CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

“FIRST TIME WOMEN ALLOWED TO VOTE IN THE UPCOMING APRIL 10 GENERAL ELECTION.”

Showa 21 March 31 edition

My two roommates and I got along very well. Most of us at the school had experienced loss from the war in some way. One of my roommates had lost her mother to pika don, and the other had lost her brother at Pearl Harbor.

“Yuriko-chan, won’t you come with us to the movies today?” one of my roommates asked. “Getting out of the dorm helps cheer us up. It would be good for you, too.”

“I appreciate the invitation, but I am not ready to have fun yet.” I forced a smile.

“Okay. We will be going again next weekend, and maybe then you will be ready.” She patted my hand and the group of girls left me alone—the way I preferred it to be.

While they were gone, I played one of my roommate’s jazz records over and over again. With each note, I pictured Machiko that day when she had told me she had kept her jazz record. When I swayed to the beat, I closed my eyes and imagined her swaying next to me. It did not seem fair that I could spend time with other girls, but not with Machiko. Machiko and I could talk about anything. I had trusted her, and she had trusted me. Will I ever be able to enjoy myself at school without her? What about all my classmates who died the day of the pika don? If Papa had sent me to school, I would be dead, too. Why am I alive and they are not? They would not get to experience high school or go to the movies ever again.

Unfortunately, one of the people that I would have asked those questions lay buried beneath her home with her favorite jazz record.

So, I preferred to be by myself. It was safer that way. I hurt so much from losing Papa and Machiko that I decided it was better not to get close to anyone ever again. I would be alive, but I would not let myself feel any emotions. I became comfortable in my loneliness. I walked to stores in the center of town alone. I went to movies by myself. It did not even bother me when I got caught coming in after the eight o’clock curfew and the dorm mother reprimanded me, which was becoming more frequent.

One afternoon, the dorm mother called me to her office. “Yuriko-san, I have received a letter from the person who has been paying your tuition.”

I knew it couldn’t be Sumiyo. Within a month of being dropped off at school, I received a letter from my aunt and uncle with the news of Sumiyo’s death. My fear when I saw the spots proved true. One more loved one taken from me by the pika don.

“Is it a letter from my Uncle Daichi?” I asked.

“No, it is from a Nishimoto-san,” she said plainly.

My mouth went dry and dropped open, but I managed to stammer, “My-my birth father?”