By the time they raced down the stairs and out the building, Nancy was several steps ahead of him. She crossed the road and walked straight up to the two girls, Matt hurrying after her.
“Kon’nichi wa. We saw you from the window.” Nancy smiled broadly at Fumi and Aya. “What’re your names? I’m Noriko Nogami. Hajimemashite. Pleased to meet you.”
“Nancy,” Matt said.
“What is it? I thought you wanted to talk to them.”
“Maybe we should go somewhere else.” A man with round glasses and unruly hair was glaring at him.
“Where can we go? Can we take them back to the office?”
“No, of course not.”
“Excuse please.” The man with the unruly hair addressed Matt in English. In Japanese, he continued, “You should leave those girls alone. They are too young. You Amerikajin…And as for you.” He glared at Nancy.
“No, you don’t understand. I’m not…I know these girls.” Matt turned to them. “Do you remember me? We met before, didn’t we?”
Fumi nodded.
The man squinted suspiciously at Matt before turning to Fumi. “You don’t have to be afraid of his kind, you know.”
Matt was trying to think of a comeback when Fumi spoke up in his defense.
“Don’t worry. He’s my special friend.” She beamed at Matt. “You know where my sister is, don’t you! That’s why you’re here.”
“Oh, I see.” The man’s voice was filled with disdain as he turned away. “Your sister.”
Fumi was oblivious to the stranger’s comment. “I’m so happy to see you. I knew that coming here again was the right thing to do. You’ve found my sister, haven’t you!”
That was when Matt made his big mistake. He hadn’t been prepared for such a direct question, nor had he anticipated Fumi’s strong reaction to seeing him. She’d clearly had total faith in his ability to help her. He should have made something up, told her what she expected to hear, what she so desperately needed to hear. At the very least, he later thought, he should have understood that he needed to soften the blow.
“You’ve found my sister, haven’t you!” she’d chirped in that bright, hope-filled voice. And how had he responded?
“No.” Just one hard bullet of a word. He hadn’t even added he was sorry. Then he watched as the color instantly drained from her face.
He tried to compensate, assuming as authoritative a tone as he could muster—“These things take longer than expected, you must have patience”—but he could tell by the look Fumi gave him that he’d failed her.
She turned her head away as if she couldn’t bear the sight of his face.
It was Nancy who broke the awkward strain of the moment.
“Why don’t we all go for some dessert? Let’s find a nice coffee shop and get something sweet.” She wrapped one arm around Aya and the other around Fumi, and began walking. Over her shoulder she called out to Matt, “Come on now. There’s got to be someplace we can go. How about in the Ginza? We can all use a treat. It’s almost Christmas, for heaven’s sake.”
Fumi’s mood improved significantly when they got to the coffee shop. Her eyes widened when Nancy asked her to pick from the wax food models in the shopwindow and she pointed without hesitation at the dish of sweet red beans. Once seated at their table, she appeared content to concentrate on eating, barely looking up from her dish.
Nancy, meanwhile, had discovered that Aya was from Canada. She immediately switched to English.
“My goodness, we were meant to meet! You have to tell me all about yourself.” She patted Aya’s shoulder. “How’s the dessert? My relatives here eat tokoroten. Seaweed jelly! That’s their idea of a dessert, but I just hate it. I wish I had some Jell-O to give them. Now that’s a real dessert. Jell-O with whipped cream. What’s your favorite dessert?”
“Ice cream,” Aya said a little hesitantly.
“Oh, me too. I wish we could get some real ice cream here.” Nancy turned to Matt. “Look at that. She’s just like us.”
Matt had to admit that Nancy’s instinct about taking the girls to a coffee shop had been just right. He and Nancy watched as they went to examine the wax models in the shopwindow again. He heard them giggling as they tried to pick a second dessert.
“You’re terrific with them,” he said to Nancy.
“I like them. They remind me of my kid sisters.” Nancy spoke softly. “You know, it really bothers me that I wasn’t there for them when they needed me. Getting thrown in the camps and all that. It must have been horrible. Well, they’re big now. They went through the worst experience of their lives without me to help them. Maybe they don’t need me anymore.”
