I pick my fork up and scoop rice. “I’m fine.”
“Do any of you know who that Caucasian woman is?” Margaret asks. “I’m so curious about her.”
For a moment, I’m sure Evalina’s photograph somehow tumbled out of my pocket. But Margaret’s gaze is fixed over my shoulder.
I turn and see that across the mess hall, taking a seat next to a thirty-something man I’ve seen on our block, is a small Caucasian woman with hair as dark as Evalina’s.
“Oh, that’s Elaine.” Of course James knows who she is. “She’s married to our block leader, Karl Yoneda. They live in the barrack next to me.”
Married.
I can’t seem to breathe. They’re married. He’s Japanese and she’s Caucasian and somehow they’re married.
Margaret frowns. “Are you sure?”
“Yep. They have a little boy.”
I thought all the air was out of my lungs, but somehow more whooshes out when Karl Yoneda scoops a young boy onto his lap. The rows of crowded tables between us make it difficult for me to get a good look at the boy, just snatches of cocoa skin, a bowl cut of black hair, and round eyes.
Mother would scold me for staring, but I can’t tear my gaze away.
“In Washington you can be married even if you’re different races.” Rose has pitched her voice quiet, as though discussing something scandalous. “Maybe they’re from there?”
“Why would she be here, though?” Margaret pokes at her fruit cocktail. “That’s kind of weird, right?”
I have to force myself to turn my back to the Yoneda family.
“Mrs. Yoneda told my mother that she didn’t have to come, and that the administration fought her on it,” James says around a large bite of chicken. “But Tommy, that’s their boy, had to go and she didn’t want to be apart from him.”
Evalina would have done the exact same thing. Had this all happened a few years from now when we were married, she would have boarded that bus with me. She would have taken the hot, airless journey to Manzanar. She would have stuffed her own mattress and stoically used the community showers and commodes.
And she would’ve done it all because of me.
“Taichi, are you sure you’re okay?” Rose’s inquisitive eyes are fastened on me.
Again my hand has found its way to the pocket with Evalina’s picture. Beneath her smiling face, my heart aches.
I put on a smile for Rose. “I’m fine.”
And I’m going to tell Evalina the exact same thing.
Dear Evalina,
I’m sorry for how delayed this letter is. Getting oriented in our new home has taken a few days. As you can see from the address, we’re in Manzanar, California. I’ve never been this far south before, and it’s really beautiful. We can see Mt. Williamson from our front door, and there’s another mountain range, the Inyo, on the other side.
Many new families arrive each day so there has been a lot of work to do. Aiko will be helping at the hospital, and she is excited for the chance to use some of her nursing skills. Mother and Father have been talking with other farmers about an old orchard that’s here and how to revive it. I think the camp is open to them planting new crops too. I’m not sure yet how I will help out.
A new friend of mine, James, is organizing a baseball team. Many of the boys have never had a chance to play on their school teams, so this is very exciting.
We don’t get much news from the world outside of camp, and we would be grateful for any news or papers you could pass along. I miss you and look forward to hearing from you. I keep your picture with me at all times, and you’re never far from my thoughts.
With love,
Taichi
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Evalina
Saturday, April 18, 1942
With Taichi’s letter in hand, I zip back to the market, praying all the way that Diego hasn’t left yet. Sweet relief fills me when I find him loading the truck.
“Manzanar,” I greet him between gasps for breath.
Diego whirls at the sound of my voice.
I hop off my bicycle and hold up the letter. “He’s in Manzanar. He’s okay. Look!” I push the envelope into his hands and jab at the Manzanar address.
“What does it say?” Diego’s words are clipped with eagerness. “How is he?”
“He’s good. You can read it if you want.” I pant for breath. “I read it real fast and thought if I hurried I could catch you.” Diego is already pulling the letter from the envelope.
