Art must have also written to his family to ask them to check on me, because in a couple of days, I received a phone call from Lois.
“We want to have you over for Sunday supper,” she told me. I could hear the twittering of the parakeet in the background. “It’s nothing special, only tuna casserole.”
Since we didn’t have an oven, tuna casserole sounded heavenly.
When I arrived, it was like coming home to my extended family, not because I really knew them—this was only my third time coming to their house, after all—but because they were all happy to see me. I didn’t have to prove how pretty or brilliant I was. Aki Ito herself was good enough for them. That’s why I debated whether to reveal my recent activities to them. I wanted to remain in their good graces, but their impression of me was based on falsehoods. I was so tired of the fact that much of our existence had been erased. Our house in Tropico. Pop’s job. Our daily lives revolving around the produce market and the Japanese community in Southern California. If I was going to continue in this world, I had to hold on to pieces of reality, no matter how disturbing they might be.
I was seated at the head of the table, while Mr. Nakasone sat across from me on the side closer to the kitchen. Mrs. Nakasone, wearing the same flowered apron as before, was on her husband’s left while Eunice sat between us. Lois, her long hair styled in two braids, was on my left. We spoke about Art’s weight loss and the Nisei he was meeting through basic training. Nothing, however, about when he would be deployed into the combat zone. None of us dared to state it out loud.
“We had some excitement in the neighborhood,” Aunt Eunice said, changing the subject. The skin all around her eyes was papery thin, like folded tissue paper. Her hair was a frizzled gray and tied back in a bun. “They arrested the Nisei stick-up man.”
I took a quick gulp of water, causing some to drip down the sides of my mouth. I quickly dabbed my face with a napkin.
Mrs. Nakasone shifted in her chair as if she hoped that this turn in the conversation would soon be over.
“He was coming out of a liquor store on South Parkway. I think that the police had been following him. They nabbed him right after he purchased a pack of Camels.”
“How would you know, Auntie?” Lois asked.
“I have friends in high places. The criminal’s name is Manjiro or something like that.”
I felt my throat close and feared that my heart would stop right there at the Nakasones’ dinner table. If Manju was indeed arrested for the robbery, wouldn’t someone remember that a Nisei woman fitting my description had recently gone into Blossom to talk to him?
“Haven’t seen anything in the newspaper,” Mr. Nakasone commented in Japanese, casting doubt on Eunice’s story.
“Maybe the police have bigger fish to fry.” Aunt Eunice had an answer for everything.
News of the arrest made my stomach turn. I tried to continue eating, but all I ended up doing was moving my casserole from one side of the plate to another. I couldn’t keep quiet one minute more. “I want you to know that I’m not who you think I am.”
The whole Nakasone clan stopped eating and stared at me.
“I’m not a nice girl. And Art doesn’t even know.”
Aunt Eunice’s milky eyes intently followed mine as I spoke.
“I held a gun on a Nisei man. A man I’m pretty sure attacked my sister when she was alive. I think that he might have been the one who hurt Betty, too. I was ready to kill him.”
I felt that the air had temporarily left the room.
“But I didn’t. I’m ashamed that I didn’t. And I’m ashamed that I confronted him like that. I didn’t know what else to do. The police weren’t going to do a thing.”
“What happened to him?” Mrs. Nakasone said.
“He ran off. I checked where he worked, the Mark Twain Hotel and Booth’s Ice. He’s called in sick.”
“Maybe he won’t come back,” Lois said hopefully. That was wishful thinking. But if he wasn’t in Chicago, he was somewhere else, ready to break into some other woman’s apartment.
“I hope that he doesn’t try to retaliate in some way,” Mrs. Nakasone said.
“I don’t think he will. My father made sure of that.” I didn’t get into the gruesome details.
I knew that they were all curious about the gun. I didn’t know how to explain it, so I decided to say nothing unless asked.
“I’m glad that our Art is dating a fighter,” Mrs. Nakasone declared.
Mr. Nakasone returned to eating and grunted.
We sat in silence eating the last bit of casserole. The noodles stuck in my throat and I could barely swallow. Was this the end of my association with the Nakasone family?
