*
UPSTAIRS IN HER OFFICE, the principal was having coffee with a visitor, Deputy Consul Curtice. She originally hailed from Rochester, and he grew up in Ithaca; and by virtue of their neighboring hometowns, they’d relied on each other more than on anyone else among the Americans in Seoul.
“I believe you will find our students are very well-educated, polite, and devout. I have a few in mind whom I will recommend,” she said, putting her cup down on the saucer with a crisp and cheerful clink. “Some very smart girls from poorer families, who would surely be forced to marry as soon as possible. This would give them a chance to use their education and earn their independence, perhaps.”
Deputy Consul Curtice nodded thoughtfully. He had come to ask her help in finding a new translator and secretary at the consulate. The old translator had passed away from tuberculosis the previous winter and it was imperative to find a replacement soon. There were young men who graduated from missionaries’ schools as well, but the new consul-general had the notion that women translators and typists were cheaper and more obedient than their male counterparts. The men were more likely to get involved in political activism, whether that meant communism, the independence movement, or both. His predecessor, the former consul-general, had been more sympathetic; he’d sent the AP reporter’s photographs to the secretary of state and urged the Wilson administration to take a stance against such atrocities. That integrity had a cost, and he was quickly removed from his post and reassigned to Canton.
The new consul-general stuck with the official program that the regime here was an American ally. Curtice found it difficult to agree with his supervisor on many issues; but insofar as the translator was concerned, he saw no harm in bringing a modern-educated Korean woman into the fold.
“Yes, that would be tremendously helpful, thank you,” he said with a smile in his bright blue eyes, which had stayed young even as his red hair climbed higher on his forehead and his body took on the pendulous hints of middle age. As he was searching for a way to bring their meeting to a close, someone knocked quietly on the door.
“Come in,” the principal said in English. But her face showed surprise when a beautiful young Korean woman walked in, blushing brightly from nerves.
“May I ask what this is regarding?” The principal switched to an unexpectedly firm and flexible Korean that she’d acquired in the past two decades. The young woman looked shocked at hearing her language come out of a white person’s mouth.
“I’m Hesook’s mother,” the woman said in Korean, then added in English, “I am here to talk about her.”
“Oh, yes, of course! I am sorry, now I remember,” the principal said in a mixture of Korean and English. She rose from her chair in greeting and Curtice followed, giving a slight nod of the head in the woman’s direction. “I should get going,” he indicated with his eyes to his host. But she signaled that he should sit and wait for this short, unimportant meeting to finish, and he obeyed.
“Please sit down,” the principal told the new guest, who shyly slid between a chair and the coffee table and settled down, resting her white hands on her lavender skirt. As sometimes happens when meeting a stranger who is either unquestionably good-looking or ugly, the principal and Curtice were startled by the woman, who was remarkably pretty. Out of their good breeding, however, they both behaved as if they hadn’t noticed. Curtice looked out the window to show that he didn’t wish to intrude on their meeting. A warm breeze was coming in from the courtyard, causing the white linen curtains to flap around.
“I teach only the senior girls myself, so I don’t know Hesook well,” the principal said in English. “But from what her teacher tells me, Hesook is a very bright girl.”
“Thank you,” the woman said quietly with a bow.
“She’s never caused any trouble before, so we were surprised when she got into a fight with a few of the other girls. It appears that those girls were taunting Hesook, but she was the one who started kicking and punching. Do you understand?” the principal said in a stern voice that she used indiscriminately on troublesome students, faculty, and visitors alike.
“Yes, I do,” the woman said meekly, studying her lap.
“Those girls were making fun of Hesook for not having a father, which is a terrible thing, but I can’t have anyone who acts violently at the school.”
“You mean, you’re expelling Hesook?” The woman became agitated and looked straight into the principal’s eyes. “No, she is just a young girl. She made a mistake . . .” She switched to Korean and appeared to beg for forgiveness. Still seated awkwardly at the table, Curtice resisted the urge to intervene and say to the principal, Why not just let this one go?