Sam and I shuffled along with the lineup, waiting our turn to get breakfast. I looked ahead, hoping for something different, but was certain it would be the same as always: toast with butter and jam, cold cereal, coffee and apple juice. And, of course, oatmeal, or what passed for oatmeal, a thin, bad-tasting gruel that was not very filling. And while I had to admit that there was always lots of it, it was never any different, and never any better. And worse yet, never Japanese.
Some of the people, especially the older ones, like my grandmother, were upset about the meals. For people who’d lived their lives eating nothing but traditional Japanese food, these meals were not just unrecognizable, but almost indigestible. They didn’t need much.
Just some rice, maybe some fish, some green tea … nothing that unusual or hard to get.
But it was also the way the food was served. Somehow, standing in line, holding a tray with metal plates and having the food scooped out of a big vat, wouldn’t have been the same even if they had been serving Japanese food. There was just something about the food hitting the plate with a loud “splat” that would have made almost any food less appealing.
I was becoming worried about my grandmother. She was never a big eater, but here it seemed like she was eating nothing. She just sat there looking at the food, pushing it around her plate with a spoon, but hardly any of it was making it into her mouth.
I was pleased to see that the lineup was shorter then usual. Things seemed to be moving quickly. We got our meals and headed for a table. There were more empty spots this morning, and we sat by ourselves at a table away from everybody.
“I guess with everybody at school this morning there’s less of a crowd,” I commented.
“That’s part of it,” Sam said. “But I think it has to do with people leaving.”
“People have left?”
He nodded his head and continued spooning in his oatmeal without looking up.
“Are you sure this isn’t just a story? You know how stories go around.”
“They cleared out some people from my building this morning. They were loading their belongings into trucks.”
“Where have they gone to?”
“I heard the name New Denver.”
“Where is that?” I asked.
“Somebody said it’s in the mountains. Sort of a ghost town. I also heard rumors that some of the men have been shipped out to work camps in the mountains.”
“What do you mean?”
“They’re sending men out to places where they can do work on the roads or the railway. Haven’t you heard your father talking about it?”
I shook my head. It wasn’t like my father to ever talk about things that he didn’t know for sure. And lately he’d been talking even less. He’d sit at the table with us in the mess hall and hardly utter a word. And when he did talk, it was almost like it wasn’t even him talking. He seemed tired, or sad, or maybe just distracted. I knew he had a lot on his mind, but it was almost as if his body was sitting there but his mind and spirit were someplace else.
“My father’s told me there’s a lot of angry people.
There’s talk about separating men from their families,”
Sam said.
“You mean like they did here, putting them in a different building?”
“No, putting them in separate places.”
“You’re kidding,” I said, a chill running up my spine.
“Just stories. Maybe they mean nothing. Maybe they mean something.” Sam continued to shovel in his breakfast, but I suddenly didn’t feel so hungry.
“I’ve heard them say that maybe they’ll ship us all back to Japan,” Sam continued.
“How can they ship us back to someplace we’ve never been?” I asked incredulously.
Sam shrugged. “Also heard about families being sent right across the country … maybe have us staying at farms and working the fields.”
“Where do you get all these stories?” I asked.
“My father told me some. Others I’ve just heard the men talking about when they’re playing cards … you know, during the evening when I go over to visit my father.”
“We’re not allowed there, especially at night,” I said.
“I go anyway. What are they going to do if they catch me, lock me up? You should come with me sometime.”
“Maybe I should.” I did want to talk to my father. There was always somebody else around, my mother or grandmother or sisters, and there wasn’t much of a chance to ask him about things. I needed to find out what he was thinking about … where we might be going to.
“Are you going to the barracks tonight?” I asked.
“I go every night. I can’t ever get to sleep. How about I drop over and get you around eleven tonight?”
“How about I meet you someplace at the same time? That’s late and I don’t want to risk waking up my sisters.” What I really didn’t want to risk was my mother telling me I couldn’t go.
“Sure. We could meet on the foot path cutting toward the diamond.”
“Why there?”
“The sentries stay on the main paths around the buildings.”
“Are there a lot of sentries patrolling the grounds?” I asked. I hadn’t counted on having to dodge soldiers to see my father.
“Don’t worry, they don’t seem too interested in seeing anything. Just think of it as being a little adventure.”
“The only adventure I want is to get on our boat and go home.”
“If we have homes to go back to.”
“What do you mean, of course we’ll have our …” I looked at Sam and his expression was dead serious. He’d even stopped chomping on his gum. “What have you heard?”
“Some of the empty houses have been broken into, things stolen, things destroyed.”
“So a house or two has been broken into.”
“Not just a few — lots. Lots of houses,” Sam said.
“Yours?”
Sam shook his head. “Our neighbors are looking after our place, cutting the grass, even tending to the flowers. It’s mainly happening in areas where most of the houses are owned by the Japanese and now nobody’s around.”
“Like in my village,” I said under my breath.
Sam shrugged. “I don’t know anything about up north.”
“What about around here?”
“There’s no problem in Vancouver — yet. Most of the people are still being allowed to stay in their homes, thank goodness.”
“That is good for them.”
“And for us,” Sam said. “Where do you think they’d be putting us if they had to crowd in all those Japanese who live in Vancouver? That’s the only reason the authorities are letting them stay in their homes until they move to the resettlement areas.”
“I hadn’t thought of that. Maybe I should be more grateful we have the stalls.”
Sam shook his head. “How Japanese of you.”
I gave him a confused look.
“Being grateful for things you should be mad about.”
“That doesn’t help me know about my place, but I know who would know … my friend Jed. I could write and ask him.”
“You won’t find out anything if you mail a letter from here.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Don’t you know about the censors?” Sam asked.
“What are censors?”
“People who read all the mail that goes in and out of here.”
“Somebody reads our mail?” I asked in disbelief.
“Everything, in or out. We’re Enemy Aliens, remember?
They want to make sure we aren’t passing on military secrets to the Japanese Imperial Army.”
“That’s crazy. I’m just going to write about the park and ask him to check on my house.”
“I’ve seen some letters my father got. Big black lines blotting out almost everything. I doubt your friend would even understand to check your house.”
“But I promised him I’d write. Besides, how else can I found out about my house?”
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t write him. I’m just saying that you shouldn’t mail it from here.”
“You mean …?” Of course, I knew exactly what he had in mind — leaving the park.
He nodded his head. “And these might come in handy.”
Sam stood up and reached into the right front pocket of his pants. He pulled something out and placed it on the table in front of me. Two “I Am Chinese” buttons stared up at me.