Mrs. Nakasone and Lois started to remove the dirty plates and I got up to join them, but Aunt Eunice held on to my wrist. “You stay,” she commanded. Her grip was strong, especially for an older woman, and I dared not disobey. Mr. Nakasone, meanwhile, retreated to his kingdom of Japanese foodstuffs in the other room.
“Art doesn’t know any of this?”
I shook my head.
“He has no idea how tormented you are about your sister’s death.”
I winced. It was almost painful to hear those words spoken out loud, but it was true.
“You know Ren and I had no children, don’t you?”
I couldn’t respond either way because I had never really thought about it.
“Art and Lois are like my children, too. I know them like the back of my hand.” Aunt Eunice’s breath smelled fishy from the tuna casserole. “I know something about marriage, too. When you have no children, you get to know your spouse, because there is nobody else. We had a hard time of it. Ren’s parents back in Japan didn’t approve. My parents didn’t approve. So we were on our own. We had to learn to talk to each other. Even though Ren’s English was terrible.”
I stifled a laugh out of respect of her solemn tone.
“Marriage is very, very difficult, Aki. I don’t know how it is for your parents. I don’t know what they have taught you.”
Mom never said anything to me about those kinds of relationships. I only got the message that divorce was scandalous, based on my mother and her Issei friends’ reactions when a Japanese couple’s marriage dissolved.
“My mother had an arranged marriage,” I explained. “I don’t think she really understands how it works in America.” From the kitchen sounded the clatter of dishes and cups being washed.
“Well, then, you are going to have to lead the way. If you really love Art—and I’m assuming you do—you have to tell him what is going on in that head of yours.”
I looked down at my hands in my lap. I never considered saying how I felt about things. How could I, when I always seemed to be grasping in the darkness to understand where I stood?
“I’ll give Art back your ring,” I said softly.
Aunt Eunice tightened her grip around my wrist. “This is what I’m talking about. Don’t make rash decisions. Open up your heart. Open your mouth. Write him a letter.” She then released me and called out to Mrs. Nakasone in the kitchen. “I thought we were having apple crumble for dessert.”
We did have the crumble, along with some coffee. After making my confession, I felt much lighter and even held Polly, the white poodle, in my lap while Lois stroked the cat, Crockett. Duke sat right next to me, waiting for a scrap of food to drop onto the ground. Would life someday feel this carefree all the time? It seemed surreal and out of reach, but I was thankful to enter this world from time to time, to remind me of what could be.
The sun had gone down, so it was time for me to leave. As I moved toward the door, the whole family congregated around me to say goodbye.
“Hai.” Mr. Nakasone handed me a package of dried squid. “For your fatha.”
Mrs. Nakasone gave me a hug. “It’ll be all right. You and your family have been through so much. Don’t try to solve all your problems on your own. You can talk to us. Really, you can.”
Lois walked me out to the screened porch with Duke and Polly following her. Crockett emerged doing figure eights in between Lois’s legs.
“Do you really think the same man hurt Betty across the street?”
“I’m not sure,” I told her. “He could have.”
“They moved to the farm that the candy man opened up.”
I remembered that Roy had mentioned that his employer had a potato farm in an area called Marengo near the Wisconsin border. I hoped that Betty would find peace there, but I also knew that you couldn’t run from tragedy, no matter how hard you tried.
I walked out of the Nakasone house feeling liberated. I hadn’t realized how my secrets related to finding Rose’s killer had been weighing me down. Art’s family seemed so empathetic, but I didn’t know how Art would take it. He probably would feel guilty that he was hundreds of miles away. He wouldn’t be able to save the day.
Down the street, the brownstone with the small front yard beckoned me. I walked down to gaze at the yard, which was full of weeds and dandelions. The entryway was neat and swept clean of dirt and leaves. I unlatched the low metal gate and approached the door. I wouldn’t have blamed her if she and her family kicked me out.
I pressed the doorbell once; I heard its piercing ring. No one answered immediately and I took that as my sign to leave. As I turned, I heard the door open. “Hello.” It was a black woman about my mother’s age. She wore oval glasses and had a slight overbite like Phillis had.
