But he got only fifty dollars for the car, and five dollars for a brand-new set of golf clubs. He would have given them to Peter, but he was leaving too. He was going to store his own things when he left for the army. They had a huge yard sale, with everything they couldn't pack or leave behind. And Reiko cried when she sold her wedding dress to a beautiful young girl for three dollars. But Hiroko carefully packed Tami's doll-house in a box, with all the tiny furniture and accessories, and marked it carefully with Takeo's name for the government warehouse.
They weren't storing many things; it didn't seem worth it to Tak. Just boxes of their photographs, the dollhouse, and some special mementos. All the bigger items were sold for pennies on their front lawn, as Peter kept track of the money. By the end of the sale they had made roughly three thousand dollars. It seemed like a lot to them, but not when you considered that they had sold everything they owned. And the worst moment of all was when Tak's secretary at the university came to pick up Lassie. Tami held her and cried, and refused to let her leave, and finally Hiroko just held the child as she keened. The poor woman cried as she led the dog away, and Lassie howled and barked out the window of the car all the way around the corner. It was as though even she knew what had happened. It was a terrible day for all of them, they had each lost something important. Ken had sold his collection of signed baseball bats, and all his old Little League uniforms. And Sally had given up the four-poster bed she loved so much. They had even sold all the beds, and at Hiroko's suggestion, until they left, they were going to sleep on futons.
“That's horrible,” Sally wailed as her mother told her. She was giving up everything, her clothes, her friends, her school, even her bed, and now she had to sleep on the floor, like a dog.
“You'd do it if you were in Japan,” her mother said, smiling at Hiroko. But that made Sally even more furious.
“I'm not Japanese! I'm American!” she stormed at them, and then ran into the house and slammed the door behind her. It was hard on all of them, particularly Tami, who was grieving for Lassie and her doll-house.
“We'll make a new one when we get there,” Hiroko promised her.
“You don't know how, and Daddy won't want to.” Her parents were in a terrible mood these days, and the only person who ever played with her was her cousin.
“Yes, he will. He can show me how. We'll make it together, you and I.”
“Okay.” Tami brightened a little. She was nine now. Sally had just turned fifteen, but it had done nothing for her disposition. The only good news was that Ken's girlfriend Peggy and her family were going to Tanforan on the same day they were.
Sally's friend Kathy had never spoken to her again. She had driven slowly by the house that afternoon with her brother, and glanced at the yard sale, but they hadn't stopped, they didn't wave, and Sally turned away when she saw them.
They had only two days left in the house after the yard sale, and there was still a lot to do. The new owners had bought some of the furniture, fortunately, but not much. They had their own things. And Hiroko worked night and day with Reiko to pack for them, and get rid of everything else, leaving it for friends, or taking it to charities. The hard part was knowing what to take for relocation. They didn't know if they'd need country or city clothes, lightweight or warm ones, and they didn't want to weigh themselves down with the wrong gear, since they could take so little.
It was close to ten o'clock on the last night when they finished packing, and Peter was still with them. Tak handed him a beer, and then went upstairs to help Reiko, and Peter and Hiroko sat outside on the front steps. It was a beautiful April night, and it was hard to believe that anything bad was going to happen.
“Thank you for your help, Peter.” She smiled at him, and he leaned over unceremoniously and kissed her. She could taste the cold beer on his lips, and she smiled and kissed him again.
“You work too hard,” he said gently, and pulled her closer to him. She had been tireless, and Reiko had been so upset, she had been more than a little distracted, so Hiroko had done much of the work.
“You worked just as hard as I did,” she said calmly. It was true. Tak had said more than once that they couldn't have done it without him. He had hauled things away, gone through endless boxes with Tak, packed whatever he could, unplugged appliances and moved furniture, and even taken their few boxes to the government warehouse. He had taken a few things of theirs to his house too, to store with his own when he left, and as promised, Hiroko's kimonos.
“Well make a good couple one day, we're a good team. We both work hard.” He smiled at her, with eyes tinged with mischief. He loved talking about getting married one day, and making her blush. She was still very old-fashioned in some ways, and he loved it. “How many children will we have?” he asked conversationally, and chuckled when she blushed darker.
“As many as you wish, Peter-san,” she said, sounding very Japanese, but no one could hear them. “My mother wanted many children, many sons, but she got very sick when my brother was born, and almost died. She wanted to have him at home, and my father wanted her in the hospital. My father is very modern, but my mother likes the old ways …like me,” she added with a shy smile.
“Like us,” he corrected. “I want you to take very good care of yourself at Tanforan, as best you can. Conditions may not be good there. Be careful, Hiroko.” He was afraid to say more, but he was terrified of what someone might do to her there, and he could only pray that they would let her stay with the Tanakas, and not send her elsewhere. There was nothing he could do now to protect her.
“I will be wise …and you too …” She looked at him pointedly. He was going away to war, she wasn't. And it was so peaceful sitting there in the warm garden. Neither of them realized how little quiet they would ever have again. She would be living in a relocation center with thousands of people all around her, and he would be in the army. It was a moment to cling to and cherish, one they would both remember forever.
