Silent Honor (18 page)

Manila fell to the Japanese the next day, and even more young men signed up after that. But three days later, the Selective Service reclassified all the nisei and sansei. They were put in a class called IV-C, and they were told that they would either be discharged from the service or could hold only menial jobs, like those in the kitchen.

“Second-class citizens, if that,” Peter said through clenched teeth.

“It's going to make great teaching one day,” Tak said grimly. “I just wonder who'll be here to teach the class. Probably not me, or anyone like me. You'll have to do it, Peter.”

“Don't be stupid, Tak.” He didn't want to hear it.

“I'm not. Look around you. Read the papers.” The emotions against the Japanese were running higher than ever, even against American-born Japanese like Reiko. People seemed to be unable to differentiate between their enemies and their friends, their allies and “enemy aliens,” as they called them.

Hiroko went back to St. Andrew's in the midst of all the worries and bad news, and it was easier than she expected. Despite Peter's protests, she took the train to go there.

The Tanakas had all been too busy to take her, and the only surprise she had was that she couldn't get a cab at the station. So she walked the rest of the way, carrying her suitcase, all the way from the station. A few buses went by, but they wouldn't stop to pick her up either. But, warmer and more tired than she'd anticipated, she nevertheless reached St. Andrew's safely.

When she got to school, the head of the dorms told her that they had made a little change. They felt sure that under the circumstances these days, she would prefer a private room, and they had done every-thing they could to find one for her. But in spite of the appeal of it, Hiroko felt guilty. She knew how vehemently Anne Spencer had wanted a private room, and it didn't seem fair to take this one from her. And she explained that to the dorm mistress, and explained that she would be willing to do without one.

“That's very kind of you, Hiroko,” the woman said nervously. “But Anne has agreed to room with some other girls this semester. And Sharon will have a new roommate. So we hope everyone will be happy.”

But the “private” room they had found for her was actually nothing more than a broom closet in the attic. She had to go up the back stairs to get to it, and there were no other girls nearby. She had to go down three flights of stairs to get to the bathroom. And when Hiroko stepped inside it, wide-eyed, it was freezing. There was no heating at all, and no view. It didn't even have a window.

“This is my room?” she asked, looking startled, as the woman nodded, hoping she wouldn't object or make any comment.

“Yes, it's small, of course. And we've given you some extra blankets.” There were two, and even standing there, Hiroko could feel the bitter chill. And in the warmer weather, right under the roof, with no ventilation at all, it would be stifling. It was lit by a single bulb hanging from a wire on the ceiling, and the only furniture was a bed, a chair, and a dresser. There wasn't even a desk where she could do her work, or a closet to hang her clothes. And everything she had left in her last room had been put
in
her new one in boxes.

“Thank you,” Hiroko said softly, fighting back tears, and praying that she could hold them back long enough for the dorm mistress to leave so she wouldn't see them.

“I'm glad you like it,” she said, grateful that the girl had agreed and not created a problem. There had been no choice. The Spencers and several other parents had demanded that they do this. They were incensed that she was coming back at all. But the school had refused to let her go. She was a sweet girl, and an excellent student, and other than the one smoking incident she'd been put on probation for, there had never been a single disciplinary problem. They had refused to expel her for political reasons. “Let us know if you need anything,” she said to Hiroko, and then gently closed the door, leaving Hiroko there alone to sit on the bed and cry. She was more than an enemy alien now, she was a pariah.

She went to the library to do her studies that afternoon, but she didn't even bother to go to dinner. She didn't want to see any of them. She had glimpsed Anne coming back from her golf lessons only that afternoon, and she had overheard Sharon bragging to someone about spending Christmas with Gary Cooper. It was probably all a lie anyway, and who cared? She was too hurt by where they had put her to listen to Sharon's stories anymore. She didn't even call her cousins to tell them about the room. It was just too painful.

