In the middle of June, you notice that you feel out of sorts like you have a constant stitch in your side and your favorite foods have a strange aftertaste to them. You count back the days to your last menses and realize with a start that you are late. A warmth blooms inside you, turning your cheeks pink.
You tell yourself you need to eat more, but you’re not capable of it. You eat sparingly, mostly rice and potatoes because you crave starch. You’re always thirsty. And you dream of cold tangerines from Jeju Island that you had once, at your wedding.
Your mother-in-law with her sharp eyes notices right away. She doesn’t say anything, not wanting to jinx it, but she starts putting more meat on your plate when she thinks no one is looking. Sister-in-law whispers congratulations and wants to give you advice. No, no, you say. It’s bad luck to assume the future. Give me advice when I need it, you tell her. Right now I need secrecy and quiet so the gods don’t get jealous.
Your husband is pleased. So pleased it surprises you. Has he wanted a child as badly as you? He has never expressed it. He puffs himself up, imagining himself a father of a boy who needs him to teach him everything, especially how to aim and hold his pee in a straight line. He laughs when he says this, and the sound is welcome. He has been even more withdrawn since Jinho went back to the city, but now he cheers up and even starts singing again. He has a lovely voice and knows all the old songs.
For nearly three months you live in a bubble of goodwill, not just from your family but even from nature. The late summerrain falls aplenty, making the pear and persimmon trees thick with fruit, the rice paddies alive with swaying heads, the fish in the pond jumping with health. You feel at one with nature, which, after all, is always growing and changing. Now you too are growing and changing. Sometimes you even feel the baby moving inside you, though you know it is impossible. Then you tell yourself it is just gas, but you also imagine it kicking its feet, punching with its little hands balled up into fists.
And then, on an ordinary day when you are walking out to weed the cucumber field, you feel a wetness pouring out of you. You lift up your skirt and see your thin cotton pants sticking to you with blood. You walk as quickly to the outhouse as you can with your legs clenched tight. You mutter, Please, please, please, please, even though you know how bad it is. In the outhouse you squat down but not over the hole. No, you squat in the dirt as the cramps begin, and now they feel like waves of pain you ride and try not to fall under. You break out in a sweat, all over your body, all at once, like a sponge squeezed out. After a while, a thick black clot of blood comes sliding out of you, shaped like a shrimp, and you almost faint. You lie down, you cry, your body heaving, you throw up, and then you ball up your pants. You throw it down the dark hole. Every time someone approaches the outhouse you shout at them to go away. You sit without moving, without thinking, until the earth grows dark and too loud with the sawing of cicadas.
At the point in the night when it is coldest, you hear your husband calling your name softly. He tells you he doesn’t expect you to respond, he just wants to let you know there is a bowl of bean sprout soup and rice just outside the door. Bean sprout soup is your favorite. He says, Don’t worry about anything. Everything will be fine. Then he hesitates for a long while before he leaves. You can tell when his breathing disappears.
Finally, you stand up straight because there is no otherchoice, use the long paddle to scatter ash over the blood, the vomit, the shrimplike clot and push all of that into the dark hole.
You feel a cavity in the center of your body. You feel like someone has shoved a hand inside and scraped you raw.
In early October, after the crops have been harvested and sold, the village celebrates Chusok. You are surprised by how big Suyon is, surprised she has even been let out of the house at all. Her belly looks as if she has swallowed the full moon. You are grateful no one outside the family knew you were ever pregnant.
She is laughing even now, although you know her in-laws have been shunning her, not believing that the child she carries belongs to their son. Nobody believes that, least of all Suyon’s husband, who has been promoted from the provincial office to one in Seoul. He could send for Suyon, but he does not. You hear Suyon wants to return to her own family and has even offered to leave her three little ones behind, but her in-laws are vengeful and refuse to let her go. They don’t believe the unborn child is one of theirs, but if it’s a boy they will keep it just the same. Who knows what will happen if Suyon gives birth to a girl.
You heard Suyon’s husband beat her before he left, so badly she was not seen outside for a month. It was your gossipy neighbor who told you this, who tried to stifle a smile from behind her hand but her eyes were dancing with glee. “Serves her right,” your neighbor said. “A slut like that needs to be beaten into submission. Who does she think she is? Preening over herself like she was a queen. She’s lucky her husband didn’t
