Silver Stallion (23 page)

“You are really impossible, Sis,” Yonghi said, chuckling. “What face do you think we have to save in this business? You have been a U. N. lady long enough to become brazen about these things. And you say you're afraid to see a doctor for syphilis treatment!”

The fat doctor and Yonghi seemed to be on intimate terms and exchanged bawdy jokes about the bed manners of some Yankees and Korean Army officers they knew in common while he was taking a sample of her pus and examining the slide with his microscope. Yonghi's presence made Ollye feel worse. Although she had exposed her naked body to many soldiers so far, it was still humiliating and exasperating to expose her smelly secret part to the gloating doctor who had a sly knowing look in his cynical eyes behind the thick glasses he wore. Ollye was not sure if some of his questions were really necessary for curing her: “How many soldiers have you slept with this week?” “Which soldier did you like best among them and why?” “Did you suck his thing?” and so on and on and on—while Sister Serpent was listening in the waiting room. Whenever she went to the clinic, there were one or two U.N. ladies from Texas Town in the waiting room. Even if there was nobody else in the clinic, Ollye felt like dying whenever she had to display her body to the doctor, who ordered her to undress on every visit. She came to believe that he enjoyed his work too much and that was the reason he had not hired a nurse.

The most distressing fact was that she had to keep entertaining the soldiers while undergoing the treatment. She wanted to rest until she was completely cured but she had to make as much money as possible quickly; the Texas Town U.N. ladies said the Allied Forces would retreat soon. Besides, Sister Serpent could see no reason at all why Ollye should care if every Yankee in the world got syphilis from her.

“You got it from
them,
after all, didn't you?” Yonghi said. “Do you think other girls stop working when they contract V.D.? No. They don't give a hoot. If you stop working every time you get V.D., you will starve to death. It'll take at least two months until you're completely cured, and the whole war may be over by the time you start working again! Keep working, but play it smart. When a steady customer comes to sleep with you, tell him you have the disease. Say T got bee dee' and he will understand. Some
bengkos
appreciate it a lot if you tell him you have the disease and stay with you all night anyway. If he wants a fuck with a condom on, let him do it. If he doesn't want to do it, give him a nice suck or other services so that he won't go to Texas Town for another girl. Remember—the steady customers are the best capital you have.”

There was something that tortured Ollye even more than the disease did. She had to drink every night. It made her sick to her stomach at night and even in the morning, day after day. If she sneaked out of the drinking party and puked everything she had inside her, beer or whiskey and sausages and carrots and everything, she felt her guts were being scraped out with sharp razors. After vomiting like that for a while, squatting in the dark rice paddies behind the house, shedding tears of pain and anger, she would wash her face with a handful of snow and shamble back to the party for some more drinking.

To please all sorts of perverted customers was not easy either. She was expected to satisfy every demand the
bengkos
made; the soldiers came and paid her, as Sister Serpent once said, because they wanted to have her fulfill their most impossible whims. “You still have a lot to learn, Sis,” Yonghi said. “How can a whore
choose
her customers? Some
bengkos
are beasts who want to try the weirdest things with their women. If you happen to have that kind of a customer, think this way—at least this is an easier way to make a living than toiling all day long under the scorching sun on a farm owned by some fat neighbor. I told you, you'll get used to everything in time, didn't I?” But Ollye suspected she would never get used to the requests made by some soldiers. There was a
bengko
who liked to put various strange things inside her. Another
bengko
enjoyed watching Yonghi and Ollye perform sexual acts with each other. There was a soldier who ordered her to sit upright with her legs wide open, took lots of close-up photographs of her crotch, collected a sample of her dark pubic hair in an envelope and went back to Omaha without any actual sex. One
bengko,
whom she had never seen before nor since, asked her to do various humiliating things for two hours, constantly swearing, and then did not pay her anything, saying he had left his wallet back at the camp. After this soldier, she lay in her room for a long while, naked, blankly looking up at the ceiling with an odd feeling that she was falling into a bottomless dark well. When she told Yonghi about this incident the next morning, Sister Serpent laughed and said, “Tough luck.” That was all.

But all this might be over soon. Texas Town was stirring because of the rumor that a total retreat of the U.N. Forces had begun. The departure of the Yankee soldiers would mean the conclusion of a phase for Ollye. She could not see what her future would be like after this. As the time for the retreat neared, Sister Serpent asked every Yankee she knew when and where Camp Omaha would move but the
bengkos
themselves did not seem to know anything definite. Yonghi suspected General Megado's Army was losing badly to the Chinese and considered moving to safety as far south as Pusan. She hoped to open a big club like Bichuku somewhere on Haeundae Beach and asked Ollye more than once if she would go with her. Sundok had already agreed to work there if Sister Serpent opened a club, but Ollye was not sure if she wanted to work for her any more.

