Chapter Six

THE BATHHOUSE

The Nelson farm lay three miles off the main road, just outside town. This was where Michiko and her family had lived when they first arrived. Since there was an indoor pump and electricity, the Japanese community built their ofuro there.

Saturday afternoon, as the heat bugs zinged, Michiko waited at end of the road that led to the houses in the orchard. Her mother and Aunt Sadie had gone ahead carrying a small enamel basin, washcloth, and towels.

Michiko watched Kiko stop to say hello to the group of girls getting off a truck. They all wore khaki overalls with floppy straw hats tied under their chins. Some of them covered their arms with old nylon stockings. They giggled and talked, glad to finish their morning of berry picking.

Michiko was glad she didn’t have to do that again. Once she went with Clarence. The dense stubby bushes were high in the mountains. The twigs and thorns scratched their legs. Because huckleberries ripened at different times, they had to pick them one-by-one. Michiko remembered scratched fingers, harsh sun, and mosquitoes.

That was before her father came home and got a job making thirty-five cents an hour. The apartment above the drugstore was free. According to Kiko’s neighbour, Mr. Yama, Michiko’s family was kanemochi, upper class.

Kiko finally broke away from the group and ran across the road. Swiping her hair from her face, she asked, “Is this your first time for ofuro?”

Michiko nodded. “We had nothing like it in our old neighbourhood.” She didn’t mention they were the only Japanese family on the street where she used to live.

They took the pine-scented path beneath the gigantic Douglas firs. Along the creek they watched dragonflies dart about the surface of the water. The ribbon of sunlight gleaming through the brush showed them the way out. Smoke wisped from the great black stovepipe sticking out of the roof of the slanted shed. Every time she saw the farmhouse she was grateful she no longer had to fetch a load of firewood or use the outhouse, especially in the winter.

Inside, Sadie was already soaking in the big square tub of sweet-smelling pine. The blue towel wrapped around her wet hair gave her skin the look of porcelain.

Her mother waited for them on the slatted wood floor. “All your clothes go on the bench,” she instructed them. “Fold them neatly.”

Michiko, embarrassed, exploded into a fit of giggles. “You first,” she said to Kiko.

Kiko ripped off her clothes and threw them on the bench. She plopped onto a little four-legged stool. Michiko’s mother dipped the bowl into the tub and drew out some hot water. She poured it over Kiko’s naked body.

“Ahh,” Kiko exclaimed. She turned to Michiko and smiled.

Michiko removed her socks and balled them up.

Eiko soaped the damp, steaming facecloth and then rolled it into a tight ball. Kiko squirmed and squealed as Michiko’s mother scrubbed her vigorously from top to bottom.

“I cannot believe how dirty you are,” Eiko said. She drew more water, rinsed, and washed again. Then Eiko handed the cloth to Kiko. “Each finger and each toe,” Eiko told her. “You must learn to clean yourself thoroughly.”

She took the cloth from Kiko and dropped it into the enamel basin at her side. “The cloth, once soaped, must never enter the bath,” she instructed them both. Then she dipped the small wooden bucket into the big bath and dumped it over Kiko’s back.

“Ahh,” Kiko murmured with a sigh.

“Now you can climb into the tub,” Eiko told her. She waved Michiko to the stool and bent to pick up the slushy, soapy cloth.

As soon as Michiko entered the hot water she felt like drifting into sleep. Opening one eye, she watched her mother cock her head to one side and squeeze out the water from her long dark hair. She used long pulling strokes like she was milking a cow. The water ran down her arm and dripped off her elbow.

“Is this only for Japanese people?” Michiko asked her.

“Why do you ask that?”

“I think Clarence should come,” Michiko said. “I don’t know how he uses a tiny tub.”

“As long as he comes on men’s day,” Sadie said, “I’m sure it would be fine.

Michiko and Kiko exploded into a fit of giggles for the second time.

Kiko floated quietly. “Do you think my mother will ever get to come here?” Kiko asked. She sighed so deeply it made Michiko’s heart ache.

Michiko’s mother and her aunt exchanged an anxious glance.

“Where did your mother go?” Sadie asked. Michiko had always wondered what happened to Kiko’s mother but was afraid to ask.

“She went to Japan, just before we had to move,” Kiko said. “My father and my aunt sent letters to tell her where we are. But Mr. Yama says she will never come back.”

Sadie gazed at the little girl across from her in a kindly way. “I don’t think anyone has the power to tell the future,” she said.

Michiko waited for her mother to say something, but all she said was “Gangara.” That meant Kiko was to be patient.

“Mr. Yama says he has no desire to be part of this country,” Kiko continued. “He says he wants to return to Japan because there is no future for any of us.”

“I can see why he would say that,” Sadie commented, flicking water at Michiko.

“I think that depends on what you want for a future,” Eiko said.

“If you planned on travelling into the wild and being a prospector,” Sadie said, splashing Michiko, “then this life would be fine for you.”

Michiko giggled, returning her aunt’s splash.

The wooden door of the shed opened abruptly as several girls arrived. “I have to go,” they overheard one of them say. “There’s a speaker coming from Toronto. I need to explain it all to my parents.”

“Are you going to the meeting?” Kiko asked Michiko’s mother as they dressed.

“My husband and father will be attending,” Eiko responded. “I will be home with Hiro.”

“Are you going to the meeting, Auntie Sadie?” Michiko asked, pulling up her socks.

Sadie held a small black oval-shaped mirror up to her face as she applied her lipstick. “Of course, all of the teachers want to hear what it is about.”

“Why don’t you come back to the orchard with me?” asked Kiko. “You can go home with your father.”

They both looked at Michiko’s mother in anticipation. She nodded in agreement.

Michiko and Kiko ran down the rutted dirt road, hand in hand.

“Ara!” Kiko yelled as she danced into the field. “Watch out for cow pies.”

“What’s a cow pie?” Michiko asked.

“You know, it’s what cows leave behind in the field.” She pointed to the numerous cow droppings that dotted the field like large brown pancakes.

Several cows stood in the shade of the apple trees. Their dark tails swished back and forth, disturbing the flies trying to settle. The two girls skipped their way across the field. Kiko made Michiko laugh, telling her how the orchard ladies scared the cows away by opening and closing umbrellas in their big black and white faces.

Stooping to pick buttercups and Queen Anne’s lace, they heard the crack of a baseball bat and saw a ball soar skyward.

“Someone’s playing baseball,” Kiko yelled as they ran the rest of the way.

The girls watched the man in a red-and-white baseball cap jammed low across his forehead. He kept two, sometimes three, balls in the air at a time. He drove them easily to right field, then centre, then left. Racing after the balls, the boys from the orchard skidded and slipped in the dirt.

“It looks like Mr. Katsumoto,” Michiko exclaimed. “I didn’t know he lived in the orchard. I thought he lived up at the Bachelor House.”

“He just moved in,” Kiko replied. “Mr. Yama asked him to join his family so they could get a bigger house.”

“That’s good thinking,” Michiko said.

“That’s great thinking,” Kiko replied. “Mr. Yama and his family will live at the other end of the orchard. I won’t have to listen to him talk about my mother.”

Michiko looked at her friend’s face. She knew how much she missed her father when he was away. She couldn’t imagine not having her mother with her. “You know what?” she said. “I think you are the bravest girl in the world.”

Kiko studied Michiko’s face before she replied. “I think you are brave too,” she said. “I don’t have hakujin friends.”