Silent Honor (6 page)

“I think they will be over there,” she said carefully, answering his unspoken question about her English. She spoke it deliberately and clearly, although it was obvious that she was not very comfortable with it. “I have only one trunk,” she said, sounding even to her own ears very much like Hidemi. Her father and Yuji had an ease with languages, and spoke English as though they used it constantly. Hidemi's English was far less fluent, as was Hiroko's.

“How was the trip?” Takeo asked as they went to the area she had pointed to, and they found her single trunk already waiting. A customs officer was standing nearby and gave her clearance surprisingly quickly.

Then Takeo waved at a porter and indicated where his car was, as he led Hiroko away from the ship, to meet her new cousins. He had driven there in a new Chevrolet station wagon he'd bought that year. It was dark green and carried the whole family with ease, even the dog, who went everywhere with them. But they had left her at home this time so they could put Hiroko's bags in the back, and drive back to Palo Alto. But all of his children had come, and they were all excited to meet her.

“The trip was very smooth,” she said in studied answer. “Thank you.” She still couldn't understand why he was speaking English to her. He was Japanese, after all. She could only imagine that her father had asked him to make her practice her English. But she was aching to speak Japanese with him. It seemed foolish to be conversing in English. He wasn't any more American than she was, but he had lived in the States for twenty years, and his wife and children had been born here.

He walked ahead of her through the crowd on the pier, and the porter followed behind them with her trunk, and it was only a few minutes before they reached the car, where Reiko and the children were waiting. Reiko, in a red dress, hopped out of the car quickly, and embraced Hiroko warmly while Takeo helped put the trunk in the back of the Chevy.

“Oh, you look so beautiful,” Reiko said, smiling at her. She was a pretty woman, of about Hidemi's age, but her hair was cropped short, she was wearing makeup, and she had a red dress on that looked very glamorous to Hiroko. Hiroko bowed low to her, to show her respect for her, just as she had to Uncle Takeo. “You don't have to do that here,” Reiko said, still smiling at her, and holding her hand as she turned to her children and introduced them. She called them Ken, Sally, and Tami. Hiroko had always heard of them as Kenji, Sachiko, and Tamiko. Ken was sixteen, and surprisingly tall for a Japanese boy, and Sally was fourteen but looked very grown-up in saddle shoes, a gray skirt, and a pink cashmere sweater. She was a pretty girl, and she looked very much like her mother. And Tami was adorable. She was eight years old, small and lively, and before Hiroko could say a word to her, she threw her arms around Hiroko's neck and kissed her.

“Welcome home, Hiroko!” Tami smiled happily at her, and then commented immediately on how tiny Hiroko was. “I'm almost as tall as you are.” Hiroko laughed, and bowed to them, and they watched her do it with interest. “We don't do that here,” Tami explained to her. “Only people's grandmothers do stuff like that. And you don't have to wear a kimono either. But yours is really pretty.” She looked like a little Japanese doll to them, and Tami insisted on sitting in the back with her and Ken, while Sally got into the front seat with her parents.

In a few minutes they were on their way, and Hiroko was instantly overwhelmed by them, as they chatted and laughed and the kids explained to her about their schools and their friends, and Tami told her all about her dollhouse. Reiko tried quieting them down, but they were much too excited about the arrival of their cousin to listen to her. Hiroko was beautiful, and so small, and she had lovely hair, and Sally said that she looked like a doll her father had given her once, and she wanted to know if Hiroko had brought any Western clothing with her.

“Some.” She explained, “My father thought I would need it for college.”

“Good idea,” Reiko said. “And Sally can lend you anything you need, Hiroko.” Hiroko was fascinated by her. Aunt Rei, as she wanted to be called, although they were actually cousins, seemed completely American; she had no accent at all, and in fact, she had been born in Fresno. Cousins of her father's had a flower-growing business there, and her parents had come over before she was born to join them. She had been born in the States, and then sent to school in Japan for several years, which made her a
kibei.
But she had never felt at home in Japan. She was American to her very core, and she had come back to the States and gotten a scholarship to Stanford, where she met Tak, and a year later they were married. A year after that, her parents had retired and gone back to Japan, and they had both been killed in the big earthquake, just after Hiroko was born. The family business in Fresno was still run by her cousins. They were Reiko's only living relatives, except for Takeo and her children.