“Hello, I’m Aki Ito. I used to work with Phillis at the Newberry.”
“Oh, yes, you’re the Nisei girl. I’m Phillis’s mother.”
I was surprised to hear Mrs. Davis use the term Nisei instead of Japanese.
“Is Phillis here? I was visiting the Nakasones up the street and thought I’d stop by.”
“Come in, dear.” Mrs. Davis led me into an elegant living room with a thick maroon carpet and ornate furniture that made me think of the Elizabethan times. There was a big cross on the wall, in addition to a portrait of a young black man in uniform, who I assumed was Phillis’s brother.
She had me sit on one of the chairs, which made me feel like a queen on her throne, and called Phillis to come to the sitting room.
“Aki.” Phillis descended a staircase made of dark wood. As usual, I couldn’t tell if she was happy to see me or not.
“Would you girls like something to drink?”
“Oh, no, I’m fine. I had supper at the Nakasone house,” I said.
“Well, I’ll leave you two alone.” Mrs. Davis excused herself and went up the stairs.
Phillis assumed a seat on the couch, which had the same lion’s paw feet as the chair. Her hair was back in victory rolls, except now she had many instead of two.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi.”
“You’re probably surprised that I’m here.” The room had a strong perfumy smell that was starting to overwhelm my senses.
“I am.” Phillis wasn’t the type to wrap anything in shiny paper. It would be best if I was straightforward.
I clutched the wooden armrests. “I miss you and Nancy. I don’t have many friends.” I only had one, Hisako, and I wasn’t sure where she was.
Sitting erect on the couch, Phillis continued to look at me without much reaction. It was always difficult to determine how she was feeling. “We’ve missed you, too,” she said in a mechanical fashion, as if she were typing the words. “Come back to work. Nancy talks about you all the time. She told her family all about what happened to your sister and, well, everyone understands why you wanted to go see that doctor.”
“I’m the type of person who likes to see things through,” I said.
“You should call her. Call her tonight, in fact. The Newberry hasn’t hired anyone to replace you yet, so maybe you can get your job back.”
It was too late for that, at least in my mind. I had moved on, committed to applying to nursing school. But I still wanted both of them as my friends. I glanced at the framed photo of Reggie.
“How is your brother, by the way?” I asked.
Phillis managed a smile. “He’s good. He’ll be back in Chicago soon. On medical leave.”
“I bet that you can’t wait to see him.”
Phillis nodded. “It will be good for him to be home. For my mother’s sake.”
Not to mention yours, I thought, but didn’t vocalize this opinion. I got to my feet. “I think I’d better go.”
Phillis walked me to the door. “Bye, Aki,” she said. The light of dusk reflected off of her face and I realized that Phillis, with her dark, observant eyes, was indeed beautiful. Why had it taken me so long to notice?
I left the Davis house, feeling like I had accomplished one piece of Aunt Eunice’s advice: I had opened my mouth.
When I got home, my parents were both asleep again. Pop had quit Aloha and taken a new job as a janitor at the Henrotin Hospital. He started his job at seven, so both he and Mom were now on the same schedule. I was relieved that he wasn’t making that trek through the illicit businesses of North Clark five days a week anymore.
It wasn’t too late to make a phone call, so I did. This time, Nancy answered instead of a member of her family. “Oh, Aki, it’s so good to hear your voice. Phillis told me that you might be calling.”
Nancy launched into breathless chatter about everything from her family to Professor Rip Van Winkle.
Like someone finding a break in a double Dutch jump-rope session, I inserted myself into the conversation when Nancy took a pause. “I’m sorry, you know. For getting you involved with the doctor.”
Enough time had elapsed that Nancy made light of it. “It was kind of interesting to be a jailbird. I made friends with the other girls in the paddy wagon, especially the doctor’s receptionist. Did you know that the police were blackmailing girls who had gotten abortions? Can you even imagine that?”
That revelation seeped into my brain. “Say that again.”