He detected a tone of sadness he’d never heard in her voice before. “You had an even worse time here,” he murmured, but she did not reply.
Afterward they accompanied the girls to the streetcar stop. Aya and Nancy walked side by side still talking, followed by Fumi and then by Matt. Matt gave Fumi money for the fare. While they waited, Nancy grabbed Aya’s hand and pulled her close. “Did you and Fumi have enough to eat? It was lots of fun, wasn’t it. You know, you remind me so much of my youngest sister. Next time we meet I want to tell you about her. You’d like her.”
While they waited for the streetcar, Matt repeated to Fumi what he’d said earlier. “I’m sorry your sister hasn’t been found yet, but don’t be discouraged. General MacArthur has your letter and he always keeps his promises.”
He hoped that by saying it over and over it might fix things. But Fumi glared at him coldly, her dark eyes flashing, and he realized that no amount of syrupy dessert was going to make up for today’s disappointment or assuage her feelings. Nancy and Aya were too preoccupied with their own parting to even notice.
As soon as the streetcar arrived, a group of people rushed for the doors and Aya and Fumi were swept up with the crowd and pushed on board.
“Oh, wait! Aya! I wanted to ask you—” Nancy shouted, but her voice was cut off by the clanging of a bell. The doors of the streetcar slammed shut.
“I didn’t realize it would be so crowded,” Matt said. “It doesn’t look like it will be a very comfortable ride.”
“Oh, that’s nothing. It’s always crowded.” Nancy sounded irritated for some reason. “You army guys don’t know how pampered you are. Special jeeps, special reserve cars on trains. If the Occupation forces had to travel the way ordinary Japanese people do, they probably wouldn’t go anywhere.”
The late-afternoon sun was low in the sky, forcing Matt to squint into the brightness as he looked at Nancy. Her red blouse seemed to be on fire. She was rubbing her hands briskly up and down her arms and he realized she must be freezing.
“You’ll catch cold,” he said.
“Oh, don’t worry about me. Believe me, I went through a lot worse during the war. I’m made of tough stuff. Even so I’m not half as tough as some people here.” Nancy stuck out her jaw provocatively. “In this country, can you guess who is made of the toughest stuff? Japanese women, that’s who. Don’t ever think otherwise. Don’t ever believe that hooey about the delicate Oriental flower. They’re tough as nails.”
Abruptly she bent down, and Matt watched as she brushed some dirt off her skirt hem. Did he dare ask her, he wondered. He really needed help. He couldn’t do it alone.
“Thanks so much for coming today.”
“I’m glad I came.”
“I think the girls really liked you.”
“Well, I liked them.”
“Say, can I show you something?” Matt reached into his pocket and pulled out the photograph. “This is Sumiko, Fumi’s missing sister.”
Nancy took the picture from him and studied it in silence.
“She’s very pretty,” she finally said. “Is that her boyfriend?”
“I don’t know. I guess so.”
“Humph.”
“You were so helpful earlier, I was wondering if you have any suggestions about how one could search for someone like this. I mean,
I was thinking, maybe I should look around. For Fumi’s sake. She was awfully disappointed today. You know, you’re really good at…What I mean is, if there’s any help you can give me…” His voice trailed off.
She handed the picture back to him and shook her head. “You know, people have to do what they can in order to survive. But they make their own decisions. I’ll bet she’s making more money in a week than most people make in a month, and she’s sure as hell living a lot better. You can count on that. Maybe she doesn’t want to be found. Did you ever consider that? Maybe she’s having a grand old time.”
