The end of august, p.25
The End of August, page 25
Her sister pressed her pointer finger into the rouge, then drew circles on both of her cheeks, filling them in completely to avoid unevenness.
“You know, pregnancy dreams, taemong, aren’t just something the mother has; the father often has them too. Ask Woo-cheol if he’s had any. If there’s a bear in the dream, it’s a boy, and if you see a snake, like a pit viper, it’s a girl.”
“I’ll ask him.”
In-hye slipped her feet, clad in white socks with the toe separated, into her bridal shoes, and her sister pulled up the cloth from the mirror.
“You look so pretty, take a look . . . but . . . oh, I feel sad.”
“You’ll have to come over.”
“But I won’t be able to come over all the time. Husbands don’t like it when their in-laws show up constantly.”
“Then I’ll come over here.”
“You won’t have the time. You’re gonna be an eomoni in October, you know.”
“That word . . . it still doesn’t feel real.”
“How’s the morning sickness? Not too bad?”
“It’s quite bad, actually.”
“Then just pretend to eat, all right?”
“But just looking at food makes me feel queasy. . . .”
The sliding door opened, and her older sisters, the second and third to get married, walked in.
“Your groom is here.”
“Aigo.”
Her sisters washed the floor, set up the folding screen with peonies on it, set two candles and three cups of water on a tray, then hurriedly left the room.
“I’m going to go give them a hand with everything. You just have a seat and relax.”
Once her sister was out of the room, In-hye approached the mirror and took a look at herself.
I look so beautiful. Thump-thump thump-thump thump-thump thump-thump, her heart raced, as In-hye gazed in fascination at herself. It’s not just because I’m wearing these beautiful bridal clothes. Happiness is giving me beauty. I get to be with him. To share a life with him. He’ll be the father of my child, and I’ll be a mother. Oh, won’t that be something!
In-hye rested her hands on her belly. Lee Woo-cheol, Chee In-hye, these two names will open up to become connected as one now. In-hye spoke to her unnamed, unborn child.
Today’s your appa and omma’s jeonanrye. Once wild geese mate, they will not part as long as they live. They’re migratory birds full of faithfulness, obedience, loyalty, and love. Today, Appa is going to give Omma a wooden goose and pledge his eternal love.
The mother of the bride and her four sisters and female relatives were busy preparing for the chin-young rye, when the groom would meet the bride.
In the south-facing part of the garden the daeryesang offering table had been set up, and behind it another folding screen with peonies stood.
The offering table held many lucky talismans. On the bridegroom’s side, to the east, was a vase filled up to the brim with small beans, and on the western end of the table, the bride’s side, was one filled up halfway with sesame seeds; each vase had various plants in it: gardenia, spindle tree, bamboo. There were two turtle cakes made from garaetteok, a long, pounded rice cake, each with a peeled chestnut or a jujube for its head, and jujubes drizzled with honey and covered in sesame seeds, bundles of blue and red thread, two candlesticks, and a bowl filled with rice. On the table there were also a pair of chickens wrapped up in a red cloth, cluck-cluck, cock-a-ooh-cluck-cluck, sometimes moving their necks, looking around.
Because birds leave their droppings everywhere and because of the legend that a bird’s shadow is unlucky, they had set up a canopy over the daeryesang.
Her sister ran to the house two doors down where the groom’s party was waiting and told them that the preparations for the chin-young rye were done; the hamjinabi, the groom’s attendant, picked up the box of engagement gifts, filled with jewels, silk, and ornaments, and opened the gate to the bride’s house.
Chae-sik, the bride’s father, came out to meet him and said, with a bow, “Thank you. Indeed, that looks quite hard to carry.”
But the hamjinabi replied, “Please, hold for us at least one dance,” and would not hand over the box.
Wan-son, the bride’s mother, came carrying a tray with rice wine, steamed beef, pears, apples, and dried persimmons on it, at which the hamjinabi finally handed over the box, saying, “Take care of the groom, please,” before sitting down at the back of the garden and starting to drink.
Chae-sik put the box on a tray, faced north, and bowed four times, then went into the room where the bride was waiting.
“In-hye, you must be a good bride,” Chae-sik said to his youngest daughter.
“I will,” she said, bowing.
“Hama!” announced Chong-hu halbi, who was serving in the role of holjaebi, the old man who has studied Chinese classics and administers the chin-young rye, reading out the first point in the order of ceremony.
In-hye shut her eyes and imagined Woo-cheol, wearing a samo hat and tanryong robe, his stiff sash tied like a flying crane going through the gate in his black wooden shoes, being showered with millet and ashes by her relatives and the elders to be purified of evil spirits.
“Juinyeongseoumunoe.”
In-hye caressed her lower abdomen as she would a baby’s back. Right now, my dad and yours are exchanging greetings.
“Sangchiseok.”
Your daddy’s walking up to the daeryesang now.
“Gwejwa.”
He’s kneeling now.
“Sijajibanijong.”
He’s taking the wooden geese wrapped in the red cloth.
“Jeonan.”