While he reads, I take in deep breaths and wait for my heart to slow. The park looks brighter than it did this morning when I was here to make my purchases. The morning fog has burned off, and the bay winks in the late morning sunlight. Gulls call cheerfully to each other, as do children who are reclaiming the stretch of green grass now that the farmers have cleared out.
“You’re right. He sounds pretty good.”
My soaring heart snags on Diego’s frown. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Diego folds the letter and returns it to the envelope. When he hands it back to me, his smile looks forced. “I just hoped for more details. He’s very vague.”
I roll my bottom lip in and pull Taichi’s letter back out. “Maybe he was just short on time? He wanted to get the letter sent out before the post left for the day?”
My eyes skim the words. Diego is absolutely right. With the exception of the close to the letter, which had caused me to swoon, this could just as easily have been written to a distant aunt. Scenery, baseball, farming. The only vague detail that’s missing is the weather.
Diego secures another crate in the back of the truck, and then hoists himself inside the bed. “Maybe their mail is being read. That happens in the military, right? They make sure they aren’t giving away locations or top-secret information. Maybe Tai was being vague because he knew others would censor it.”
“Yeah, maybe . . .”
But now I can’t stop seeing everything that’s not there. What was the trip like? What kind of house are they in? Are they being fed well?
After another reading, I fold the letter back into my pocket. “He sounds upbeat, at least.”
Diego grunts as he pulls the rope tight around the crates. “And maybe if you ask in your letter, he’ll tell you more about what it’s like.”
“That’s a good thought. I’ll do that.”
“I wasn’t trying to worry you, Evalina. It’s great knowing where he is, isn’t it?” Diego hops down from the truck and scans my face. “I bet you’re right, he was just in a hurry. The next letter will be longer.”
Yes, Diego is surely right. There will be more details next time.
“Thank you for coming all the way back.” Diego’s smile is warm now. “My week will be much better knowing where he is. You want a ride home?”
Not having to ride back uphill to my house sounds too good to pass up. “Sure. Thanks.”
Diego loads my bicycle into the truck, holds the door open for me, and I climb in. I pull Taichi’s letter back out of my pocket and reread it, my mind spinning with all the ways I want to respond.
“I hate driving in the city,” Diego says as he looks over his shoulder, waiting for a break in traffic. “Everyone is so rude.”
“I don’t think I would like it either. My family doesn’t even own a car. We’re taking our first vacation ever this summer, and we’re renting one. My father was joking about how he’s not sure he remembers how to drive.”
Diego smirks. “Where are you going?”
“Yosemite National Park.” I rearrange my plaid skirt to drape nicer over my knees. “It’s kind of a silly time to be going on a vacation, with the war and all. But we’ve been talking about it for years, so we didn’t really want to cancel.”
“You shouldn’t,” Diego says. “That’s why I enlisted. I don’t want our people so worried that they can’t enjoy something like a once-in-a-lifetime vacation.”
The heaviness of what he’s signed up for weighs on me. In t
his morning’s paper, in addition to an article about how 3,000 Japanese Americans from Los Angeles were being sent to Manzanar, there had been a story about General Doolittle. That his raids on Tokyo, Kobe, and several other Japanese cities had begun.
A shiver rips through me when I think of a few weeks ago when the ship carrying those B-25 bombers sailed under the Golden Gate Bridge.
“Are you nervous?” My question doesn’t rise above a whisper.
Maybe that’s why Diego’s Adam’s apple slides down and back up before he says, “Yes.”
“Oh, turn here!”
Diego makes a jarring right turn.
“Sorry,” I say. “I forgot I needed to direct you.”
“I forgot we weren’t going to the restaurant,” Diego says with a laugh. “Sorry about that.”
“You can just drop me off in a couple blocks at Kearney. You don’t need to take me all the way to my door.”
We ride in silence for the next block. I feel a similar discomfort on the occasions that I’m left alone with Gia’s boyfriend. That strange sensation where you know a lot about a person, but you don’t really know the person.
