The Island of Sea Women(115)

“I stopped visiting it after she came last year,” I pointed out. “It’s scheduled to be demolished.”

“Ah, but how do you know that information? It’s because you make it your business to know everything about her.”

I veered toward the subject that had been eating at me since the last time I saw Mi-ja. “She said that Jun-bu, Yu-ri, and Sung-soo spoke only when she appeared. She said their messages were for her. She said they’d forgiven her. But how can any of that be?”

Shaman Kim’s eyes narrowed. “Are you questioning my abilities to let the dead speak through me?”

“I’m not doubting you or what they said. I just need to know if they were speaking to her or to me.”

“Maybe they were speaking to you and Mi-ja. Have you considered that?”

“But—”

“You waited a long time for them to come to you, but did you actually hear what they said? You should be grateful. They’ve found forgiveness. Why can’t you?”

“But how can I forgive Mi-ja after what happened to them? I live with that every day.”

“We all see that in you, and we all feel sorry for you, but everyone on the island was hurt in those terrible years. You more than some but also less than others. They did this to me. They did that to me. A woman who thinks that way will never overcome her anger. You are not being punished for your anger. You’re being punished by your anger.”

I listened, but Shaman Kim wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know, because of course I was being punished by my anger. I lived with that every day as well.

I left my offerings and, dissatisfied, walked to Gu-sun’s house. It was still early, but she had already built a fire and heated hot water. We sat together, drinking tea. I felt I could be direct, so I got straight to the point.

“How did you forgive Gu-ja for Wan-soon’s death?”

“What else could I do?” she asked me right back. “Gu-ja is my sister. We share our mother’s and father’s blood. Gu-ja may have been at fault, but maybe it was Wan-soon’s fate to be carried away. Maybe it was even her choice. I’ve heard the rumors.”

“Not that it matters, but I don’t think they were true.”

“Do you say that because Yo-chan is now your son-in-law?”

“Hardly. I say it because I believed what my daughters told me.”

“Min-lee I might trust,” Gu-sun said. “But Joon-lee? She married Yo-chan.”

All these years, I’d never had a sense of Gu-sun’s feelings about Yo-chan. She’d kept them very well hidden.

I surprised myself by saying, “I still believe my daughters. Whatever happened had nothing to do with Yo-chan.”

A faraway look came to her eyes. “I guess you know I was full with child before I was married.”

“People gossiped.”

“Before my husband agreed to marry me, I wanted to die, so I understand if that’s what happened to Wan-soon.”

“Maybe it was just an accident. That day the current was too strong for a baby-diver—”

“Maybe. But if she was pregnant, I wish she would have come to me. I would have told her that once her father and I were married and I gave him our first son, we were both happy. I would have wished that for her. But I understand it’s my destiny never to know what happened to Wan-soon, or why.”

The sadness of that lay in the silence between us.

Finally, I said, “About Gu-ja . . .”

“I will tell you this,” she said. “There are days when I think my sister has suffered more than I have. She will never forgive herself. How can I not love her for that?”

“Mi-ja blames herself too,” I admitted, but I didn’t go into all the ways she’d tried to help Joon-lee. “But that’s not enough. I must know why. How could she have turned on me that way? How could she have been willing to let all of us die? I begged her to take my children, and she did nothing.”

“Then accept that, and go and meet your granddaughter. She is the baby of your most beloved child. Once you hold her, you will love her. You know that as a halmang.”

I let out a long breath. She was right, but I just couldn’t do it.

“I can’t see that baby, let alone touch her,” I confessed. “If I looked at her, all I would see is the grandchild of a collaborator and perpetrator.”

Gu-sun’s face filled with compassion as she stared at me. It pained me to know I couldn’t change and I couldn’t forgive, but I had to hold on to my anger and bitterness as a way of honoring those I’d lost.



* * *



About six months later, the mailman delivered the first letter from America, unsealed, with the stamp torn off.

“It looks like Joon-lee’s handwriting,” Min-lee said when she brought it to me.

“It has to be.” I shrugged, pretending I didn’t care. “Who else would be writing to us from there?”

Min-lee pulled the letter from the envelope. I peered over her shoulder when she unfolded it. Most of the written characters had been blacked out.

“The censors,” Min-lee said, stating the obvious.

“Is there anything you can read?”

“Let’s see. ‘Dear Mother and Sister . . .’?” My daughter’s finger traced each row, allowing me to follow along. “?‘We’ve been here for . . . Yo-chan’s job is . . . The air is brown . . . The food is greasy . . . The sea is right here, but they get nothing from it . . . No sea urchin . . . No top shell . . . Their abalone is fished out . . .’?” Then several lines were completely crossed out. The next paragraph began “?‘I went to the doctor and . . . Wish it was slow . . . Fast . . . Time . . . This foreign land is not home . . .’?” Min-lee stopped reading to say, “It’s like they only want negative things about America to come through.”