The Wild Impossibility

by Ossola, Cheryl A. ;

  I’d like to see you. Can you sneak out of your house at night? If you can, meet me in the grove of trees I can see to the northwest when I stand on the hospital steps. I think it’s an orchard. Maybe you’re wondering how I can get out of the camp, but it’s not that hard. Lots of guys go under the fence at night to go fishing. One of them is crazy enough to sneak out in broad daylight, inside an empty trashcan that his friend sets up for him on the garbage truck.

  I’ll be at the orchard at ten o’clock. Please come.

  Akira

  Maddalena read the note twice more, then pressed it to her chest. Akira Shimizu, age seventeen, answered her letter! And he remembered her eyes! He wanted to see her again! He didn’t mention the little puttana, but maybe that was because she didn’t matter. Maddalena threw her arms around Scout’s neck, laughing when he rolled his eyes. If feeling lightheaded was a symptom of love, she was sick with it. But tomorrow night! How on earth was she going to manage that? And what an odd coincidence that he wanted to meet her here, where she was this very minute! He had to mean this orchard, the only one to the north within sight of Manzanar.

  On the way to Regina’s, with Scout in an easy canter, Maddalena saw the desert as if she’d never been there before. It was like a long, dry river hemmed in between the mountain ranges but running forever, to the oceans, through Oregon and Washington and Canada to the north, through Mexico to the south. The air tasted of sweet sage, bitter earth, her own tangy sweat. Ahead was Regina’s house, and it looked different too, like a dollhouse with a tiny door and tiny windows with tiny curtains, and a toy truck parked nearby. The house wasn’t far off, but neither was dinnertime, and if she wanted to stay in her mother’s good graces she had to be home in time to help. But first she had to see Regina or she’d burst.

  “Hurry up, Scout,” she said, urging the horse into a gallop. No time to waste.

  

  Akira spent the rest of the afternoon restocking the supply carts, his mind on his big adventure. Now that he’d made up his mind to go under the fence, it had better be worth it. First of all, there was Annabelle to consider. She’d been clinging to him like a leech ever since she’d seen Maddalena. Girls sure did make things complicated.

  As for Maddalena, he supposed there was a good chance she wouldn’t show. Maybe it would be hard for her to sneak out of the house, or maybe she wasn’t the kind of girl who’d do something like that. Or maybe she wanted to but would decide it was too risky. He wouldn’t blame her. She had no reason to trust him, and no reason to be reckless, not like he did. The way he saw it, why worry about the future when you weren’t sure you had one?

  It would be an adventure, whether Maddalena showed or not. And if she did, he might find out that she wasn’t worth losing Annabelle for; he had to consider that possibility. But he wanted to find out because if he did have a future, he couldn’t spend it wondering whether he’d made a mistake in passing her by. He was going; the question was how. Maybe with the fishermen. Those guys knew what they were doing, and even they almost got caught every so often. One time a military police jeep had appeared out of nowhere and the guys had to dive into a gully to avoid being seen. You never knew what might happen.

  No, going alone would be better. The guys would ask him why he was going with them if he didn’t fish, and he couldn’t think of a story they’d believe. And the more people who knew what he was doing, the more talk there’d be.

  He asked himself again if he wouldn’t rather stay home and stick with Annabelle, but it took him only a few seconds to scratch that thought. There was no point in playing it safe, not anymore. He could live his life, risks and all, or he could sit at home drinking tea and wondering why he existed. If Maddalena didn’t show or he didn’t care to see her again, at least he’d have stood in the desert with open space between him and the mountains, knowing that if he headed north or south for long enough he would walk right out of Owens Valley, leave Manzanar behind to rot and crumble. So what if he’d never make it? It was the kind of fantasy that kept him going when he was lying on a prison cot in the middle of nowhere, thinking his life was nothing like he thought it would be, and half wishing he’d die in his sleep.