On many occasions Ollye had resented Yonghi. As the days passed she began to wonder why Yonghi took half of the money Ollye earned by entertaining
bengkos,
when she was providing so many services to Sister Serpent such as cooking, washing her clothes and disposing of the Yankee goods on the black market. But what would happen to her and her children if the World Army moved away? When the
bengkos
and Sister Serpent along with the Texas Town girls were gone, what actions would Old Hwang and the villagers take to avenge themselves? They would surely do something to release their pent-up animosity against her. What would she do then?

Ollye briefly considered going south with Sister Serpent as an escape. She saw nothing but despair in her future if she travelled with Mansik and Nanhi across the country following the horde of
bengkos
and U.N. ladies. What weighed most on her mind was Mansik. And Nanhi, too. Whatever she might choose to do from now on should not bring any more suffering to her children.

Nanhi chortled, chasing after the yo-yo rolling toward the C-rations basket. Gazing at her daughter, Ollye swore to herself that she would never go anywhere with her children to continue prostitution. She had saved some money in her secret jar buried in the corner of her kitchen, though Yonghi had taken so much from her earnings. Perhaps she could start a new life somewhere with that money. Then Mansik and Nanhi would no longer be ashamed of her. Where was Mansik, she wondered. She had not seen him all morning.

“I wonder where he's gone,” Ollye said to herself, looking for the lipstick in the drawer of her mirror stand.

“Were you talking to me?” asked Yonghi, closing the door before changing her underwear.

“I wonder where Mansik has gone. I haven't seen him all morning. Do you know where he is?”

“He went out when you were still sleeping.”

“Where did he say he was going?”

“He didn't tell me. He doesn't speak to me much, you know. And I didn't ask him either.”

“I wonder where he's gone,” she mumbled again.

“You look worried. Anything wrong?”

“Don't you think he goes out too often these days? I wonder why he goes out so much.”

“Maybe he's going out to play with his friends.”

“He doesn't have any friends.”

“Oh.”

“The village kids stopped playing with him ever since—you know.”

“You told me so.”

“So he must have gone out for some other reason.”

“Now I remember that Mansik looked rather grumpy when he left home.”

“He's always grumpy lately.”

Ollye gazed at herself in the mirror for a while and then began to paint her lips.

SEVEN

M
ansik had been hiding among the stacked sheaves of straw about a hundred yards away from Dragon Lady Club; after dark his mind was never at peace unless he kept his vigil over the house himself. Since the agreement had been made with Chandol, Mansik found himself unable to sleep comfortably at home, troubled by the vivid image of the boy slinking around the Club in the dark. He knew he was partly responsible for what was going on behind the Club every night, for connivance was another face of conspiracy. He had to do something, though within limits, to mend matters. He had to do at least this much—keep surveillance over the Club to make sure that Chandol was faithful to his bargain.

Dressed in a thick army field jacket and a woolen cap with large furred side flaps and heavy Yankee boots, Mansik crouched in the nest he had made, a blanket draped across his shoulders. A drop of cold snot dangled at his nose-tip. He wriggled his toes and massaged his knees to warm himself. Still wriggling his toes, he looked around the Club, the field, the village and at the brittle stars in the icy sky.

The muffled sound of laughter and voices occasionally trickled out of the tightly-closed windows of Dragon Lady Club. “Hey you goddamn! No touch there!” Giggling. A beer bottle clinking against a glass. The music from the radio. Imugi started singing,
“Arirang arirang arario.”
The
bengkos
awkwardly repeated the line. “Wondopul, wondopul,” Yonghi said, “you song namba wang.”

Mansik felt drowsy from the cold; he had been crouching in the straw nest for twenty minutes. Gradually his vision blurred and he could not resist his overwhelming sleepiness. In the sky the moon grew brighter and brighter and brighter until it turned to a blazing summer sun and the warm sun rays poured over the green field and a white origami paper boat drifted down the stream toward the river, bobbing, bobbing, bobbing, and somebody threshed bean pods with a long bamboo flail somewhere,
whack-thud-whack-thud-whack-thud,
and twelve farmers were building a bonfire in front of the rice mill although it was broad daylight and the five boys sat around in a circle under the old ginkgo tree and each boy told ancient tales in turn about ghouls and foxes governed by evil spirits and a woman spread red peppers on the thatched roof to dry them in the autumn sun and then suddenly the whole world was covered with snow and Mansik was walking along a mountain path and he missed a step and fell down into the
bengko
dump pit and he woke up, startled.

