How to Be an American Housewife (10 page)

 

 

EVEN THOUGH I WAS SEEING AMERICANS , I still saw Ronin during my lunch breaks. He was an interesting friend, that was all, I told myself. Not even a real Eta, since his father was European. I made all sorts of excuses to myself.

Of course, Ronin was still supposed to be off-limits, but he was right that in this day and age when Americans dated Japanese, it hardly seemed to matter too much. Old rules didn’t apply. At least, not to this degree of casual friendship.

“Can you go anywhere and dance?” I asked him one day. We were sitting on the edge of the fountain in the middle of the maze. He had brought me a
bento
box packed by the hotel—a sticky rice ball rolled up with salt, covered in a seaweed wrap; steamed swordfish; and a spinach salad sprinkled with sesame seeds. The
hashi—
the chopsticks—were wrapped in a cloth napkin and secured with a tie.

“Of course.” He lifted up half the salad with his
hashi
and popped it into his mouth. “People at nightclubs don’t know who I am. No one would unless they checked my background. Like if I wanted to marry.” He looked at me meaningfully.

“I could never marry an Eta.” I took a bite of the cool rice ball. “My parents would throw me out.”

“But you’d marry one of these Americans you run around with,” he said, leaning close to me. “Someone you don’t love, just to leave.”

Before I could respond, he drew me in close and kissed me. I knew I shouldn’t let it happen, but I did. The kiss went on for what felt like minutes before I pushed him away.

“How dare you!” I said, getting up. I started running back toward the hotel.

“Shoko, wait!” Ronin said, coming after me, but I didn’t stop. He caught my arm and whirled me toward him. “Shoko, we can go to America together. It will be a new beginning. I’ve already applied for my passport. I will take you there.”

“No,” I said, surprised at the shame I felt. There was a certain cachet in marrying an American, but not in marrying an Eta. Americans were up, Eta were below down. Even if it was unfair, I couldn’t change it. “They’ll never grant you a passport, Ronin.”

He kissed me again, as if to try to convince me. His arms felt strong and safe, his body hard against mine. I inhaled the smell of him, cut grass, earth, and salt. “Meet me here tonight,” he said. “Midnight.”

“All right,” I said. My knees actually felt weak.

I’d never felt anything like what I felt with Ronin. That night, and every Friday night for weeks after, I met Ronin in the garden. They were the happiest hours of my life, but I was also plagued with guilt, both for leading Ronin on and for what my family would think if they saw me. I would have to choose between my family and my love. Deep down, I knew I could not do this to my family. It was my job to marry well, not bring generations of shame to them.

Slowly I started dropping some of the American men I was seeing informally. Their laughter and easy ways no longer seemed as appealing. The time for superficial fun was over. I was not enjoying being single, with all these freedoms, as much as I thought I would. At the end of the day, my feet hurt and dancing became tiresome. My job at the hotel was so easy I could do it half asleep, yet there was no opportunity for promotion. I was twenty now, and because my situation would not improve on my own, I wanted to marry someone who could help it improve.

I took photographs of the men I thought were the best prospects, the ones who treated me respectfully, who held the door open for me and made efforts to communicate. I kept these in a special black lacquered box, inlaid with white mother-of-pearl cranes, to show my father later. I would marry the American of his choice, I decided. If I could not marry Ronin, I might as well marry any of these men. They were interchangeable to me. My father would at least have the guidance of prayer to help him, while my instincts seemed poor at best, leading me down difficult paths.

Charlie took me out several times. We went dancing, but Charlie was a horrible dancer, so we stopped that, to the relief of my feet in their high heels. We saw American movies, subtitled in Japanese. Mostly we sat and talked, or attempted to talk, over food, always ending with an American-style ice cream cone. If I didn’t watch out, I’d gain too much weight for him to be interested.

 

 

ONE DAY, my brother came to see me and Tetsuo during his spring break, and stayed in a room at the hotel. They were still friends, even though Tetsuo was a cad. “Who can blame him,” Taro said callously, “after he was stuck with an elephant like you.”

I hit him in the shoulder, hard enough that he rubbed it. “I hope you’re doing well in school, little brother,” I said. He was in his final year. “Or else I won’t pay for the rest.”

“Don’t worry,” Taro said. “This hotel is nice. Maybe I’ll have a party tonight.”

“Be good,” I warned. His room was nice, much better than his cramped apartment at his college. This was American-style, with a bed off the floor, carpeting, curtains to keep out the light, and a radio.

“Testuo will be here,” Taro said, grinning. “Don’t you want to get back together?”

“Mother already said I should not,” I said, sniffing. “I had to get a new roommate because of him.”

 

 

THAT NIGHT, I met Ronin in the garden again. It was to be our last time. I was sick of working in the gift shop, and the aircraft carrier, which had all my Americans on it, was due to leave in six months. That was just enough time to get married and settled before they left. I had to think of my family and of myself. I had to stop leading Ronin on.

Ronin sat stock-still in the moonlight after I told him. “Let’s leave tonight,” he said, grabbing my hands. I felt sick and hopeful at once. “We’ll marry and leave.”

