Moira swung back and forth. When she came home from an afternoon with Randy and sat down at supper with Teddy, she felt like a whore shifting camps. One of the most confusing parts was this man-woman business. When she was dating Randy the last thing she could have imagined was sex with a woman. And since she’d been with Teddy, she had stopped looking at men in a physical way. The urges seemed so opposite — the softness she felt with Teddy and the angular strength she enjoyed with Randy. But now, every day, she vacillated, unsure of whom she loved, unsure of who she was. Sometimes she could just forget one of them existed. Sometimes she pretended she was in a sane world and then one of them would break the rules and refer to the other. This usually happened with Teddy who needed reassurance. Randy was more confident because he didn’t know the nature of her closeness with Teddy. Moira felt dizzy for although she was in control — both people wanted her — she felt completely unwound. Och if she could just put away all these feelings for one afternoon.
As she laid out the blue linen napkins Ann’s mother had made, Moira was filled with nostalgia for the old times when they would sit around talking or listening to the radio. She felt nervous about seeing Wanda after three years. What would she be like? These grey and blue plates had been a gift from Mother. There. Moira stood back and considered the pretty table, suddenly distressed at having finished. She didn’t want to talk with Teddy, yet she didn’t want to leave her alone with the chores. As Moira turned into the kitchen, the sweetness of chocolate chip cookies wafted from the oven. Teddy was scrubbing the counters. Moira still marvelled at how Teddy could concentrate on other chores while cooking. If Moira were to cook and clean at the same time, surely the kitchen would incinerate.
The doorbell rang and Teddy raced toward the living room, suddenly shy about her excitement in front of Moira. Terrible how guarded she felt lately.
‘Oh, do you want to get it?’ Teddy deferred.
‘No.’ Moira’s voice was conciliatory, although she didn’t know what she had done at this particular moment to upset Teddy. ‘Let’s answer it together. I’m sure that’s what she expects.’
Wanda was not prepared for the changes in them or for the familiarity of the house. Teddy seemed smaller, broader, more settled into her body. Her smile was screened by a fine veil of tension. The shyness was at a further remove. Moira’s face was fuller, her eyes alert rather than bright. She was wearing that green polka dot dress which was a little tight across the hips now. And she, too, seemed fraught. Well, there had been three years and a war between them. Wanda felt protected by this distance, but disappointed too. The house — with the elephant couch and the old radio and the rickety floor lamp — seemed the same, perhaps a little smaller.
Teddy moved forward first, her smile broadening as she hugged Wanda. Moira put her arms around both of them. The three women started to rock and laugh. Their dance was disrupted by shuffling from behind. Stanley shifted as if trying to fade into the porch railing. Wanda turned. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Stanley. I want you to meet my old friends, Teddy and Moira.’ She turned back to them. ‘This is Stanley, Roy’s brother.’
Moira shook his hand eagerly. ‘You must be proud of your big brother. I understand he’s won three or four medals?’
‘Five,’ Stanley grinned.
Leave it to Moi to say the right thing, thought Teddy, surveying the three of them. But she was distracted by Wanda’s tone, by the phrase ‘old friends’. It would have been easier if she had come home alone. Maybe not easier for Wanda.
Wanda couldn’t believe how much older they each looked. Well, Moira was going on twenty-five and Teddy was twenty-eight. It made her feel the lost years all the more. Odd, how when she was a kid she always wanted to be older and since she was — well, since she finished Tracey Business School — she wanted time to stand still. Now she wanted to be younger, just a few years younger, three for instance. Age seemed to be a hedge that grew higher with responsibilities. Did Moira and Teddy feel this way? She wished she could collapse on the elephant and ask them scores of questions.
‘Will you come into the dining room and have some tea?’ invited Teddy.
Wanda looked at the table set with Ann’s napkins and Moira’s plates. She thought about their suppers and buffet parties. Light streamed in the side window, casting the shadows of live leaves on the faded, flowered wallpaper. No, she couldn’t bear it yet. She needed to get the job done. What if she lost her nerve and claimed sanctuary here? ‘Could we do the moving first?’
