4 #2
The smell of coffee wafted in from the fellowship hall. Small children chased each other, fueled by the platters of cookies and apple juice, and parents let their toddlers wander, feeling secure in the basement of the vast church.
Mido remained by her mother’s side while her brothers talked to their cousins.
The four boys had been close when the Kohs lived in Seoul, and over the years, there had been little opportunity for them to see each other.
They still read manwha and wanted to go to a comic book store like old times after lunch, but there wasn’t enough room in their weekend schedules.
Seungman and Jiman had tutors coming over, and Bo and DH had mountains of homework to finish back home.
The two brothers-in-law conversed politely.
They got along well enough, though Sonya’s husband, Yong-gil, didn’t talk much to people he hadn’t grown up with, and he didn’t have any interest in John, who could be more quiet than most. Streams of expensively dressed women paid homage to Sonya.
Chairman Mun spoke to Pastor Kim about the church’s latest fundraising campaign for the homeless men who gathered around Seoul Station.
Soon after lunch, the family would disperse to their separate lives.
“Koh Mido!”
Yun ran to Mido, her eyes open wide in surprise.
Neither Helen nor Sonya had expected anyone to call out to Mido.
Sonya broke away from the women from her fellowship group to inspect the pretty girl talking to her shy niece. The two girls were smiling at each other, and the sisters were mystified and delighted.
Sonya approached the girl with the French-braided hair and American sneakers.
“Are you a school friend of Mido’s?”
“Hello.” Yun bowed. “We are in the same homeroom. We’re friends at school,” she said, bowing slightly again.
Mido grinned, smiling with her whole face, and Helen felt a rush of relief.
“Oh, how nice,” Sonya said, turning to Helen, who was always worried about her daughter. “Now you are friends at church, too.” She touched the top of Yun’s glossy head, then patted her shoulder.
Yun’s mother, Nari, had been observing her daughter, and she drew closer to the cluster of women gathered around the famed elder Sonya Cho, who was married to Chairman Mun’s nephew Yong-gil.
Everyone at church knew the prominent family by sight, but Nari had never spoken to Sonya or anyone connected to them.
Nari felt suddenly self-conscious about her clothing.
Her red bouclé dress with the dramatic black sequin flowers along the hem had seemed stylish that morning but now seemed garish in contrast to the tailored gray and beige suits of the Cho sisters.
Sonya was reputed to be a kind and gracious person, but at church, she was always surrounded by a wall of the most beautiful and popular women—mostly Ewha graduates with well-off husbands who worked for conglomerates and had also gone to elite universities.
Nari bowed to the sisters and placed her hands on her daughter’s shoulders to direct her away from the group.
“Yun-ah, we should go. The driver is waiting for us outside,” Nari said quietly, feeling awkward.
Her shoulder-length hair fell in loose, permed waves.
She was over a decade younger than the sisters and had not gone to college, having barely finished high school.
Nari brushed her hair away from her face with her hands.
“Umma, can Mido come to our house for lunch? We can do homework together. Can you tell Mido’s mother about the hagwon?”
The Cho sisters smiled expectantly at the girl’s mother, curious about which hagwon.
“Oh, Eagle Academy. It’s a small one—some Korean Americans founded it about five or six years ago. Are you looking for a hagwon for Mido? I don’t know if they’re taking new students. There’s a long waitlist.”
“Oh? Eagle?” Sonya turned ever so slightly to create a barrier between her and the rest of the fellowship women, who were now talking among themselves. They had no idea who Nari was. “I’ve heard they have a good English program.”
“Yes,” Nari said. “Everything is taught in English, and they also have a math teacher from MIT who Yun loves. Henry Teacher.” Nari found herself wanting the sisters to like her. “Have you heard of MIT? I mean, of course you have—” Nari still had her hand on her daughter’s shoulder.
Helen didn’t know what to do. She had never needed to get tutors for her children, but all three were overwhelmed by the volume and rate of learning at their new schools.