“I have no passport,” I said.

“We’ll go to the north, where we’re unknown. I’ll change my name to yours.” Ronin stroked my arm, sending shivers up and down it. “I have no reason when it comes to you, Shoko.” He kissed me, tasting of rice and miso soup, his lips soft as pillows.

With the last of my resolve, I stood up from the blanket strewn on the ground. “I have to go.” From somewhere I heard laughter and music. “I won’t see you again.”

“Wait.” Ronin hugged me, then touched my face with tenderness. I closed my eyes.

Then I gave way to weakness. I should have known I was asking for it, meeting him alone in the garden that way, but I couldn’t say no again.

T
he morning after I said good-bye to Ronin, I went to work in the gift shop as usual. I put him in another part of my mind, behind a locked door. That didn’t stop me from gazing into space a few times that morning, causing my boss to speak sharply to me.

At midday, my brother came into the gift shop. His face was a stern mask, heading into battle. I believed my brother’s greatest regret was that he was too young to have been a
kamikaze
.

“Shoko.” He already had a headmaster’s voice.

“You look just like Father when you’re mad,” I teased him. “What’s wrong?”

“I must speak to you in private.” His voice was ice.

I got a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. I’d never seen my brother’s eyes so cold, not even during the war. And pained. “Is it Mother?”

He shook his head and pointed silently to the door. I was so relieved that I followed without my usual smart remarks.

We went up to his hotel room, walking up the three flights of stairs, the sound of our shoes the only noise in the empty concrete stairwell.

Taro shut his door. “Did you think no one would find out? All the staff is talking. Tetsuo told me everything.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” My response was automatic. I did know—Ronin. I sank into a chair.

Damn Tetsuo. Why couldn’t he leave me alone? He owed me more, after what he had done to me. I had thought I was being so secretive. Now I realized it had never been a secret at all. Probably someone saw me with Ronin and had gossiped about it to Tetsuo. Of course he had to stick his big nose back into my business.

“It’s bad enough, running around with Americans. But an Eta! An Eta!” Taro stood over me, his voice angry but not too loud. He didn’t want the whole hotel to hear. “You have shamed your family, Shoko.”

“Taro, I’m sorry. It’s not what you think.” I took a deep breath. “Ronin is a kind, hardworking man. In another life, I would marry him. But I broke it off.”

I told myself this was true. Last night—I had slipped. I had woken, Ronin’s arms around me, in a daze. We were still on the blanket in the garden; I had no idea what time it was. The moon had disappeared, but I could see every star from here to Mars.

“Ronin.” I had pushed at him. He was deeply in slumber, a soft flutter around his lips. “I have to go.”

His eyes were white in the darkness. “Where?” He grabbed my arm. “Let’s make a run. Tonight. Right now.”

“I don’t have my clothes.” What was I saying? I wasn’t going anywhere with him.

“You don’t need them. I’ll buy you new ones.”

I laughed bitterly. “Ronin. This is madness.”

“It’s not madness. It’s love.” He pulled me down for a kiss. “There. Do you feel that with any of your Americans?”

“Stop it.” I pulled away. I needed to leave fast, before I destroyed my life. I thought about my parents. My brother, asleep in the hotel right next to us. I couldn’t devastate them. I stood.

“If you go, I’ll follow you,” Ronin said. “Everyone will know anyway.”

I didn’t turn. “I know you. You wouldn’t do that.”

He exhaled. “No. I wouldn’t.”

My head drooped so low it touched my chest. “Fool,” I whispered to myself. Ronin deserved better than me. I was a coward. “Good luck in America.”

I LOOKED UP at my brother in shock. Taro’s shoulders were shaking, his eyes wet. I had never seen my brother cry before.

“I’m so angry I could kill you,” he muttered, sitting on the bed. The covers were all messed up and I smoothed them automatically. “Once a maid, always a maid.”

I knelt beside him. “You won’t tell Father, will you?”

“Of course not. It would kill our parents to know.” He grabbed my shoulder. “Have you really broken it off with him?”

“Last night. Father wants me to marry an American, and I agree.” My voice sounded stilted. Taro heard it.

“Why couldn’t you be a normal Japanese girl and marry a respectable Japanese man? What you’ve done is unforgivable.” Taro shook his head. “This independence has not been good for you, Shoko.”

I bit my lip, tasting the thick wax of my lipstick. If I were truly independent, I would have been on a train with Ronin right then. “I didn’t hear you complaining when I paid your tuition.”

“I won’t have that anymore. I’ll pay my own way through.” Taro lit a cigarette. “Tetsuo is still in love with you, you know.”

I shut my eyes. “He should have thought of that before he bedded my roommate.” If Tetsuo hadn’t done that, I would still be with him, getting ready for marriage. Everything would be far simpler.

He blew smoke rings at me. “He means to have some words with your boyfriend.”

I grew fearful. What did this mean? Words or fists? Tetsuo was notoriously hotheaded. I remembered how angry he had been when I danced with another boy. “Tell him not to! There’s no need.”

Taro shrugged. “I told him I would take care of it, that this was between you and me, but he ran off anyway. You know Tetsuo.”