Waxing Moon Read online

  A young monk was tidying up the cushions on the hardwood floor inside. The air, centuries old and well tamed, smelled different from the air outside. Mistress Yee didn’t like the smell. This room was like a cauldron of wishes and prayers of unfortunate people.

  Mistress Yee began to kowtow. After the seventh time, she whispered to Mirae, even though no one else was present, to fan her. Inside was much cooler than outside, but Mistress Yee was having a hard time because of the heat of her own pregnant body. Mirae took out a fan from her pouch and began to fan her mistress drenched in sweat. After the twentieth time of kowtowing, Mistress Yee sat back down on the cushion and didn’t want to get up again.

  “You do it for me,” Mistress Yee whispered firmly.

  “What do you mean, Mistress?” Mirae asked, sitting down close to her.

  “This is too hard for me. If I keep doing this, I might have a miscarriage,” Mistress Yee complained, pouting, and dragged her body toward the wall, so that she could lean against it. “Do it eighty-eight more times,” she ordered. Her voice echoed in the hall. Amitabul, with his head slightly bent toward the worshipers, appeared to be smiling mysteriously. Mirae met his eyes and was glued to his benevolent countenance.

  “Don’t just stand there like a statue. Kowtow!” Mistress Yee shouted, disregarding the fact that she was in a sacred place.

  Mirae held her palms together earnestly and went down and up, down and up. She prayed not for the son of Mistress Yee, but for her own sake. She looked up whenever she could to the smooth face of Buddha and cried out inside herself. She didn’t want to be a maid; she wanted to be a lady; she wanted to have her own maid, who would fan her, who would kowtow instead of her if she got too tired. Tears and sweat mixed and dripped from her chin.

  Mistress Yee, leaning against the wall, dozed off several times. Each time she awoke, she saw her faithful maid performing her duty. Some time later, at the sound of the dull gong that echoed through the valleys of the surrounding mountains, she awoke completely and found no one but Buddha himself, looking down at her sarcastically. His right hand seemed to point outside through the westerly entrance.

  Making adjustments to her stiff limbs after having sat in the same position for a while, she got up slowly, furiously. The light outside was blinding. Someone was talking in a voice, deep and low and soothing. It was the head monk in his gray robe, with his wooden beads in his hand. Mistress Yee never liked any of the stupid monks, for they didn’t discern her extraordinariness. Seeing her maid conversing with the head monk—with whom Mistress Kim had had a profound relationship and whom she had accused Mistress Kim of having an illegitimate relationship with (which her husband had refused to hear about, as if she had gone mad)—her blood churned. She almost fainted. Mirae was conversing with the monk as if she understood what the baldhead was saying to her. They were standing by Sari-tower, where the calcified remains of the great master from the sixteenth century were interred.

  Mistress Yee walked gingerly toward them, feeling a little dizzy and nauseous under the direct sun. When she drew close, they didn’t turn to acknowledge her presence. A few moments later, after Mirae bowed to the monk and he chanted a short prayer, they looked at her. Mistress Yee didn’t greet them. She bit her tongue. She exhaled looking around at the five magnificent green mountains that enveloped the temple. A volcano was bubbling inside her, but it wasn’t the right moment to erupt. Without the annual donation from her husband, this temple wouldn’t sustain itself for very long. She could have slapped Mirae for having left her alone, but she was a little intimidated by the luminous atmosphere around the two, who behaved as if they understood a secret that was unavailable to her.

  “May I inquire about the wellness of Mr. O?” the monk asked with his eyelids cast down.

  Mistress Yee raised her eyebrows to stare at the monk. She could have strangled him for not asking after her health. The monk bowed slightly and began to walk away.

  Turning crimson with internal fire, Mistress Yee decided to faint, and she fell on her maid to cushion her impact. Mirae uttered a cry of surprise. The monk turned around and didn’t panic. He came over at the same pace as he had walked away, lifted Mistress Yee, and carried her easily in his two arms to the main hall. Mirae followed, realizing that her mistress was fully conscious.