“When do you leave for basic training?”
“Right after graduation.”
I try to imagine having something like that—shipping off for training to fight in a war—looming over my high school graduation date. “What does your girlfriend think?”
Diego doesn’t answer right away. “Well . . . we aren’t together anymore.”
I should’ve asked about his parents, not his girlfriend. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. It’s not like it’s my first breakup or anything.” Diego’s smile looks overly cheerful. “Really, Evalina. Don’t worry about it.”
The truck idles as an old woman shuffles across the street, leaning heavily on her cane. This drive cannot end fast enough.
Even over the engine, I can hear Diego’s sigh. “She was probably right to end it. She said it doesn’t make sense for us to stay together when I’m leaving so soon. That a long-distance relationship was a bad idea, they never last. That kind of thing. It’s all very practical.” His snort sounds harsh. “Which I didn’t really expect from Ruby, but I guess you never can tell.”
The truck lurches forward. I grip my seatbelt, trying to not look too nervous about how quickly he sped up.
“And she’s probably right,” Diego continues. “It’s just kind of fresh right now.”
I shouldn’t feel injured by Ruby’s words to Diego—after all, I don’t even know her—but her sentiment about long distance relationships feels like a thorn jabbed into my heart. “I think relationships can work long distance. Just think of all the married people who have to be apart right now because of the war.”
Diego looks startled. “Of course it can work, Evalina. Sorry, it didn’t occur to me how that would hit you. Ruby is completely wrong about that. I mean, she was right that she and I wouldn’t have worked long distance. But we aren’t like you and Tai.”
It’s a nice thing for him to say. “Still, I know breakups are painful, no matter what the circumstance. This is my street.”
Diego pulls the truck over to the side of the road. “You had a boyfriend before Tai?”
I don’t know why I say it, to Diego of all people, but I do. “We were supposed to marry each other. That’s what everyone thought would happen, anyway. Our parents had been dreaming of it since we were in elementary school.”
Diego puts on the brake. “Tai said he’s a real nice guy.”
I feel a twinge of guilt. “He is. We’re good friends. We probably would’ve had a fine marriage.”
“Why did you break up?”
“Because I fell in love with Taichi.” I pull the door handle. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Anytime.” He gets out of the truck as well and lifts my bike out of the back. “I’ll see you at Monday’s delivery?”
“See you then.”
I walk my bike up my street, feeling as though the weight of all the hard stuff around me—Taichi and the evacuation, boys like Diego being sent off to war—is trying to push me back down the hill.
When I get home, the telephone is ringing.
“Mama?” I call out, but she doesn’t respond. I jog into the kitchen to answer it. “Hello?”
“I’m calling for Evalina Cassano?” The woman’s voice is brisk.
“This is Evalina.”
“My name is Karen Bishop. I’m with the First Congregational Church. I believe you met my husband at the evacuation last week? He said you were interested in volunteering with us.”
“Yes.” I wrap the telephone cord around my wrist. “I’m extremely interested.”
“Wonderful. Many of our families have been sent to Tanforan Assembly Center. Are you familiar with it?”
“No, I’m not.”
“It’s a horse race track in San Bruno. About forty-five minutes from the church. The conditions are appalling.” Her words become even more clipped. “We are putting together some care packages the morning of Sunday, May 3rd, and then we will deliver them that afternoon. We would love to have your help.”
The conditions are appalling. The words reverberate in my ears, like a bad song that’s stuck in my head. Appalling. The conditions are appalling.
“Absolutely. I’ll be there.”
“I look forward to meeting you. Good day.”
“Good day,” I echo to the dial tone.
For a moment, I just stand there in the kitchen. Taichi’s letter, full of descriptions of beautiful mountains and baseball teams, is gripped in my hand. The conditions are appalling.
