How to Be an American Housewife (12 page)

She was impressed. “Most foreigners can’t eat it at all.”

Charlie took a bit of curry and his eyes welled. I gave him some tea to cool his mouth.

My younger sister, Suki, crept up to him. She was fifteen and still our baby, even though anyone could see she was a lovely young woman with long black hair, wearing her school uniform of a white blouse and long plaid skirt. I was happy to see she was a bit plump; this meant she was eating well for once.

Suki touched Charlie’s hair. “His hair is fire!”

He pulled his head away. Charlie had his curls combed into a jelly roll, one on each side of his head, put into place with a lot of hair ointment. “Yes, fire,” he agreed in Japanese. He patted it back where she had mussed it.

He had gotten used to the attention. It was probably a lot more than he’d ever gotten in the United States.

My father knelt by him and watched him eat gravely, so intent that Charlie got nervous. His gaze meant approval. “It was a good choice, Shoko?” His hair was gray, too, and his skin already wizened. He ate slowly, as though he had all the time in the world to savor his food.

“Yes.” I put my hand over Charlie’s, the hand that had my sparkling new rings from the Navy Exchange department store. A diamond engagement ring, surrounded by a swirl of diamonds on the wedding band.

“Beautiful!” Mother picked up my hand to admire it. “Better than the richest ladies in Tokyo, I expect.”

Father spoke to Charlie in the limited English he had been able to pick up. “Like Japan?”

“Hai.”
Charlie knew more Japanese than my father knew English. Charlie had gotten books on Japanese and studied them in an effort to communicate with me. He had a kimono made for himself. He waited at the shrine while I prayed and wrote a prayer for himself in awful Japanese letters. He tried hard.

“Taro will be coming,” Mother said, happy to have her children all together again.

I felt the sickness in my gut again. I hadn’t seen Taro since he had left me here after Ronin. Taro had gone back to school, finishing out the semester with my money, and then gotten a job, refusing to take any more of it. My parents thought that was natural, because now I was married and out of the family, but I knew the real reason why.

“Does he know?” I asked my father. “Does he know we got married?”

“Yes.” Father took a sip of tea. “He was hurt that he wasn’t there.”

“No one was there. That’s why I’m here now.” I guessed that Taro was only hurt because he had no chance of stopping me.

As though reading my mind, Father said, “Taro still wanted you to marry a Japanese boy.” He waved his hand at my shocked face. “He’ll accept it.”

“Japanese boy?” Charlie said, that being the only expression he caught correctly.

I shook my head at him in a gesture he had taught me, and smiled. “Eat.” Poor Charlie, left out by my family chattering away.

My father felt bad also, because he leaned to Charlie and said, “You like Navy?”

“Yes, sir.”

The door opened, shining bright light into the room. Taro stood silhouetted by sun. My little brother all over again. My heart ached.

He shut the door.

I stood. Charlie did, too. I bowed formally. “Please meet my husband, Charlie.”

Taro stared at Charlie. Charlie held out his hand. “Nice to meet you,” Charlie said in slow Japanese.

“Did you start eating without me?” Taro said to my mother.

“Taro, say hello to Charlie.” Mother switched to Japanese.

“Hey, cowboy,” Taro said in English, shaking Charlie’s hand. “Japan is treating you real well, huh? Got a wife and everything.”

Charlie blushed. Mother was shocked. “Taro! Be polite.”

Taro pursed his lips, speaking to me in Japanese. “What makes you think he won’t dump you when you get to the States? That’s what happens. American servicemen can’t get used to being married to a Japanese woman.”

“I’m getting out of here.” I leaned over to him. “Remember who got you out of this place. Me. Now it’s my turn.”

He made a rude noise with his lips. “You are disgusting. You’ll do anything to get out of here, no matter how low.”

“Taro!” my mother cried helplessly.

“If you could understand my position for one moment, you would know how hard this is,” I said, squeezing my hand into a fist. I was glad that Charlie couldn’t understand my brother. I hoped Taro wouldn’t punch him. I would hit Taro first.

Charlie was nervous. “Have I done something to offend?” he said in Japanese.

I looked at Charlie helplessly, not knowing how to say, “It’s not your fault.” It wasn’t Charlie’s fault that while he was being trained to call us yellow-skinned monsters, we had been trained to call them fiends. I didn’t have the English words for the bombing raids or the lack of food or the atomic bombs. To explain that some Japanese would submit in practice to being conquered, but not in spirit, no matter how much it only hurt themselves.

Taro clapped his hands slowly. “Very good, cowboy,” he said in English.

My father had quietly watched this exchange. “We lost the war, Taro. It is time for peace, to accept the hand of fate.
Tokidoki
.”

Taro did not waver. He pointed at me. “You go to America and you are no longer my sister.” He muttered under his breath,
“Pan pan.”

I bowed my head down, my heart breaking.
Pan pan
was a horrible insult, worse than whore, what they called prostitutes who sold themselves to the enemy to make money. “If that is what you want.”

He bent down by my head. “All I wanted was a simple sister, a sister to be proud of.”

Taro straightened and turned to my husband, his expression implacable. Charlie’s forehead crinkled. “Good luck, Chuck.” He bowed to Charlie, then turned and left my parent’s house.

At our wedding in my father’s church, Charlie and I wore traditional kimonos. As we were purified, as Charlie carefully read the Japanese words of commitment, as we drank our sake, I kept expecting Taro to walk in and take his place next to my mother. He had to. I was his sister.

I never saw him again.