  The head monk, carrying Mistress Yee in his arms, was reciting something unintelligible. As he laid her on the floor, Mistress Yee felt his breath on her face. She could smell the man in the monk. She badly wanted to open her eyes and see how close this monk was to her face, but she decided not to. Mirae came in and assisted him by bringing a cushion for her mistress’s head to rest on. He asked Mirae if she could bring a bowl of cold water for Mistress Yee from the water fountain.

  While they were alone in the main hall, the head monk began to speak in his deep voice. But it wasn’t clear whether he was speaking to Mistress Yee or to himself.

  “There exist three poisons in life: desire, anger, and ignorance. One poison is the root of the other two. To attain enlightenment, you must swallow the root of your poisons, so that you die. You die many times to attain the enlightenment of Buddha.”

  Mistress Yee opened her eyes and looked up at the monk. He sat near her, with his eyes closed, and his palms met each other near his chest. Now, from below, she could see the packed muscle of his shoulders beneath the robes. His lips were reciting to keep his mind occupied, or unoccupied. Still lying down on the cool wooden floor, Mistress Yee said challengingly, “What is the root of your poisons?”

  The monk opened his eyes but didn’t look at Mistress Yee.

  “Did you hear what I said? How many times have you had to swallow your poisons to be the way you are? And how many more times will you have to swallow them to get to where you want to be?”

  For the first time, the monk met Mistress Yee’s burning eyes. He saw her small feet extending out from under her long silk chiffon skirt. He clenched his teeth and began to chant something—anything—with his eyes closed.

  “I wonder what you see when your eyes are closed,” Mistress Yee said, getting up. She heard Mirae taking her shoes off outside.

  “Please, give the water to the illustrious one. He must be so thirsty from carrying me,” she ordered her maid.

  Mirae carried the water carefully and placed it in front of the monk. He was still chanting with his eyes closed, his forehead beaded with perspiration.

  Mistress Yee said, “Let us leave. I have learned so much from the master. I will practice dying every day, as he has set an example for me today.” She bowed toward the monk in an exaggerated manner and then left the hall, smiling triumphantly.

  8

  As they descended the stone steps outside the temple gate, Mistress Yee said, “I love this place. I will have to return often.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea, Mistress,” Mirae said.

  Without turning around, Mistress Yee addressed her maid. “I think the head monk is the handsomest man my eyes have ever beheld. Don’t you agree, Mirae? Of course, this is just between you and me.”

  “Why, Mistress, he is very handsome,” Mirae said. Her ears burned. Indeed, he was a handsome man.

  “I saw you flirting with him,” Mistress Yee stated firmly, raising her voice, still looking straight ahead of her.

  Mirae stopped. “Mistress, what do you mean?” she asked, lowering her voice.

  “You heard me, Mirae,” Mistress Yee said cheerfully.

  “No, Mistress, you must have hallucinated. The sun was so strong it must have blinded you. I was just talking with him.” Mirae’s voice was trembling.

  “No, I saw him whisper into your ear.”

  “Mistress, you have misunderstood the situation,” Mirae said. She passed Mistress Yee and stood in front of her, blocking her way.

  “Don’t panic. I can keep a secret,”
Mistress Yee teased, walking around her maid.

  “Please! I don’t mind if you think I am low and despicable, but the one we are speaking of possesses the purest heart,” Mirae said pleadingly.

  “Ha, you are in love,” Mistress Yee remarked lightheartedly contemptuously.

  “Mistress, I was kowtowing in the main hall, and I felt something strange. In the beginning, I found it tedious and felt tired, but I saw the smile on Buddha’s lips. It was—there are no words to describe the smile. That smile was just for me. And then I heard the monks walk by after their daily chanting, so I rushed out and followed them. The head monk was the last in the group and he turned around. I bowed to him, and when the other monks disappeared into the dining hall, I asked if he could spare me his wisdom. He simply said that wisdom is within me. I raised my head and looked at him. I almost fainted because his smile was exactly the same as Buddha’s smile. I told him how he resembled Buddha. He just repeated that wisdom is within me and that I should seek answers within, not outside. Mistress, I couldn’t speak further. I felt light and happy. And that was when you approached us. There was nothing else,” Mirae said. And she sighed noisily.

