by CW Schutter
Whenever she came to visit, Mary insisted on bringing Kazuko outside. Mary couldn’t stand the dark airless ward which stank of decaying bodies and the putrid odor of urine and spittle. The reversion of the old to infancy was grotesque. Mary felt helpless and guilty her mother was forced to live in a state run home, but she and her siblings were in no financial position to do anything else. Their mother was incontinent and unable to take care of her basic needs. It was a blessing her mother was oblivious to her surroundings.
So they sat in the shade of the shower tree and Mary listened to her mother ramble. Since having a stroke, Kazuko was alternately listless and feverishly lost in her childhood.
Kazuko had no memory of today. But her memories of the past were clear. It was the same with Mark’s mother, a victim of Alzheimer’s. Maybe their childhood memories were happier. Mark’s mother indicated as much in her halting, broken English.
Kazuko rarely emerged from the deep and impenetrable silence she was lost in. When she did, she couldn’t stop talking.
“Father says if I do not wish to learn, then I must know what it is like to be a common peasant. If I don’t do my lessons, I have to work the fields like a peasant. He says being born with samurai blood is not enough. I must honor that blood by learning to act like one who is descended from the samurai. I must never, ever bring disgrace to my ancestors.”
Kazuko paused, as if she were listening to someone talking to her.
Mary watched the clouds drift by and break apart. Will I be like that someday? Please, God, let me die before I become so lost. Mary took her mother’s hand and stroked her arm. “Mama.”
Kazuko lapsed into silence. In the background, a dog barked. Several cars drove by. Otherwise, it was very quiet.
Mary’s thoughts drifted in the silence when her mother suddenly said, “The Kawae girl married a doctor. They have two children, a big house, and a Cadillac. They sold the store. She’s very lucky.”
Mary stared at her mother. It wasn’t unusual for her mother to go from the past to utter clarity then to confusion followed by silence. Even now, her mother’s eyes were vacant again. She thought about Mitsuo and was both happy and somewhat sad at least his dreams had come true. Her life, on the other hand, was at best a struggle. But she didn’t complain. If Mark stayed on with his brother, she wouldn’t have to work. But she and Mark both agreed the potential price was too high.
All of a sudden, Kazuko began beating her breasts and crying. “No, no! I will not marry the old man! I love Tetsuo!” Mary knelt and put her arms around her. Kazuko grabbed Mary’s shoulders so hard, she winced. “Where is Tetsuo?”
A burly Hawaiian attendant rushed out of the home. “I heard the screams…” She came to where Mary and her mother were and started cooing, “There, there, it’s okay.”
“I don’t know what came over her,” Mary apologized. “She’s overexcited. She needs to rest.”
The attendant picked up Kazuko as if she were a child. “Shh, it’s okay.”
Tears came to Mary’s eyes; her mother was being carried away like a baby.
Kazuko opened her eyes and looked around. She didn’t know where she was exactly but the fragrant smell of sandalwood permeated the air. Sunae beamed as she slipped cool silk garments on Kazuko. Shaking her head, Kazuko asked, “O-Sunae, have I been away?”
Cocking her head, Sunae smiled and pulled the gold and white obi tight around her waist, before stepping back to look at Kazuko. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Kazuko looked down. Her hands were the soft, white hands of a snow maiden. “I must have had a bad dream.” She shook her head. “Why are you dressing me in such fine garments?”
“I wanted to do it one last time.” Sunae placed her hands on her hips and grinned. “I couldn’t let anyone else do it today.”
“I don’t understand. What’s so special about today?” Suddenly her hands flew to her cheeks. “Oh, no. Is it true I have to marry the tono sama?”
“The tono sama?” Sunae echoed. “What are you talking about? You must have had a bad dream. That old man is not for you. You are marrying my son, Tetsuo.”
“I’m marrying Tetsuo? Father approved?” Kazuko’s eyes widened.