He’s turning the wooden goose’s head to the left and passing it to my mother, and my mother is spreading her chima and taking the goose. She’s wearing a peach-colored silk chima jeogori. She’s forty-four, but she still looks so young and pretty. You’ll see, when she holds you.
“Chianuji.”
My mother’s putting the wooden goose on the daeryesang.
“Bokbogyeopyeongsin.”
Your daddy’s standing up.
“Sotoejaebae.”
He’s taking two steps back and bowing twice. Your mama and daddy practiced this over and over again by the riverside. We prayed together so that your daddy wouldn’t get it wrong. Now the jeonanrye’s over, and it’s almost your mama’s turn.
“Haengchinyeongnye.”
Your daddy’s standing at the eastern side of the daeryesang, facing east. Your mama’s sisters and parents’ friends are teasing him, insulting him, making fun of him, trying to make your daddy laugh. But he can’t. If he does laugh, his firstborn will be a girl.
Even though it’s a little late for that now. Are you a boy? Or are you a girl? Are you laughing right now in your mama’s belly? In-hye was so filled with affection for the child inside her womb that she gasped, breathing hard. She wanted to stroke her baby’s cheek. She wanted to breastfeed it, now. A baby’s face hazily expanded in her mind, and when its red lips, chafed, began to open, arong arong, the strength in her knees went. Her flower crown fell to the bed where she and Woo-cheol would spend their first night together as a married couple. In-hye leaned over the chamber pot lined with chaff that her sisters had prepared for them and threw up in it. Aigu, himdeureo! The tears overflowing from her eyes dissolved the rouge on her cheeks.
“Mobongyeochulmun,” the holjaebi read aloud from the order of proceedings, but In-hye couldn’t hear.
Her bridal gown clung heavily to her as if it were drenched by an evening rain. Is that sweat? Is this the sound of sweat? It’s the first time I’ve ever heard sweat. In-hye threw up again, looking at her brown vomit. All the sesame rice porridge she’d eaten that morning had come right back up.
I’m trying so hard to eat for this baby, but aigo.
The door opened, and in came her sisters, wearing the blue chima outfit of members of her bridal party.
“Are you all right?”
“I just . . .” In-hye panted.
“Oh, you’ve thrown up. Get her some water. Oh, and tell Chong-hu halbi she needs a minute.”
In-gyeong left the room.
“I’m sorry.”
“What’s there to apologize for? You’re not feeling your best.”
“What do I do? My face is sopping wet.”
“Don’t you worry about a thing. We’ll get you all fixed up.”
In-gyeong came back in with a basin of water. “Here, I’ve got you some cold water. Now, drink it right down.”
In-hye rinsed her mouth out and spit the water into the chamber pot, then took one sip to wet her throat.
“C’mon, drink some more.”
“If I drink too much I’ll need to go to the toilet in the middle of the ceremony. I’m pregnant; I have to go all the time.”
Her sisters fixed In-hye’s face and clothes.
“Gwaenchana?”
“Gwaenchana.”
“Don’t push yourself. We’re with you, so just relax. Right, let’s go.”
In-hye hid her hands inside her big sleeves and then covered her face with her hands, and her two sisters helped her stand up. Once they were out of the bedroom, the floor of the hallway was covered with a white cotton cloth, and In-hye quietly tread along the cloth in her bridal shoes until she reached the garden where the daeryesang was set up. Sighs and exclamations of “Ah, how beautiful,” and “What a lovely couple,” escaped from the mouths of the family and neighbors who had been waiting impatiently for the arrival of the bride.
“Seodongbuseo.”
The groom was to the east; the bride stood at the western side. They faced each other now, separated by the daeryesang.
“Haenggwanyeollye.”
The bridal party brought a small water basin before them.
“Seogwanunam bugwanubuk.”
The groom turned southward; the bride turned to the north.
“Gwansusesu.”
The groom removed his gloves, touched his fingers to the water, then flicked it off onto the paper underneath. The bride had only to stoop and pretend to wash her hands, while her attendants flicked water for her three times.
“Gakjeongwi.”
They turned to face each other again.
“Buseonjaebae.”
The bride, her arms supported by her attendants, bowed twice to the groom.
“Seodabilbae.”
The groom knelt and bowed gently toward the bride.
“Buseonjaebae.”
The groom stood; the bride prayed twice.
“Seoudapbae.”
The groom knelt once again and returned the prayer.
“Gakgwejwa.”
Through the action of both kneeling at the same time, the gyobaerye, their joint vow to live out one hundred years together, was completed, and the hapgeullye, the drinking of rice wine from two cups made from the same gourd, now began.
“Jinsang.”
The attendants placed the small trays bearing the gourd cups, carafe, fried delicacies, and dried persimmons in front of the couple. The groom’s tray had chestnuts, symbolizing his ancestors and origins, while the bride’s tray had jujubes, representing wealth, nobility, and bearing many sons.
“Sijachimju.”
The attendants poured rice wine into the two cups.
“Chojakjeju.”
The groom drank the first cupful down; the attendants brought the cup up to the bride’s mouth.
“Jaejakjaejeju.”
The attendants, groom, and bride repeated the same actions.
