Japan, 1957
I didn’t sleep well, tossing all night on the musty futon while my thoughts battled Baku demons that devour dreams. Did Kiko tell Taro what she had learned? Will Father show up and drag me home? What if Hajime ignores the note I left with the guard and never returns? My eyes snap open with the absurd thought.
Early light stings them. Blinking to sharpen my focus, I reacquaint myself with new surroundings. Water stains the rice-paper kitchen partition and pools on the uneven plank floor. An invasive knotweed grows up and through the boards. I cringe. I had half convinced myself the house’s dilapidated state was only a figment of my imagination. Instead, it’s worse because it’s worse than I remembered. Everything needs repair.
The skewed door of the little house rattles. It moves an inch, then hitches. Quick fingers jut through the small opening for grip.
I jump up startled, ready to run. But where? There’s only one way in or out. It could be anyone. An outraged landlord, a half-crazed neighbor or, worse, my father.
The door slides open. Tan trousers. Green duffel. Slicked hair.
“Hajime!” My soul leaps. My feet follow.
My hug knocks the air from his chest.
“Whoa.” He laughs, takes a step for balance and drops his bag with a small thud. He kisses the top of my head and returns the squeeze. “Hi.”
I crumble within his strong embrace. “Hi.” Nothing else spills out. Only happiness. Only relief. Only tears. The night was a long journey with a heavy load; now Hajime is here to help carry its weight.
He smiles crooked, then pulls me up on tiptoes for a kiss. He hasn’t shaved and his stubble scratches under my fingertips. Relaxing into him, I slide down to stand on solid ground for the first time since yesterday’s arrival.
“The place is pretty bad, right?” He steps back and looks around. “I planned to have it cleaned up before you...” His eyes lock to my suitcase, then cloud in confusion. “Cricket, what’s going on?”
“I asked Okaasan to help persuade Father, and she tried, but he—”
“He kicked you out?” He stares with wide eyes.
“Oh, no, no, but...” I wring one hand into the other, tell him how I pleaded with Okaasan to help. “And while she listened to me, he did not listen to her.” I explain how Father declared my match to Satoshi without consulting me. “But guess what Okaasan did?” I smile, beaming with pride. “Without consulting him, Okaasan put the choice back in my hands. So here I am.”
“But your father doesn’t know?”
I shake my head.
He rocks back on his heels. “We should go talk with him.” He picks up my suitcase and takes wide steps to the door. “If he finds you missing it’ll make things worse. He’ll never accept me.”
“Hajime, if I return, I must marry Satoshi.” Stepping forward, I ease the suitcase from his white-knuckle grip. “I chose you. So, there is no going back.”
His lips part. He scoffs. “What kind of choice is that? You can’t give up your family.”
“Are you not giving up yours to stay here for me?” I place my bag near my feet and cross my arms.
“It’s not the same. I’ll miss them, sure, but—”
“You said it would break your mother’s heart if you stayed. And what about weekend baseball and Sunday meals at your parents’? I know what you will give up, Hajime. And yet you choose to stay with me, so...” I shrug one shoulder, smile hopeful. “I choose you, too, okay?”
“But it’s not, Cricket. It’s not okay.” A small step back creates distance. He slants his brows. “You can’t lose your whole family over me. You’ll never get to go home? See them again? What about Kenji? That’s crazy.” His hand scrubs his jaw, then he shakes his head. “No way. I can’t let you do it. I won’t. That’s too much. No.”
“No?” Anger rips free from a tongue too often silenced. “It’s my choice! It’s not Father’s. Not Satoshi’s. And no, Hajime, it’s not even yours.” The declaration rings loud and hangs in the air between us.
He opens his mouth as though to speak but says nothing. Instead, he looks away and drops his shoulders.
Mine push back, braced to support what I must say. “Do you not understand?” Hot tears burn behind my eyes. “The choice is made. Okaasan risked everything so I could make it. And I have. So, now you must decide...” My heart pounds in my ears. “If you still wish to marry me. That is your choice. Your only one.”
