Taichi
Wednesday, March 25, 1942
Diego and Ruby, his girlfriend this month, stare at the sky, the ground, the rows of nearly-ripe asparagus—anything that isn’t me—while we wait for my parents to come out of the house. Mother and Father are finishing tidying the house, as if it matters. Aiko sits on the porch step with a face of stone.
Ruby pins a smile on her face. “I bet your parents are happy you’re not going overseas. At least you’ll be safe, right? I think my mother would do just about anything to keep my brothers from enlisting.”
A sarcastic response bites at me. Including the government taking away your right to be on your own property? Sending you away without telling you where you’re going?
But Ruby is a nice girl. She doesn’t mean anything insulting by her comments. I just smile back and lean against the truck that’s piled with the remains of my family’s life. Our suitcases, the produce for tomorrow’s deliveries, and thick, puffy jackets that Mother is convinced we’ll need. The rest will stay here under the watchful eye of Diego’s family.
“But it just isn’t right,” Diego says. There’s an unusual strain in his voice. He looks at me, and then cuts his eyes away.
Ruby gives a small, nervous laugh. “No, of course it isn’t right. I didn’t mean that. I was just saying . . . you know. At least where Taichi is going, everyone will be Japanese. And that seems like it would be good.” She pushes her smile higher. “I mean, because of safety. Not that you aren’t safe here, of course. I don’t think anyone at school cares that you’re Japanese. Except maybe Danny Nielsen. But he’s such a dead hoofer anyway. No one cares what he thinks.”
She laughs again, clearly nervous, and on any other day I would search for the words to put her at ease. But not today. Because today I unceremoniously graduated from high school when I took my exit exams in the principal’s office. Because right now my baseball team—including Danny Nielsen, who definitely cares that I’m Japanese and takes it as a personal insult that my batting average is higher than his—is traveling to play our rival, and I’m not on the bus. Because last night we sat around our family table for a final dinner, and then we walked the farm that we’ve worked for fifteen years, silently saying goodbye. In light of all that, I’m just too tired to care about the comfort of Diego’s current girlfriend.
The front door opens, and my heart plummets to my ankles. Father has his arm around Mother’s shoulders. She isn’t crying now, but she clutches a handkerchief in her left hand. Father locks the door of our family home, and Mother presses the handkerchief to each eye. Usually they both have so much to do, they are off in separate directions. It’s strange to see them completing simple tasks together.
Father offers a slight bow to Diego and hands him the key. “Thank you, Diego. We are grateful for your friendship and your family’s friendship.”
My father’s English is exceptional, considering he came to America when he was nineteen and didn’t know how to say much beyond “Hello” and “Are you hiring?” But this morning, my ears catch every bit of his Japanese accent. The way his tongue can’t quite produce the th sound. The way his Rs have the softness of a W.
The hinges of the truck’s passenger door protest as Aiko climbs in. Father doesn’t turn and look, and Mother watches with only a vague concern. She has spent so many years worried for Aiko, the concern is like a family member you don’t particularly like, but who you have adapted to sharing the table with anyway.
“I understand you will leave for training soon, Diego,” Mother says in her quiet, careful way. As though she weighs each word and how to pronounce it before allowing it out of her lips. She has always been self-conscious about her English.
“Yes, ma’am. Just after graduation.”
Mother smiles and nods. “We will pray every day for your safe return.”
A strange shame washes over me, which is illogical considering I don’t have the option to enlist. But I felt the same way right after the attack on Pearl Harbor, as if somehow I had done something wrong. As if somehow I was responsible for all those dead men, just because of my Japanese heritage. Even though I knew it made no sense, I couldn’t seem to push away the feeling.
“We must go.” Father shakes Diego’s hand and offers a slight bow to Ruby. Then he and Mother slip away to give me a small privacy for my own goodbyes.
“Ruby.” Diego puts a hand on her back. “Would you give Tai and me a moment?”
“Of course!” she chirps, and she seems relieved to walk away.
Diego sticks his hands in his jean pockets and jingles the coins within.
“Thanks for watching over the place while we’re gone.” I’ve said this countless times over the last few days but I don’t know what else there is to say.
Diego shrugs. “Of course.” He glances at the truck, at its closed doors, before asking, “Will you get to see your girl more? Now that you’ll be in the city?”
“I hope so. She’s pretty determined when she sets her mind to something.”
Diego makes a noise in the back of his throat. If you didn’t know him, it would just sound like an acknowledgment. But I can hear the weight of his disapproval.
“If you gave Evalina a chance, you would like her,” I say quietly. I don’t want to fight about this again. Especially not right now.
“I’m sure she’s a peach.”
Again, the flat sarcasm. I give Diego a look. “If you really want to help me out while I’m gone, please be nice to her. Talk with her a bit if you make deliveries. Slide her some extra blackberries when our crop is ready. That’s her favorite.”
My throat involuntarily clenches when I think of the first thing Evalina ever said to me. You should be charging more for your blackberries.
“You know, it’s not like I’m going to be around here much longer either.” Diego’s tone is an attempt at sounding lighthearted. “As soon as I graduate, I belong to the U.S. Navy.”
I glance toward my house, where Ruby loiters on our porch, trying to look as though she feels comfortable. “What does Ruby think of you enlisting?”
“Oh, you know how girls are. She’s worried, but she’ll see me in my uniform and won’t be able to resist me.”
I don’t feel like laughing, but I make myself try. If I had been allowed to enlist, what would Evalina have thought?
Diego digs at the ground with the toe of his boot. “Could you write to me once you get where you’re going? I don’t mean your aunt’s. I mean from . . . wherever it is they send you.”
“Of course.”
Diego rubs at the back of his neck. “It’s funny because we were always gonna be saying goodbye in a few months”—his voice has an unfamiliar gruffness—“so it’s not like I didn’t know this was coming.”
I look away as I realize he’s blinking funny. As I realize my own eyes have started to pool.
Diego folds his arms around me, clapping me on the back a few times. “I’ll miss you, brother.”
“I’ll miss you too. I’ll write as soon as I can.”
Diego releases me and takes a step back. He shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’ve never been much for letter writing. Guess I’ll have to learn.”
“I guess so.”
A smile whispers over his lips, and then trembles away. “See you around, Tai.”
“See you around.” I clench my jaw for a moment until I’m sure I won’t cry, and then add, “Bye, Ruby.”
“Goodbye.” Her voice breaks, and Diego crosses the scrubby grass to where she stands and fits an arm around her shoulders.
I take one last look at our small, dusty ranch house that I’ve sometimes despised and sometimes loved, but that has been my home nearly all my life. The window into our kitchen that I once cracked with a baseball. The oak tree that Aiko and I climbed as children. The porch where Mother gave us all haircuts last night.
Just as I’m about to hoist myself into the truck, I look at Diego. His dusky skin gleams in the golden sunshine, and his black hair is styled better than the typical farm kid. Whatever Ruby is saying to Diego causes his smile to flash, and I look away before it vanishes. That’s the memory of my best friend that I want to carry away.