“Of course he approved.” Sunae fussed with Kazuko’s hair. “He understands everything now.” Sunae put her hands on Kazuko’s cheeks. “You look beautiful.”
Kazuko looked down. She was dressed in a shiro-muku, the white silk undergarment. the first layer of a wedding kimono. She looked at Sunae in surprise and saw the elaborately embroidered uchikake, the over kimono in red, gold, and white exploding with flowers. She was to don it over her undergarment later. “Oh, the bad dream I had. It was so real. I thought I ran away to Hawaii with Tetsuo.”
Sunae slapped her hands together and chuckled. “Hawaii! Oh, my goodness. What a dream! Wait until I tell everyone. But now, it’s time to go.” Sunae pointed to the closed shoji doors. “Behind those doors, your new life begins.” She took Kazuko’s hand. “Are you ready?”
Smiling behind her hand, Kazuko shuffled like a proper Japanese lady toward the shoji doors. The nightmare was over at last. She was in Japan, in her father’s house, and all was as it should have been from the start. Parting her lips, she replied, “I feel like I’ve been ready for a long, long time.”
When the nursing home called to say Kazuko had died in her sleep, Mary felt a mixture of sadness and relief. This past year her mother was lost in her own world. Mary’s one regret was her mother never got to visit Japan before she died.
Chapter Thirty-three
A lot of people thought George Han was a monster. Mary knew it wasn’t true. Her brother-in-law was basically a good guy whose biggest flaw was he wanted to make a lot of money and didn’t much care how he did it.
Mary had just started cleaning her last table at the coffee shop where she worked when George appeared in the doorway flanked by two bodyguards. Straightening her back tiredly, she stood motionless as he walked toward her in the same wary, hesitant way he had since childhood.
Some things never change, she thought.
He stopped in front of her. “Hello, Mary.”
“Hello, George.” She put the rag she held in her hand on the table. They hardly spoke these days.
“Can I give you a ride home?”
She looked around the empty room. “I still have some cleaning up to do in back.”
“I’ve taken care of that. I’ve talked to Shige.”
Shige was Mary’s boss. She nodded as she took off her apron. “Let me tell my ride I’m leaving.”
When she stepped out of the restaurant, George greeted her from the back seat of his car where he smoked a cigarette. “How are things going?” he asked as she got it in. One of George’s body guards closed the door behind her.
“Same old thing.” She stared out the window. It was a hot, muggy night. The termites had swarmed earlier in the evening. As if her job were not difficult enough, she’d spent the night running around, turning off lights, and putting out buckets of water for the pests to drown in. It had been exhausting. Even now she could still see termites hypnotized by the lights. Their dead bodies and sheer wings lay in the street and the crevices of the car. She ran her finger along the edge and picked up one frail body.
“You look tired.”
Mary looked at George, but his face was shrouded in darkness. “It was busy, despite the termites. The tips were pretty good.” She made twelve dollars that night and thought it had been a really great shift. But it was small change to George. “How’s your family, George?”
“The same.” He nodded to his driver who started the car. “I really needed to see you.”
“Why?”
George stubbed his cigarette in the door’s ashtray. “It’s about Mark’s gambling,”
“Oh.” Mary looked down at her hands.
“How bad has it really gotten?” he asked her.
Mary thought of all the times she considered leaving Mark. “He b
orrowed from his mother and refinanced the house to the hilt. We have no cash. I don’t know how much he owes.”
George looked out the window, his fingers tapping on the armrest. “He owes Vegas $20,000.”
Mary put her hand to her throat. “What! I know he likes to gamble but…” Her voice trailed as her hand fluttered down. She knew it was true. Every morning for the last two weeks Mark checked under the hood of his car before starting it. She thought it strange, but Mark said he liked to make sure everything was in working order. “It’s those Las Vegas junkets. Free trips, nothing. Mark says they treat him like a king. Free plane trip, free booze, free hotel, and I know there’s free girls. Don’t bother denying it. I wish you never started junkets.”