“I know how you feel, Hiroko,” she explained. “When my parents sent me to school in Japan, I felt like I had been sent to another planet. Everything was so different there from what I was used to. My Japanese wasn't very good then, and none of our relatives spoke English at all. I thought they were all strange and old-fashioned.”

“Yeah, just like you.” Sally pointed at Ken as she interrupted, and they all laughed.

“But I know it's not easy. We probably all seem pretty strange to you.” Reiko smiled at Hiroko then, and Hiroko looked down at her lap and smiled shyly. She had scarcely the courage to look at any of them, and the moment they spoke to her, she looked down, and seemed deeply embarrassed. She was the shyest person Sally had ever seen. But more than anything, Hiroko couldn't believe how American they all were. If it weren't for their faces, she would never have known they were Japanese. They didn't speak like real Japanese, act like them, move like them. It was as though they had no tie whatsoever with Japanese manners and culture.

“Do you like American food?” Sally asked, curious about her. They were going to share a room, and Sally was dying to ask her if she had a boyfriend. Ken wondered the same thing. He was going steady with Peggy, their next-door neighbor.

“I have never eaten them,” Hiroko answered hesitantly, and Tami giggled. She'd been answering Sally's question.

“It, not them. You mean you've never had hamburgers and milk shakes?” Tami looked at her as though she were a Martian.

“Never. I have read about them. Are they very tasty?” Tami groaned again. They were going to have to do something about her English.

“They're great,” Tami said. “You'll love them.” They had planned a real American dinner for her that night, a barbecue in their backyard, and they had invited a few of their neighbors, both American and Japanese, to meet their cousin. Takeo was the barbecue chef, and they were going to be cooking hamburgers and hot dogs, and steaks and chicken. Reiko was planning to make corn on the cob, and mashed potatoes, and salad. And Sally made great garlic bread. And Tami had spent a whole morning helping her mother bake chocolate chip cookies and cupcakes, and make homemade ice cream.

The drive to Palo Alto took an hour, and Uncle Tak drove her down University Drive, past the university, so she could see it. It was beautiful, but very different than what she'd expected. The architecture seemed Spanish or Mexican, and the lawns were smooth and green and beautifully tended. Hiroko had been hearing about it for years and it was exciting to finally see it.

“Yuji wants to go there next year,” Hiroko said, unconsciously slipping into Japanese, and her younger cousins all looked startled. And from the look on their faces, she realized that they didn't understand her. “Don't you speak Japanese?” she asked in English, as she stared at them in amazement. How could their parents not teach them Japanese?

“I never speak it anymore,” her Aunt Reiko explained. “And I'm afraid that now that my parents have been gone for so long, I'm pretty rusty. I keep promising myself I'll try and speak it with Tak, but we never do. And the kids only speak English,” she explained, as Hiroko nodded, trying not to look as shocked as she was. There was absolutely nothing Japanese about them, not even Uncle Tak. She couldn't imagine losing her own culture to that extent—he had been born in Japan. At least in Reiko and the children's case, they'd been born in California. But still, it seemed strange to abandon an entire culture. It made her feel even farther from home than she was, and she wondered what her parents would have said if they could have seen them. Her cousins were lovely people, obviously, but they were no longer Japanese in any part of them. They were Americans to their very souls. And Hiroko felt like a total stranger.

“You speak English beautifully,” Uncle Tak praised her, and although Tami didn't entirely agree with him, she didn't contradict him. ‘That must be your father's doing.” He smiled. He knew Masao had always had a passion for American language and culture. Takeo had wanted him to come over years before, but Masao had never wanted to risk his job at the university, and the years had rolled along, and it had just never happened.

“My brother speaks much better English than I do,” Hiroko told them, and they all smiled. She was doing pretty well, it was just that she still sounded very foreign. Just as they would have, with the exception of Tak, if they had tried to speak Japanese. But for Hiroko, it made being with them a lot harder. She really had no option. She had to speak English with them.

