The Ohana Part 11

Sadako bolted upright. "As soon as I graduate from high school. It's all arranged."

"Do you know him?"

"Yes. He's the handsomest, most wonderful..." Sadako hugged herself. "I know I'm not pretty like you, but if you were a man, what would you think of me? Be honest."

Mary tilted her head and looked at her. Sadako was no beauty, but she had an elfin charm. "If I were a man, I would think you were very cute with a great personality." She shrugged. "Besides, pretty isn't important."

"Easy for you to say," Sadako looked down and traced the pattern on her dress. "I'd give anything to look like you."

"Thanks, but remember the j.a.panese saying, to be born too beautiful is a curse. Not that I think I'm so beautiful," she added quickly.

"When you meet him, you can tell me what you think." Sadako squeezed Mary's hand. "He's coming home for the summer from the university. He's going to be a doctor." Sadako bit her lip. "I'm so nervous. Our parents thought it would be better not to wait too long. I'm glad. I don't want to be an old lady when I marry. Imagine me, a doctor's wife!"

"It sounds like you have a wonderful life planned out for you." Mary smoothed the fabric of the colorful futon.

"I hope you like him because you're like a sister to me." Sadako hugged her.

"I'm sure I will."

The first time she saw Mitsuo he was slouched in a club chair with his cheek pressed against his hand. He yawned and his father prodded him. He straightened up in his chair. Both the Kawaes and the Tanakas were there. She and Sadako were the last ones to enter the living room.

Sadako pulled Mary's elbow and stopped her from walking into the living room right away. "That's him, in the blue aloha s.h.i.+rt," she whispered.

Mary noticed how the end of his nose turned up. He had a head of thick, wavy black hair and deeply tanned skin. He looked like he spent a lot of time on the beach.

"Come, join us" Sadako's father waved the girls into the room.

Mitsuo stood up. He was tall and broad-shouldered with a boyishly handsome face.

Sadako's father Kenji introduced Mary to everyone.

Mitsuo approached her and clasped her hand in his. She felt giddy inside. No boy had ever touched her with such intimacy.

She didn't remember anything else about that evening. What they talked about or ate. The only thing that stayed in her mind was the way he looked at her. When their eyes met, it was as if an electrical current flowed between them.

She envied Sadako.

After that night, she often thought of him while lying in bed. She stroked her upper arm and legs wondering what this feeling was that aroused her senses. It made her s.h.i.+ver even in the heat.

When he stopped by to shop or visit Sadako, she was struck dumb. She imagined his eyes darkened with pa.s.sion when he looked at her. Her life revolved around running into him.

Was it by chance or design she found herself alone at the Kawae's the night of the bon dance at the Buddhist temple? Mary had made an excuse. She didn't want to see him in the presence of the two families.

Two nights before, when Mitsuo and his parents were at the house, Mary helped serve tea to the guests. When she got to Mitsuo, he stroked her finger as she handed him the cup. She s.h.i.+vered and his eyes ensnared hers. Feeling eyes on her, she looked up to see Mitsuo's mother, Keiko watching the two of them, one finger tapping her cheek.

She couldn't risk being around him for a while. Yet she couldn't stop thinking of how thrilling it was to feel his finger stroking hers. She replayed it over and over again. She could think of nothing else.

A knock on the door sprung her from her reverie.

When Mary opened the door, Mitsuo stood there alone. Her hand flew to her throat. "Everyone's at the bon dance," she said.

Mitsuo shrugged. "Stupid me. I thought I was supposed to meet the Kawaes here."

"They left almost half an hour ago," Mary began to close the door.

He put his hand on the door to stop it from closing. "Aren't you going?"

"I have things to do." Mary turned her head away from him.

Mitsuo slipped off his shoes and stepped in the door. "Didn't the Kawaes give you the evening off?"

"Yes, but I have mending to do."

"Don't you ever spend time having fun?" Mitsuo leaned back and the door closed.

Mary stepped backward, her head still down. When she spoke, her voice shook. She wondered if he noticed. But then, she had said more to him tonight than all the other times she had seen him combined. "I'm happy being alone. I like to keep busy. Besides, I don't know many people my own age."

"I'd like to be your friend. Come walk with me awhile."

"I can't," Mary backed farther away.

"Yes, you can, just for tonight." Mitsuo stepped forward. He was so close she could smell the man smell of him.

"My mending..." Mary's voice trailed.

"Can wait," Mitsuo finished the sentence for her.

"It's not right," Mary eyes were on the ground.

Mitsuo cupped her chin in his hand and turned her face to him. "You're like a sister to Sadako. You can tell me all about her."

His touch set her skin on fire. Not wanting to betray her feelings, Mary kept her eyes on the ground and said, "I don't know."

