The Island of Sea Women(43)
A smattering of villagers joined the procession to the road, where Mi-ja’s belongings were packed in the trunk of her father-in-law’s car. We didn’t have a chance for last words. She got in the backseat. Mi-ja waved to all of us, and we waved back. As the car pulled away, Grandmother said, “That girl has left Hado as she arrived—the daughter of a collaborator.” She sounded strangely triumphant, as though she’d finally won. She headed home with her chin raised, but I stayed on the road, watching until all I could see were clouds of dust.
My chest felt empty. I could not imagine what lay ahead for Mi-ja, but then I couldn’t imagine my life either. She’d sleep with her husband tonight. Soon I’d be sleeping with Jun-bu. Mi-ja and I would not be able to share a single thought or emotion about any of these things. I’d been devastated by my mother’s death, but now, without Mi-ja, I felt completely alone.
* * *
My wedding was more traditional but still condensed. Eleven days after Mi-ja and I returned home and one day after she left Hado, my father slaughtered one of our pigs. The meat was roasted on skewers, and we shared the meal together with our friends and family. Jun-bu and his mother didn’t attend. They were writing the letter of declaration and celebrating with their own family and friends. Since we were both from the same part of Hado, people came and went between the two houses. My father drank too much, but so did a lot of other men.
On the second morning, I made offerings to my mother and other ancestors, knowing that Jun-bu, his mother, and sister were doing the same to their ancestors. Grandmother helped me put on the trousers, tunic, and jacket I’d made from the cloth Jun-bu had given me. Little Sister combed my hair and pinned it into a bun at the back of my neck. I pinched my cheeks to bring color into them, then we waited in the open space between our big and small houses for Jun-bu and his family to arrive.
In the distance, I heard the groom’s procession coming closer and then stop at the village tree where Shaman Kim and her helpers beat cymbals and drums. The racket quieted, and Do-saeng’s loud haenyeo voice rang out: “My son is smart. He works hard. He is of good health. He follows the rituals and trusts in the gifts of the sea.” I’d seen this ceremony many times, so I knew what came next. Shaman Kim would take a special rice cake and throw it against the tree. I held my breath, listening for the reaction from the crowd. If the cake stuck to the tree, then my marriage would be blessed. If it fell, I would still have to marry Jun-bu, but we would forever be unhappy. Cheers rose up, and the drums and cymbals blared. My marriage would be a lucky one.
The banging and clanging got louder until finally Jun-bu came through the gate, with the wedding box on his outstretched arms. He wore a tunic that reached midcalf over several layers of ritual undergarments, all of which were tied shut with a strip of cloth wrapped several times around his waist. A dog fur headdress hung low on his forehead and draped over his shoulders. A section of the headdress rose above the back of his head and was tied with a band of bright ribbon. Even dressed as he was in thick layers, anyone could tell he was thin, but his face was round and smooth. His black eyes were set below full brows that arched as if in question. His fingers were long and slim like spider legs, and his hands were startlingly pale—showing that he’d never worked in the sun, not even in his family’s plot.
Since Jun-bu’s father remained in Japan, Do-saeng fulfilled his duties by presenting me with a two-month-old pig. In a year, if it survived, it would have grown three times in value. I held the pig for a few minutes before handing it to someone to carry back to Jun-bu’s family home and place in their stone enclosure with the latrine and other pigs. More wedding gifts were exchanged: quilts bought on the mainland, homemade rice wine, as well as money in envelopes to help both sides pay for wedding expenses.
After Jun-bu signed his name to the letter of marriage, he handed me the pen. “Here,” he said. This was the first word he’d spoken to me. I blushed and looked away. Remembering who and what I was, he poured a little ink into his palm. I dipped my thumb in it, touching his skin. This was our first meeting of flesh since we were children playing in the shallows. Wordlessly, I made my mark on the paper. As we faced each other, I saw that he was not much taller than I was. He didn’t hesitate to search out and hold my eyes. He gave me a smile so small that I was sure I was the only one who could detect it, but that tender act reassured me.
The wedding procession now went back to Jun-bu’s family compound. People sat on mats in the courtyard between the big and little houses for the feast. Do-saeng and her friends had prepared many small dishes, including pickled turnip, salted fish, and kimchee. They presented a porridge of small birds stewed in Jeju’s five grains. Do-saeng had also killed one of her pigs for the banquet, so she served pork sausage with vinegar soy sauce and seasoned bean paste on the side, and grilled pork belly, which guests wrapped in lettuce leaves. Do-saeng and Jun-bu sat down to eat, and I was ushered into a small room in the main house that overlooked the granary. Yu-ri limped in followed by baby-divers from Do-saeng’s collective and a gaggle of little girls. The baby-divers had brought food, but custom required I give most of it to the children in a gesture that was said to promote a bride’s fertility. Yu-ri, who under normal circumstances would have been considered too old to partake in this tradition, ate her rice cake with relish.
Later, I was escorted back outside so Jun-bu and I could pose for a wedding photograph. Finally, the time came for the “big bows”—which I made to show my respect and obedience to my mother-in-law, to Yu-ri, to various uncles, aunts, and cousins in Jun-bu’s family, and then to all the elders in my family.