“But, Cricket, it’s not that simple...”
“It is. It is that simple. Unless...” He has changed his mind. Maybe he sees his own dragon, and faced with what he asked for, it is too much. My heart drops. A baby. I haven’t even shared that possibility. My knees wobble so I sit on the edge of the futon and focus on my opened hands. On the decision they hold. The one I’ve already made.
The one he could refuse.
Hajime crams his hands into his pockets and paces. One step, then another. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. We should have their blessing. I wanted them to be a part of things. Plan a wedding, maybe have them talk to my folks on the phone...” He sighs, rakes his hair. It splays in different directions between his fingers. He leaves his hand there, looks around at the dust-covered room. The water-stained wall. The puddled floor. He sighs, winces. “I thought I’d have time to fix this place up. You’d plan the wedding while I’d get our house ready, but...” A curse floats under his breath.
“Okay.” My breath hitches in my throat. “I understand. You no longer wish to marry me. It is all too much.” A dying has begun. I feel my spirit dim and flicker with the bad connection.
“No. No, that’s not what I meant.” He sits beside me, angled so we are eye to eye. “Of course I still want to marry you.” With both hands he cups my cheeks, then leans his forehead to mine. “More than anything.”
“Then what is it? What’s wrong?” I whisper.
He lifts his gaze to mine. “Remember I told you about the community day on the ship? They have us leaving right after to patrol the Straits. They changed the schedule.” His eyes soften. “I can’t stay.”
The shock straightens my spine. I expected him here for the week. “How long will you be gone?”
“Just for two weeks, but... You’re here. I can’t leave you here unmarried in this place alone.” His chin drops.
His body relaxes forward into my arms, and I wrap my arms around him.
“Your lieutenant still won’t sign the marriage document? I signed it.” I run fingers through his hair.
Hajime lifts his head, fixes his eyes on me. “I know, and I got it notarized. I went twice to get it translated, but he keeps avoiding me because the navy frowns on, well, you know.” His blue eyes look away. “None of it matters, anyway, because we need your parents’ approval unless you’re eighteen.”
“I’m almost eighteen.” My voice is high-pitched. This is a disaster.
“I’m so tired of asking everyone for permission and hearing no. First my lieutenant and now your family.” Hajime stands but then his eyes brighten. “What if we did it, anyhow? We could do it tonight.”
“Do what?”
“Get married.” He hoists me up, then pulls my hands tight to his chest. “We could have the ceremony tonight and straighten out the paperwork later. Why not? Then everyone in this village will know who you are, that we’re married and that you’re with me.”
I drop my gaze to our hands.
“I love you, Cricket. I want to spend my life with you. Forget everyone else. This is you and me. Your mom supports us, so we work on your father until we win him over. I don’t care if it takes a lifetime, I’ll keep at him, okay? Say you will.”
My mind spins around details. The idea that Hajime would still try to change my father’s heart warms mine. “But I don’t have a dress.”
“Wear what you have on.”
“This is a sleeping kimono!” I laugh, which makes him laugh.
“Then wear whatever else you’ve got in that suitcase. Just say you will.” His thoughts rush out in excitement. “We can do it here. I’ll get some of the guys to help. Everyone can bring a dish, and I don’t know, I’ll find a pastor, or a Buddhist priest, or whatever you want.” Hajime lifts my palms to his lips and kisses them. “Cricket, I can’t leave you here unmarried and alone. I want to marry you. That is my choice, right? That’s what you said.” He smiles. “Well, I choose you, so marry me tonight.”
Tears blur my vision to create a hurricane of happy. “Okay, yes.” I burst.
“Yes?” His smile widens.
His kiss steals my answer.