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Spring 1945, San Francisco
FINAL V ROCKETS HIT LONDON
ROOSEVELT DIES
MUSSOLINI IS EXECUTED
HITLER COMMITS SUICIDE
WANDA STARED out the front bedroom window. The cold, drizzling day felt all the more miserable because this was supposed to be spring. She had forgotten the unpredictability of San Francisco weather and this forgetting unnerved her. Trucks droned monotonously down the street, occasionally switching gears and creating a screech that reminded her of Mrs Murakami’s sick cat who screamed every time he had to urinate. Wanda could never understand why Mrs Murakami didn’t put the poor thing to sleep. Although Wanda could barely acknowledge it to herself, she missed Lion’s Head — the view of those mountains and the relative safety of camp. Often when she heard these gears screeching, she imagined something more ominous than the cat. She imagined firebombs through the windows and police arriving too late last month at the scene of Mr Hata’s stabbing. At first, it was hard to believe the new violence against Japanese Americans. After all this. After three years. After loyalty oaths. After men fighting in Italy. After Howard’s death. Still, no, it would never be still.
Maybe Mama was right about returning to Japan. It could be difficult there, but at least they would be free of this daily, hostile suspicion. On the other hand, Uncle Fumio was more determined than ever to recover his position at the cannery. Meanwhile, he was working with the rest of them at Hathaways Fish Company, cleaning and packing. Uncle Fumio’s predicament made her understand Papa’s decision. Below her a bus honked at two cars parked next to each other in the middle of the road. One motorist seemed to be giving directions to the other. The bus driver leaned on his horn again. Wanda felt at odds with the speed and impatience of the city. Where were they all going?
She missed Stockton Street all the more now that she was back in San Francisco. She belonged there. Moira and Teddy were continuing their lives as usual — well, not as usual, but at least with each other in that familiar house. And here she was, emancipated, now more imprisoned by this grim neighborhood and her dreadful job than she had ever felt in Lion’s Head. At least in camp, she could imagine freedom. That was harder to do now. She reminded herself that the war had deprived everyone. Roy was still in Italy. Ann was in London.
Wanda pictured Roy sitting in the middle of a clearing — tall trees reaching up to the turquoise Italian sky. He would be exhausted, perhaps leaning against a log. She remembered him with Howard — for although she hadn’t been there, she could remember it detail for detail — the two of them talking before Howard went off on patrol. Later, Roy bending over her brother.
Wanda picked up Ann’s letter and shook her head. Would she formally adopt the child? She didn’t get it. Of course Moira was a mother and if she could do it Ann could too. But where did her impulse come from? Perhaps she, herself, was unnatural. Perhaps she could change her mind in a few years. But she felt that she had taken care of quite enough people in her life, thank you very much. She watched Carolyn struggling with the baby and her new job.
Wanda wondered if Ann would feel like a failure to give up her classics study the way she, herself, would consider it a failure to abandon writing. Did Ann feel herself more Jewish in the way that she, herself, felt more Japanese? Wanda knew that so much of her acceptance in school had been a sham. The other kids probably thought of her as an imitation Ameri
can girl. Had it been the same for Ann; had she suddenly understood her otherness? Had she been absorbed by Europe? Her thoughts about staying over there with Reuben and Leah were not so different from Mama’s dreams of Japan. Maybe none of them belonged in America. What was this country, anyway, except the distorted fantasy of uptight Anglo-Saxons? She must not get carried away by comparison. She must remember that millions of Ann’s people had been executed in those concentration camps. Their experience had been different. Yet alike.
Betty stood in the doorsill until Wanda noticed her. Wanda shook her head, distressed at how quiet Betty had become. Beautiful, vivacious Betty had grown shy and whiny recently in the new apartment and the new school. She had lost interest in the name of Lisa and resigned herself to Betty.
‘Hi there, squirt.’ Wanda waved her over to the window. ‘What’s going on?’
Betty looked down at the street. ‘Noise.’ She shook her head. ‘I’ll never get used to the noise.’
