanned Miss Im. “You make a beautiful bride and the dress ...”
“So tasteful,” Sonju said. “You did a good job designing it. It’s perfect.”
Miss Im swirled a half circle to face Sonju and Yunghee, then turned again to the mirror to admire herself.
Then a week later, Sonju heard Miss Im sobbing in the bedroom. “Miss Im, what’s wrong? I’m coming in.” Upon opening the door, Sonju found Miss Im sitting next to her wedding dress, wiping her tears with a handkerchief. “What happened?” Sonju asked.
Her voice nasal from crying, Miss Im said, “I received a letter from my brother. No one in my family will attend my wedding because I’m marrying an American.”
“Did you tell them he teaches at a university as your father did?”
“Yes, but my brother wrote that the family will be shamed if anyone finds out about my marriage because people will think I prostituted myself,” she said sobbing, her face flushed under her glistening wet cheeks. Then, she jutted her chin out. “It’s not as though my family has a great reputation to uphold. My father is a pathetic drunk.”
Sonju knew what that pain was like. “We will be at your wedding to celebrate your marriage to Roger. It will be wonderful,” Sonju said, cupping Miss Im’s hand.
On the 24th of May, Miss Im and Roger registered their marriage at the city hall, and the next morning, petitioned for her visa at the American Embassy.
On the wedding day on the front lawn of G-62, Sonju gazed at the blue sky and the outlines of the acacia trees, then looked down below and all around. The scent of freshly cut grass hovered just above the ground. The leaves on the trees shimmered. Flowers were blooming in the gardens; butterflies were flitting about. All was well in the world. She passed the chairs in rows, the seated guests, and the white tent. At the entrance of the gallery, Gija, dressed in a simple white blouse and a navy skirt for the occasion, sat at a table recording the gifts received. When she saw Sonju, she pointed to the side room.
Upon entering, Sonju nodded to Miss Im. “Everything is ready. It’s time to dress.”
She and Yunghee helped Miss Im get into her wedding dress. After checking the veil, Sonju stepped back to look at the bride, and there, in the middle of the room, she saw an ethereal figure in white. “Oh, look at you! I can’t even describe what I see.” Sonju stood there quite lost.
“Who is here?” Miss Im asked, her voice uneven.
Sonju realized Miss Im might have hoped one of her family members still might show up. She hid her sadness and tried to sound excited. “Our former clients and some wives, artists, about ten Americans, and some I don’t know. I guess they are Roger’s friends. Lady Cho is greeting them.”
Sonju and Yunghee straightened the train of the wedding dress and followed Miss Im to the door. When the wedding march started, Miss Im grabbed a white bouquet and walked out alone, small tremors in her fingers visible in spite of her assured stride. Professor Shin presided at the wedding. Roger stood beaming. Cameras clicked. Miss Im cried and smiled.
When the ceremony was over and the last guest had left after the reception, Miss Im hooked her arm through Sonju’s. While walking to the cottage where Roger was waiting, Sonju said, “A lot of things will be possible for you. Take advantage of them.” As she said this, Sonju thought of all the things she thought she was willing to fight hard for. It was good that Miss Im would have a chance to accomplish whatever she wanted to in the land where women were free to do so.
Eleven days later, the women of The Hall saw the newlyweds off at the airport. How strange that one person’s absence seemed like the ending of something. Sonju then recalled Miss Im and Yunghee saying their time at The Hall with the women had been their happiest. Now Miss Im was embarking on different happiness with Roger and his family.
That night, Sonju sat up in her bed. Jinju looked at her from the portrait on the wall. “Where are you, my daughter?”
“So quiet. Why doesn’t anybody talk?” Yunghee said out loud as she went from the kitchen to the front garden, to the gate, and back to the kitchen. For two weeks, Yunghee wandered around like a lost dog. Gija moped. The cook stayed in the kitchen not saying much. Lady Cho remained in the back room. Sonju read newspapers and checked the clock in the living room for the third time. Only seven minutes had passed since she last checked but it felt more like thirty.