She went to bed early instead, without eating anything, and the next day she went to class looking pale, and wearing a heavy sweater. It had been freezing
in
her room all night, and by Thursday she was sneezing. But she didn't say a word to anyone; she didn't speak to a soul all week. And whenever she entered a room, they all acted as though they didn't see her.

She was going to go home on Friday night, but she had a bad cold by then, and wasn't feeling up to it. And she still hadn't told her cousins about the “private room”; she just called and told them she wasn't coming.

And when she went to get a cup of tea in the dining room on Friday night, the nurse happened to see her, and saw instantly that she had a fever.

“Are you all right?” she asked kindly, and Hiroko tried to smile, but her eyes filled with tears. It had been a terrible week, and she was feeling really awful. She had a bad chest cold, and her eyes were red and she was sneezing. In the end, the nurse insisted that she come to the infirmary, and once she got her there and took her temperature, she discovered that she had a hundred and two fever. “You're not going anywhere, young lady,” she said firmly, “except to bed, right here. And in the morning, we're going to call the doctor.” Hiroko felt so rotten, she didn't even argue, and she let the nurse put her to bed, grateful for a warm room and an abundance of blankets.

In the morning, her fever was down a little bit, but the nurse still insisted on calling the doctor. He came late that afternoon and said that she had bronchitis and a mild case of influenza, but by Sunday she could go back to her own room. Which she did, still feeling ill, but at least a little better.

She walked slowly up the stairs, carrying her few things. She had a lot of studying to do, and she was going to go to the library as soon as she changed her clothes. But when she got to her room, she found that the door wouldn't open. It had been locked somehow, although there was no lock on it, and the door seemed to be jammed, but as Hiroko pushed it open as hard as she could, she was met with a stench that left her breathless, and as the door opened fully a bucket of red paint fell on her and splashed everywhere. She was gasping and crying and trying to catch her breath, as she saw that her few belongings had been strewn everywhere, and someone had used the rest of the red paint to write the word JAP all over her walls, and
in
smaller letters
go home
and
get out of here.
But the worst of all was the dead cat they had put on her bed. It looked as though it had been dead for weeks, and it actually had maggots.

Hiroko ran screaming out the door, hysterical, and down the stairs as fast as she could, smearing paint everywhere. It was on her clothes, on her shoes, in her eyes, on her hands as she flew down the stairs, touching the walls and the banisters. She didn't even know where she was going. A few girls looked surprised when she got downstairs and others seemed to disappear, as Hiroko screamed in terror. She didn't even know what to say or do, all she could remember was the stench of the cat, and the paint pouring through her hair, and the terror of what they had done to the only haven she had there.

“Hiroko!” The dorm mistress and her assistant came running immediately and were horrified at what they saw as she stood there. “Oh, my God …oh, my God!!” The younger of the two women began to cry as she looked at her, and so did Hiroko. She took Hiroko in her arms, oblivious to the paint that covered her, and held her. “Who did this?”

Hiroko was too incoherent to speak, but she had no idea anyway, and would never have told them even if she did know. But when the two women went upstairs after leaving her in the infirmary, they were appalled at what they saw in her room. It was vicious. And late that night, both nurses worked on getting the paint out of her hair, put drops in her eyes to soothe them, and put her to bed in the infirmary. The school administration was sick over what had happened to her, and it was possible that it was just an isolated incident, but for her sake, and her safety, they felt they had to make a decision.

They called her cousins that night, and both Reiko and Tak came in the station wagon to get her the next day. They were frightened when they got the call, they thought she'd been hurt. And she had been, but not in any of the ways they expected.

They were overwhelmed when they saw her room. The cat was gone by then, but they were told about it, and janitors were already trying to clean the walls, but the deans had wanted the Tanakas to see it. They wanted them to fully understand the situation for her there, and the basis for their ultimate decision.

