Min Lee - Pachinko

At the sight of him, it made sense that the maid hadn’t turned him away. He was formed like a young pine, straight and elegant, and he was unusually handsome: slender smiling eyes, a strong nose, and long neck. The man had a pale, unlined brow, and he looked nothing like the grizzled lodgers who yelled for their food or teased the maids for being unmarried. The young man wore a Western-style suit and a thick winter coat. The imported leather shoes, leather suitcase, and trilby were all out of place in the small entryway. From the looks of him, the man had enough money for a room downtown in a larger inn for merchants or tradespeople. Nearly all the inns of Busan where Koreans could stay were full, but for good money, it was possible to get something. He could have passed for a rich Japanese in the way he dressed. The maid stared at the gentleman with her mouth slightly agape, hoping he would be allowed to stay.

Yangjin bowed, not knowing what to say to him. No doubt, the brother had sent a letter, but she did not know how to read. Once every few months, she asked the schoolmaster in town to read her mail, but she hadn’t done so this winter for lack of time.

“ Ajumoni ”—he bowed—“I hope I didn’t wake you. It was dark when I got off the ferry. I didn’t know about your husband until today. I am sorry to hear the sad news. I am Baek Isak. I come from Pyongyang. My brother Baek Yoseb stayed here many years ago.”

His northern accent was mild, and his speech was learned.

“I’d hoped to stay here for a few weeks before going to Osaka.”

Yangjin looked down at her bare feet. The guestroom was already full, and a man like this would expect his own sleeping quarters. At this time of night, to find a boatman to take him back to the mainland would be hard.

Isak withdrew a white handkerchief from his trousers and covered his mouth to cough.

“My brother was here almost ten years ago. I wonder if you remember him. He had admired your husband very much.”

Yangjin nodded. The older Baek stood out in her memory because he wasn’t a fisherman or someone who worked in the market. His first name was Yoseb; he’d been named after a person in the Bible. His parents were Christians and founders of a church up north.

“But your brother — that gentleman didn’t look like you very much. He was short, with round metal spectacles. He was headed to Japan; he stayed for several weeks before going.”

“Yes, yes.” Isak’s face brightened. He hadn’t seen Yoseb in over a decade. “He lives in Osaka with his wife. He’s the one who wrote to your husband. He insisted that I stay here. He wrote about your stewed codfish. ‘Better than home,’ he said.”

Yangjin smiled. How could she not?

“Brother said your husband worked very hard.” Isak didn’t bring up the club foot or the cleft palate, though of course, Yoseb had mentioned these things in his letters. Isak had been curious to meet this man who’d overcome such difficulties.

“Have you had dinner?” Yangjin asked.

“I’m all right. Thank you.”

“We could get you something to eat.”

“Do you think I could rest here? I realize you were not expecting me, but I’ve been traveling now for two days.”

“We don’t have an empty room, sir. This is not a big place, you see.…”

Isak sighed, then smiled at the widow. This was his burden, not hers, and he did not want her to feel bad. He looked about for his suitcase. It was near the door.

“Of course. Then I should return to Busan to find a place to stay. Before I head back, would you know of a boardinghouse around here that might have a spare room for me?” He straightened his posture, not wanting to appear discouraged.

“There’s nothing around here, and we don’t have an empty room,” Yangjin said. If she put him with the others, he might be upset about the smell of the men. No amount of washing could remove the fish odors from their clothes.

Isak closed his eyes and nodded. He turned to leave.

“There’s some extra space where all the lodgers sleep. There’s only one room, you see. Three guests sleep during the day and three at night, depending on their work schedule. There’s just enough space for an extra man, but it wouldn’t be comfortable. You could look in if you like.”

“It will be fine,” Isak said, relieved. “I would be very grateful to you. I can pay you for the month.”

“It might be more crowded than you are used to. There weren’t as many men here when your brother stayed with us. It was not so busy then. I don’t know if—”

“No, no. I would just like a corner to lie down.”

“It’s late, and the wind is very strong tonight.” Yangjin felt embarrassed suddenly by the condition of her boardinghouse, when she had never felt this way before. If he wanted to leave the next morning, she would give him back his money, she thought.

She told him the monthly rate that had to be paid up front. If he left before the end of the month, she’d return the remainder. She charged him twenty-three yen, the same as a fisherman. Isak counted out the yen and handed them to her with both hands.

The maid put down his bag in front of the room and went to fetch a clean bedroll from the storage cabinet. He would need hot water from the kitchen to wash. The servant girl lowered her eyes but she was curious about him.

Yangjin went with the servant girl to make up the pallet, and Isak watched them quietly. Afterward, the maid brought him a water basin filled with warm water and a clean towel. The boys from Daegu slept side by side neatly, and the widower slept with his arms raised over his head. Isak’s pallet was parallel to the widower’s.

In the morning, the men would fuss a little about having to share the space with another lodger, but it wasn’t as if Yangjin could have turned him out.

At dawn, the Chung brothers returned from their boat. Right away, Fatso noticed the new lodger, who remained asleep in the room.

He grinned at Yangjin. “I’m glad to see that a hardworking lady like you is so successful. The news of your great cooking has reached the rich. Next, you’ll be taking in Japanese guests! I hope you charged him triple what we poor fellows pay.”

Sunja shook her head at him, but he didn’t notice. Fatso fingered the necktie hanging by Isak’s suit.

“So is this what yangban wear around their necks to look important? Looks like a noose. I’ve never seen such a thing up close! Waaaah —smooth!” The youngest brother rubbed the tie against his whiskers. “Maybe this is silk. A real silk noose!” He laughed out loud, but Isak did not stir.

“Fatso-ya, don’t touch that,” said Gombo sternly. The eldest brother’s face was covered in pockmarks, and when he was angry, his pitted skin turned red. Ever since their father had died, he had watched over his two brothers by himself.

Fatso let go of the tie and looked sheepish. He hated upsetting Gombo. The brothers bathed, ate, then all three fell asleep. The new guest continued to sleep beside them, his slumber punctuated now and then by a muffled cough.

Yangjin went to the kitchen to tell the maids to look out for the new lodger in case he woke up. They were to have a hot meal ready for him. Sunja was crouched in the corner scrubbing sweet potatoes, not looking up when her mother entered the room or when she left it. For the past week, they had been speaking only when necessary. The servant girls couldn’t figure out what had happened to make Sunja so quiet.

In the late afternoon, the Chung brothers woke up, ate again, and went to the village to buy tobacco before getting on the boat. The evening lodgers had not yet returned from work, so the house was still for a couple of hours. The sea wind seeped through the porous walls and around the window edges, causing a considerable draft in the short hallway connecting the rooms.