  

  The next day Maddalena fidgeted all through dinner. Sneaking out of the house wouldn’t be easy, and there was only one way to do it—from her bedroom window, second story or no second story, because the floorboards in the upstairs hallway squeaked. And what if a door slipped out of her hand and closed too quickly? The noise would wake the dead.

  “Can I take the truck tonight?” Marco said, wolfing down applesauce. “I want to meet up with some fellows in town.”

  Papa nodded, which he wouldn’t have done if he knew what Maddalena knew, which was that Marco was lying. He was going to town because he was courting Becky Adams, the police chief’s daughter. Maddalena knew this because Regina had told her, and Regina heard it from her mother, who heard it from her hairdresser, who knew everything that went on in town. Papa didn’t like the police chief and he’d be none too happy if he found out it was the chief’s daughter Marco was seeing. But good riddance, as far as Maddalena was concerned. She needed rope, and he would be safely out of the way when she went to the barn to get it.

  After dinner Maddalena jumped up to do the dishes before her mother could tell her to. Marco slammed out the back door, waving off their mother’s instructions to drive carefully. Papa turned on the radio and settled into the wing chair with the Sears catalogue and a glass of whiskey, and Mama sat opposite him with her sewing basket and a stack of clothes to mend. The war report was on as usual, no doubt with the usual news—more fighting, more people killed. In Europe the war had been over for two months, and that was wonderful news. But the war wasn’t over everywhere. Not where it mattered most.

  Maddalena dried the dishes and put them away, her thoughts on Akira. Tonight! She would see him tonight! But if she got caught—her stomach flipped—she’d find herself facing the unimaginable depths of her parents’ fury.

  After hanging up her apron, Maddalena announced that she was going to feed Scout and then go to her room to read. “I’m almost done with The Clue in the Jewel Box and I have to find out what happens. Nancy is trying to find a pickpocket, and a prince, and I know they’re related somehow. It’s so exciting,” she said, then escaped to the barn.

  In the storeroom, amid pitchforks and shovels and spools of wire, she found a big coil of rope. Dirty and frayed, it must have been lying around for a while, which meant there was a good chance her father and Marco wouldn’t notice that some of it was missing. Maddalena cut off a thirty-foot length, tucked it into a rolled-up saddle blanket, and ran back to the house. She hurried through the kitchen and dining room and up the stairs, and her parents never even lifted their heads.

  An hour later the rope was ready, anchored to the dresser with knots tied every few feet. The only thing left to do was wait for her parents to go to bed and for Marco to get home. If he stayed out late she’d be up a creek, because she couldn’t chance running into him in the yard. Maddalena paced, looking out the window every few seconds, then worried that her parents would hear her footsteps. Reading was out of the question, so she changed into navy slacks, a blue-flowered blouse, and a gray cardigan, then sat on the bed to fix her hair. An Artie Shaw song wafted up the stairs. “Dancing in the Dark,” one of her favorites. How perfect. Tonight she would be with Akira, in the dark. Every inch of her skin tingled.

  At nine, her father went to bed. Half an hour later the truck pulled into the yard, the back door slammed, and Marco pounded up the stairs. Ten minutes later, her mother’s weary steps sounded in the hall. The house fell silent.

  Maddalena was ready. She’d pulled her hair back with tortoiseshell combs, one on each side, which wasn’t the most practical hairstyle for climbing out windows, but after all, who wore a ponytail or a braid on a date? And that’s what this meeting with Akira was
. If they were in a movie, like Clark Gable and Carole Lombard, they would call it a rendezvous and it would be someplace fancy where Maddalena could wear a dress that showed her shoulders. And silk stockings, if it wasn’t wartime. And they could glide across the floor to “Dancing in the Dark.”

  If only the war would end.

  Carefully, silently, she lowered the rope out the window. Down she went, one knot at a time, quiet as a cat. With each movement, her knuckles and knees scraped the wall and she had to bite her lip to keep silent. The whole time she expected to hear her father yell, “Who’s there?” or see him glaring down at her from the open window. But nothing happened. When she reached the end of the rope, she waited, listening and gathering courage. The silence held. She dropped to the ground and ran.