“The boys in Vegas held off only out of respect for me. I’ve promised to pay his debts. These guys don’t fool around, Mary. You have to help me convince Mark, no more gambling.”
“How can we repay you that much money? We don’t have any equity left in the house.”
“He’s my brother.” George cleared his throat.
Mary straightened. “Don’t worry, we’ll pay you back. No matter how long it takes. And there will be no more junkets.”
“I don’t know if I’ll always be able to cover for him. I don’t know if my name will always mean something.” George shook his head. “I want to get out of this business.”
“Good for you.”
“The money’s tempting, but so many other groups are cropping up now. Some of them are crazy and gun happy. It scares me. I have enough money to live comfortably. The new guys have ice water in their veins. I’d rather quit while I’m still alive.”
They passed under a street lamp; Mary could see George’s face. New lines had sprouted around his eyes and mouth. He looked tired. “Can you walk out just like that?”
“I don’t know.” George scratched his head. “I’ve been thinking of opening a restaurant. You can run it for me. I have a space in Waikiki, near International Marketplace.”
“I’m just a waitress,” Mary protested. Still, she couldn’t help but think it was a great location. But, she didn’t know if she was capable of running it.
“The most important thing in opening a restaurant is to have family you trust. You’re smart and honest. I’ll give you a percentage of the gross so you won’t miss the tips you make.”
“I’ll have to discuss it with Mark.”
George looked at her for what felt like a very long time. “Of course,” he finally said.
Mary felt uncomfortable under his scrutiny. George rarely looked at her these days. Now that he did, she wondered what he was thinking.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Mark burst into his brother’s office.
George leaned back in his chair. “What’s your problem?”
“How dare you talk to my wife about me,” Mark spat. “You made me look like a fool.”
“You did that to yourself.” George lit a cigarette. “I didn’t have to do it for you.”
Mark slammed his fist on the table. “Just who the hell do you think you are?”
George blew smoke in Mark’s direction. “Seems to me you should be thanking me instead of cursing me.”
“For what? Stop trying to run my life. Stay out of it.” Mark leaned over, his knuckles on the desktop.
George leaned forward, elbows on his desk. “If I had done that, you would be dead. Vegas doesn’t give second chances.”
Mark stood back, then flopped into a chair. “I would have paid them.”
“How were you going to do that?” George followed his brother’s actions and relaxed in his chair. “You’re already hocked up to your neck.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve got my ways.” George flicked ashes into an ashtray. He needed to quit smoking and coffee because he was getting jittery.
“Yeah, you and your big shot ways.” Mark kicked the desk. “What about this restaurant idea? I can take care of my family without your help.”
George locked eyes with his brother. “Do you enjoy seeing your wife slaving to pay off your debts?”
“Why don’t you mind your own business?” Mark stood and paced the room.
“Look, we’ll both make good money in Waikiki. It’s a legitimate business and I need a trustworthy manager. Why not family? It’s not charity. Mary would be doing me a favor.”
Mark looked at George sideways. “It’s a Chinese laundry.”
“It will be on the up and up.”
“How do you know she can do it?”
“I got good instincts. Besides, she’s been doing restaurant-work for quite awhile now.”
“What are you offering her?”
“Ten percent of the gross plus $600 a month.”
Mark crossed his arms. “Fifteen.”
George puffed on his cigarette. “Okay, fifteen.”
“Okay.”
“Okay, what?” George asked.
“Okay, she’ll work for you.”
George wasn’t surprised.
Chapter Thirty-four
Honolulu: 1955-1960
Sean was never quite sure exactly how their affair began. Ideologically, they were worlds apart. He was wedded to the ways and beliefs of the kamaaina aristocracy. Diana, on the other hand, was determined to uproot and undermine what she called the tyranny of the kamaaina haoles. Their close relationship was so improbable the sheer lunacy of it was an attraction in and of itself. What they had in common was they were both handsome, determined, ambitious, and contentious people whose chosen paths were parallel yet separate. In between lay a chasm no one could cross.
