Min Lee - Pachinko

Osaka, April 1965

In three years, Yumi had lost two pregnancies, and she found herself pregnant again. Against the advice of her husband, Mozasu, she’d worked through the previous pregnancies. In her quiet and deliberate way, Yumi’s boss, Totoyama-san, insisted that she work from home for this pregnancy. Yumi refused.

“Yumi-chan, there isn’t much work this season, and you need to rest,” Totoyama-san would say, and only occasionally, Yumi went home before it got too dark.

It was a late spring afternoon. Yumi had just completed an order of bow ties for hotel uniforms when she felt sharp pains along her lower abdomen. This time, Totoyama-san refused to hear a word of protest from Yumi. She sent for Mozasu, who picked up his wife, and he took her to a famous Japanese baby doctor in downtown Osaka, whom Totoyama-san had learned of, rather than to Yumi’s regular doctor in Ikaino.

“It’s elementary, Boku-san. You have very high blood pressure. Women like you often fight pregnancy,” the doctor said calmly.

He walked away from the examination table and returned to his desk. His office had been painted recently, and the faint smell of paint lingered. Except for a medical chart of a woman’s reproductive organs, everything in the office was white or stainless steel.

Yumi said nothing and thought about what he said. Could it be true? she wondered. Could she have somehow aborted her prior pregnancies by fighting them?

“I am less worried about the previous miscarriages. It is a sad thing, of course, but miscarriages reveal the wisdom of nature. It’s for the best that you don’t give birth when it isn’t good for your health. A miscarriage indicates that the woman can conceive, so it is not necessarily a fertility matter. But, as for this pregnancy, I do not see much danger to the child; there is danger only to the mother; so for the remainder of the pregnancy, you must remain in bed.”

“But I have to work,” Yumi said, looking terrified.

The doctor shook his head.

“Yumi-chan,” Mozasu said, “you have to listen to the doctor.”

“I can work less. Go home early, the way Totoyama-san wants me to.”

“Boku-san, it’s possible for the mother to die of preeclampsia. As your physician, I cannot allow you to work. My patients must listen to me, or else we cannot work together.”

The famous doctor looked away from her, pretending to glance at the few papers on his desk, confident that Yumi would remain his patient. She’d be a fool to choose otherwise. He jotted down some notes about her diet, advising her to avoid sweets or too much rice. She must not gain much weight, since she’d be retaining an enormous amount of water, and the baby would be too big to deliver vaginally.

“Please call me any time you do not feel comfortable. This is critical. If we have to deliver early, then we need to take precautions. Boku-san, there is no need to be stoic. That can come after you have the child. A woman has a right to be a little difficult before she has her first child.” The doctor smiled at both of them. “Make a fuss about your food cravings, or if you want extra pillows at night.”

Mozasu nodded, grateful for the doctor’s humor and inflexible tone. Any good doctor would need to match his wife’s stubbornness. Mozasu had never had reason to disagree with Yumi on anything important, but he wondered if he had not done so because he’d sensed that she would not have listened to him anyway.

When the couple returned home, Yumi lay down on the futon, her dark hair mussed and spread out across the narrow pillow. Mozasu was seated on the bed, cross-legged by her side, not knowing what else to say to his wife, who did not want a glass of water or anything to eat. With her, he felt a little dumb, because she was so stalwart and clever. Her goals had always seemed absurdly fantastic. Sometimes, he wondered how she allowed herself to dream for so much. He had never seen her cry or complain about anything difficult. He knew Yumi did not want to be at home by herself, unable to work or go to her English classes.

“Would you like your English books?” he asked.

“No,” she said, not looking at him. “You have to go back to work, nee ? I’ll be fine. You can go.”

“Can’t I get you something? Anything?”

“Why can’t we go to America? We could have a good life there.”

“You remember what the immigration lawyer said. It would be impossible almost.”

“The minister Maryman-san may be able to sponsor us.”

“Why would he do that? I’m not going to become a missionary and neither are you. You don’t even believe in God. Besides, what could I do in America that would make as much money as I do here? I’m not going back to school. I’m not a college boy; I’m your oaf. I count on you to think for the two of us, and soon, for the three of us.” He laughed, hoping she would smile.

“Yumi-chan, very soon I will open my own parlor in Yokohama, and if it is successful, I’ll make more money than twenty college graduates. Can you imagine? Then I can buy you anything you want. If it’s not successful, I can still work for Goro-san and make us a nice life.”

“I know how to make money.”

“Yes, I know. I know you are independent. But it would give me pleasure to buy something for you that you cannot get for yourself. And I promise you will like Yokohama; it’s an international city. There are lots of Americans there. As soon as you have the baby, and the doctor says it is okay, I will take you to visit. We can stay in a beautiful hotel, and you can see what it’s like. And it will be easier for you to study English there. We can find you a tutor, and you can go to school if you like,” Mozasu said. Although he tried not to think of Noa because it made him too sad, Mozasu could not help but think of his brother, who had quit Waseda and run away without explanation.

“The Japanese do not like us. How will our baby live here?” Yumi asked.

“Some Japanese like us very much. The baby will live here with us. She will live like us.” From the very first pregnancy, Mozasu had determined that the baby was a girl — a child just like Yumi.

Mozasu stroked her forehead. His dark hand looked enormous on her small, pale brow. For a very young woman, his wife could appear ancient in her sternness, able to push herself through the most difficult tasks, but when sad, she had the face of a disappointed child, lost and bereft. He loved her face, how it showed every trace of feeling; she could be silent, but she was incapable of hiding herself from others.

“What else can we do?” Mozasu asked, looking to her for the answer. “Besides go to America?” He had never understood what she thought she’d find there. Sometimes, he wondered if Noa had gone to the States — this magical place so many Koreans in Japan idealized. “What else, Yumi-chan, what else would you like to do?”

She shrugged. “I don’t want to stay in the house until the baby comes. I don’t like to be lazy.”

“You will never be lazy. It’s impossible.” He laughed. “When the baby comes, and it will be soon,” he said, “you will be chasing after her. You and she will be the fastest moving females in Osaka — never ever bound by the house.”

“Mozasu, I can feel her moving. I didn’t lose the baby.”

“Of course not. The doctor said the baby is fine. Baby-chan will look just like you. We’ll give her a wonderful home. You’re going to be a wonderful mother.”

She smiled, not believing him but wanting him to be right.

“I called my mother. She’ll come here tonight.”

Yumi crinkled her eyes, worried.

“You like her, nee ?”

“Yes,” Yumi said. It was true; Yumi admired her mother-in-law, yet they were strangers to one another. Sunja was not like most mothers of sons; she never said anything intrusive, and her reluctance to speak her mind had only increased after Noa disappeared. When Mozasu and Yumi had asked her and Mozasu’s grandmother to move into their house, Sunja had declined, saying that it would be better for the young couple to live without old women bothering them.