"Let me stay with you awhile before I go to the bon dance," Mitsuo's hand fell to his side. "Besides, don't you think its old country for me to marry someone I hardly know? I'd like to know more about Sadako. She says you're her best friend. You can tell me about her."

"Well, it is a nice night," Mary stepped to the door and opened it. A light breeze ruffled her hair. She turned to look at Mitsuo and caught her breath as she drowned in the dark pools of his eyes.

Lifting his hand, he brushed the hair from her eyes. "Nights like this are special." His hand lingered on her cheek. She s.h.i.+vered.

"Are you cold?" His fingers continued to caress her face.

"No." Pointing to the sky, she moved away from him. "Look, a full moon." Overcome by his presence, she swayed slightly and he caught her by the elbows. She turned to him and nothing else mattered.

His fingers pushed back the curls from her face. "You don't know how beautiful you are," Mitsuo said in a voice so low she could have been imagining it. She looked up and fell into a dream as his lips, feather light and gentle, covered her face. Her legs turned to jelly.

Frightened, she tried to push him away. "Mary," his warm breath tickled her ear, "it's you I long for."

Mary balked at his words but when his tongue made small circles around her throat, she couldn't resist any longer. She returned his kiss with all the pa.s.sion bottled up inside of her.

Chapter Seventeen.

Honolulu, December 7, 1941 Every morning Sean Duffy rose at six and left the cottage he rented in Manoa at six-thirty. In the office by seven or at the latest, seven-thirty, he was there most weekends and holidays. His fellow workers shunned him as a working fool. Sean was indifferent to their sarcasm. They were mostly kamaaina boys a.s.sured of a future they were born to. Sean, on the other hand, had to prove himself.

December 7, 1941, felt like any other Sunday morning. The air was crisp, the sky was blue, and the mynah birds yakked while the trade winds rustled through the giant fronds of the coconut trees. The fragrant smell of tuber roses and gardenias filled the air. As Sean went out for a morning jog, he ran past Cape Cod-style bungalows on postage-stamp lots. The crisp morning air invigorated him.

Suddenly, people spilled out of their houses and raced into the streets, pointing at the sky and yelling. Sean stopped and asked the nearest person, "What's going on?" As soon as he said it, he heard a distant roar that sounded like thunder, followed by the wail of sirens piercing the air. People scurried about in a panic.

He grabbed a Hawaiian policeman running by. "What's happening?"

The man's big eyes rolled. "Is the j.a.ps! They when bomb us! You no can hear? Ey, lemme go, brah!"

Sean released him and ran to his house to turn on the radio.

The morning of December 7th found George Han driving home to Punchbowl from an all-night poker game. The smell of cigarette smoke lingered on him and he was bleary eyed from beer and lack of sleep. Thinking of the three hundred dollars he'd just lost made his palms sweat. His gambling debts were mounting. The boys wouldn't be satisfied unless he came up with a big chunk of cash soon. He wondered how he could w.a.n.gle such a large amount out of his parents this time.

George derived a kind of perverse satisfaction making his parents pay for his misdeeds. It was his way of punis.h.i.+ng them for neglecting their oldest son. The way they acted, anyone would think Mark was the oldest. Well, he was sick of having to give in to his spoiled brat brother. They even bought Mark a car instead of one for him. He knew Mark felt guilty about being so openly favored; he felt sorry for George, who had chosen the pencil and would have to work for a living. All Mark cared about was hustling pool and girls.

Baby-faced Mark was a cunning pool shark who was an expert at pretending to be a teenager. There was always some guy who took the bait and figured Mark was just a dumb kid and an easy score. Mark knew how to lose and keep on losing until the stakes were high. Then he would beg for another chance and shock his opponents by running the table-leaving them open mouthed and broke. Flush with victory, he'd call some dame and celebrate all night. Mark was a winner, George was a loser.

Even where girls were concerned, George got his brother's leavings. He was there when Mark tossed them aside. Oddly enough, George knew he was considered the better looking of the two. But Mark was charming and self-confident. George, on the other hand, slouched and barely said a word. So the girls flocked to Mark before they ended up crying on George's shoulder.

George pulled up to Punchbowl where his folks owned a rooming house. It was a low ramshackle building consisting of a long hallway with seven doors leading to small rooms they rented out. There was a single bathroom down the hall, a communal kitchen, and a separate apartment downstairs where the family lived. Punchbowl was cluttered with buildings like theirs. Buildings with small yards stacked up one behind the other on sloped lots.