  Scout greeted her with a fluttery breath. Elsewhere in the barn, the cattle shifted, hooves clacking against the floorboards. Normal sounds, but tonight they seemed deafening. Maddalena slipped a hackamore over Scout’s head and climbed onto his bare back. “Let’s go,” she whispered.

  

  Akira spent an hour at the canteen working on his song and making sure plenty of people saw him there. The old guys who did nothing but play cards were in one corner and a slew of giggling girls were in another, making eyes at the fellows across the room. Annabelle wasn’t there, but Harry was, staring at Akira with snake eyes. Let him stare. Soon enough, Harry might not have a reason to defend his sister anymore, or at least not from Akira.

  Just before nine, Akira slipped away, and ten minutes later he was at Bairs Creek, where the drop-off to the creek gully created a crawl space under the barbed wire. On the other side of the fence, cottonwoods lining the creek bank offered shelter.

  Crouching behind the end barracks in Block 6, Akira watched the searchlight move lazily, as if the sentry’s heart wasn’t in it. The fence stood a good thirty or forty feet from the picnic area, cast in low shadows from a half moon. A light swept by, and he counted off the seconds before it returned—a generous twenty. Piece of cake. Akira edged along the building, toes curling in his shoes, nerves sparking like frayed wires. He might be dead in a few minutes, but right now he felt every nerve, every muscle, every hair. He was alive, on the verge of something exciting and dangerous. No going back now.

  The searchlight swung past and Akira bolted. Another guard broke the pattern, speeding his light toward the fence, and Akira dropped to the ground. The light swooped past and he was up again, running—one, two, three, four, five, six, seven—his footsteps deafening—eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve—into the creek bed on all fours, under the fence. Seeing a light race toward him, he dove into the underbrush, exhaling with relief when the light veered north.

  He was out. Safe. Free.

  Akira followed the creek bed west, then headed north toward the orchard. The air seemed cleaner outside the fence. Sweeter. He broke into an easy run.

  

  Maddalena shivered. How odd to be alone in the valley at night, with only the moon and stars to light her way. The Sierra crouched across the horizon to her left, while far ahead Manzanar glowed. Searchlights crisscrossed the camp in long, slow streaks, looking for prey. Akira might be dodging them this very minute! “Be safe, be safe,” she whispered.

  Forty minutes later, a hundred yards from the orchard, Maddalena reined in Scout, suddenly afraid. Akira was there waiting for her, but what did she know about him? Her mother would say she was foolish, reckless, risking her reputation for a boy she didn’t know, asking for trouble. Maybe her mother was right. Then Maddalena saw Akira walking toward her and forgot about her mother.

  “You’re here!” he called. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

  Maddalena slipped off Scout’s back, could think of nothing to say but hello.

  “Come on, under the trees,” Akira said. “No one will see us there.”

  Maddalena hung back. The orchard looked creepy at night, the trees twisted and streaked with moonlight. No one would see them. If she cried out for help, no one would come.

  “Don’t be afraid. Say, what’s your horse’s name?” Akira offered his hand and Maddalena took it, warmth surging all the way to her toes.

  “Scout. He’s ten years old and I’ve had him since I was eight.”

  After tethering the horse, Maddalena turned to Akira, unsure what to do or say. All she’d thought about was the excitement of the adventure, the fact that Akira wanted to see her again. She’d had no idea what would happen when they got here.

  Akira spread his jacket on the ground. “Come and sit,” he said, and she did, wrapping her arms around her knees. “I can’t believe you’re here. Actually, I can’t believe I’m here. Look at this place! Smell it! I swear, the air is different out here, everything is different. Except you. You look as beautiful here as you do when you’re riding that horse of yours. Queen of the desert.”

  What to do, what to say? The boys Maddalena knew didn’t talk like this, like men in the movies. He made her feel giddy, and she wanted this moment to last forever, but everything was moving too fast. She was sure the stars would disappear any minute and the sun would rise and her mother would call to her to get out of bed. What if she went into her room and found her gone?