“It grieves us to say this to you,” they admitted in their meeting with the Tanakas. “And it is a terrible condemnation of all of us here. We each share the shame of what has happened. But because of it, because of the political climate at the moment, and the way the girls apparently are reacting to it, Hiroko is not safe here. We cannot be responsible for her, if things like this can happen in our midst. For her own sake, we cannot let her stay here.” They were terribly sorry, and they said all the right things, but they did not want the responsibility of her getting injured the next time. As it was, she could have been blinded by the paint, or even killed if the can had hit her. It was just too dangerous, and they suggested that perhaps the wisest course was for her to take a semester off, and see how the public mood had altered. She would be welcome to return at the right time: she had been an excellent student.

The Tanakas sat and listened to them, looking grief stricken, wondering how long it would be before things like this started happening at Stanford.

“Have you said anything to Hiroko yet?” Takeo asked unhappily. He didn't disagree with them, and in a way, he wanted her to leave and come home with them. But he knew she would be disappointed.

“We wanted to speak to you first,” the dean said, and then called her in, and said all the same things to Hiroko. And in spite of all her efforts not to, she cried when they told her.

“I must leave?” she asked, looking deeply embarrassed as they nodded. She lowered her eyes, and looked very Japanese. In her view, she had failed dismally. It was all her fault. And then she looked at her cousin. “My father will be so ashamed of me,” she said in English. She longed to speak Japanese to him, but she knew she couldn't.

“Your father will understand,” the dean said kindly. “This situation is beyond anyone's control. And it does not speak well for our young ladies. They should be ashamed, Hiroko, not you. We are doing this for your safety.” First they had had to put her in a broom closet, and now they were dumping paint cans on her head, and putting a dead cat in her room. If that was the way the other girls felt about her, she definitely did not belong there. “Perhaps you will come back someday.”

“I would like that,” she said sadly. “I must go to college in America. I have promised my father,” she said, honoring her promise.

“Maybe you could transfer to the University of California, or Stanford, and live with your cousins.” It was a possibility, but as a Japanese national, it was unlikely that anyone would take her.

“You can stay at home with me for a few months.” Reiko smiled at her, heartbroken at what the girls had done to her. It was an experience no one should have had, and Hiroko was so gentle and kind that the idea of anyone abusing her turned Reiko's stomach.

We're very sorry,” the administrators said again, and a little while later Hiroko went upstairs to pack her things with Reiko. Some had been stolen, most had been destroyed. The red paint had splashed everywhere; it was still in her hair, despite both nurses' efforts. It would take weeks to get it out. They'd even had to get it off her eyelashes and eyebrows.

Reiko took her bag to the car, while Hiroko stripped her bed and folded her blankets. And as she did, she suddenly sensed a presence behind her, and turned in terror. Maybe this time they would attack her. But the only person she saw standing there, looking hesitant, was Anne Spencer. Hiroko said not a word to her, she just stood there and waited, sure that the tall, aristocratic blonde had come to gloat, or maybe even to hurt her. And yet there was a look of sorrow in Anne's eyes, and they filled with tears as she held a hand out to Hiroko.

“I came to say good-bye,” she said in a whisper to her.
“I'm
sorry about what they did to you. I heard about it last night.” She could still see some of the paint in her hair and around her eyes, and she felt desperately sorry for her. She hadn't wanted to room with her, but she had never wanted anything like this to happen. And she had lain awake all night, thinking about it, after someone told her. It was a sick thing to do and she wanted Hiroko to know how she felt about it. She was outraged. Anne knew she'd had a right to be upset over being asked to room with her. But in her mind, that was different. She felt adamant that no one had a right to do this to another human being. And Japanese or not, Hiroko was very decent. Anne knew it from all she'd seen of her, and in her own way, respected her for it. She didn't want to be her friend or her roommate—she was still convinced that simply because Hiroko was Japanese, she was somehow beneath her. In her world, Japanese were nannies and gardeners and servants. But no matter what else she felt, Anne didn't wish her any harm either. And she felt terrible about everything the other girls had done to her.

“Will you go back to Japan?” Anne was suddenly curious about her. It was too late now, but at least she had wanted to say good-bye, and tell her she was sorry. She wanted her to know that she wasn't part of the attack that had been perpetrated on her by the others.