Pulling himself together, Mansik looked over at the Club. The music from the radio had stopped but the drinking party was still going on. He rubbed his gloved hands together and exercised his shoulders under the blanket. He took a more comfortable position in the nest to continue his surveillance.

This was his third night on lookout. On the first night neither Chandol nor Kijun showed up. He searched around the Club twice during the night but found no evidence of the boys' presence among the frozen grains of vomited rice and the poked holes in the snow where the soldiers had urinated.

Last night, Chandol came. He had to pass by Mansik's hiding place because the straw stack was located next to the shortcut across the rice paddies from the log bridge to the Club. Chandol was startled to see Mansik scramble up to his feet among the sheaves of straw.

“Oh, it's you,” Chandol said. “You scared me out of my wits, rising out of nowhere like that. What on earth are you doing here anyway?”

Mansik was at a loss momentarily. He had nothing to say but, “You'd better not forget what you promised me.”

Chandol slouched over to the rear window of the Club. While he was peeping in Imugi's room, clinging to the wall like a giant bat, Mansik nervously watched him, hoping Imugi and her soldier would quickly finish whatever they were doing inside so that Chandol would leave soon. After what seemed to be an eternity for Mansik, Chandol was at last sated and came back to Mansik. “I'm going home,” he said. “See you tomorrow at the headquarters. And thanks.”

After he had disappeared beyond the log bridge, Mansik picked up the rolled blanket and returned to the Chestnut House, shivering like an abandoned dog.

Tonight Chandol had not yet showed up. Mansik had no other choice but to wait until all the activities in the Club were over and the
bengkos
returned to Omaha.

Dozing despite himself, faintly, in his hazy consciousness, Mansik heard somebody, a
bengko,
burst into laughter. His calves were numb and he waited and waited and he was trudging somewhere across an open field pure white with snow and he had no idea where he was going or where he was now but the river was flowing to his left and he was now sauntering along a sandy shore and the summer sun rays were pouring over the clear blue water but the white snow had drifted ankle deep on the riverbank and he could not see the Three Peaks or anything in that direction because of the whirling snowflakes as big as his fists and two boats with yellow cotton sails sailed up and down the river, up and down, up and down, and he just kept trudging and when he reached a rice paddy dike he trudged on and on along the dike that kept extending by itself in the snowstorm and he crossed a narrow stream and when he reached a vast open field without any house or human trace the snow suddenly stopped and he saw vegetable patches and rice paddies and trees basking in the warm spring sun and he wondered why no human beings lived there. …

He had no idea how long he had been asleep, but he woke up when his hips felt the cold of the frozen ground through the straw. He saw the moon hanging low in the western sky. The white field looked barren. Nothing in sight moved. The laughing noise had stopped in the Club and the night was silent and empty. It must be very late now, he thought. Tucking the blanket around his waist, he glanced over at the Club.

Somebody was there.

Suddenly alerted, Mansik looked more closely. A boy was pressing himself against the wall in the shadow under the eaves, peeping into Imugi's room. That bastard Chandol is here again, Mansik thought flushing with a sudden burst of anger, but he tried to cool himself down. As long as he could not do anything to remove him, it was best to simply ignore Chandol's presence. Anger would not help. Let him enjoy himself, he thought.

The light went out in Imugi's room. Mansik noticed the peeping boy hesitate for a moment by the dark window. Then the boy moved on his tiptoes over to the other room where Mansik's mother's light was still on. Chandol peeped in Mother's room through a chink in the window. That son of a bitch! Mansik sprang to his feet. Chandol was well aware that Mansik was out here and he still went over to the other window to watch his mother. His words were good apparently for only one night! I will kill that son of a bitch, Mansik screamed in his heart, picking up the broken handle of a sickle which had been abandoned by the straw stack. He ran to the boy, gripping the stick firmly in his clenched fist.

Mansik stopped short. The boy who was peeping in Mother's room was not Chandol. It was Toad.

Kijun flinched, startled, when Mansik poked his side with the stick. He sidled to the wall, staring at Mansik. Mansik gestured for Jun to go over to the pile of straw. Kijun faltered for a moment, glancing at the stick in Mansik's hand, probably wondering if he should run away. Then he headed for the straw stack, giving up. Mansik followed him close behind.

“Stop,” Mansik said.

The two boys faced each other before the straw pile. Mansik glared at Jun without any word. He could not see Jun's expression clearly in the dark but strangely Toad did not seem to be scared.