“You'll be careful?” he asked again, looking sadly at her.
“I will. I promise.” He looked into her eyes then, and set the beer down. And then he held her tight and kissed her. Holding her like that took his breath away at times, and it was hard not to get carried away, but fortunately they didn't have the opportunity to be other than responsible, but the temptation was always great when he kissed her.
“I'd better go,” he said hungrily, wanting to devour her with his hands, and his lips, but he was always afraid to frighten her or to hurt her.
“I love you, Peter-san,” she whispered, as he kissed her again. “I love you very much….”In spite of himself, he moaned softly as he held her, and she smiled at him. There was a part of their life that she could not even imagine, yet in a part of her she longed for.
“I love you too, little one…. I'll see you tomorrow.”
He left her at the gate with another kiss, and then with a wave he drove away, and she walked slowly back to the house, wondering what would happen to them. But fate has only questions, never answers. And she had just reached the door, when she heard someone call her name. She turned in surprise, and saw Anne Spencer walking slowly toward her. At first, Hiroko didn't even recognize her. Her hair was pulled back and she was wearing an old sweater, and carrying a basket.
“Hiroko,” she said again, and this time, Hiroko walked toward her. The last time she had seen her was the day she'd left St. Andrew's when Anne had come to say good-bye to her, and then stood and watched her from the window.
They had certainly never been friends, and yet, since that last day, there had been a thin bond of respect between them. Hiroko had understood how much Anne had disapproved of the others vandalizing her room and tormenting her. And yet there had never been any warmth between them.
“Anne Spencer?” Hiroko asked cautiously.
“I heard that you were going.” Her words surprised Hiroko.
“How did you hear that?”
“A friend of mine was in your cousin's class at Sta
nford,” she said simply. “I'm sorry.” This was the second time she had said that to Hiroko for something she hadn't done, and had nothing to do with, “Do you know where you're going yet?”
“Tanforan Assembly Center. After that, we do not know where.” Anne nodded.
“I brought you this.” She handed the basket to her. It was filled with sturdy delicacies, like good jams, and some cheese, and tins of soup, and meats, things that would sustain them. Hiroko was surprised, when she looked into it, by how many things there were, and how generous Anne had been. She scarcely knew her.
“Thank you.” Hiroko stood holding the basket and looking up at her, wondering again why she had done it.
“I want you to know that I don't believe in what they're doing. ? think it's terrible, and I'm sorry,” she said again, and her eyes were bright with unshed tears. The two women looked at each other for a long moment, and Hiroko bowed low to her, to honor her, still holding the basket.
“Thank you, Anne-san.”
“May God be with you,” she whispered, and then turned and ran out of the garden. Hiroko heard a car start, and drive away, and she walked slowly back into the house, holding the basket.
Chapter 10
THE DAY they left their house was the darkest any of them had ever experienced and one they would always remember.
The dog was already gone, and the ear, and the house was almost empty. There was an eerie feeling to it now. The new owners were coming by that afternoon to start moving in, and Tak had left the keys with a neighbor.
They had thrown most of their food away, which seemed a waste, and given the rest to Peter.
But the most painful of all was leaving the house they had lived in for nearly eighteen years. Reiko and Tak had bought it when she was expecting Ken. It was the house all of their children had come home to after they'd been born, the house they had all known and loved, and where they had been happy for most of their marriage. Reiko stood looking around her for a last time, thinking of the happy times, and Tak had come to stand with her for a moment and put an arm around her.
“Well be back, Rei,” he said sadly.
“But it'll be someone else's,” she said, as tears streamed down her face.
“We'll buy another house.” But they had lives to live, and obstacles to overcome before they could return to do that. “I promise.”
“I know,” she said, trying to be brave, and as she slowly walked out, holding his hand, she said a small prayer, hoping they would all be home again soon, safe and together.
Peter drove them to the control station with their meager belongings. Everything had been tagged with the tags that had been given to them. Tami wore hers on the button of her sweater. Sally's was on her wrist, and Reiko's, Tak's, and Ken's were on their jackets. And Peter carefully attached Hiroko's to the top button of her sweater. 70917.
Hiroko sat in the car with Anne Spencer's basket on her lap. Reiko had been pleased with the gift and felt sure it would be useful, but no one even thought of it now as they rode along.
The drive to the control station was brief and silent. And as they turned the corner and saw the control station, it looked like pandemonium, as they all stared at the crowds of people, luggage, and buses.
“My God,” Tak said, shocked at what he saw there. “Are they sending all of Palo Alto?”
“It sure looks like it, doesn't it?” Peter said, trying to avoid the hordes of people crossing the street to get there. They were all carrying suitcases and boxes, and trying to hold children's hands, and guide old people across the street. And there were at least a dozen buses waiting for them. It was a total mess, and Tak wasn't looking forward to joining the crowd.