“Mido, we’re supposed to have lunch at your aunt’s house today, and then homework.”
Nari understood that her child’s invitation was being rejected, and she pulled Yun back.
“Yun, let’s go.” She bowed slightly, smiled, then turned to walk away.
“Goodbye, then,” Yun said, bowing. She walked behind her mother, whose pace quickened.
Sonya nudged her sister.
“Are you crazy? Your kids need to start at Eagle Academy right away. I heard that it’s really good, and that mother can help you.”
“I don’t know,” Helen replied. “It’s expensive.”
“Who cares what it costs? You have to pay whatever they ask,” Sonya whispered.
“Your kids are behind. I know you might send the children to America for school, but you might also be sending them to college here, and these school grades matter when they apply. How in the world will they catch up without hagwons? You just got that job at Lotte. Even if you have to borrow the money, you have to get them a spot.”
“But—” Helen exhaled. She didn’t want her sister to lend her any more money. Helen wished John would rescue her from this conversation, but he was listening to Yong-gil, who was droning on about a new development project.
“Hejin-ah.” Sonya addressed Helen by her Korean name.
“Go to that nice mother and tell her that Mido would love to go to her house for lunch. And get all three of your children into Eagle Academy. Don’t be a fool.
Your primary responsibility is to take care of your children’s education.
You can’t be like our mother, who didn’t give a damn if we grew up in a pigsty,” Sonya said, upset at the memory of how the three of them had struggled to have shelter, food, and, of course, education.
They had begged strangers to pity them, and Sonya would never let that happen to anyone in her family while she was still breathing.
“Yun-umma,” Helen called out, walking as quickly as she could to catch up to Yun’s mother, whose name she didn’t know.
The woman could be a deacon or elder, yet Helen had no idea, so she addressed her as the child’s mother, hoping not to cause offense.
Mido ran behind her mother. Yun turned and pulled on her mother’s red sleeve.
“Mido! Are you coming home with us?”
Mido glanced at her mother, who nodded.
“You can use my books. I have a photocopier at home, so we can use the worksheets together,” Yun said, knowing her mother would never disagree.
“Yun-umma, are you sure it would be all right and not an imposition?” Helen paused.
“We just returned from living overseas, and I don’t really know how things work here.
Please forgive me if I’m saying the wrong thing.
Everything changes so fast. It would be wonderful if you could introduce our Mido and maybe my sons to the hagwon you mentioned. I would be so grateful.”
Nari tilted her head. The woman had seemed standoffish and quiet, but she could tell that she was sincere.
Nari and her husband, Joonho, bristled at even the slightest affronts from rich, educated people.
Her parents had been poor, and she had grown up in the country, hundreds of kilometers away from Seoul.
Though she and Joonho had lots of money now, it was hard sometimes, even at church, to talk to people who had gone to fancy colleges and rarely mixed with others.
She and Joonho co-owned three convenience stores and two buildings with a partner.
They were simple people, she knew that much, but she didn’t think college people were better than they were.
Nari took pride in the fact that her daughter, Yun, was one of the top-ranked students in her middle school and in the school district.
“If you like, I can try to reach Dr. Tom Song, the president of Eagle Academy,” Nari offered.
“And we’d be glad to have Mido come over to study.
You can pick her up tonight, or if my husband’s driver is available, he can bring her home.
After they finish their schoolwork, I’ll give them their meals. ”
“Oh, that’s not necessary. You’re being so kind even to host her. I’ll come by later myself and pick her up. I’ll need your number or address, though.”
With both hands, Nari handed Helen her business card with her home address and number.
The card read “Director of White Tree K.K.,” the name of the holding company of their three convenience stores.
Nari didn’t do anything as its director, but it gave her pleasure to be able to hand anyone a card of her own.
Helen didn’t have her business card from the duty-free store yet, and even so, it would have only said “Associate.”
The women bowed to each other, not knowing if they would be friends or simply fellow mothers.