Min Lee - Pachinko

“I was told that you’re a very good student.”

“Last year, there wasn’t much school.”

Back home, school had been canceled often. Unlike the other boys, Noa had disliked the bayonet practices and pointless air raid drills. Although he had not wanted to be separated from Uncle Yoseb, the farm was better than being in the city, because he felt safe here. At the farm, he never heard any planes, and there were far fewer bomb shelter drills. Meals were abundant and delicious. They ate eggs every day and drank fresh milk. He slept deeply and woke up feeling well.

“When the war ends, you will return to school, I suppose. Would you like that?” Hansu asked.

Noa nodded.

Sunja wondered how they would manage then. After the war, she had planned on going back to Yeongdo, but her mother said there was nothing left. The government had assessed taxes on the boardinghouse owner, and the owner had sold the building to a Japanese family. The servant girls had taken factory jobs in Manchuria, and there had been no news of them. When Hansu had located Yangjin, she had been working as a housekeeper for a Japanese merchant in Busan, sleeping in the storeroom.

Hansu pulled out two comic books from his jacket pocket.

“Here.”

Noa accepted them with both hands, the way his mother had taught him. The writing was in Korean.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Do you read Korean?”

“No, sir.”

“You can learn,” Hansu said.

“Aunt Kyunghee can help us read this,” Mozasu said. “Uncle Yoseb isn’t here, but when we see him next time, we can surprise him.”

“You boys should know how to read Korean. One day, you may return,” Hansu said.

“Yes, sir,” Noa said. He imagined that Korea would be a peaceful place where he would be normal. His father had told him that Pyongyang, where he’d grown up, was a beautiful city, and Yeongdo, his mother’s hometown, was a serene island with abundant fish in blue-green waters.

“Where are you from, sir?” Noa asked.

“Jeju. It isn’t far from Busan, where your mother is from. It’s a volcanic island. They have oranges there. The people from Jeju are descendants of gods.” He winked. “I will take you there one day.”

“I don’t want to live in Korea,” Mozasu cried. “I want to stay here at the farm.”

Sunja patted Mozasu’s back.

“ Umma , we should live on the farm forever. Uncle Yoseb will come here soon, right?” Mozasu asked.

Kyunghee walked in then, having finished her work. Mozasu ran to her with the comic books.

“Can you read this for me?”

Mozasu led her to the pile of folded futons, which they used as chairs.

Kyunghee nodded.

“Noa, come. I’ll read these to you boys.”

Noa bowed quickly to Hansu and joined Kyunghee and Mozasu. Yangjin followed Noa, leaving Sunja at the table. When Sunja started to get up, Hansu gestured for her to sit down.

“Stay.” Hansu looked serious. “Stay for a little while. I want to know how you are.”

“I’m well. Thank you.” Her voice was shaky. “Thank you for bringing my mother here,” Sunja said. There was more she needed to say, but it was hard.

“You asked for news of her, and I thought it would be better for her to come here. It’s very bad in Japan, but it’s worse in Korea right now. When the war ends, it may get better, but it’ll be worse before it stabilizes.”

“What do you mean?”

“When the Americans win, we don’t know what the Japanese will do. They’ll pull out of Korea, but who’ll be in charge of Korea? What will happen to all those Koreans who supported the Japanese? There will be confusion. There will be more bloodshed. You don’t want to be around it. You don’t want your sons around it.”

“What will you do?” she asked.

He looked directly at her.

“I’ll take care of myself and my people. You think I’d trust my life to a bunch of politicians? The people in charge don’t know anything. And the ones who do don’t care.”

Sunja thought about this. Perhaps that was right, but why should she trust him? She pushed herself off the ground with her hands, but Hansu shook his head.

“Is it so difficult to talk with me? Please sit.”

Sunja sat down.

“I have to take care of my sons. You should understand that.”

The boys were staring intently at the comic book pages. Kyunghee was reading the lines with feeling, and even Yangjin, who was unable to read, found herself laughing with the children at the silly things the characters were saying. They were absorbed in the comic book, and their faces seemed softer somehow, like they were calm.

“I’ll help you,” Hansu said. “You don’t have to worry about money or—”

“You’re helping us now because I have no choice. When the war ends, I’ll work to take care of them. I’m working now to earn our keep—”

“When the war ends, I can find you a home and give you money to take care of the boys. The boys should be going to school, not pushing cow dung around. Your mother and sister-in-law can stay, too. I can get your brother-in-law a good job.”

“I can’t explain you to my family,” Sunja said. She felt like she was lying all the time. What was he thinking? she wondered. Surely, he could not desire her anymore. She was a twenty-nine-year-old widow with two young children to feed and educate. Sunja was not old, but she could not imagine that any man would want her now. If she had never been beautiful before, she was not even appealing now. She was a plain woman with a country face, her skin spotted and wrinkled by the sun. Her body was strong and stout, larger than when she had been a girl. In her life, she’d been desired by two men; it was difficult to imagine having that again. Sometimes, she felt like a serviceable farm animal who’d one day be useless. Before that day arrived, it was important to make sure her boys would be okay when she was gone.

“You have children, don’t you?”

“Three daughters.”

“And what would your daughters say about me? About us?” she whispered.

“My family has nothing to do with you.”

“I understand.” Sunja swallowed, her mouth dry. “I’m grateful for this opportunity — to work and to be safe. But when the war ends, I’ll get another job and support the boys and my mother. I’ll work until I cannot work anymore.”

Sunja got up from the floor and brushed the hay off her work pants.

Unable to breathe normally, she turned from him and stared at the oxen — their enormous dark eyes, full of eternal suffering. Had the others noticed them talking? They seemed to be focused on the comic book. Sunja covered her left hand with her right; despite her washing, her cuticles were still brown from the dirt.

Again, Hansu was not wrong. The war did end, faster than he had predicted, but even he could not have imagined the final bombs. A bunker had shielded Yoseb from the worst, but when he finally climbed out to the street, a burning wall from a nearby wooden shed struck his right side, engulfing him in orange-and-blue flames. Someone he knew from the factory floor put out the fire, and Hansu’s men found him at a pathetic hospital in Nagasaki at last.

It was a starry evening, breathlessly quiet after an extended season of cicadas, when Hansu brought Yoseb to Tamaguchi’s farm on an American military truck. Mozasu was the first to spot the truck, and the small and quick boy darted to the pig stalls to retrieve the bamboo spears. The family stood by the half-open barn door, observing the truck as it came closer.

“Here,” Mozasu said, handing out the rattling, hollow spears to his mother, grandmother, brother, and aunt, keeping back two. Kim Changho was having his bath. He whispered to his brother, “You have to get ajeossi from the bath. Give him his weapon.” The child gave Noa a spear for Kim and kept one for himself. Mozasu clutched his spear tightly, preparing for attack. Noa’s holey hand-me-down sweater hung loosely over Mozasu’s flour-sack work pants. He was tall for a six-year-old.