Isak was astonished by her clarity; she had thought this through. He was half a dozen years older than she was, and he had not thought of such things. He’d never given his parents one sen of his wages, since he’d never earned money before. When he served briefly as a lay pastor at his church back home, he had gone without a salary because the church had so little for the senior clergy and the congregation had such great needs. He wasn’t certain what he would earn here. When he received the call to work at this church, the terms hadn’t been discussed; he’d assumed that his compensation would be enough to support him—and now, his family. With money always in his pocket and more readily available when he asked his parents or brother, Isak hadn’t bothered to figure out his earnings or his expenses. In the presence of these young people, Isak felt like a selfish fool.
“Pastor Yoo, we want you to decide. She won’t listen to me. I cannot control where she goes after work. If she keeps meeting with that goat, he’ll do something terrible, and no one will care what happens to her. She’ll listen to you,” the brother said quietly. “She has to.”
The sister kept her head down. She did not want Pastor Yoo to think badly of her. Sunday mornings were very special to her; church was the only place she felt good. She wasn’t doing anything wrong with Yoshikawa-san, but she was certain that his wife didn’t know about these meetings, and often he wanted to hold her hand, and though it didn’t seem harmful, it didn’t seem innocent, either. Not long ago, he’d mentioned that she should accompany him to a marvelous onsen in Kyoto, but she had demurred, saying she had to take care of her brother’s meals.
“We must support our family, this is true,” Yoo prefaced, and the sister appeared visibly relieved, “but we have to be careful of your virtue—it is more valuable than money. Your body is a sacred temple where the Holy Spirit dwells. Your brother’s concern is legitimate. Apart from our faith and speaking practically, if you are to marry, your purity and reputation are important, too. The world judges girls harshly for improprieties—and even accidents. It’s wrong, but it is the way this sinful world works,” Yoo said.
“But he can’t quit school, sir. I promised Mother—” the sister said.
“He’s young. He can go to school at a later time,” Yoo countered, though he knew this was not likely.
At this, the brother perked up; he hadn’t expected this suggestion. He hated school—the Japanese teachers thought he was stupid and the kids taunted him daily for his clothes and accent; the brother planned on making as much money as possible so his sister could quit or work elsewhere and so he could send money to Jeju.
The young woman sobbed.
Yoo swallowed and said calmly, “You’re right, it’d be better if your brother could go to school. Even for a year or two so he could know how to read and write. There’s no better choice than education, of course; our country needs a new generation of educated people to lead us.”
The sister quieted down, thinking the pastor might take her side. It wasn’t that she wanted to continue seeing Yoshikawa, a silly old man who smelled of camphor, but she believed that her being here in Osaka had a noble purpose, that there was a respectable future for them if she worked and her brother went to school.
Isak listened to Yoo in admiration, observing that the senior pastor was an exceptional counselor, at once sympathetic and powerful.
“Yoshikawa-san doesn’t want anything but your company for now, but he may wish for other things later, and you’ll find yourself in his debt. You’ll feel the obligation. You may fear the loss of your job. Then it may be too late. You may think you’re using him, but is that who we are? Shall we exploit because we have been exploited, my dear child?”
Isak nodded in agreement, gratified by the pastor’s compassion and wisdom. He wouldn’t have known what to say.
“Isak, would you bless these children?” Yoo asked, and Isak began to pray for them.
The brother and sister left without argument and, no doubt, would return on Sunday morning to worship.
The sexton, who had disappeared, returned, bringing three large bowls of wheat noodles in a black bean sauce. The three men prayed before eating. They sat on the floor, their legs crossed, their hot lunches on top of the low dining table that Hu had made from abandoned crates. The room was chilly, and it didn’t help that there were no floor cushions. Isak was surprised at himself for noticing this; he’d always believed that he was not the kind of person who cared about such niceties, but it was uncomfortable sitting on a concrete floor.
“Eat, son. Hu is a fine cook. I’d go hungry without him,” Yoo said, and started to eat.
“Will the sister stop seeing him, do you think?” Hu asked Pastor Yoo.
“If the girl gets pregnant, Yoshikawa will throw her away, and then there would be no school for the brother anyway. The manager is just one of those romantic old fools who wants to be with a young girl and to feel like he’s in love. Soon he will need to lie with her, then eventually he will lose interest. Men and women are not very difficult to understand,” Yoo said. “She must stop seeing the manager, and the brother must get a job. She should change her workplace immediately. Together they will make enough money to live and to send to their parents.”
Isak was surprised by the pastor’s change in tone; he sounded cold, almost haughty.