36
As soon as the doors of the streetcar closed behind them, Aya tried to turn around so she could see Nancy through the glass, but she couldn’t move an inch. In fact, she could hardly breathe. Yet despite her discomfort, she couldn’t stop smiling. It had been such a wonderful afternoon, and she wished she could have stayed with Nancy longer. Nancy, who held her hand and liked Jell-O and didn’t walk in that funny pigeon-toed way or cover her mouth when she laughed. And she laughed a lot. Aya had even told Nancy she was called Irene back home. What’s your name, Nancy had asked her in English, and out it had come, her Canadian name. Of course, she asked her to call her Aya, so that Fumi wouldn’t get upset. The best thing, though, the most important thing, was that she and Nancy could speak in English. In English! She could be her old self. For a short time this afternoon, she was Irene Shimamura, and Nancy was like the big sister she’d never had. There was so much she wanted to tell her, but how would she ever see her again? She had waited for Nancy to ask for her address or to suggest when they could next meet, but it never came up and before Aya knew it the streetcar had suddenly arrived and she was pushed from behind onto the steps and inside. She didn’t even have time to wave goodbye.
The streetcar traveled in a jerky, uneven movement, sometimes fast, sometimes slow. It stopped several times but the doors remained shut, and it wasn’t until the fifth stop that the doors were flung open. Before the people waiting at the stop could board, Fumi jumped out, pulling Aya with her. The drop to the ground gave Aya an unexpected jolt.
“What happened? Was it the wrong streetcar?”
“We’re not taking the streetcar.” Fumi started walking briskly.
“Where are we going?” Aya could barely keep up.
Fumi headed back in the direction of the coffee shop where they had just had their dessert. The street was still as crowded as before. Maybe Nancy had returned there, too, Aya thought, and her hopes were raised when she spotted Nancy’s bright red blouse, but when the woman turned around it was someone else.
“What are we doing?” Aya asked. “Are we looking for Nancy and Matsumoto-san?”
“Forget about them. Good, it’s getting dark.”
“Yes, you’re right, it’s late. Shouldn’t we go home?”
Fumi stopped so abruptly Aya nearly bumped into her. “Don’t you understand? We’ve come this far. We have to look for my sister.”
“But what can we do? You have to leave it up to the adults.”
“Adults!” Fumi spit the word out. “You can’t rely on adults.”
“But Matsumoto-san—”
“He doesn’t care about finding my sister. He doesn’t care one bit. I should have known that I couldn’t rely on him. Nobody cares about my sister. Only I do.” She pulled Aya into the doorway of the nearest building. “And you. You care. You’re the only friend I can count on. Let’s look for her ourselves. See this. See what I have.” Reaching into her blouse Fumi pulled out a small silk pouch that hung around her neck on a slender cord. “I don’t know why I decided to bring this today. I just had a hunch I might need it. Something told me that I should be prepared.”
“What is it?”
“My sister gave me some money a long time ago. For an emergency.”
“Good, so we can take the streetcar home.”
“Not that. I meant a real emergency. We have to find my sister.”
They turned down the first street they came to and entered a maze of narrow, crooked lanes. Everywhere looked dark and grimy. The area was deserted.
“Wouldn’t it be better to come back another time, in the daytime?” Aya said.
“We can’t leave until we find her.”
“O-nesan, pretty o-nesan.” A child’s voice came out of nowhere. “Over here.” Two small boys stepped out of the shadows. They wore dirty sweaters full of holes. One had an unlit cigarette butt dangling from his lips. He moved with an exaggerated swagger as he approached.
“Big sister, you want to meet a nice Joe?” The boy addressed Fumi.
“Beat it!” Fumi said.
The boy moved closer. He pushed his lower jaw forward so his cigarette brushed against Fumi’s chin and he tried wiggling the dry butt to tickle her. Fumi jerked her head to the side. The cigarette fell from his mouth, and the boy caught it midair with a practiced motion. He started laughing.
“Come on, I can help you make some good money.”
“Leave us alone.”
“Okay, sure.” The boy raised both hands in the air in a show of goodwill. “But before you leave, can you give us poor boys a little something? Anything you can spare is fine.”
