Caged Eagles (23 page)

“That would explain your injuries. Your ribs and jaw, and those marks on the side of your face, look like the damage that would be done by somebody kicking you.”

“Lots of people were kicking me. I don't know what would have happened if people didn't come over the fence to help us.”

“You might have been beaten to death.”

He was probably just being dramatic, sort of lecturing me about getting in fights.

“Another well-placed kick or two, and one of those ribs could have pierced a lung and you could have bled internally. Possibly bled to death.”

His words hit me like another shot in the head.

“You mean …”

“Yes, you could have died,” he said.

I exhaled loudly. “But I'm okay now … right?”

“You'll be fine, but with rib injuries there's always a danger the patient will develop pneumonia. I can't have you going off to sleep on the floor of some damp stall.

You'll stay here in the infirmary.”

“But what about my parents? I didn't want them to …”

I let the sentence trail off.

“To know you'd been in a fight?”

I nodded my head. “But in the report you're going to say I fell down stairs.”

“That report is for the administration here. Them we lie to, parents we don't. Understand?”

“I understand.” I felt badly for even thinking about lying to them. What sort of person did the doctor think I was?

“I want you to move both arms away from your sides. It may help if you use your left arm to cradle the right,” the doctor said.

I followed his directions. It did help a little to hold my right arm with my left hand. The doctor took a roll of adhesive tape from a tray beside him. He started to apply it to my left side.

“But it's the other side that's injured.”

“Who do you think is the doctor here?” he asked.

He slowly wrapped the tape around my back, under my arm and across my chest. After several wraps, the sharp pain in my chest eased to a dull ache as the injured ribs were held in place.

“I hope you don't mind me asking, but what was so important to make you and your friend leave the park?” the doctor asked.

I hesitated. I really didn't want to tell him about the letter. “I guess mainly we just wanted to get out … be free for a while.”

The doctor had started back around with a second piece of tape. “I can understand that. If they didn't let me out to check on patients that have been transferred to the hospital I think I'd go crazy.”

He cut off the second piece after making a complete loop and then started back around for a third time.

“This is to immobilize the site of the injury. To stop the ribs from moving. How does it feel?”

“Very tight … but it does feel a little bit better, I think.”

“Good.”

“Could I ask you a question?” I asked.

“Certainly,” the doctor replied.

“Do you like what you're doing?”

“Being a doctor?”

“Yeah, do you like being a doctor?” I asked.

“It is a fairly rewarding profession. Why, is it something you're interested in pursuing?”

“I thought I might. I just don't know about having to go away to Japan to school,” I answered.

“It was difficult, but until things change there's no choice. There still isn't a medical school in all of Canada that will admit an Oriental.” He paused. “Funny, before all this happened, I really thought it might be different by the time somebody your age got around to being old enough to apply. Shows you what I know. But then again, if some of the rumors I hear are true, it won't be as big a shock for you as it was for me to go to school in Japan.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because you'll already be living there.”

My mouth dropped open, and I think he could see the shock on my face.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. Just another stupid rumor about us all being shipped to Japan. Nothing to it at all, I'm sure,” he said, shaking his head. “That's just my frustration talking. There's lots of frustration. We all feel it. In the last four weeks I've had a lifetime's worth of experience in dealing with this sort of injury. Slip your shirt back on.”

“Have a lot of people been falling down stairs?” I asked as I carefully slipped my arms back into the sleeves of my shirt.

“Every day at least one, and sometimes a lot more. You put this many people, this many men, together in one place, all packed in tight like sardines in a can. You give them nothing to do all day, and then you add alcohol, and you can't help but create conflict.” He paused. “But even worse is what they've taken away from us,” he said.

“You mean like the houses and the fishing boats?”

I asked.

“It's not the possessions, but what they mean. What does your father do for a living?”

“He's a fisherman.”

“There are lots of fishermen in here,” he said. “You have to understand that being a fisherman is more than what your father
does
. It's a big part of what he
is
. Me, I was a doctor.”

“You're still a doctor,” I argued.

“You're right, technically. They still let me do some parts of my job, seeing people here, but it's different … let me see if I can explain.”

He slowly walked across the room, rubbing his chin with his hand, thinking. He came back and sat on a high stool beside the examination table.

“I saw patients in my office and in their homes.

Mostly Japanese, but some Chinese, even some whites.

Doesn't matter. They all trust me, call me ‘doctor', or even ‘sir'. Respect me. I have a big house. Wife and kids, four kids. A car. A nice car. Enough money.

Respect in the community.” He paused and his expression changed. “And then this all happened, and me and my family are sent here, along with everybody else, and you know what I realized? None of it mattered. In the end I'm not a doctor, or a respected member of the community, or a property owner, or even a husband and father. All I am is a Jap.” He paused again. “But enough. You weren't brought to hear me rant. I'll send somebody around to let your parents know you're here.”

“When they come, could I be the one to tell them what happened?” I asked.

“It might be better.”

“I just think they should hear it from me.”

“Certainly. What is your last name, Tadashi?”

“Fukushima.”

“Fukushima? Does your grandmother live with you?”

“Yeah, and my mother and … why?” I asked. I was overcome by a terrible fear.

“Come,” the doctor said, walking away.

I carefully climbed off the examination table and limped after him. The pain in my body made it hard to keep up with him, but I was pushed along by the uneasiness in my head. I trailed behind him as he passed beds filled with people. The doctor stopped and pulled back a curtain. My entire family stood around a bed, a bed occupied by my grandmother!

“Tadashi, we were looking for you everywhere and …” Midori stopped talking. “What happened to you?”

