China Dolls (31 page)

“Sis!”

None of that bowing stuff for us. He put his arms around me, and we held each other tight.

“You look like shit,” he said when he released me, and we laughed.

“Mom and Pop?” I asked.

He nodded toward the boys. “Let me finish up here. I’ll tell you what I know later.”

I sat on a bench and watched him coach the team. A bell rang. Yori dismissed the boys.

“I haven’t seen Mom and Pop since that terrible day,” he said as he sat down. He stared out across the field with a faraway look, telling me how he’d been detained and questioned for hours. His interrogators had wanted to know if Pop had been signaling to Japanese planes.

I shook my head. “I know the drill.”

“I told those bastards I’m a
Nisei
, born in Los Angeles,” he went on. “I said they were talking out of their asses. I let them in on the fact that someone in an American plane shot and killed Hideo—also an American citizen.” He fought his emotions. “Kimiko, I’ve never seen
anything so horrible in my life. What they did to him … And Pop and I still had to go back to shore …”

I burned for Yori and my father, helpless at sea with someone whom they’d loved, dead—in pieces—on the deck. There were no words.

“Mom and Pop have been sent to a special camp—”

“In Arizona,” I finished for him. “I know. Have you heard from them?”

“No, and I haven’t written to them either. I don’t want guilt by association. You?”

“I haven’t written to them either. I only just found out where they are.”

“Well, don’t start now,” he ordered, but the regret in his voice felt heavy. “
Shikata ga nai
. It cannot be helped,” he added, and I could practically hear my mother reciting those same words.

We sat in silence for a few minutes. This place was so desolate, our family had been so broken, and my life was so destroyed that I wondered not only what hideous thing could happen next but how—if ever—we could recover what we’d lost individually and as a family.

Yori sighed, then asked, “Lunch?” I was starved, and dwelling in self-pity wasn’t my way. He took me to the mess hall in his block. “I’ve got a surprise for you,” he said. We grabbed metal trays, waited in line, and food was dropped on our plates, whether we wanted it or not.
Plop, plop, plop
. Then we walked through the long rows of tables, with Yori scanning the room until he saw what—or whom—he was searching for. He set his tray down on a table already occupied by a husband, wife, and a bunch of squalling, brawling, shoving brats. Yori beamed, but I didn’t ken to why until the two adults stood and bowed. Aunt Haru, Uncle Junji, and their kids! They had all changed so much I hadn’t recognized them at first. My aunt and uncle both seemed careworn—thinner and shorter than I remembered. The kids had all grown, though, and they certainly hadn’t lost any of their spunk. Overall, the family looked healthy despite what they’d been through. We had only a few minutes to catch up, because my aunt and
uncle had to get back to work. Before they left, they asked if I’d like to move to their barracks and live with the rest of the family. Everything was happening so fast that I was shaken down to my toes. A few days ago I was in a movie studio; today I was in a hellhole. Being united with other Fukutomis offered some comfort at least.

After lunch, Yori guided me to his block and introduced me to the other residents in the barracks. A couple of people gave me things they could spare—an extra toothbrush, a small men’s T-shirt, a pair of socks, a sweater. Once my new belongings were piled up next to me, Yori said, “We were taught never to ask anything directly, but …” He motioned around the claustrophobic space. “Life is different now, and Mom and Pop’s rules don’t make sense here.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Where were you, and why did it take so long for you to join us?”

He knew me, so it didn’t surprise him all that much that I’d tried to pass as an authentic Chinese princess, dancing in a San Francisco nightclub. “I thought I could get away with it for the duration.” I shrugged. “I was wrong.”

“Things might have been different for me too. Most Japanese were allowed to stay in Hawaii and continue to live their regular lives.” He gave a short but bitter laugh. “The
haoles
need us to keep the island economy going, and there’s a lot of new work there with the war and all. But I had our family problem. The authorities shipped me to Angel Island, where I was photographed, fingerprinted, and examined for infectious diseases like I was a goddamn coolie laborer.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nothing for you to be sorry about. It’s not your fault. And listen, I’m lucky. Topaz isn’t great, but it could be worse.”

I gave him a questioning look.

“This place was originally called the Central Utah Relocation Center,” he continued. “CURC sounds like
curse
, so they decided to name it for the nearby town, but the Mormons got all up in arms about it. So now this is called Topaz for the big mountain that—”

“I saw it.”

“But we call it Whirlpool Valley, because of the dust storms. Anyway, this is now the fifth largest city in the state. How do you like that? About nine thousand people live here between the internees and the staff.”

“So where’s the lucky part?” I asked.

“Last month the government decided to let people like me fight,” he answered, “but first everyone was required to take the loyalty oath. We had to answer certain questions. Would we swear allegiance to the U.S. of A. and faithfully defend it from any and all attacks by foreign or domestic forces, and forswear any form of allegiance or obedience to the Japanese emperor, and so on? The answer was easy for me—yes—but it was terrible for the old-timers.
Issei
don’t have the right to become American citizens, they can’t vote, they’ve spent years being picked on, and now they were asked to forsake the emperor? They would be without a country! Stateless! Then we were asked if we were willing to serve in the armed forces of the U.S. on combat duty. I answered yes to that too.”

“Have you lost your marbles?”

His response was not one I wanted to hear. “I’ll be leaving soon for basic training at Camp Shelby in Mississippi—”

“You can’t leave! I just got here!”

“Sis, no one told me you were coming … Anyway, the Army is putting together an all-Japanese unit called the 442nd Regimental Combat Team. I hear there’s gonna be a bunch of other
Nisei
from Hawaii—”

“Yori!
We
’re finally together! Isn’t that more important than fighting with some guys you went to high school with?”