I thunder upstairs to my room, where my desk is littered in newspaper articles and drafts of letters. I pull out a fresh sheet to write to Taichi, but after writing Dear Taichi, I just stare at it, wondering the best way to put my question into words: What aren’t you telling me?
Taichi
Friday, April 24, 1942
Dear Evalina,
Thanks so much for the letter and the news. I’m glad you told Diego. Right now I’m short on stamps, so it’s nice to know he’s being kept updated.
Yes, my last letter was written in a hurry so I wasn’t able to tell you many details about life here. Sorry that caused concern for you and Diego. I assure you, there’s no need.
Manzanar is very beautiful. The valley can be dusty sometimes, and I imagine it will be a bit hot here in the summers, but right now the weather is very mild during the day.
There is a lot of building going on to make Manzanar home, and every day we have a little bit more. The school still needs to be built, but since my principal was kind enough to help me graduate before leaving Alameda, that won’t impact me directly. Not everyone was so lucky to make such an arrangement, so I’m thankful.
I’m meeting lots of interesting people, and we always have plenty going on. Everyone is determined for Manzanar to feel like our home, and we are all working together to make that happen. Already I’ve seen people organizing dances, game nights, and art classes, in addition to the many baseball and softball teams that are recruiting players. We do not have a phone yet, but maybe in the future. And there is plenty of food for all of us. I think Mother enjoys not having to cook all the time.
I’m glad to hear you’re going to help Mrs. Bishop. I met her, and she’s very nice. I’m so sorry to hear conditions at the temporary centers are not good. I’m sure your care packages will be welcome there.
With love,
Taichi
My feet protest every step I take toward the post office. After spending the last four days either curled up in bed or running for the toilets, my body is exhausted.
The guilt doesn’t help either. I wince as I drop the letter to Evalina into the box of outgoing mail. I’ve never lied to her so blatantly before.
An honest letter would have read like this:
Dear Evalina,
On Sunday, the refrigeration in our block’s kitchen lost power,
so nearly everyone on our block ate stew made with spoiled meat. I’ve never thrown up so much in my life and haven’t left my block in days. It’s terrible to be experiencing it all in a place where your bed is full of hay that pokes you all night long, and where you have to wait in line for the bathroom or laundry facilities. And when the only privacy between you and the people you live with—many of whom you met only a few days ago—is a blanket hung on a rope.
To make matters even worse, the six-year-old boy in our barrack was the only one who didn’t get even a smidge of food poisoning. He’s occupied himself by climbing up on the rafters so he can peek in on us over the blanket. Once he laughed at Aiko when she was throwing up. She threw a shoe at him, which missed, but nevertheless his mother was furious since Norman is just a “helpless boy trying to find some entertainment.” Aiko snapped back that watching her vomit wasn’t an option for entertaining him, and next time she would aim for his head. As you can imagine, the two of them now refuse to speak to each other.
There is no dignity here.
Love,
Taichi
But how would knowing these details benefit Evalina? She would pity me, and my pride can’t take that on top of everything else. For the first time, I understand why Uncle Fuji’s letters have been vague. If life here in Manzanar is this bad, how much worse is it for the prisoners in North Dakota?
By the time I get back to the block and through the chow line, I feel like I will pass out if I have to stand any longer. I find James, Margaret, and Rose at our usual table and collapse onto a seat. Their plates look similar to mine, only rice and fruit cocktail.
“You look like death,” James greets me.
“You too.”
His smile is wry. “The girls were talking about the co-op store being started. Have you heard about this? Some community members are asking families to chip in so they can start a store.”
“I heard they’re going to have soda pop.” Margaret beams. “I’ve been wanting a Coca-Cola so badly.”
My head is too fuzzy to pay close attention to the conversation. I finish my water quickly and get up to refill my cup. As I navigate my way back to our table, I spot Aiko several tables over with her new friends. She’s laughing, and for a second, it’s like being back at school again, when I would pass her in the halls or at lunch and see her socializing.
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