Min Lee - Pachinko

A child like Noa, a child who worked so hard, deserved to fulfill his wish to study and to become someone. Throughout his life, Noa’s teachers had said that he was an ideal student, far smarter than anyone else; “A credit to your country,” they’d said, and this had pleased her husband, Isak, so much, because he knew the Japanese thought Koreans were worth so little, fit only for the dirty, dangerous, and demeaning tasks. Isak had said that Noa would help the Korean people by his excellence of character and workmanship, and that no one would be able to look down on him. Isak had encouraged the boy to know everything as well as he could, and Noa, a good son, had tried his best to be the very best. Isak had loved the boy so much. Sunja could not say anything, and her mouth was dry. All she could think of was how good Isak had been to give Noa a name and to give them his protection.

“How could this be?” Noa shook his head. “How could you betray him?”

Sunja knew he meant Isak, and she tried to explain.

“I met him before I met your father. I didn’t know Koh Hansu was married. I was a girl, and I believed that he would marry me. But he couldn’t, because he was already married. When I was pregnant with you, your father, Isak, stayed at our inn; he married me even when he knew. Baek Isak wanted you as his son. Blood doesn’t matter. Can you understand that? When you are young, you can make serious mistakes. You can trust the wrong people, but I am so grateful to have you as my son and so grateful to your father for marrying me—”

“No.” He looked at her with disdain. “This kind of mistake I cannot understand. Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Who else knows?” His voice grew colder.

“I didn’t think it was necessary to tell anyone. Listen to me, Noa, the man who chose to be your father is Baek—”

Noa acted like he didn’t even hear her.

“Then Uncle Yoseb and Aunt Kyunghee — do they know?” His mind couldn’t accept that no one had told him this.

“We’ve never discussed it.”

“And Mozasu? He is Baek Isak’s son? He doesn’t look like me.”

Sunja nodded. Noa called his father Baek Isak; he’d never done that before.

“My half brother then—”

“I met Koh Hansu before your father. I’ve always been faithful to Baek Isak — my only husband. Koh Hansu found us when your father was in prison. He was worried that we didn’t have money.”

A part of her had always feared Noa finding out, but even against such a possibility, she had trusted that Noa would understand, because he was so smart and had always been such an easy child — the one who never made her worry. But the young man who stood in front of her was like cold metal, and he looked at her as if he could not remember who she was to him.

Noa stopped moving and took a deep breath, then exhaled, because he felt so dizzy.

“That’s why he’s always helping us — why he found that farm for us during the war. Why he brought us things.”

“He was trying to make sure that you were okay. He wanted to help you. It had nothing to do with me. I was someone he knew a long time ago.”

“You know that he’s a yakuza? Is that right?”

“No. No, I do not know that. I do not know what he does. He used to be a wholesale fish broker who lived in Osaka when I knew him. He bought fish in Korea for Japanese companies. He was a businessman. He owns a construction company and restaurants, I think. I don’t know what else he does. I hardly ever speak to him. You know that—”

“Yakuza are the filthiest people in Japan. They are thugs; they are common criminals. They frighten shopkeepers; they sell drugs; they control prostitution; and they hurt innocent people. All the worst Koreans are members of these gangs. I took money for my education from a yakuza, and you thought this was acceptable? I will never be able to wash this dirt from my name. You can’t be very bright,” he said. “How can you make something clean from something dirty? And now, you have made me dirty,” Noa said quietly, as if he was learning this as he was saying it to her. “All my life, I have had Japanese telling me that my blood is Korean — that Koreans are angry, violent, cunning, and deceitful criminals. All my life, I had to endure this. I tried to be as honest and humble as Baek Isak was; I never raised my voice. But this blood, my blood is Korean, and now I learn that my blood is yakuza blood. I can never change this, no matter what I do. It would have been better if I were never born. How could you have ruined my life? How could you be so imprudent? A foolish mother and a criminal father. I am cursed.”

Sunja looked at him with shock. If he had been a little boy, she might have told him to hush, to mind his manners, never to dishonor your parents, but she couldn’t say that now. How could she defend gangsters? There were organized criminals everywhere, she supposed, and she knew that they did bad things, but she knew that many of the Koreans had to work for the gangs because there were no other jobs for them. The government and good companies wouldn’t hire Koreans, even educated ones. All these men had to work, and there were many of them who lived in their neighborhood who were far kinder and more respectful than the men who didn’t work at all. She couldn’t say this to her son, however, because Noa was someone who had studied, labored, and tried to lift himself out of their street, and he thought all the men who hadn’t done so weren’t very bright, either. He would not understand. Her son could not feel compassion for those who did not try.

“Noa,” Sunja said, “forgive me. Umma is sorry. I just wanted you to go to school. I know how much you wanted that. I know how hard you—”

“You. You took my life away. I am no longer myself,” he said, pointing his finger at her. He turned around and walked back to the train.

Osaka, April 1962

They didn’t receive letters often, and when one arrived, the family gathered around Yoseb’s bedside to hear it read. He was lying on his back, his head propped up by a buckwheat-filled pillow. Of course, Sunja recognized her son’s handwriting on the envelope. Though illiterate, she was able to make out her name and signs in both Japanese and Korean. Normally, Kyunghee read the letters out loud, asking Yoseb for help when there were difficult characters she could not recognize. Yoseb’s vision had worsened; he was unable to read his beloved newspapers, so Kyunghee read them to him. If Kyunghee described the image of the character, Yoseb could sometimes guess it from the context. Kyunghee read in her clear, mild-toned voice. Sunja’s face was white with fear, and Yangjin stared at the thin sheet of paper, wondering what her grandson had to say. Yoseb’s eyes were closed, but he was awake.

Umma,

I have withdrawn from Waseda. I have moved out of the apartment. I am in a new city and have found a job.

This may be very difficult for you to understand, but I ask that you not look for me. I have thought about this very deeply. This is the best way for me to live with myself and to maintain my integrity. I want to start a new life, and to do that there is no other way.

I have had to pay some bills in starting out, and as soon as I earn some more money, I will send you something as often as I can. I will not neglect my duties. Also, I will earn enough money to repay Koh Hansu. Please make sure that he never reaches me. I do not wish to know him.

I send regards to you, Uncle Yoseb, Aunt Kyunghee, Grandmother, and Mozasu. I am sorry I did not get a chance to say good-bye properly, but I will not be returning. Please do not worry about me. This cannot be helped.