The Island of Sea Women(44)
I was now officially a wife.
I returned to my special room. I tried to soak in the most vital meanings of good fortune, happiness, luck, and fertility. Outside, people continued to drink, eat, and share good cheer. I opened the cupboard, pulled out two sleeping mats, laid them side by side, and covered them with the quilts I’d bought for my marriage. Hours later, Jun-bu entered.
“I’ve known you my entire life,” he said. “If I had to be married to a village girl, I’m glad it was you.” Even to his ears this must not have sounded like much of a compliment. “We always had fun together in the water. I hope our marriage nights are as happy.”
I’d never been shy about taking off my clothes in the bulteok or on the boat during leaving-home water-work, and I tried not to show embarrassment now. And, unlike men on the mainland or in the mid-mountain areas of Jeju, Jun-bu had seen women—including his mother and sister—mostly naked in their diving clothes. Beyond that, having helped take care of his sister since the accident, he had to know everything about a woman’s body. As a result, I was the one who had to overcome his modesty to peel off his clothes. His flesh rose in goosebumps at my touch. It turned out we both knew what to do, though. A man is a thinker and weak during the day, but he’s always in charge on the sleeping mat. A woman may risk her life to provide for her family, but on the sleeping mat she must do all she can to help her husband become the father of a son.
When we were done and I was dabbing at the bloody mucus that ran down my thighs, my husband said softly, “We will get better at this. I promise you.”
To be honest, I wasn’t sure what he meant.
* * *
The next morning, I woke long before dawn and went to the latrine to do my business. I climbed the stairs, entered the stone enclosure, dropped my pants, and squatted, wary of what centipedes, spiders, or even snakes might live in this unfamiliar place. The stench coming up from the pit stung my eyes, and the family’s pigs snuffled below me. I would get used to this new latrine, as all brides must. Once I was done, I came back down the ladder and checked over the stone wall. A small area had been cordoned off to protect my piglet. He was wide awake and eager for food. In time, his day-to-day purpose would be to eat what came out of the family’s behinds. I would then gather what came out of my pig and carry it to the fields to be used as fertilizer. Many years from now, my pig would be slaughtered for a wedding, funeral, or ancestor worship. It was a constant circle, with the pigs relying on us and us relying on them. I gave my piglet some of the food I hadn’t eaten or given away last night, said a few cooing words, and then went to search for dung for the fire and to haul water. I hoped that in the coming days I’d be allowed to split my time, helping my natal family and Do-saeng’s family finish their sweet potato harvests. I’d prove myself to be a good wife and daughter-in-law, starting now.
Later, after everyone had dressed and eaten breakfast, Jun-bu, his mother, sister, and I made one last procession back to my family home. My sister made a meal, which we all shared. Afterward, Do-saeng and Yu-ri returned to their home, but Jun-bu and I spent the night with my family. This last tradition—unique to Jeju—told the world that a haenyeo would always be tied to her birth family. I went to sleep early, but my husband, father, and brother stayed up late, playing cards and talking.
* * *
“You will be diving with our collective again,” Do-saeng said on my seventh morning of married life. “Even though we still have some dry-field work, we need to eat, and the tides are right.”
“This makes me happy,” I said. “It’s wonderful to be back in Hado, where I can be close to my family—”
“And help pay your father’s drinking debts.”
I sighed. Yes, this was so, but I went on with my original thought. “And I can help my sister now that she’s a baby-diver.”
Do-saeng frowned. “I’m sure your mother would have preferred that I be responsible for her. After all, not everyone has good fortune when they dive with you.”
Her words hit me like a slap to my face. Was this how it would always be, with Do-saeng reminding me of my family’s shortcomings and blaming me for what had happened to Yu-ri?
“Of course you’re responsible for Little Sister, as you are for all the haenyeo in your collective,” I said. “She’s lucky to have you to guide her. I just meant—”
“Will you be wearing your black water clothes this month?”
The further from the latrine and the house of the mother-in-law, the better. I found it especially hard to live within Do-saeng’s fence. Grandmother had told me I would get used to my situation, but if I was humiliated all the time, I wasn’t so sure. On the current matter, Jun-bu was doing his best to plant a baby, and I was working hard to make sure it found a warm home in my body. Jun-bu had been right that we would get better at our night activities. Sometimes he even had to put a hand over my mouth to keep the sounds of my pleasure from drifting over to the big house. Still, it had only been a week.
“You will know when I know,” I answered at last.
So, I worked even harder to help Jun-bu plant his seed before he returned to Japan. I liked how he made me feel between my legs, but the practicalities of marriage were, to my mind, not so great. My husband heated water for me to warm myself when I came home from the sea, but mostly he read books, wrote in notebooks, or joined other men by the village tree to discuss philosophy and politics. The only real ways his life had changed were that he prepared dinner for me to eat in our little house and had me next to him at night. As for me, I dove with Do-saeng’s collective, worked in the fields, and cared for Yu-ri—brushing her hair, cleaning her behind when she had accidents, washing those dirty clothes, making sure she didn’t harm herself by getting too close to the fire in the kitchen, looking for her in the olles if she got loose from her tether when her mother and I were in the sea. For the most part, Yu-ri was good humored, but she could be querulous at times. It wasn’t like dealing with an angry or unhappy child, because she was a full-grown woman—strong, obstinate, a typical haenyeo, even though she would never dive again. My heart went out to her, and I would happily take care of her for the rest of her life, but sometimes it all felt overwhelming. That’s when I longed for Mi-ja the most. I missed running out in the morning to meet her. I missed talking, laughing, and diving with her.