‘I know what you mean. We’ll save up for a long lost ocean villa, what do you think?’
‘Which side of the ocean?’ Betty studied the carpet. ‘Mama has been going on and on about Yokohama this week. Wanda, what would we do there?’
‘Live. Work. Eat.’ She stopped herself and paid attention to Betty’s long face. ‘I don’t know, honey, they’re just people. We’d do pretty much what we do here. They’re our people after all.’
‘They’re not!’ Betty stalked back to the door. ‘I’m an American. I am! I am!’
Wanda was struck by her sister’s conviction. After all the kid had endured, Betty had no qualms about her identity or her loyalty.
‘Say, sweet one, come over here and let me talk with you quietly,’ Wanda beckoned.
‘You’re afraid she’ll hear?’
‘She is your mother.’ Wanda heard Papa’s voice. Someone had always defended Mama. How did she manage to be so vulnerable and commanding at once? ‘Come here and tell me what’s up.’
‘Well, Mama may be Japanese, but I’m not. I mean, maybe I’m both. But I’m at least half American. Aren’t you?’
Wanda held the child close. ‘I don’t know. I guess so. What brought on the big questions?’
Betty burrowed her head in Wanda’s shoulder and said nothing.
‘Something at school?’
‘Well, sort of.’ Betty held herself tight.
Wanda sat straighter. If anyone so much as grazed this kid with a pebble, she would personally apprehend the assailant. Damn.
‘What? Tell me did someone hurt you?’
Betty shook her head in resignation. ‘Nothing like that. The kids have been very helpful. Too helpful. Showing me the way to the playground, to the bathroom. It wasn’t until yesterday, when I overheard two girls talking in the library, that I found out what they thought of me.’
Wanda held her arms across her chest. ‘Yes?’
‘One of them, a blond cheerleader, was saying to the other, who’s on the student council, “That Betty Nakasoma” — they always get the name wrong, but I’m used to that — “she speaks English pretty good for a foreigner.” A foreigner. I’m not a foreigner. I’m an American, right?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Wanda didn’t know whether to laugh or to scream. ‘Of course you are. That’s why they released us from Lion’s Head. The kids in your school — they’re not much different from a lot of confused people. Things will change. You’ll make friends. Wait till they hear you play the piano.’
‘That’s another thing.’ Betty bit her lip. ‘Mama doesn’t want me playing any more.’
‘I’ll have a talk with her. She’ll come around.’ Wanda clenched her teeth.
‘Oh, Wanda, I knew you’d make it all right.’
Wanda patted her sister’s shoulder and coughed, to stem the tide of confidence.
‘And do you think you could talk with her about the other part?’
‘What’s that?’ Wanda was distracted.
‘About the other side of the ocean?’
‘That, oh yes. Let’s tackle the piano first. The world may interfere with our trip to Japan. Shall we wait a while?’
‘If you think so.’ Betty smiled weakly. ‘You know what’s best.’
Wanda stared at the street as another bus rattled down the hill. ‘Hmmm, we’ll see.’
As Wanda waited for Moira in the café, she tried to stem her irritation. Moira had always been late. She would always be late.
Wanda looked at the small, sun-filled room. People sat in clusters, talking quietly. Were they discussing Roosevelt’s death? She thought he would be president for ever. She could hardly believe that silly looking fellow, Truman, had taken his place. Not that FDR had been the great, competent father. He had been the one who sent them to camp, and she was annoyed at all the sentimental claptrap about his death.
Half the patrons here seemed to be sailors. San Francisco had grown a lot in three years. The war had put it on the map, had given it a big city feel. She didn’t care for this new company. She tried to remember that Roy might be sitting in his uniform in an Italian café right now, but it didn’t help. She was thoroughly cranky today.