When they left Stanford University, Tak drove them down a pretty, tree-lined street, and Hiroko was surprised to see how large their house was when they reached it. It had been smaller to begin with, but when Tami came, they had finally outgrown it and Takeo had added on to it. They loved the house and the convenient location. Takeo taught at the university, and like his cousin, he was a full professor of political science. And in his case, he was the head of the department. Reiko worked at the university hospital. She was a nurse, although she only worked part-time now.

The house was well tended, with a generous spread of lawn in both front and back, a number of large trees, and a patio they had put in the previous summer. There was going to be plenty of room for the friends they had invited to meet Hiroko. And when Sally showed her their room, Hiroko was impressed with the large four-poster bed, and all the pink-and-white ruffles. It looked like something in a magazine to her. Sally didn't seem to mind sharing her big bed with her, and she had already cleared a small portion of her closet.

“I do not have many things,” Hiroko explained, pointing at the small trunk, which held not only her school clothes but her kimonos. She carefully took out a pink-and-red floral one to wear that night, just as Tami bounded into the room and asked her to come and see her dollhouse.

“Do you want to borrow anything for tonight?” Sally called after her as she disappeared into the hallway. Sally didn't want to say anything to her, but she thought she'd look a little silly at the barbecue in her kimono. And she said as much to her mother when she went downstairs a little later. Reiko was busy making mashed potatoes for their dinner.

“Give her a chance,” Reiko said understandingly. “She just got here. She's probably never worn anything but kimonos. You can't expect her to jump into saddle shoes and a pleated skirt in the first five minutes.”

“No, but won't people think she looks weird if she goes around in kimonos all the time?” Sally said persistently.

“Of course not. She's a beautiful girl, and she's from Japan. Why don't you give her a chance, Sally. Let her get used to us before you expect her to give up all her old ways for new ones.”

“Oh, boy,” Ken said, walking in on them and hearing the last of their conversation. “What do you want from her, Sal? Pin curls in her hair, and a jitterbugging contest tomorrow night? Give the kid a chance. She just got here.”

“That's what I was just saying to your sister.” Ken made himself a peanut butter sandwich as he listened to his mother and sister.

“I just think she'll look weird tonight at the barbecue in a kimono,” Sally said again. To Sally, at fourteen, fitting in was important.

“She won't look as weird as you would, goofball.” Ken grinned at her, and poured himself a glass of milk to eat with his sandwich. And then he looked at his mother with an air of concern. He had just thought about their dinner. Food was important to him, mostly in large quantities, and usually covered in ketchup. “You're not making anything Japanese tonight, are you, Mom?” He looked genuinely worried as she laughed at him.

“I don't think I'd remember how,” she admitted ruefully. “Your grandma's been gone for eighteen years. I never really did know how to make it.”

“Good. I hate that stuff. Yuk. All that raw fish and stuff that wiggles.”

“What wiggles?” Tak had come in from the backyard to get the charcoal for the barbecue that night, and was intrigued by their conversation. “Anyone we know?” he asked with interest, as Reiko smiled at him and raised an eyebrow. They were a happy pair. She was still very pretty at thirty-eight, and he was a very handsome man at fifty.

“We were talking about raw fish,” Reiko explained to her husband. “Ken was afraid I was going to cook some Japanese dishes for Hiroko.”

“Not a chance,” his father said, opening a cupboard and pulling out a bag of charcoal. “She's the worst Japanese cook I know. Stick to hamburgers and pot roast, and she's the greatest.” He leaned over and kissed his wife, as Ken finished his second sandwich, and Tami and Hiroko came upstairs from the basement playroom. Tami had been showing Hiroko the dollhouse her father had made for her. And Reiko had hand crocheted all the carpets and made all the curtains. They had even used tiny bits of wallpaper. And Tak had made tiny little paintings, and they'd ordered an exquisite little chandelier, which worked, from England.

“It is so beautiful,” Hiroko exclaimed, watching them all go about their tasks in the comfortable kitchen. It was a very handsome house, and provided enough room for all of them. And the playroom downstairs was enormous. “I have never seen a dollhouse like yours. It is fine enough for a museum,” Hiroko said. Ken offered her the other half of his last sandwich, and she was obviously afraid to take it.