“Hasn't Chandol told you something?” Mansik asked.

“Told me what?” Jun said nonchalantly. “Oh, that. Sure, he told me not to come here.”

“Then you must be prepared for what I'm going to do to you.”

“Well, what exactly is it that you're going to do to me?” Jun said, stepping back to stay out of Mansik's reach in case of a sudden unexpected blow. “Are you going to beat me?”

Mansik poked Jun in the stomach with his stick. “What do you think I'll use this for?” he said.

“You'd better not beat me,” said Jun, somewhat frightened but nonetheless challenging.

Mansik raised the stick to hit him.

“Wait, Mansik. Listen to me before you start something you'll regret.”

“There's nothing I want to hear from you.”

Toad said quickly, “I'll tell your mother if you hit me.”

“Tell my mother what?”

“About the deal you made with Chandol. You're showing him what's going on in the Imugi House at night, aren't you? I'll tell your mother everything about that if you beat me.”

Mansik halted. Jun was not retreating any more. It seemed Toad had anticipated and been fully prepared for this situation. He was sure of himself.

“As long as you're showing the rooms to Chandol, why don't you show them to me as well?” said Jun, stealing a sidelong glance at Mansik's troubled expression. “I think I will come back to watch the room tomorrow night whether you like it or not. If you refuse to let me, I'll tell everybody about the deal you made with Chandol. Your mother will hear about it, and Rich Hwang will hear about it, and everybody in the village will hear about it. What do you think will happen to you then?”

Mansik slashed Jun's shoulder with his stick. Jun staggered, gasping.

“All right, Toad, tell them! Tell them if you want to. You tell anybody about it and I will break every little bone in your fat body.”

Dodging from the lashing stick, Kijun ran away toward the stream. Mansik chased him, beating him, swearing at him, hating him, hating Chandol, hating the world.

When Chandol came to the Imugi House in the early evening of the next day, Mansik was waiting for him, pacing among the scattered sheaves of straw. “On guard duty again?” Chandol joked.

Blocking his way, Mansik said nothing.

“What's the matter, Mansik? You got something to say to me?”

“Yes.”

“Well, what is it?”

“Toad was here. Last night.”

“He was?” said Chandol. He sounded a little offended but not very much surprised.

“You promised me you'd stop him from coming here. But he came.”

“I told him not to.”

“I know you did. Toad told me. What went wrong?”

Chandol said nothing for a while, annoyed. He glanced over at the lights of Texas Town as if he was looking for an easy answer there to justify his awkward situation. But instead of giving an answer, he asked, “So what did you do?” Somehow Mansik received the impression Chandol knew precisely what had happened between him and Jun last night. “Did you have a fight?”

“Fight?” Mansik scoffed. “I don't fight a fat, slow boy like him. I just beat him up.” 1 see.

“Toad seems to know everything about our agreement.”

“I guess he does.”

“How did he find it out?”

“I told him.”

“You told him?”

“Sure. I had to. He demanded an explanation when I told him to stop coming to the Imugi House.” Then he added brusquely, “Anything wrong about that?”

“That bastard Toad dared to threaten me,” Mansik said. “He warned me he'd tell people about the deal I made with you unless I let him watch the room too.”

Chandol said nothing, reflecting.

“We must stop him from telling it to anybody. What should we do?”

“I'll leave the matter to you,” Chandol said in a casual voice as if this was none of his business.

This time Mansik could not think of anything to say.

Chandol said, “What did you tell him, anyway, when he made that proposition to you?”

“I didn't tell him much of anything,” Mansik said irritably. “I just beat him up. I told you.”

“Yes. You did.”

“I think he meant it when he said he would come here again to watch the room whether I like it or not.”

“What are you going to do about it? Are you going to beat him up again?”

“Of course. I'll beat him up every time I catch him snooping around the Club. Until he gives up. And I want you to talk to him once more. Do something to stop him.”

Chandol said quickly. “Maybe you'd better let him watch the room.”

“What?” Mansik said, disbelieving.

“Maybe you'd better let him watch the room,” Chandol repeated.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, I'm serious, and I want you to give some thought to it. I believe that's the best and easiest way to settle this whole matter. What difference does it make if you show the room to one more boy, anyway? There won't be any more trouble if you let him watch Imugi's room.”

“That filthy scum peeped in my mother's room too last night,” Mansik said.

“I will make him never watch your mother again. That much I can do for sure. And he knows that you're coming out here every night to keep an eye on us. He will be careful from now on.”