Fumi motioned to Aya to run but it was too late. The boys had clearly been observing them, just waiting for the right opportunity to strike. The one with the cigarette butt grabbed Fumi’s pouch, broke the flimsy strap with a quick tug, and began running down the lane. “Dorobo!” Fumi screamed. She set off in pursuit, yelling “Thief!” at the top of her lungs, but the other boy caught up to her and pushed her to the ground before running off himself. Fumi scrambled to her feet and started running again. By the time Aya reached her, Fumi was on the ground once more, clutching her legs in pain.
“They got it. They got it all,” Fumi said between gasps. “I was running as fast as I could but they disappeared.”
Her legs were scratched and bloodied, and she’d lost her sandals during the chase. Her white socks were completely black. She looked dazed.
“There, you see? We better go home right away,” Aya said.
“No.”
“You’ll never find your sister like this.”
“I’m not giving up.”
“But we have to go home.”
“You go home if you like. I’m not leaving.”
Aya had reached her limit. “Can’t you see how dangerous it is? Look what just happened. How can you be so stupid?”
“Stupid?” Fumi’s tone had shifted. “Look who’s talking. You’re the one who’s stupid.”
“That’s right, call me stupid. But you’re the stupidest of all.” Aya’s words came out in a rush. “You’re looking for your sister, but she’s not looking for you. How do you know she even cares if she sees you again?”
“That’s not true. She loves me!” Fumi’s face turned purple. “You’re jealous. Because I have a sister, and you—you have nobody. You don’t even have a mother. Nobody cares about you. You’re nothing but a stupid repat.”
You have nobody. You don’t even have a mother. The words were like hammers chipping off pieces of her heart. Aya felt the truth in those words and then she felt a cold blackness close in all around her. It was as if she had fallen into the bottomless lake.
In that instant she saw Fumi for what she was, a selfish scheming girl who didn’t care about anyone except herself and her sister. She didn’t care about Aya, she had only wanted to use her. Aya turned and slowly began walking away. She felt a strange numbing calmness.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Fumi’s voice sounded distant, muffled. Distorted by an ocean of separation and refraction. “You’ll never find your way on your own!”
Where was she going? Aya wasn’t sure. She was falling fast. She was sinking like a stone.
37
“You’re right, forget it. She’s just a bar girl. Not worth bothering about.” Matt shoved Sumiko’s picture back in his pocket. He and Nancy were still standing on the si
dewalk near the streetcar stop where they had seen Fumi and Aya off.
“You think I’m a prig, don’t you,” Nancy said.
“I never said anything of the kind.”
“Sure you do. A moralistic, holier-than-thou old maid.”
“Nancy, please.”
“Remember what I told you about how people thought I was a streetwalker. How would you feel? Just because of the way I walk, like an American, not shuffling and pigeon-toed like the women here, or because I speak with this heavy accent. Just because I’m different. People make all kinds of assumptions about others, don’t they. They take one look at you and they assume they know all about you, when they don’t know a damn thing.”
“Nancy, I’m sorry you—”
She paid no attention to him. “Everything goes wrong when people make stupid assumptions and don’t even try to get to know you as a person. As a human being, for God’s sake. It just stinks.”
“Nancy…”
Her eyes glistened behind her glasses. “Anyway, never mind. Show me that picture again.”
“What?”
“The photograph. If I’m going to help you, you better show it to me.”
“But I thought you said—”
“Look, am I a prig? Probably. Am I moralistic? Well, maybe that’s just the way I was raised. But I’m a human being and so is Sumiko. She’s a person, not just some bar girl. I don’t know why she’s doing what she’s doing, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll help you. You want me to help you find her, don’t you? Isn’t that what you want?”
“Yes, but are you sure?”
“Matt, I just said I’ll help. Don’t you believe me?”
“Of course, well, as long as you’re sure.” He paused, uncertain how to express his gratitude. “When are you free? How about next weekend?”
“For heaven’s sake, let’s start right now. We’re already in the Ginza. We can go to the big dance halls and show them Sumiko’s picture. Surely someone will recognize her. Maybe we can find her tonight.”
The Translation of Love Page 22