It’s late morning and Hajime is off to prepare for the evening ceremony. He has left me with Maiko, the neighbor woman I watched hanging clothes yesterday. She apologized for not coming over, admitting I’d spooked her. She thought I was a spy there to collect land taxes. We sit on her step and laugh about it while making decorations with two others. Grandmother Fumiko, an elder woman who lives two houses over, and Ishuri, a young mother from the next row.
Ishuri has a new baby boy with chubby cheeks and dimpled fingers. Maiko’s daughter, Yoshiko, watches him and keeps an eye on her little brother, the dirt-covered Tatsu. He runs wild, trailing fistfuls of ribbon from each hand while Yoshiko chases after him, scolding.
Even cursed, people here are happy.
“So, babies soon?” Ishuri asks with thin eyebrows arched high. Her skin is tan and pocked, but her bright smile more than makes up for it.
Since I’m not sure what to say, I only nod and continue to weave the light green ribbon strip through the paper lantern’s handle. We plan to hang the lights from the trees.
“No. She should wait to have babies.” Grandmother Fumiko nudges my shoulder and gives me a wink. “She should enjoy practicing first.” She’s frail with long silver hair pushed under a threadbare headscarf and is as lively as I imagine its colors once were. “Youth fades soon enough. Look at me.” She laughs, thin cheeks lifting upward.
Maiko adds, “Grandmother Fumiko was once a spring festival’s Plum Princess.”
“Now just a prune!” More laughter shakes from her belly.
“And what of your dress?” Maiko asks, a different lantern held in her lap.
“Oh.” My mind scrambles for the right way to answer. “My mother’s shiromuku is so beautiful, but...” My shoulders drop. The story is too much to share with new friends.
“Then wear my uchikake,” Ishuri says, placing a hand on my arm. “Although it is a reception kimono, it would still look pretty on you.”
“Yes, pretty, but so bright,” Grandmother Fumiko says.
The three women prattle on about the bold colors and how best to minimize them. I’m touched by their kindness but saddened by its truth. I won’t wear Okaasan’s gown and my family won’t attend. Instead, I’ll dress in a stranger’s garment and celebrate without them. I sit under the plum tree, graced with its beauty and shade, but I am unable to reach its fruit.
Crouched on a tiny stool in Maiko’s bathing room, I scrub, lather and rinse so I can soak in the tub of scented water she has prepared. In Japan, we wash first, then bathe. Hajime still does not understand one is to cleanse the body while the other to purify the mind.
Maiko and Ishuri will fix my hair and help me with Ishuri’s kimono. It is pretty, though its edges fray and the color has faded.
Wedding kimonos, with the high quality of fabrics and elaborate patterns, are costly, and most families must rent them. Okaasan’s is owned. Heavy in sentiment and expense.
With grateful humility, I accept Ishuri’s offer, of course. It would be insulting to wear my own everyday kimono, even if its condition is far superior. Besides, unless I’m wearing Okaasan’s, what does it matter? I will pledge myself to Hajime with open arms and accept this new and different life as they’ve accepted me.
Today is about heart rather than appearance.
Maiko discusses what flowers they should add to my hair, but then pauses. “Are you okay, Naoko?”
“Yes,” I say from the small tub infused with vanilla and spiced plum. The rich, sweet scents fill me with gratitude. They have so little, and yet give it all. I’m undeserving. I cup handfuls of warm water and release, attempting to calm nerves with the sound.
It is my wedding day.
A ritual of light and cheer, and although pleased, I am weighed down with want. I want to hear the nonstop opinions of Grandmother as Mother helps me get ready. To have Okaasan’s reassurance and laughter. Kenji’s teasing, Taro’s watchful eye. Even Father’s...
I sigh and descend farther, so the water rests under my nose.
I want too much.
Taro is right, I am selfish. But why does Father have to be so difficult? Deep down, I know it’s his pride, not his nature, which demands so much of me. But does he understand it is my nature, not my pride, which dreams for so much more?
“Naoko?”
Hajime’s voice excites my spirit and the women.
They yell at him in Japanese, “Out! She’s not ready!”