Stepping out of Mark's car, George heard a loud buzzing. He looked up. The sky was blue and the clouds fluffy white. Curious, he scrambled up some rocks on the side of the road. His eyes swept over Diamond Head and the ocean, then toward the Ewa side of the island. He saw planes like tiny insects swarming over Pearl Harbor. He watched in fascination as smoke began to rise from the harbor behind the mountains.

He yelped out loud, "Someone's bombing Pearl Harbor!"

Kazuko lugged her rice pot to the backyard and placed it in the fire pit. One of the tin cans encircling the pit fell over and she bent over to stand it upright before lighting the fire. As the smoke curled up into the air, she squatted and rested her hands on her knees looking up at the sky.

At this time of year, the snow would still be fresh on the ground in j.a.pan. She'd be wearing heavy silk to guard against the cold. Sunae would scurry in with her morning tea. She'd have nothing better to do then to spend the day as a lady.

Oh, j.a.pan! Your memory calls to me.

Sighing, she rose with one hand holding onto the base of her spine. She knew she'd never see j.a.pan again, just as she knew her spine would never completely straighten.

"O-Kazuko!" a musical voice called out.

"Out here, in the backyard."

Her friend s.h.i.+nako walked around the house to Kazuko. At fifty-years old, s.h.i.+nako had the energy of a thirty-year old. Beneath her gray hair, her face was wrinkle-free. "O-Kazuko, I brought you some nori and tofu." s.h.i.+nako handed her a bundle wrapped in plain brown paper.

"I can't accept." Kazuko shook her head.

"Why not?"

"Because I have nothing to offer you. All I have are tomatoes, which you grow yourself. Besides, you've given us too much already."

s.h.i.+nako nodded. "You'll have your time, O-Kazuko, when you can help others. But for now, you must forget the old ways and forget omiyagi. Since I became a Christian, I see things differently. We must all help each other without expecting anything in return." s.h.i.+nako set the parcel on the ground. "I will leave this here. If you don't want it, the ants will have a feast."

Kazuko took the parcel and bowed. "Thank you, O-s.h.i.+nako. I won't forget this kindness."

s.h.i.+nako put her hand on Kazuko's. "There are things I wish to discuss with you."

"Yes?" Kazuko trudged to the porch step and beckoned to s.h.i.+nako. "Come, sit with me."

s.h.i.+nako followed Kazuko to the stairs and sat down. "O-Kazuko, children need to have a future. Here in America, they can have no future without an education. With learning, there is hope."

"Tetsuo said that many times." Kazuko squinted and shaded her eyes from the infernal sun with her hand. She thought of how angry her mother would be if she saw her brown, leathery skin. Ladies of her cla.s.s had milk white skin. They never ventured out in the sun without a parasol.

"You don't have to live like this," s.h.i.+nako waved her hand. "You can transfer owners.h.i.+p of your farm to your oldest son, who will inherit it anyway, and accept help from the government so your children can go to school."

Kazuko gasped.

"Give them a chance to become somebody," s.h.i.+nako advised.

"O-s.h.i.+nako," Kazuko shook her head, "I rather all my children and I starve to death before I ask for this help you talk of. I would be less than a dog if I did such a thing. One cannot live if one cannot hold one's head up." She wonderred what kind of person s.h.i.+nako thought she was-one who could live without honor and respect? Kazuko took a cigarette from her ap.r.o.n pocket and lit it. She looked away from s.h.i.+nako and puffed on the cigarette.

"The old ways are finished," s.h.i.+nako waved the smoke away from her. "We're not in j.a.pan. We don't have to go the way of our ancestors. We live in America."

"But we are not Americans. We are j.a.panese. Perhaps our children are Americans. But I am j.a.panese, even if I never see j.a.pan again." A familiar pain stabbed through her heart as she spoke and tears sprang to her eyes. "Things will get better. Goro is getting married. A s.h.i.+mpai marriage, but it's all right. Goro is shy. He agrees he could never find a wife himself. So I arranged it. She will help with the work and give him children."

"I'm glad. But think about what I said. For the children's sake."

"It's because of the children I do what I do," Kazuko's voice rose. "They must be able to hold their heads up high and never have anyone laugh at them. I can give them nothing but pride and self-respect."

Before s.h.i.+nako could answer, Jiro came running into the backyard, his round face flushed and perspiring. "Mama!"

"What is it?" Kazuko turned to her son, still puffing on her cigarette.

"Mama, j.a.pan bombed Pearl Harbor!"

"Where is Pearl Harbor?" Kazuko asked.

"It's a naval base in Honolulu, on the island of Oahu," Jiro mopped his sweaty forehead with his hand, "We've been attacked! That means war!"

Kazuko and s.h.i.+nako stared at each other. The country Kazuko loved had just declared war on the country she lived in. She wondered what it would mean for the issei.