  “Was it hard to get away?”

  “Not terribly. I tied a rope to my dresser and climbed out my window.”

  “Ah, an adventuress—I like that. Tell me everything about you.”

  “Like what?” All she could think about was the fact that the two of them were alone in the dark in the middle of the desert and no one knew she was here. Except Regina. For a moment that was a comforting thought, until she remembered that she’d made Regina promise to keep her secret, and she wouldn’t say a thing to anyone until Maddalena turned up missing the next day. And if that happened, it would be too late.

  “Anything. What you like to do, your school, your friends, your family. What you dream of. Your secrets.”

  The way he talked! “You’re my secret,” she said. “My parents would skin me alive if they found out I sneaked out of the house at night to meet a boy. But you’re the one who’s brave. Aren’t you afraid you’ll get caught?”

  “No,” Akira said, then laughed. “Well, sure, a little. But like I told you, people go under the fence all the time now. It’s risky, but the guards aren’t as careful as they used to be. I think some of them wonder why we’re here anymore. Still, you never know when they might get a little trigger-happy.”

  “It’s strange being here at night. Scary,” Maddalena said. The ground was cold, littered with stones and sharp-edged stubble. “I can’t stay long. I’m worried that my mother will find out I’m gone.”

  “I don’t want you to worry. Now that we know we can do this, we can do it again. Can you come again tomorrow?”

  “No, not so soon. We have to be careful.” He was so eager and dear. The way his hair fell over his forehead, he looked like a kid, but when he talked he seemed grown up, serious. A grown-up man who had risked his life to be with her.

  “Are you scared? You’re safe with me, you know,” Akira said. “I won’t so much as hold your hand if you don’t want me to.”

  What to do, what to think! His body so close to hers she could feel his heat—it was like rolling down a hill, the world spinning past, her dress twisted so tight around her that she couldn’t breathe.

  “Have you had a lot of girlfriends?” The words were out before she knew it, and she clamped a hand over her mouth. What a thing to say!

  Akira laughed. “No one that matters. Listen, Maddalena, I—never mind. I can’t see you very well, and I want to. Here.” He took her hand and held it to his face. A bristle of sideburns, the bony line of his jaw. Then his palm on her cheek. “Is this okay?” he said.

  She nodded. Copying his movements, she smoothed an eyebrow, explored the hair at his temple, ran a finger down his nose. His skin was s
mooth, what she imagined vellum would feel like. Did most men’s skin feel like this, or only his? Then his fingers found her lips and she caught her breath. Again, that sweet feeling of warm water running beneath her skin.

  “You are very beautiful,” he said.

  It was silly, this kind of talk. Then why did she wish he would kiss her?

  “So soft,” he said, smoothing her hair. “Did you know that in the sunshine your hair is like a halo?”

  He leaned forward and Maddalena waited for the kiss, wondering what to do with her mouth, where to look. Instead, Akira rested his forehead against hers, his arms on her shoulders. It seemed odd to sit like that, but when he pulled away and sat next to her again, her skin felt hot where his forehead had been, her shoulders empty.

  “It’s strange, isn’t it, being here together?” he said. “And all because of a baseball game. If I were free we could see each other anytime, but I’m not, and who knows when I will be. If I will be. It makes me sick.” He picked up a rock and pelted it into the darkness.

  “Don’t say that! You’ll be free, I know you will!”

  “You don’t know that.”

  She turned away, her face burning. Of course he was right.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.” He took her hand again. “It’s hard to explain, but being locked up when you’ve done nothing wrong is worse than anything you can imagine. It makes you feel like an animal, less than an animal. Worthless.”

  “I hate it that you’re there,” Maddalena said. “It’s so unfair.”

  They gazed at the desert, the searchlights restless in the distance. Finally Akira stood and pulled her to her feet. “You should go,” he said. “Can I kiss you?”