Wanda checked her watch. Damn, she should have adjusted her schedule. She should have shopped first. Mama would be furious if she didn’t get the best vegetables. No, that wasn’t why she was upset. Wanda guessed that in some way she was angry at Moira because she had been in camp for three years. Although it was irrational, she resented the thought of those two safe and cosy on Stockton Street. She raised her hand to the waiter. To distract herself. Because she needed a cup of coffee. In these North Beach restaurants no one minded you sitting all day. No one noticed if you were drinking or not. Wanda didn’t feel like taking any chances. She was going to rent her table, going to order a coffee before anyone came up and accused her of loitering. The waiter waved back and, a minute later, Moira rushed toward the table. Wanda imagined the table tipping over, the sugar and salt whirling across the floor, all eyes on them. But the world held still and Moira collapsed, breathless. Why was the girl always late if she were always rushing?
‘Hi, hon, how are you?’ Moira leaned over and kissed Wanda. ‘Look, I know what you’re thinking — that I’ll never change. Yes, I’m very sorry to be late. But what with Tess and the errands, my resolutions get screwed up every day. Oh, you haven’t ordered yet? Hey,’ she called over to the waiter, ‘André, two coffees and pastries.’
Wanda marvelled at Moira’s ease and remembered that she, herself, had reassured Betty that she wasn’t a foreigner.
‘So,’ Moira snapped her gum, ‘how are you?’
Teaberry gum, Wanda smiled affectionately. ‘OK, the job slitting fish throats is even farther from writing than my old position as bookkeeper. Still, it covers the rent. Mother and Betty are well. Tell me about you? And Tess? And Teddy?’ Wanda noticed she always found it easier to open conversations concentrating on other people.
‘Fine.’ Moira sloughed off a fuzzy green sweater. ‘Teddy misses you. Wishes you could come to the house. Doesn’t understand why you’d want to meet me in a café, well, you know,’ she shrugged shyly. ‘Frankly, I think it’s kind of nice to meet alone. Easier to talk in some ways. And I think I can understand your thing about the house.’
‘Thanks.’ Wanda was relieved that the waiter arrived with their order. She noticed how plain her beige dress was in comparison to Moira’s green and blue outfit. Her taste had grown more subdued in the last few years. ‘How are things at home?’
‘Fine.’ Moira spat her gum into a napkin and nursed the scalding coffee. ‘Teddy’s started the garden already. She’s making salad for Ann’s return. Tess is sleeping better these days. Everything is fine.’ Moira stared into her cup.
‘Doesn’t look like it.’ Wanda watched her closely. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Well, it’s confusing with Randy
back.’ Moira brought it up sooner than she had intended. Now she studied Wanda’s face for traces of sadness about Howard or Roy.
‘I can understand that.’ Wanda broke off the end of a pastry. ‘Does he want to get married?’
‘How did you know?’
‘It’s the normal procedure.’
‘Normal.’ Moira shook her head and began tentatively. ‘You know he and I haven’t been talking this year. I had decided to raise Tess alone, even before she was born.’
‘But times change, Moira. You can’t be rigid.’
‘To tell you the truth, over the last couple of months, I’ve come to love him again. I guess I do want to get married. It would be best for Tess. And, to be honest, best for me, too.’
‘So?’
‘So there’s Teddy.’
‘Surely she’s happy for you. Oh, you mean she’s upset that you’ll be leaving the house. Of course.’
‘More than that. She doesn’t exactly know about Randy and me. I mean she knows what I feel for him. You don’t get it, Wanda. Teddy and I became quite close, alone in the house, we …’
‘Yes.’ Wanda frowned. ‘You’ve been like family. And the war makes things tougher on everyone — separations, changes.’
‘No, I don’t think you understand.’ Moira paused, wondering if she had given this enough thought. She had always supposed Wanda would accept better than Ann. She knew she shouldn’t reveal anything without talking to Teddy first. Yet she was suffocated by these secrets. Did she and Teddy still have their bond if she were seeing Randy on the sly? Did one deception break the whole promise? Would Teddy care? After all, it had been Moira, herself, who had insisted on secrecy. Was it fair to implicate Wanda? Her stomach hurt. She needed to talk with someone. She had tried to sort it all out with Vivian, but Vivian didn’t know Teddy the way Wanda did. Maybe she’d give it a try. ‘Teddy and I have grown especially close this year.’
All Good Women Page 39