The authorities had said that Peter couldn't drive them to Tanforan. They were not allowed to arrive by private vehicle. They had to go by bus from the control station with the others. But Peter had promised to drive to Tanforan himself after he dropped them off, and try to find them. But first he parked the car. He was going to stay with them as long as he could at the control station.
“What a mess,” Tak said, and reluctantly, they got out of the car with all their belongings and joined the crowd. They were herded instantly into a larger group, and within a few minutes Peter was told he had to leave them. He asked if there was some sort of gathering point where he could meet his friends at Tanforan, but no one seemed to know, and Tak waved at him through the crowd as Peter disappeared, and Hiroko tried to fight off a wave of panic. Suddenly, this was real. They were about to be incarcerated, or relocated, or evacuated, or whatever they wanted to call it. But she was no longer free, he was no longer there, and she could no longer reach out to him anytime she wanted. What if she never saw him again … if he couldn't find them … if … As though sensing her cousin's fears, and everyone else's, Tami started to cry then. She was clutching her doll, which had a tag on it too, and Hiroko held Tami's hand tight so they wouldn't lose her.
Aunt Rei was looking grim. And Ken was looking for his girlfriend Peggy while Tak kept urging them to stay close together. They were handed some papers eventually, told to put their things on the bus, and loaded in without further explanation. They spent an hour sitting there after that, and it was almost noon, and they were sweltering as the buses finally left for Tanforan. The ride took only half an hour.
But when they got to Tanforan, the chaos was even greater. There were lines of people for as far as you could see, thousands of them, old people with large tags, infirm people sitting on benches, stacks of suitcases, boxes of food, children crying. For as far as the eye could see there was humanity. There was a tent where they were preparing food, and not far from it was a long line of open toilets.
The entire experience was one Hiroko knew she would never forget. It had rained the day before, and they were up to their ankles in mud, as they stood in a long line, among what must have been over six thousand people. And as she looked at them, she gave up any hope of seeing Peter.
“He'll never find us,” she said glumly.
“Maybe not,” Tak said, looking around in horror. His new wing tip shoes had just been destroyed by the mud that almost reached his ankles. And Sally was saying that she had to go to the bathroom but would rather die than go in an open toilet. Hiroko and her mother had already promised to hold a blanket up for her, but she refused even to try it. But Hiroko and Reiko both knew that sooner or later they'd all have to use the open toilet, no matter how distasteful.
They were in line for three hours, and Anne's food basket came in very handy. None of them could leave the admissions lines to get in the food lines, and Tami was whining terribly as they stood in the mud, and perched on their suitcases when they got too tired.
When they reached the head of their admission line, they were each given throat exams, and the skin on their hands and arms was examined too, though even Reiko had no idea what they were doing. And then they were all surprised when they were given vaccinations by other “inmates.” Reiko wasn't even sure they were nurses. They were just civilians helping out. And she noticed that the people in the cooking tent looked like volunteers too. They were wearing the oddest assortment of costumes. Brown suits, and blue coats, and little hats with pretty feathers. She asked if there was an infirmary, and someone waved vaguely in a distant direction and told her that there was one.
“Maybe they need some help,” Reiko said softly to Tak, but who knew how long they'd be there. And by the time they got in the next line, their arms were all sore from the vaccinations, and poor Tami was so exhausted she said she felt like throwing up. But Hiroko was holding her hand, and smoothing her hair back and telling her a story about a wood elf and a little fairy, and after a while, Tami just held her doll and stopped crying, as she listened.
Ken was feeling better too. He had just spotted his girlfriend, which was an absolute miracle in a crowd that size. But there was still no sign of Peter. It was four o'clock in the afternoon by then, and they had been there for hours, and they still hadn't been ass
igned their quarters.
They stood on that line for hours, and even though they saw people lining up for dinner, they couldn't leave their line again. And finally they were given a number and told where to look for their quarters. They were in 22P, and they picked up their suitcases and headed in the direction they'd been told to go. They were almost home, for the moment. They still hadn't been told how long they would be there, or where they were going after that. And the long lines of stalls were extremely confusing. They went around and around for a while, and finally Ken saw their number. All it was was a horse stall. It had once housed a thoroughbred, but now it stood empty. It was barely big enough for a horse, let alone a family of six people. It was open to the air, and it had a half door that had been enough to keep the horse in. And when they looked inside, they saw that it had been whitewashed but not cleaned. It was filled with manure and debris and straw, and the stench was overwhelming.
This time it was too much for Reiko. She leaned over and piteously retched whatever she had eaten since that morning.
“Oh, God, Tak,” she said, more miserable than she had ever been. “I can't do this.”
“Yes, you can, Rei. You have to,” he said softly. Their children were staring at them, looking to them for direction. “You sit down with the girls. Hiroko will get you some water. And Ken and I will find a couple of shovels and get it cleaned out. Maybe you should line up for some food with the kids. You can bring us some.” But the last thing she wanted was to stand in line for dinner, and the children weren't hungry either. Instead, they sat down, as he had told them to, on their suitcases, and they dug into Anne's basket again. It had proven to be a godsend.
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