“
Sumimasenga
, I’m sorry, but you never even tried to get in touch with me,” he said sternly. “Why do you suddenly care?”

“I guess I deserve that, but you’re going to fight for them after everything they’ve done to our family? After putting you in
this
place?”

He gave me his best big-brother you-don’t-know-squat look. “It’s our country, Sis. Don’t ever forget it.”

I loved the United States. It was my home, but inside I was so angry. So angry about
everything
.

He watched my face, and I could nearly hear him thinking,
Too much emotion
. After a long pause, he added, “You know as well as I do that Germany and Japan have to be defeated.”

He was right, of course.

“They’re going to ask you those two questions as well,” he informed me. “A word of advice. If you answer no to either of them, you’ll be labeled a no-no girl.”

“No-no girl?” My mind went to Grace and Helen. Sorrow welled in my chest. But Yori had a very different definition.

“Those who answer in the negative are taken away. They’re sent to special camps like the one where they’re keeping Mom and Pop.”

We talked awhile more. He told me that Topaz’s rules had loosened, so that now people could leave to hike, work in the nearby town, or take jobs on neighboring farms.

“We have everything and everyone here—teachers, scientists, artists, businessmen, even performers. There’s a guy, Goro Suzuki—”

“The comedian? He used to play the Sky Room in Chinatown!”

“Well, he’s gotten clearances to play clubs in Cleveland, Akron, and Chicago. He’s changed his name to Jack Soo so he’ll sound Chinese.”

I knew all about that.

“You just have to get past the loyalty oath,” he added.

After I left Yori, I walked straight to the placement office.

“How in the hell do I get out of this joint?” I asked, momentarily slipping and letting the truth of how I felt show, which was probably not the most diplomatic way to introduce myself to the man in charge.

“You can’t just arrive one day and expect to leave the next,” he huffed in response. He told me that most girls my age had to wash laundry or work in the nearby sugar beet fields. Maybe he saw me for what I was—a girl with a scrapbook past—because he gave me an inside job as a file clerk, earning sixteen dollars a month, for which I acted grateful. But, clearly, becoming a file clerk wasn’t going to work for Princess Tai.

GRACE

Good Luck, Bad Luck

I’d been home ten days, and I was just beginning to come to terms with what had happened. By the end of filming, it had been clear to everyone that I was seriously hurt. The studio had offered to take me to the hospital, but I just wanted to go home. The trip back to San Francisco was sad and lonely. I had no idea, however, that I would feel even worse when I entered my apartment. It echoed hollowly without Ruby’s vibrancy, but her presence was everywhere: a pair of shoes left helter-skelter by the bathroom door, her perfume bottles on the dresser, her robe draped over a chair. I took it all in then loaded up on aspirin and whiskey. I tried to sleep, but I hurt too much.

The next day I went to my doctor. “The physical blow rarely causes injuries. Instead, it’s what happens on your way to the floor,” he informed me, as though I hadn’t lived with that knowledge for a good part of my life. “The bruise on your jaw won’t win you any beauty contests. It’s these other injuries that are of more concern.” He gently palpated the swollen green, purple, and yellowing splotches that ran from my armpit down my side and along my left hip. He verified my fractured ribs from my encounter with the table edge and diagnosed a hematoma on my hip from my hard landing. I also had vertigo that came as a result of a slight concussion. “It looks like you’ve been down this road before, my dear. Is there anything you want to tell me? I’d like to help.” When I thanked him but said no, he
sighed, advised me to rest for a month, and ordered me to drink milk to build myself up and heal my bones.

On my third day home, I received a delivery of roses and candy. The card read:

  
I’m sorry
.

  
Please forgive me
.

Joe

All the emotions I’d needed to push aside to deal with the events of that day—and get home—now surfaced. I cried when I thought about Joe and how he must be feeling—his guilt for hitting me and his anguish over Ruby. My sympathies for her were deeper still. If I listened to the radio and “You’re a Sap, Mr. Jap” or “We’re Going to Find a Fellow Who Is Yellow and Beat Him Red, White, and Blue” came on, I turned the music right back off and sat in silence. My closest friend was gone, and there was nothing I could do about it. I gathered up her things and packed them in a trunk. I took her box of money from under her bed and hid it with mine.

I couldn’t afford to keep the apartment by myself, so on my fifth day home I invited Ida to live with me. We’d never gotten along that well, but she seemed as eager to move in with me as I originally had been to share the apartment with Ruby. A few hours later, she bumped her way into Ruby’s old room with two suitcases, a lamp, and some knickknacks. And really, Ida wasn’t so bad—small and cute, and all the boys loved her, but she still kept up with Ray Boiler, despite the warnings about him, and they made a ruckus in her room all weekend. He scared me, but she reminded me that he only visited every four weeks. The prospect was about as appealing to me as the monthly visit from Aunt Flo, but I’d tolerate his presence because I couldn’t bear to be alone.

On my eighth day, Helen visited, bringing Tommy. Our conversations ran in circles.

“Who could have done that to Ruby?” Helen asked.

“I have no idea. It just doesn’t make sense,” I replied.

“Some people can be so cruel …”

And then we were back at the beginning and not one inch closer to an answer.

This morning, my tenth day back in San Francisco, Charlie dropped by with a pot of his mother’s soup and to inquire when I’d return to work, reminding me that he’d promised a raise to anyone who got a part in a film.

In the afternoon, I received a short letter from Joe:

Dear Grace
,

I will never be able to apologize enough for what I did to you, but I hope you will allow me to visit. What I need to say, I need to say in person. Will you meet me at noon on the 12th at Foster’s? Please don’t say no, although I will understand if you do
.