“Wait, Maiko,” Hajime says. “Wazuka sū fun.” He’s laughing because they won’t listen. “Cricket?”
I find my feet at once, creating a small tidal wave, and wrap in the bathing towel. Careful with my steps, I move toward their shadows. “Hajime?”
“Tell them I need to talk to you for a minute. From here, okay?”
I laugh, then reassure Maiko it is only for a moment. The voices quiet to a grumble and the shadows move away. Except for his—it stands tall and narrow.
I inch closer and whisper, “Hajime.” My smile drops, and I’m struck with worry. “Is everything okay? Did something happen?”
“Everything’s perfect. In fact, I have a surprise for you. An early gift.”
A gift? I bounce on my toes. His shadow drifts away until it is so small it disappears.
Inside the wash room, I hold my breath to listen. There are footsteps, more, then whispers and the door slides again. Now, silence.
Did they leave?
Should I go out?
A new shadow appears. Not as tall, not as narrow. The door opens. “Oh!”
Okaasan!
Tears begin with an agitation of hands.
Her hands pull me to her, not caring if I’m wet. She rocks me, her chin over my shoulder, desperate fingertips clutching at my back. My heart beats high in my chest. My words render useless and separate like earth and clouds. How can I hope to express the relief, gratitude, pure comfort I find in her embrace?
I cannot.
After a moment, maybe two or three, Okaasan lessens her grip and leans away. Her lips pull in tight. Her eyes, glossy and bright, seem to ask, Are you okay? Are you happy? My answer reflects in mine. I am now. Satisfied, she nods, then wipes under my eyes with her thumbs.
She pushes out an airy breath and laughs. “Good thing they didn’t do your makeup yet.”
My heart, high in my throat, blocks all speech. I swallow hard to push it down, still not quite believing she is here.
“I cannot stay, Naoko. Father is not aware I have come. But I hear your wish on the wind. It calls to me like a dream, and then your Hajime appears, and...” With a long inhale through her nose, she gathers her resolve. “I recognize in my soul it is your destiny to be married—” The explanation is consumed by another quick breath of air. She points instead, to the low table near the kitchen.
Draped over the silk casing is her shiromuku.
Now I am a river. I am not deserving of such love. There are no words. Only tears. My throat tightens to control the rising sobs.
My mother smiles to push back her emotion, then steps to the door. Is she leaving? She opens it only a nudge and motions with her hand. Maiko and Ishuri rush inside, closing it back behind them. Hajime, having delivered his most perfect gift, has disappeared. I love him all the more.
The women’s eyes shift to the shiromuku, and my stomach drops. Ishuri’s dress. After they’ve been so welcoming, I’d cause insult.
My neck warms from panic as I try to find the right phrasing. “Ishuri, I—I am...”
“Do not consider such a thing, Naoko.” Ishuri’s voice is warm, understanding. Her eyes are wide. “Of course you will wear your mother’s shiromuku. Of course.”
I lower my head in a deep bow, humbled, relieved, overwhelmed by so much kindness. “Thank you, Ishuri,” I say with fruitless dabs at my eyes.
“The moon is terribly impatient,” Maiko says, her smile beaming bright. “Soon it will drag out the night, so we must hurry. First makeup and hair, then let us get this bride dressed.”
I look to Okaasan and take her hand in mine. Without asking, she seems to recognize my question.
“How can I go before I see you dressed? That is too much to ask of a mother, too cruel.” She lifts my hand to her chest and leans into it, so I feel her heart. The steadfast rhythm. “Yes? It beats full and strong. I am here. We have this moment. Heaven does not deny me this, daughter.”
I take nothing for granted. Although I am not entitled to such happiness, it is given. Heaven’s blessing is capricious at best. I recognize this. So I smile at my mother, at my new friends and fate. Even with the dragon’s breath hot on my neck—a possible child, Hajime leaving for weeks, me here alone—I understand that when heaven drops a plum, you open your hands.