“The police would find out who had abortions and go over to the girls’ homes to extort money from them. The receptionist told me all about it.” Nancy was proud of this new friendship and prattled on about how she had consoled the young woman the whole time they were behind bars.
I couldn’t focus on the rest of the phone call. I only thought about the missing piece that Nancy had gifted me: the reason why Rose had been asking for money in May. And also why Sergeant Graves was attempting to sweep away any mention of Rose’s abortion.
First thing next morning, I went straight to Harriet’s apartment. I was thankful that Douglas was there when she opened the door. I saw his thin figure seated on her bed. He didn’t have his shoes on; somehow seeing his stockinged feet made me feel profoundly self-conscious.
After Harriet invited me in, I told them of Keizo’s observation that a policeman had been with Rose at the subway station before she died. I left out the part about the gun because, while I was beginning to be more open with them, I didn’t trust them completely. “I was told that the police responded fifteen minutes after the incident happened. If a police officer was already with Rose, why the delay? And why didn’t he explain what had happened?”
“It’s curious,” agreed Douglas. “But it’s been more than five months. Will this Keizo talk to the district attorney?”
I shook my head. “That would be impossible. But I have a feeling about who this police officer might be.”
Douglas took a deep breath. “You don’t have anything solid, Aki. If someone pushed Rose into the path of that subway car, I want them to be prosecuted as much as you do. But without a reputable witness, I don’t think you have much.”
“What if the officer admits to it?” I asked.
Harriet, who had been puckering her lips in thought, jumped in. “And why in the world would he do that?”
We went back and forth on this. Harriet thought the scheme that Douglas and I had come up with was absurd. Maybe it was. But I had to at least try.
When I returned to the apartment, I was surprised to see my parents were still at home, sitting at the dining-room table. On the surface of the table was our metal tea kettle sitting on a potholder, next to two handleless Japanese cups and a tiny blue box. My ring. I could not take my eyes off of the box.
“You left this on top of the dresser,” my mother said in Japanese. My father looked weary. His hair, which hardly had any gray back before the start of the war, was now completely white. The hair on top of his head was thin and I could see his scalp.
“Oh,” I said. “It’s from Art. We’re engaged.”
I expected that my mother would shriek in happiness, but she and my father sat like statues in our hard chairs.
“When are you planning to get married?” Mom asked.
“Maybe when he’s on his military leave.” I had no idea when that would be.
“Are you sure about this?”
I frowned. “I thought that you’d be happy. Especially you, Mom. All you’ve talked about with me and Rose is getting married.”
“I don’t want you to rush.”
“No runnin’ away because of Rose,” my father added in English.
“I like Art—we both like him,” my mother continued. “But there’s been so much change. Too much change. Maybe to add more change is not good right now.”
I swiped the box from the table. What do you know? I wanted to say to them. It’s not like you two got married for love. In the back of my mind, I knew that my mother was imparting a bit of truth, but I had no time to reflect on it.
Douglas hired a messenger to deliver an envelope addressed to Sergeant Graves to the police station. I had handwritten the note:
Dear Sergeant Graves:
I need you to come to my apartment at two o’clock today to discuss a most pressing matter involving my sister, Rose. I have evidence that her death was no accident. It was not suicide. Before I take this information to the press, I hope that you will meet me in person to discuss this matter.
Sincerely,
Aki Ito
Sergeant Graves had taken my note seriously; from the window I saw him walk toward our building a few minutes before two. He rapped on our door with authority. After I let him in, he walked past me, went into the hallway and checked the bathroom and bedroom. When he was convinced that we were alone, he took a seat across from me at the dining-room table. “What’s this about?” he asked. His face had lost all the warmth and decency that had been on display during our previous meetings.
I brought out Rose’s journal. “This is my sister’s diary. One that I had made for her in camp. Someone had ripped the back pages from it, so I had no idea what she had written during the last days of her life. Until her old roommate recently mailed them to me.” I brought out some bogus pages of the journal, which I had carefully folded to fit a standard-size envelope.
“She wrote down what you did to her. Blackmailed her for getting an abortion. She was asking everyone for money but she couldn’t raise enough.”