T
he day after my visit to Dr. Cunningham, I awoke with my heart pounding and the taste of tin in my mouth, the image of Taro still swirling in my head. I would not be able to go to Japan. No. It couldn’t be. I could not wait for another year, until after a surgery that might go bad. Until after I was dead. I got up and counted my secret money again, just to make sure it was all still there.

I looked at myself in the mirror, at my wild hair sticking up, at the new wrinkles on my forehead that had formed overnight. No longer was this the face of my mother—she hadn’t lived this long. I thought about what I should do and who should do it. Someone to go in my stead. My stand-in.

Sue. My daughter. She was my only choice. Mike could not do it. He gave up too easily; if Taro turned him away, Mike would shrug his shoulders and disappear into the backcountry of southern Japan. Sue would be the one who would not give up. I hoped all these years of toil and disappointment had not worn her down too much, yanked her spirit out as it had Charlie’s. No. She still had time. She would do this for me. I would pay. She couldn’t say no.

My granddaughter Helena could do it alone, if only she weren’t so young. She was a bright girl, smart, outgoing. The kind of girl who wouldn’t be happy in the life that I had had. Or her mother’s.

I took care of Helena often when she was young. Day care was tough on her; anyone could see that. She was left from six in the morning until almost six at night. Every time I saw her, even when she was two years old, she had bags under her eyes. I wished I could do more to help out.

“You can’t take care of her. You don’t have the stamina to run after a toddler,” Sue told me over and over. I thought if I willed it, I could do it. “All she would do at your house is watch TV. At day care she plays with the other kids.”

Sue would leave her here for short periods, though, and I would take her in the backyard, or on a little walk up the street. Her toddler pace, stopping at every crack and ladybug, suited me.

Last week, Helena had come over while Sue went to the gym. She was looking more grown-up these days, beginning to get hips and breasts, and her skin was still unmarked by the acne that had plagued Sue.

Helena surveyed my curio cabinet in the bedroom, which held my shrine and some Japanese dolls. “Aren’t there more dolls?” she asked, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. “I remember Doll Day.”

“Yes. Girls’ Day.” I smiled, pleased that she remembered. On March 3, I would have Helena come over and we would get out all my Japanese dolls. You were supposed to have the Emperor, the Empress, and all their retinue, but we made do with what I had: some wooden
kokeshi
dolls, simple wooden figures made on a lathe, with spherical heads on sticks poking into their bodies; and several porcelain dolls with delicate features and silk kimonos. I had them stored in the garage.

“Can I see them?” Helena was always curious about Japan, always asking me for stories. For show-and-tell in third grade, she had brought me in to talk about kimonos.

I got out the
kokeshi
dolls and set them up on the dining table. “These I got for your mommy and daddy,” I said, pulling out the matching couple. They had cartoonish big eyes, painted black hair, and red lips. Their bobble heads drifted away from each other. “See, they look away from each other.”

“That means they don’t love each other, right?” She wasn’t upset. She blinked her eyes innocently.

“Yeah, that right. But this only legend.” Some people said that the
kokeshi
held the spirits of the dead; maybe some long-ago religion had used them. I had bought mine from a tourist spot near a hot spring.

I got out two more. These had kimonos made of a soft flocked material; Helena felt them with her index finger, as she always did. “These me and Ojisan.” I put them on the table next to the others. Their heads bobbled, wavered, then looked at each other.

“You love each other!” Helena grinned. She twirled the head around on Craig’s doll. “Can I take these home?”

I shrugged. “Your mommy no like them.”

“They remind her of a bad time, I guess.” Helena spun the doll head faster. “But I want them.”

“You try cause trouble, Helena-chan?” I smoothed her hair out of her face. “Why no wear hair back, see pretty face?”

“I like it like this.” She shook her mane. “I am not causing trouble. I just want the dolls. Will you get me dolls when I get married?”

“If get marry.” I smiled. “No get married until thirty year old, got it?”

“I know, I know.” She rolled her eyes.

I peered at her. “You wear eyeliner? Your mommy know?” Good girls didn’t wear eyeliner at twelve. What path was she headed down?

She leaned to me. “Don’t tell her, okay?”

My heart melted. “Okay. Our secret.” I smiled. “You want make cookie with me?”

“Sure.” Helena put the
kokeshi
dolls by the front door to take home. I hoped Sue wouldn’t be angry.

Helena was my do-over daughter. With her, I had the patience to do everything I should have done with Sue. Cook. Teach about Japan. Hugging. I would have even taught her the language, if I hadn’t been certain I would mess it up. She needed to learn proper dialect, not what we used out in the country.

Maybe Helena could go with Sue, if Sue would agree to go.

I pulled on my clothes. I needed to go see Sue, tell her. My hands shook as I put on my makeup. Charlie could not know.

Charlie pushed the door open. I jumped. “Hey, I thought I heard you up.” He sat down to put on his shoes. “I’m going to help Mike move the rest of his stuff.”

“Good.” I smoothed the guilty look over on my face.

“Where are you going?”

“Store.” I brushed down my hair quickly. I knew he thought I meant the store that was a mile away.

“Get some Maalox while you’re out, okay?” Charlie left.

“Okey-dokey.” I put on blue eye shadow and my coral Revlon Moondrops lipstick that I’d had for the last ten years. I made makeup stretch. Then I added foundation—it was lighter than the skin on my neck, Sue said, but that’s how I liked it—and was ready to go on my secret mission.

 

 

SUE’S OFFICE BUILDING was a long way away. Though I had my driver’s license, I didn’t do much driving on my own. Usually I avoided freeways, but I had to take three to get there. I kept to the slow lane the whole way.