How to Be an American Housewife - Margaret Dilloway [34]
“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