  Mistress Yee turned around and shot a glance at her maid like a cat glares at a mouse in a cul-de-sac.

  “Listen to me carefully, and don’t you ever forget what I have to say now.” Mistress Yee came a little closer and she continued, lowering her voice, “A monkey climbed trees, and hung upside down from branches, and leaped from one branch to another. She was much admired for her dexterity, although it was nothing for her. All the animals down below applauded and wished they could do what she did. Then a dog, losing her head momentarily, thought she could do what the monkey did. She began to climb the tree, despite the advice of her sensible fellow animals, and reached the top of the tree and leaped from there to another tree. Guess what happened to that bitch? She fell on the ground and crushed her head. Only the monkey felt sorry for her. When all the other animals left, murmuring about the stupidity of the poor animal, the monkey remained and buried the dog. She placed a tombstone on the dog’s grave and wrote, May this dog be born in the form of a monkey in her next life. So in her next life, the dog was born as a monkey. The first thing she did was to climb a tree, but she couldn’t because she was still a dog in the skin of a monkey. Once a dog, always a dog. So she died once again by falling from a tree, and as she died, she wished to be born as a dog. It took two lives for this dog to learn a lesson.” Mistress Yee laughed and resumed descending.

  Mirae followed her mistress quietly. The sun was fierce. Her legs felt tired from kowtowing repeatedly. It would take another hour to reach the point where they had left the carriage with the male servant. Mistress Yee had decided against the ride in the carriage for fear that its movements on the steep and uneven mountain road might imperil her pregnancy.

  Mirae wished that her mistress had not told her the strange story. She wanted to shift her thoughts to the head monk and what he had said. Within myself, she said to herself again and again.

  Mistress Yee stopped. “I cannot walk anymore. Carry me on your back.”

  Mirae squatted down in front of her mistress. Even though Mistress Yee wasn’t terribly heavy, it was still a long way to go.

  Once on Mirae’s back, Mistress Yee pulled Mirae’s hair for her own amusement. And she said a few nasty things about the odor from Mirae’s sweaty back. And then suddenly, she reached down and felt Mirae’s breast, which was bound tightly under her garment, as the traditional dress required its waistband to go around the upper chest of a woman.

  Shocked, Mirae almost dropped her mistress.

  Mistress Yee said, “My dear Mirae, if you drop me and I have a miscarriage, you know that would be the last day of your life, don’t you?”

  Indeed, it would be. Mirae flushed. Her disgust for her mistress’s wriggling body on her back was growing by the moment.

  “This is totally ready to be touched, Mirae. Next time we go to the temple, you need to bathe yourself before we go, though. Celibate or not, the head monk cares. In fact, celibates are more sensitive. When he carried me into the main hall, I felt the touch of his strong hands. They were firm and ready to be put to a better use. Just imagine what he will be thinking of tonight when he touches his hard, lifeless wooden beads!” Mistress Yee laughed. She continued, “I hope he seeks within to find some of the answers for his desire, for they are there, plain and clear.”

  “Mistress Yee, I must go and pee,” Mirae begged.

  “Let me down, you lazybones,” Mistress Yee mocked her. “Now, look what you’ve done!” Mistress Yee cried. Her skirt was wrinkled.

  Mirae went behind the bushes.

  Mistress Yee walked down alone for a while. Mirae followed her soon enough. They could see Min beside the carriage, chewing on sour grass.

  “That useless urchin,” Mistress Yee muttered.

  Min got up as the women approached and dusted the seat with his hand where Mistress Yee would sit. He tried to help Mistress Yee mount the carriage, but she dismissed him curtly with her hand.

  Some time later, they could see Mr. O’s land. After passing the grove of tall poplar trees, Mistress Yee ordered Min to stop.