“Uchimju.”
They filled the cups for the third time.
“Samjakhwanjak.”
The attendants wrapped the bride’s cup in blue silk and pretended to make the bride drink from it.
“Seojipjak.”
They wrapped the cup that the bride had pretended to drink from in red silk and passed it to the groom, who drank it.
“Geoeum.”
They picked up a piece of fried food and pretended to bring it to their lips.
“Yepilcheolsang.”
The four attendants cleared away the trays, and the hapgeullye was complete.
“Yepilgaebok.”
The groom and bride stood where they were while the four attendants took off their ceremonial robes for them. The groom was now in yellow-gold paji and jeogori, and the bride was clad in her red chima and green jeogori.
The master of ceremonies left and the bride and groom exchanged bashful looks, and their friends threw confetti and cheered for them.
The women moved the daeryesang back slightly and rearranged the place of ceremony, then laid the gifts of dressers, sewing boxes, metal basins, picture frames, pots, spoons, and chopsticks from their friends on the table.
Kim Chin-bom, one of Woo-cheol’s classmates, unfurled a rolled letter expressing congratulations.
“Woo-cheol, how lucky you are to have a bride so lovely and happy that she lights up this space. You have my never-ending best wishes that you may have many children. But so that no one says you love your bride so much that you’ve let running fall to the wayside, please keep at it. Chukahamnida!”
He finished reading the letter and placed it on top of the gifts, and all their friends turned toward the couple and bowed, then the groom went to his prescribed seat in the largest room of the house, the groom’s special guests entered the sarangbang, the drawing room, and the bride waited in the smaller room for the feast to be over.
The relatives and neighbors flooded back into the garden and the women piled noodles, rice cakes, stir-fried beef, thin-sliced meats, Spanish mackerel, amberjack, and jeon fritters on to trays for the attendees who were stopping by on their way to pay a visit elsewhere. Ki-jeong, the hamjinabi, who had been drinking since the start of the ceremony, started singing loudly, and the boisterous cacophony of voices became a low stir, the jumbled laughter swallowed up by the refrain.
Kwaejina chingching nane
Kwaejina chingching nane
Mister Star shining in the sky
Kwaejina chingching nane
Let’s go let’s go, all of us, let’s go
Kwaejina chingching nane
Across the river out to the white road
Kwaejina chingching nane
Many gravel paths by the river in this town
Kwaejina chingching nane
Many stories in each life
Kwaejina chingching nane
Put the loom up in the sky
Kwaejina chingching nane
Catch you a goldfish and make of it a shuttle
Kwaejina chingching nane
On the fifteenth of December
Kwaejina chingching nane
Chuseok in August is long gone
Kwaejina chingching nane
The date may pass but the feeling remains
Kwaejina chingching nane
The light, filtered from the evening sun, bathed the garden in spellbound colors. The groom’s guests had headed home while there was still sun, so all those left in the garden were people who had not been invited. Neither the women who had come over in their normal clothes in the middle of their washing and cleaning, the white-bearded old men arguing over whether the newlyweds would have a boy or a girl first, the flies swarming around the half-nibbled and dried-out pears, nor the small cabbage white butterflies sipping on the nectar of the blossoming dandelions had been invited. The March wind fluttered one, two cherry blossom petals into the midst of the interminable chatter, trying to draw their attention to the fact that the spring sun was setting.
The groom stepped down into the garden and spoke. “Everyone, I would like to thank you very much for coming to celebrate our marriage today—jeongmal gomapseumnida! Are you not feeling chilly? Please, help yourself to something warm to eat,” he said.
One man took his eyes off the woman he’d been talking to and said, “Aigu, wish there was a good bride out there for me.”
Another, his mouth so full of food his cheeks stuck out, gulped down a dried persimmon and simply nodded; yet another spat out a jujube seed and said, “May you have many exceptional sons,” as he got up from his woven mat.
In-hye was sitting in the bedroom she and Woo-cheol were to share that night, near to the stovepipe for the underfloor heating, when Woo-cheol came in.
“Gwaenchana?” He looked at the woman who was now his wife with eyes blurred by alcohol.
“Gwaenchanayo.” Her voice was flat, like water flowing in a broad river.
“Are you tired?”
“A bit.”
Someone cleared their throat, and the door opened; In-yeong carried in a tray laden with jeon, stew, and the rice wine from earlier. In-hye silently picked up the carafe, and Woo-cheol held the cup in his hand.
In-yeong turned to In-hye, still looking at Woo-cheol out of the corner of her eye.
“Soon they’ll come by to peek in, so don’t say anything you wouldn’t want others hearing. All right? Chun-ho and Yu-won are here, so let my new brother-in-law take off your clothes and then lay down, the both of you.”
In-yeong left the room.
“When did you tell her?”
“I didn’t tell her anything. She knew.”
“Oh. When’s your morning sickness going to end?”
“Hmm . . . Well, hopefully it’ll end soon? I threw up all the noodles I ate; it’s awful, truly awful. I barely want to eat anything at all.”
“Please, you need to eat. You’re eating for two, you know.”
