The Busan ferry terminal was a utilitarian brick and wooden structure that had been built hastily. Passengers, family members who’d come to see them off, and hawkers milled around noisily in the crowded terminal. Immense lines of passengers waited to show their papers to the police and immigration officials before embarking on the Busan ferry to Shimonoseki. While Isak stood in line to speak to the police, the women sat on a bench nearby, ready to spring up in case he needed anything. The large ferry was already docked and waiting for the passengers’ inspections to be completed. The algae scent of the sea mingled with the fuel smells of the ferry; Sunja had been queasy since morning, and she looked sallow and exhausted. She had vomited earlier and had nothing left in her stomach.
Yangjin held the smallest bundle close to her chest. When would she see her daughter again? she wondered. The whole world felt broken. What was better for Sunja and the child no longer seemed to matter. Why did they have to go? Yangjin would not be able to hold her grandchild. Why couldn’t she go with them? There must be work for her in Osaka, she reasoned. But Yangjin knew she had to stay. It was her responsibility to care for her in-laws’ graves and her husband’s. She couldn’t leave Hoonie. Besides, where would she stay in Osaka?
Sunja doubled over slightly, emitting a little cry of pain.
“Are you okay?”
Sunja nodded.
“I saw the gold watch,” Yangjin said.
Sunja folded her arms and hugged herself.
“Was it from that man?”
“Yes,” Sunja said, not looking at her mother.
“What kind of man can afford something like that?”
Sunja didn’t reply. There were only a few men left in front of Isak in the line.
“Where is the man who gave you the watch?”
“He lives in Osaka.”
“What? Is that where he’s from?”
“He’s from Jeju, but he lives in Osaka. I don’t know if that’s where he is now.”
“Are you planning on seeing him?”
“No.”
“You cannot see this man, Sunja. He abandoned you. He’s not good.”
“He’s married.”
Yangjin took a breath.
Sunja could hear herself talking to her mother, yet it felt like she was another person.
“I didn’t know he was married. He didn’t tell me.”
Yangjin sat still with her mouth opened slightly.
“At the market, some Japanese boys were bothering me, and he told them off. Then we became friends.”
It felt natural to speak of him finally; she was always thinking of him but there had been no one to talk about him with.
“He wanted to take care of me and the baby, but he couldn’t marry me. He said he had a wife and three children in Japan.”
Yangjin took her daughter’s hand.
“You cannot see him. That man”—Yangjin pointed at Isak—“that man saved your life. He saved your child. You’re a member of his family. I’ve no right to ever see you again. Do you know what that’s like for a mother? Soon, you’ll be a mother. I hope that you’ll have a son who won’t have to leave you when he marries.”
Sunja nodded.
“The watch. What will you do with it?”
“I’ll sell it when I get to Osaka.”
Yangjin was satisfied with this answer.
“Save it for an emergency. If your husband asks where you got it, tell him that I gave it to you.”
Yangjin fumbled with the purse tucked beneath her blouse.
“This belonged to your father’s mother.” Yangjin gave her the two gold rings her mother-in-law had given her before she died.
“Try not to sell these unless you have to. You should have something in case you need money. You’re a thrifty girl, but raising a child requires money. There will be things you can’t expect, like doctor’s visits. If it’s a boy, you’ll need fees for school. If the pastor doesn’t give you money for the household, earn something and put aside savings for emergencies. Spend what you need but just throw even a few coins into a tin and forget that you have it. A woman should always have something put by. Take good care of your husband. Otherwise, another woman will. Treat your husband’s family with reverence. Obey them. If you make mistakes, they’ll curse our family. Think of your kind father, who always did his best for us.” Yangjin tried to think of anything else she was supposed to tell her. It was hard to focus.
Sunja slipped the rings into the fabric bag beneath her blouse where she kept her watch and money.
“Omoni, I’m sorry.”
“I know, I know.” Yangjin closed her mouth and stroked Sunja’s hair. “You’re all I have. Now, I have nothing.”
“I will ask Pastor Isak to write to you when we arrive.”
“Yes, yes. And if you need anything, ask Isak to write me a letter in plain Korean, and I’ll ask someone in town to read it for me.” Yangjin sighed. “I wish we knew our letters.”
“We know our numbers, and we can do sums. Father taught us.”
Yangjin smiled. “Yes. Your father taught us.
“Your home is with your husband,” Yangjin said. This was what her father had told her when she married Hoonie. “Never come home again,” he’d said to her, but Yangjin couldn’t say this to her own child. “Make a good home for him and your child. That’s your job. They must not suffer.”
Isak returned, looking calm. Dozens of people had been turned away for lack of papers or fees, but Sunja and he were fine. Every item required had been satisfied. The officers could not trouble him. He and his wife could go.
12
Osaka, April 1933