  “If I don’t eat something right now, I think I will die,” Mistress Yee said.

  “Go and get some food for the mistress right now,” Mirae ordered Min urgently.

  “He can’t talk. You go!” Mistress Yee shouted.

  Mirae ran to the mud house by the cornfield. She was as hungry as her mistress. During their first visit, they had been nourished at the temple, even though her mistress hadn’t liked the simple vegetarian food prepared by the novice monks. But today they had left abruptly, and her mistress had forgotten all about lunch.

  Min pulled the carriage to the shade under a tree and observed an army of ants in single file going into a hole.

  Mirae stepped into the yard and heard a woman laughing. Mrs. Wang sat with a plateful of boiled potatoes on the mud floor in front of the hut. Jaya was nursing a baby with her chest exposed.

  “Listen. My lady, Mistress Yee, is outside, starving and exhausted. She is coming back from a trip to the temple. She needs nourishment,” Mirae said urgently, frowning from the headache beginning to immobilize the upper right half of her head.

  It took a moment for Mrs. Wang to recognize her. Mirae was out of breath. Then she sighed from her gut, mopping her forehead. Her face was a mess and under her armpit was stained with a brown half moon. She even stank a little.

  Jaya, in the middle of telling a joke, was confused. “What do you mean?” she asked, inspecting Mirae from head to toe.

  “Her mistress would like some potatoes,” Mrs. Wang summarized.

  “Oh, Mistress Yee is here? Where is she?” Jaya was excited.

  “In her carriage. My mistress is exhausted from the heat and from her visit to the temple, where she kowtowed one hundred eight times. Just give me food. I will take care of the rest,” Mirae said, feeling suddenly aloof. She was annoyed by the women so at ease and disheveled, one with breasts hanging out under her open shirt, and the other indulging in food with her legs stretched out, her waistband loosened. Flies buzzed round and round.

  The peasant woman wrapped two potatoes and some salt on the side and handed them to Mirae.

  “Give me a bowl of water too,” Mirae demanded.

  Jaya passed Mr. O’s daughter to Mrs. Wang and went to the kitchen. She brought out a gourd of water and gave it to Mirae.

  Mirae left without thanking her.

  “That’s the infamous maid of Mistress Yee. She thinks she can shit gold or something just because she is favored by Mistress Yee,” Jaya said, rolling her eyes.

  “She does look like someone who might shit gold or something.” Mrs. Wang chuckled.

  Mirae took the water a
nd the potatoes with salt to her mistress. Mistress Yee drank the water hurriedly, but she examined the potatoes with suspicion. Abruptly, she shoved the food out of Mirae’s hand. The potatoes fell and rolled into the ditch at the side of the road.

  As the carriage moved on with dust billowing behind it, Jaya came out, her shirt still open, holding Mistress Kim’s daughter in her arms, to find the potatoes in the ditch and her gourd cracked and abandoned. She spat toward the carriage, which was now turning around the potato field that she and her husband rented from Mr. O.

  9

  “Mistress Kim was nothing like that,” commented Jaya as she returned and sat down on the open mud floor in front of the hut.

  Mrs. Wang didn’t reply. She was peeling the last potato and said, “Do you have some rice wine? Water doesn’t go with these excellent potatoes.”

  Jaya dawdled to the kitchen and poured a bowl of rice wine. She drank a little and burped loudly. It tasted so great that she had another sip and then took the bowl to Mrs. Wang.

  “Mrs. Wang, this is all we’ve got to spare. We’re saving the rest for my husband’s uncle, who will come to see his grandnephew, he hasn’t seen him yet,” she said and then smiled.

  Mrs. Wang looked somewhat displeased at the half-full bowl. But she drank it all at once.

  “I saw Mr. O some time ago. He promised me he would send another payment for your work,” Mrs. Wang said.

  “Well, in fact, yesterday Nani came to deliver gifts. A sack of this, a sack of that, and some silk. But Mrs. Wang, we don’t need gifts. We need a payment,” Jaya said grimly.