The affair had been again, off again, with gaps sometimes lasting years. Their first time-off happened after he married Katherine. Strangely, his marriage didn’t seem to bother Diana. In fact, it amused her because his marriage was in keeping with his philosophies and goals. When she told him her opinion, he accused her of intellectualizing the most intimate of situations. But they both knew she was right.
“We’re street fighters,” Diana said as she lay with Sean in her bed in an apartment facing Kuhio Beach in Waikiki. Surf was up; they could see surfers out in the ocean from her bed. Sean knew Diana loved to sit on her lanai sipping coffee and watching pedestrians stroll along the beach and up and down Kapiolani Groin, the newly built walkway jutting out into the ocean. It was also her favorite place to walk and think. “Sometimes we fight below the belt and do whatever it takes to win.” Diana looked up at the ceiling. “Unfortunately we’re on opposite sides of every issue I’m afraid.”
Sean rose on an elbow, his cheek on his fist. “Because you believe equality exists simply because our Constitution says so. It wasn’t true when our founding fathers wrote it and will never be true. If you changed your way of thinking, you would either make a lot of money or land one of those old, rich kamaainas I see lusting after you,” Sean laughed.
“And prostitute myself?” Diana lifted an eyebrow. “Besides, I’m never getting married.”
“Never?” Sean tickled her nose with his finger and Diana swatted his hand away.
“I’m a divorcee and an independent woman who prefers affairs.” Diana pulled the sheet up to her chin. “If I didn’t think that way, would I be here? I’m too logical to pursue a man who is married not only to a wife, but to a way of living.” She cocked a brow. “I pity you, Sean.”
Sean flopped onto his back. “Save your pity.”
“You have so much to offer. If only you weren’t so obsessed with money, what a splendid human being you would be.”
Sean turned his back to her. “My mother said I’d grow up to be a splendid gentleman if I went to live with Uncle Patrick.”
Diana turned onto her side and stroked his back. “I love you.”
“You’re a fantastic lady. I’m very lucky.” He turned and kissed her.
He knew it bothered her that he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. He knew she didn’t care he was married because she knew he di
dn’t love his wife. He understood she wasn’t asking for commitment—she just wanted to hear him say he loved her. But he didn’t know what he felt and he refused to lie about it. The only woman he knew he loved was Meg.
It was their seventh anniversary. Sean thought Katherine looked exceptional wearing an elegant, midnight-blue velvet sheath from Chanel that set off the auburn tresses coiled on top of her head. A magnificent Kashmir sapphire and diamond necklace encircled her neck and a matching set of pear-shaped Kashmir sapphires surrounded by full-cut diamonds hung from her earlobes. Sean was proud to have a wife who looked every inch the handsome aristocrat she was.
The night began pleasantly enough. Sean gave her a Burmese ruby ring. Her gift to Sean was an elegant gold Cartier cigarette case with a matching lighter engraved with his initials. Their massive Koa Wood dining room table was adorned with anthuriums, protea, torch ginger, and bird of paradise. They dined on Limoge china with some of their closest friends and toasted each other with Baccarat crystal wineglasses. Their personal chef created an elegant dinner of succulent Beef Wellington.
Ever the consummate hostess, Katherine had orchestrated the entire evening.
Later that night, she donned a lacy new peignoir set. Her long, chestnut hair flowed around her broad, white shoulders. Sean was already in bed when she slipped in and started caressing him. It had been a long, stressful day at the office and his argument with Diana the night before didn’t help his mood. He hated it when Diana accused him of being obsessed with money and marrying into society.
“I had a bad day,” he said. “And I’m very tired.” Not wanting to be cruel, Sean leaned over and pecked her on the cheek. But his wife was having none of it. In the muted light he saw her face grow hard. Angry. But without a word, she threw back the bed linens, flung herself out of bed and slammed the door as she left their bedroom.
It seemed he had a talent for making women unhappy.