From Wonso Pond by Kang Kyong-ae Page A

whore.”
    Okchom spun around and walked away. Sinch’ol had deliberately asked the question in order to solicit precisely this response.
    â€œWell, why not? Doesn’t she count as your mother, too?”
    â€œ Ara ma! Well, I never!” cried Okchom in Japanese, walking away with her mother’s hand clasped in her own. “Hurry up and get Father . . . We’ll be waiting for you.”
    Now Sinch’ol was hardly able to contain his excitement. Everything had gone far more smoothly than he ever could have imagined. He waited for his heartbeat to return to its regular rhythm, then slowly set off behind Okchom.
    Okchom was just short of the entrance to the village when she looked back his way. She made some sort of gesture with her hands and then disappeared behind the buckwheat fields. Sinch’ol sighed with relief. Now for the hard part! he thought, setting off at a clip, his eyes fixed on Wonso Pond.
    The closer he got to the grove of trees beside the pond, the shorter of breath he grew. He was afraid of the worst—that Okchom might come up from behind him—and he kept looking behind him.
    He heard the sound of trickling water and stopped for a moment. Then, weaving his way through the willows, he quietly made his way
into the grove. The long, draping branches felt cool as they grazed his shoulders. He hid in the cover of the trees, looking around this way and that to see if anyone else was there.
    He could hear the sound of the laundry club, pounding wet clothes. It made the quiet grove of trees even more tranquil. His view of the laundry club was obscured by the willows, but the mere sound of someone pounding was enough to convince him that Sonbi was there. He gradually made his way toward her. Her right cheek appeared like a circle before him. Sinch’ol froze in place and looked once more over his shoulder. But what would he say to Sonbi if he went up to her? Whenever he came up with something to say to her, on second thought, it seemed he had nothing. Oh, what should I do? Again, he wavered. His feet felt like lead, his heart was racing.
    He’d often gone with friends to cafés and the like. This was the first time he’d ever had trouble approaching a woman.
    The pounding suddenly stopped and he could hear the sound of splashing water—she was probably rinsing out the clothes now. He leaned up against the trunk of a willow tree, thinking, Oh, just go back! What the hell are you doing? What use is there in talking to her anyway? He wanted to turn away, but here he was, still pressed against this tree. He shut his eyes tightly. He thought of Okchom waiting for him at the melon hut. But Okchom’s image gradually faded away, and now it was Sonbi’s face that he saw so clearly. “What’s gotten into me? How long have I known this girl?” With this on his lips, he spun around. He stared down at some quartz shimmering beneath the flowing water. Father still thinks I’m restoring my health at MonggÅ­mp’o Beach, he suddenly remembered, jerking his head in the other direction. He grabbed a willow branch hanging down in front of him and snapped it in half. He stripped it of its leaves with a single swipe that left his hand stinging. Scattering the leaves into the flowing water, he slowly walked back to the village.
    As he approached the melon hut, he stopped. In order to get rid of Okchom, he’d told her he was going to pick up her father, he remembered. Okchom climbed down from the melon hut.
    â€œYou’re alone?”
    He hesitated.
    â€œWell, you see . . . on the way over there I . . . I changed my mind, and decided to come by myself.”

    His face went a little red. Okchom flashed her eyes brightly.
    â€œWell, come on. Let’s climb up inside. I picked out the ripest melons.”

25
    Sinch’ol had only taken a few steps towards the hut before he noticed the melons, each the size of a baby’s head, growing beneath