Miss Im had been gone three weeks when Sonju heard Yunghee shriek, “A letter from America!” Yunghee shook the letter, running up into the living room to Sonju.
Everyone sat in a circle while Sonju read Miss Im’s letter. She wrote that when she arrived at Los Angeles Airport with Roger, she was nauseous from the mixed smell of cheese and all kinds of perfume emanating from the people walking by. After she met Roger’s family in Los Angeles, they drove to Texas in their newly purchased car.
“Three days to get from California to Texas?” Gija commented. “How big America must be!”
Yunghee put in, “I can’t believe Texas is seven times larger than South Korea. Texas is just one province in America, right?”
Sonju said, “I think it’s called a state, but the idea is the same. There are fifty of them. I think Texas is one of the largest.”
“And cacti as tall as buildings. What does a desert look like anyway?” Gija mumbled.
A week later, they received another letter from Miss Im. She and Roger were looking for a house or an apartment to rent near the campus.
Then another letter, in which Miss Im said everything was large—not only the people, but the highways, the stores, even the trucks. She wrote about not eating kimchi because of the smell and lamented about the Americans’ anxieties regarding body odor.
Ten days later, they received yet another letter. So frequent. Maybe things were not as well as Miss Im had implied in her letters. Sonju tore open the envelope.
1962 July 16
Dear all,
I received Lady Yu’s letter. I miss you too, especially when I look around and am reminded that I am a foreigner. I’ll get used to it.
Americans have many strange customs. My neighbor was washing his car. He tapped it gingerly, and said, “This is my Betsy. I have had her since college. Isn’t she a beauty?” I was very confused. I didn’t know who he was talking about. I knew his wife’s name was Emily. I asked, “Who is Betsy?” After Roger and my neighbor had a laugh, Roger explained that Betsy is the name the neighbor gave to the car. “But why? It doesn’t look like a woman to me.” They laughed again.
Americans like to name things. When I first came to America, Roger taught me about the coins. Here, it’s not enough to say one-cent coin, five-cent coin, ten-cent coin, twenty-five-cent coin, fifty-cent coin. They have to name each. One-cent coin is called a penny, five cent a nickel, ten cent a dime, twenty-five-cent a quarter, and the fifty-cent coin a half dollar, like you don’t know fifty cents is a half of a dollar. To add more to my confusion, the five-cent coin is bigger than the ten-cent coin. When I went shopping alone the other day, the coins gave me a genuine headache. Why don’t they stamp a big number on each coin like we do in Korea? I couldn’t tell which was which, so I just poured all the coins I had into my palm and had the cashier take whatever coins she needed.
They also use ounces, pounds, feet, miles, and gallons. Isn’t the metric system much simpler? Many Americans are not good with simple math. I see people actually counting with their fingers. In spite of all that, I think I will love this country.
Im Nari
Lady Cho smiled. “Miss Im hasn’t lost her touch.”
Yunghee had a far-away look. “How strange the customs are in the land across the ocean where Miss Im lives now.” Sonju loved Yunghee for her innocence and wide-eyed wonder.
Another letter from Miss Im. Again, everyone sat in a circle as Sonju read.
1962 July 22
Dear all,
My life is full of new experiences. A neighbor with a little baby in her arms knocked on the door. Roger was away to meet his colleagues. I was so afraid I would make a fool of myself with my poor English that I never opened the door fully. I mumbled something through a thin opening. She left. When I told Roger about it later, he told me the neighbor was trying to be friendly.
Then some days later, two Jehovah’s Witnesses knocked on the door. They gave me books with strange pictures and wanted to come in to talk to me. I told them I was a Buddhist, thinking this would make them leave but they said they still would like to come in and talk about Jehovah’s Witness. They would not leave. So, I told them I don’t understand English and started making gestures instead of talking. They finally left.
“I can picture Miss Im acting a fool,” the cook said, chuckling.
I am bombarded with new things. I feel insecure about not speaking English well and not knowing the ways of America. I just want people to leave me alone. Someday, I’ll be comfortable living in my husband’s country.
Im Nari