The Island of Sea Women(59)

“Clara, of course.”

“I’m not in a wheelchair, though. Don’t you think it’s . . .” She breaks off for a moment, trying to find the right Jeju word. Finally, she says, in English, “Weird?” Young-sook has heard her great-grandson use this word, so she recognizes it. “Weird,” Clara repeats before switching back to the Jeju dialect, “to be named for a character who’s disabled?”

Suddenly, a memory of hearing the story read aloud shears through Young-sook’s brain. She wants to go home, swallow some white diving powder, lie down, and close her eyes. “But Heidi helps Clara recover,” she manages at last. “The Alps. Goat milk. Grandfather.”

“You seem to know a lot about it,” Clara says.

Young-sook changes the subject. “I have to work.”

“Can I help?”

Young-sook surprises herself by nodding.

They pick their way over the rocks until they find a patch of sand. Young-sook straps her cushion to her behind and lowers herself until she’s sitting with her knees drawn up to her shoulders. The girl squats, and those shorts . . . Young-sook averts her gaze.

“You work pretty hard for a grandma,” Clara says.

Now it’s Young-sook’s turn to shrug.

Seeing she’s not going to get more of a response, Clara prompts, “So you travel . . .”

“A lot of haenyeo my age travel together. See those two women? They’re sisters. We’ve gone lots of places.”

“But you’re still working. Don’t you ever want to treat yourself? With something other than travel, I mean.”

“How do you know I don’t treat myself?” But the truth is the idea seems foreign to Young-sook. She worked to help her brothers and sister, support her father until his death, grow vegetables, and bring home seaweed and turban shells for her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren to eat. She fills the lengthening silence. “We have a saying: The granny who weaves on a loom as her work has five rolls of cloth in her old age, but the granny who dives all her life doesn’t even have proper underwear. I began with empty hands. I’ll never forget the memory of being hungry, but the saying is wrong. I was able to help my children go to school and buy them houses and fields.” She glances at the girl, who stares back at her, still wanting more. “I have plenty of underwear too!” This brings a smile to Clara’s face, and Young-sook goes on. “I couldn’t be more content than I am now.”

“There must be something you’ve wanted—”

Young-sook finds herself trying to answer. “I wish I could have had an education. If I’d learned more, then I could have helped my children more.” She glances over to Clara to see how the girl is taking the response, but her head is bent as she picks through seaweed dotted with bits of plastic. She’s fast, efficient in her movements. When she doesn’t come back with a follow-up question, Young-sook answers the one she wishes Clara had asked. “So maybe I did more than I’ll admit, because my children and grandchildren have accomplished a lot. My son owns a computer business in Seoul. I have a grandson who’s a chef in Los Angeles, and one of my granddaughters is a makeup artist—”

This brings forth a spiral of giggles.

“Why is that so funny?” Young-sook asks.

Clara leans forward as if to confide. “Someone’s tattooed your eyebrows and lips.”

That stings, because all haenyeo Young-sook’s age have done this. Her great-grandson called it, in English, a fad. Just as her dyed and permed hair is a fad.

“Hyng,” Young-sook bristles. “Even an old woman wants to look beautiful.”

The half-and-half girl giggles. The old woman knows what she’s thinking: Weird!

Young-sook’s patience evaporates. “Why are you here anyway?”

“Here?”

Young-sook spells it out. “On my beach.”

“My mother sent me. You’ve got to know that.”

“I can’t help her.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Won’t.”

“That’s what I told her.”

“Then why are you here?”

It’s a simple question, but the girl goes in a different direction. “Your kids and their families, who live in other places, do you see them often?”

“I already told you I’ve gone to America. My grandson has me come every other year—”

“To Los Angeles—”

“Yes, Los Angeles. And I go to the mainland to visit the family who live there. Then every spring, the whole family comes here. It’s been my privilege to introduce each of my grandchildren and great-grandchildren to the sea.”

“How deep can you go?”

“Now or back when I was the best haenyeo?”

“Now.”

Young-sook spreads her arms out wide. “Fifteen times this.”

“Would you ever take me in the water? I’m a good swimmer. Have I told you that yet? I’m on the swim team at my school . . .”





PART III


Fear


1947–1949





The Shadow of a Nightmare


March–August 1947