I could tell by the look on her face and the expression of my parents that they were shocked by my appearance. Even though the nurse had cleaned up the blood, I knew I still must look awful.

“He's going to be all right,” the doctor said.

“But, but … what happened?” my father questioned as my mother ran over and threw her arms around me.

I grimaced in pain.

I took a deep breath — at least, as deep as I could take. “I was in a fight … outside the park. But how is grandmother?”

“Same, sick. She's so weak she couldn't get out of bed.”

“Influenza. Same strain that's spreading like wildfire across the park,” the doctor said.

“Is she going to be okay?” I asked in a whisper.

The doctor nodded his head. “She'll be fine in a few days, a week at most.”

“Fine now,” my grandmother said. “Go back home.”

Her voice was just a whisper. She didn't sound fine.

“I'm going to leave you all alone. I'm sure you have much to discuss,” the doctor said. He pulled the curtain closed behind him as he left. I wasn't looking forward to trying to explain to my father why I had left the park.

I started as I woke up in the darkened room. My grandmother was standing over me, and I felt reassured and confused at the same time. Where was I? As I tried to sit up, the pain in my side reminded me.

“Go to sleep,” my grandmother said softly.

“Why aren't you in bed?” I asked.

“Checking on you. Fixing covers,” she said as she tucked in my blanket.

“I'm fine, but you need to get back into bed.”

She ignored me, continuing to tuck in the loose edges of my bedding. She then sat down on the edge of my bed. Even in the dark, she looked so thin and frail.

The sound of coughing filtered through the curtains that surrounded and separated our two beds from the rest of the patients. At my grandmother's insistence, they'd put both of our beds in the same space, so close together that they were practically touching.

“You need to go back to bed,” I said again.

“Later.” She reached up and stroked my head. It felt good, reassuring. It brought me back to a time when I was little and she used to do that every night after my mother had put me to bed.

“Like your father, Tadashi. Sit and stroke his head when he boy. Now he is man and his son is nearly man.” She chuckled softly. “My time is near.”

“What do you mean?” I asked in alarm, although I knew in my gut exactly what she was saying.

“Old.”

“You're not that old!” I protested.

“Look at my hands,” she said as she stopped stroking my head and held them before my eyes. “Old woman's hands.” She turned them over. They were as tiny as the rest of her, wrinkled and old.

“Will die.”

“But the doctor says you're getting better!”

I protested.

“Not yet, but will happen. You die too.”

“I'm not going to —”

“Everybody die,” she said with a shrug.

“Of course … but not for a long time. A long, long time.”

“Time,” she said, shaking her head. “I remember Tadashi as a baby, and your father as a baby … and me … little girl.” She was staring off into the distance.

“Time goes.”

“But not yet, not today.”

She shook her head. “Not yet. Soon. And then ashes.”

I knew what she meant. After she died she wanted her body to be cremated, burned until all that was left was ashes. That was how Buddhists took care of their dead. Right now, though, I didn't want to hear any of this. Why didn't she just go back to bed?

“You just baby when grandfather die.”

I was less then two years old and could only remember him from the pictures we had.

“Beautiful, in forest. All day and all night. Pretty fire. Sitting, standing, watching … eating foods … his favorite foods … shrimp, nuts … taking sips of sake.”

She paused again. “You were there.”

“I was?”

“Everybody there. All family. All village.”

I guess that shouldn't have surprised me. I'd only actually been to one other cremation, but I knew that all members of the family would be present, as well as friends and neighbors. It was funny, but if you could forget for a second that there was a dead body burning in the fire it had more of the feel of a picnic — outdoors, eating, drinking, tears but also lots of laughter and talking, and, of course, the gigantic bonfire to warm your hands by.

“For me, like husband.” She paused. “Then ashes need go home.”

“Father will make sure they get back to Japan,”

I said, although I didn't know how he'd do that — not, at least, until the war was over.

“No … not Japan …
my
home. Sikima. Village. Our home. Together with family. Family together.”

“But I thought Japan would be home for you,” I said in disbelief.

“Japan
was
home. Canada is home.”

Canada was my home, but hers? Especially after all that had happened?

“I did not know either,” she said, obviously aware that her answer had surprised me. “When close eyes I dream of home … our village … our home … Sikima.

That is where ashes go.”

I thought it might be easier to get them to Japan, but I wasn't going to say anything. What was the point?

“Don't be sad,” she said.

“I'm not …” She was right, though; I was feeling very sad.

“I tell story to help you sleep.”

“It's the middle of the night and we need to get to —”

She put a finger on my lips to silence me. “Story, then sleep. Okay?”

“Okay, but only if you promise to get back into bed to tell me the story.”

She nodded her head. She shuffled the few feet and climbed up onto the high hospital bed.

“Get under the covers,” I ordered her.

She chuckled and pulled the blanket over her.

“Story now?”

“Yes, story now,” I answered.

“A boy in forest … in jungle. Gathering food when he sees a tiger. And tiger sees him.”

I hadn't heard this story before.

“Boy runs. Tiger chases. Just as tiger to get him, the boy falls down a cliff!” she said, her voice rising.

“Sshhhhhhhh!” I hissed, not wanting her to wake up the whole hospital.

She giggled like a little girl and then nodded her head. “Fall, fall, fall, and then, grab branch,” she whispered. “Look up, tiger looking down. Look down … very far … and tiger at bottom!”

“How could the tiger get to the bottom? ”

I questioned.

“Other tiger, second tiger.”

“There are two tigers?” I was trying to think how this story was going to help me get to sleep.