The Surrendered

One morning Hector was scraping old paint from the side of the main dormitory to ready it for a new coat when Reverend Ta

“I was actually near there once, as a boy. I swam with my cousins in the Erie Canal. When they opened a lock upstream we jumped off one of the bridges and rode the current down and then hitched a ride on whatever boat was heading back. You must have done that a thousand times.”

“I didn’t swim much,” Hector said. “I never liked the water.”

“I remember now. That was some of the foulest water I’ve ever seen. All sorts of things floating in it.”

“Yeah,” Hector said, seeing again the blackness inside his father’s gaping mouth. “That’s right.”

“Will you be going back?”

“To Ilion? No.”

“Then to somewhere else in the States?”

“I don’t know.”

“You must be having a time of it here in Korea,” Ta

“I’m not in the service anymore.”

“Yes, I know that. I suppose I meant all you young men.”

Hector didn’t respond, keeping focused on the task. Ta

Ta

“From your surname I assume your family is Catholic?”

“My dad. My mother was lapsed. They’re both gone now.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah.”

“And what about you? Do you consider yourself Catholic?”

“I’m nothing.”

“Surely you must have been christened.”

Hector nodded.

“I was just curious. It’s not important, but I suppose I was wondering how much time you’d spent in church.”

“Why’s that?”

“Again, it’s not material, but I want to ask if you would be able to construct a chapel for us. The outdoor pavilion is perfectly fine now, but I don’t see how it will be useful come winter. Had Reverend Hong any such plans, about what to do?”

“If he did, he didn’t tell me about them.”

“I’m glad we’re talking about it, then. I was thinking that perhaps you could build a small chapel, just one big enough to house all of us.”

“I doubt I could get the lumber to build anything but a shed.”

“What about converting a space?”

“There’s really nothing that would work, except maybe the main classroom.”

“No, that won’t do,” Ta

Hector pictured the big Catholic church in Albany where they went for Easter, and then the one on West Street in Ilion where his father would regularly take him and his sisters on Sunday mornings, and sometimes for the Vigil on Saturday afternoons. It was massive and impressive to his boy’s eyes, built from blocks of granite and with a medieval-style tower, and within its soaring buttressed wooden ceiling above the nave, the supports and walls were clad in a limestone that shone brilliantly in the daytime from the light that streamed in through three high, narrow stained-glass windows over the main entrance. It was a very long structure with dozens of rows of burnished mahogany pews. On certain stifling summer days the air would be unbearable and his father would often doze off for a while, and if they were sitting toward the back Hector could slip beneath the pew in front and lie down on the cool stone floor until just before the sermon was over. There was a separate small chapel off the nave, devoted to the A

“There’s the vestibule between the girls’ and boys’ sleeping rooms,” he told Ta

“Yes, that sounds fine. That might just hold all of us.”

“Not me.”

“Have you not attended any of the services here?”

“No.”

“And Reverend Hong never minded?”

“I do jobs here. He knew that.”

“Well, you should know it’s likely he won’t be returning in three months. He’s done a good job and the Church will be asking him to go to Mi

“Are you telling me I ought to get going? Because I’ll move on whenever you like.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that.” Ta

He looked directly into Hector’s eyes. “May I be frank with you? All right, then. Although I’ve only been here a week I will tell you directly that I think your presence otherwise is detrimental to the children. I took the liberty of interviewing some of the staff aunties. Please don’t blame them, but I was quite forceful in my queries. Again, I have nothing against you, personally. Your life is your own, and I didn’t come to Korea to mold your habits or your character. But I am certain that the children don’t need to see you return every morning after long nights in town. Or be so aware of your public drinking. Or your obvious indifference to our assembly and worship. So I disagree with Reverend Hong when he says that because the children are accustomed to you there should be no concern. They are rootless in every regard, and this may be their last chance for a new begi