She laughed heartily. “I never heard such a thing. Auntie, this isn’t something you can learn at this age. People drown in these waters. Go take care of yourself, Auntie.”
I HAD MORE THAN ENOUGH money after selling the house in Seoul. I didn’t have anything to do except walk around all day. One morning I wandered out toward the snowcapped Halla Mountain, which is visible from my part of the island. I thought it would be much closer, but after walking many hours, I was still so far from it. Finally I had to admit that I was lost, and foolish to try to get there without any directions. Somehow I made it back on the path to the village, which I recognized from some familiar trees and shrubs. That’s when I heard the moaning and the screams, coming from a fenced-in hut nearby.
I ran inside and found a woman in labor. It was the same seawoman who had told me to go back home. There was no one in the neighborhood; all the men were out at sea on their boats, and all the women were diving.
I tried to remember what the midwife had done with Luna. If it had been a difficult birth, I’m sure I wouldn’t have helped. But the woman was young and healthy, and so was the baby. All I really had to do was cut the cord, tie the end, bathe the baby, and put him in his mother’s arm.
WATCHING THE SEA MAKES YOU think of things. I spent whole days by the beach, my knees tucked in front of my chest, reminiscing. And a few times at first, I cried thinking of JungHo, the last smile he gave me even as he was being stoned and paraded. But the more I stared at the infinite blue waves, the more my mind was pulled toward the happy memories. Truthfully, it is hard for me to remember in great detail all the terrible things that have happened, save for some images.
I remembered that when HanChol and I broke up, I didn’t cry in bed before falling asleep. But I wept so bitterly in my dreams that night that I startled myself awake, and realized my eyes were wet. Nonetheless, I can’t remember what we said to each other that last evening—or how exactly he broke my heart. What I can still see with great clarity are only the beautiful parts. Dancing the waltz with Aunt Dani, Luna, and Lotus. The first time I went onstage at Joseon Theatre. Kissing HanChol under the moonlight. The way he looked at me. Being caressed by him. I have to admit—and it is embarrassing, even at this age—that it is HanChol who gave me the most to remember.
I feel sad and guilty about this, on account of JungHo.
“WHY DO YOU SIT THERE all day watching the sea, Auntie? Don’t you have anyone to look after?”
It was Jindo daek in her diving clothes. Because she was from Jindo on the mainland, everyone called her Jindo daek or CholSoo’s mom, after her baby.
“Where’s CholSoo, Jindo daek?” I asked her.
“I left him on a rock, over there in the cove.” She looked behind her shoulder.
“What? Leave a month-old baby on a rock by the sea?” I jumped up.
“Auntie, that’s what we seawomen do. If I don’t keep him nearby, how can I give him my breast when he’s hungry?” She rolled her eyes.
“I’m always on the beach anyway, why don’t you just let me watch him?”
“That’s why I came over here, isn’t it?” She smiled, already leading the way to the cove. CholSoo was mewling like a kitten inside a bowl-shaped black rock, about a yard up from the ground. His mother quickly opened her chemise and nursed him, and I noticed that there was a large bruise on her shoulder. I asked her about it.
“Oh, this is nothing. The waves were so strong,” she said.
THE DAYS BECAME LONGER and CholSoo turned from bright red to light beige. He was such a good-natured little baby. I sat alone in the cove with CholSoo, shielded from the sea spray, the wind, and the sun. The other women came back periodically to empty their bags of abalones and eat a bite of food before heading back out. They were divided by rank and could dive only in their respective areas. CholSoo’s mom only went out to the shallow waters by the shore, and when she came back her bag was usually a lot lighter than the others’.
ONE NIGHT I FOUND IT hard to sleep. It was the sound of the waves crashing. As soon as the sky began to lighten, I went for a walk. The sun was just below the sea and the world was awash in orange and pink.
My feet led me to the cliff, and standing there amid the fluttering new grass was a pair of chestnut-colored wild horses. They stared at me for a long time with such calm eyes.
“COME NOW, if you really want to dive, I’ll show you,” Jindo daek said to me, throwing me a pair of diving pants and a white linen chemise.
“What about CholSoo?” I asked.
“He’ll be fine. I just fed him and we won’t be out long.”
I quickly changed into the diver’s outfit and put on the circular goggle over my head. She didn’t give me a bag, a knife, and a buoy, because I wouldn’t even try to dive deep or catch an abalone for months at least.
The water was warmer than I thought. All I learned that day was how to float in the water without sinking. For hours I bobbed in the shallow, turquoise water, the waves carrying me back and forth, rocking me the way I rock CholSoo to sleep.
I FINALLY GAINED SOME RESPECT within the hamlet after I bought a black-and-white television from the mayor of the neighboring town. No one had ever owned a TV in this village, and almost every evening people came over to my house to watch the news—never mind that they barely understood what was being said. Every so often, the screen turned to static and I had to get up and hammer the side of the TV to get it working again. They were even delighted by that. The women started calling me Seoul halmang—Seoul granny.
AFTER MONTHS OF BOBBING and doggy-paddling, I was finally allowed to hold my breath and sink down to the sea floor. It was only a little deeper than my height but panic gripped me and I came back to the surface, coughing and gasping. Jindo daek gave me her arm so I could hold on to it and regain my breath. I couldn’t help but notice that her arm was covered in bruises. Every day her bruises became bigger.
“It’s nothing,” she said before I could question her.