“What do you want?” Graves glowered at me with an intensity that normally would have shaken me. But not today.
“A witness has come forward. He told me that he saw you with my sister. In the Clark and Division subway station, moments before she was killed.”
Graves abruptly got up, pushing the chair back so forcefully that it almost toppled over. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating.”
I knew that I was on thin ice now. I had to be careful and prove that I had enough evidence to be a threat. “I know that you lied to the coroner’s office and eliminated my sister’s abortion from her forensic records. You didn’t want anyone to be looking into her procedure.”
“Who is this witness? And the pages of a journal? Anyone can fabricate that.”
Graves was obviously not going to admit any of his crimes. I couldn’t stand it anymore. “You pushed my sister into that train at Clark and Division,” I shouted, loud enough for the neighbors to hear.
Graves shook his head, releasing curse words first softly and then more emphatically, like he was reciting an incantation. “Something’s wrong with you people. No one told her to jump in front of that train. I didn’t kill her. That was all her doing.”
His words rushed out before I could organize and process them in my mind. So wait—Rose had killed herself? Was it because she couldn’t come up with the money? Or because she couldn’t let Sergeant Graves get away with his blackmail scheme?
I was so stunned for a moment that I didn’t anticipate Sergeant Graves’s long reach to grab the fake pages of Rose’s diary.
He tucked them inside of his police jacket. “No one would believe you, anyway,” he said before making his way to the door. “I consider your sister’s death a closed case, Miss Ito. Don’t bother me anymore.”
“You won’t get away with this.” I wasn’t going to back down.
Graves released the doorknob and turned back to me. “I’ll tell you what I told your sister. If she got herself arrested, there would be no Chicago for the rest of the family. I could have prevented you all from coming. But I didn’t.”
Oh, what a humanitarian, I thought bitterly.
“I have the power to make your family’s life very difficult here. I’m sure you wouldn’t want anything to happen to the rest of your family, especially your father. He has a bit of a drinking and gambling problem.”
His words chilled me. The police sergeant had obviously been keeping tabs on us this whole time.
Graves grinned, perhaps in the same way that he had responded to Rose when she hadn’t been able to produce the blackmail money. I could see her there on the platform, listening to Graves’s threats against our family’s future and well-being.
She wasn’t going to let him win. She had obliterated his power over her by jumping in front of the train.
He left our apartment, the door closing quietly behind him. Still trembling, I walked to the window. When I saw that he was on the street, I finally opened the closet. Douglas’s friend Skip, a reporter with the Chicago Daily Tribune, stood crammed against our coats. Unlike Douglas, he was a heavy man with meaty jowls and unkempt clothes. Now that he had some light, he was madly writing in his notebook. I didn’t want to interrupt him, so I went downstairs to fetch Douglas from Harriet’s apartment.
“He’s left the building,” Douglas said as he appeared in the hallway. “Did you get it all down? Did the sergeant admit to killing Rose?”
I blinked away tears. “It wasn’t what I thought,” I murmured, and slowly climbed back up the stairs.
Douglas was right behind me. “What are you saying?”
Oh, Rose, you didn’t have to take it on all by yourself. But that’s what she had always done, carried our family on her back. There was even a Japanese word for it: onbu—short, sweet and powerful. Mom had told me that’s what her mother, the grandmother whom I had never known, had done in the rice fields. She put my infant mother inside the back of her kimono and secured her in place with a special long fabric sash. With her baby against her naked back, my grandmother could tell if her daughter was breathing and doing well.
The reporter was leaning back in a chair when we arrived.
“Well?” Douglas said.
The reporter smiled. He had the look of a big dog who had stolen a T-bone steak from his master’s dinner table. “He pretty much admitted that he blackmailed Rose Ito. And if these other girls confirm that they had been targeted for blackmail, we’ll have a story.”
“But killing Rose—” Douglas said.
Skip shook his head. “It wouldn’t make any sense, anyway. Why would he try to get rid of a potential source of more money?”
I had to agree, reluctantly. “Yes, I think that she did kill herself.” Saying it out loud was painful. “She did it for us.”