The Fences Between Us

by Kirby Larson

  Margie’s a lucky duck to have such an exciting job and to really be helping with the war. Besides, she gets to wear slacks to work. It’s regulation. She says she gets some fishy looks from people on the bus ride to work. One clerk at Woolworth’s wouldn’t even wait on her, said proper women wear dresses and hats and gloves. I don’t care about being a proper woman! I wish I could be a Margie Mechanic, but I’m not old enough.

  Thursday, February 19, 1942

  DeeDee —

  Pop told me he’d do up the supper dishes and now he’s in the kitchen, clattering and clanking the pots and pans. He’s really upset because President Roosevelt signed Executive Order 9066 to set up these military areas on the West Coast that certain people can’t go in. I think this makes sense because you wouldn’t want just anybody walking around top secret places during wartime, right? Loose Lips Might Sink Ships, isn’t that what all the war posters say? Look at Margie — there are certain places she’s not allowed to go in at the plant. It’s common sense, right?

  But Pop says it’s not as simple as that. He says this order is going to be very bad for the American Japanese but I don’t understand how.

  Besides, things are already bad for them. There are signs all over town that say things like WE DON’T SERVE JAPS HERE, or TOJO, GO HOME. I don’t know how they can get worse.

  Saturday, February 21, 1942

  DeeDee —

  Betty and Jim were at the drugstore when I was picking up my pictures. Jim tipped his hat, which made me giggle remembering the last time we’d been there. Betty gave us both a look like we’d gone cuckoo. She asked me how Hank was doing, and I said fine even though we hadn’t heard much.

  I opened the envelope right there in the drugstore because I was so excited to see how my shots of Margie’s wedding came out. There were a few duds, but not many. Maybe I do have an eye for photography, like Pop said. My favorite was the one of the new couple kissing. I decided I’d send Hank the more posed one, which showed Stan in his uniform beaming down at Margie. You could almost trace a heart around their heads. I was so caught up in studying the pictures that I didn’t realize someone was leaning over my shoulder.

  It was Bud.

  I could feel my face turn redder than Hank’s cherry red Ford truck. He was the last person I’d ever thought I’d run into. We hadn’t even exchanged two words since the Valentine’s Ball. “It looks like a nice wedding,” he said. “Nicer than a dumb old dance,” I said. And then I ran out of the drugstore, nearly knocking over some old man with a cane.

  I wanted to curl up and die. Why did I have to say anything about the dance? Why couldn’t I be a cool cucumber, like the female leads in all the movies are?

  Why do I still have to have a crush on Bud?

  Monday, February 23, 1942

  DeeDee —

  Miss Wyatt had been one of Margie’s favorite teachers at Washington so I took in some pictures from the wedding to show her. She said Stan looked like a good man and I said he was. She asked which photographer took the photos and when I told her it was me, she was impressed. She thought they were professional! Said I have a real eye.

  My pictures may have impressed her, but my latest essay didn’t. I got a C.

  Tuesday, February 24, 1942

  DeeDee —

  The Enterprise was in another raid. I didn’t hear it from Bud this time — we haven’t spoken since last Saturday—but read about it in the paper. It’s funny—I’ve gone from being a kid who could barely finish the Sunday funnies to someone who reads the paper cover to cover every day. Especially if there’s any mention of the Pacific. Which there is. A lot.

  This latest fight was a raid on the Marshall Islands. They’re kind of by New Guinea, but kind of not by anything—just tiny dots way out in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. I can’t stand thinking of Hank so far away.

  The good news is that it sounds like the Americans did okay in the fight. But I’d like to hear that from Hank himself.

  I’d like to hear anything from Hank. It’s been over a month since his last letter. That’s not like him.

  My fingernails are getting shorter each day.

  Wednesday, February 25, 1942

  DeeDee —

  Betty Sato and I ended up waiting to cross 20th Street at the same time on the way to school this morning. This had happened before, but she was usually hurrying across to meet her Japanese girlfriends. This morning, though, she surprised me. “How are you doing?” she asked.

  “Okay,” I said. I mean, that’s what you’re supposed to say, right?

  “I’m sure it’s hard with Hank gone. And the fact that your father is who he is can’t be easy, either.”

  No one else had ever said that to me. Everybody at church always said what a great guy Pop was, that he was taking a courageous stand. And Trixie and Bud kind of ignored anything Pop did. It felt kind of nice to have someone ask about what I was feeling. Especially someone whose own father was in a prison camp far away.

  “I don’t think it’s easy for anybody right now.” I fell into step beside her.

  “Don’t you know there’s a war going on?” Betty was repeating a line we heard everywhere these days. We both laughed.

  And that laugh felt so good! I filled Betty in on the latest episode of The Shadow, and we started talking about what might happen next—would the bad guys discover that Lamont Cranston was really the Shadow? She agreed with me that Sky Bars were a bit of heaven on earth. “How can any candy bar that’s four in one not be the best, for Pete’s sake,” she said. It turns out her favorites are the peanut and vanilla sections and mine are the fudge and caramel. “It’ll be easy for us to share one, then,” I told her. “We’ll each always get our favorite parts!” And we both agreed with each other that our parents were hopelessly outdated about makeup; her mom wouldn’t let her wear any to school, either.

  We talked about our dreams — she promised to buy any magazine with my photographs in it and I promised to go listen to her play the piano when she made it to Carnegie Hall.

  It was the shortest walk to school I’d ever had; we were at the front steps before I knew it. I wondered why we’d never done this before. It seemed like we had lots to talk about, lots in common.

  The only thing we didn’t talk about was that other day on the steps.

  Saturday, February 28, 1942

  DeeDee —

  Trixie called and asked me to go to the show. She said it would help me take my mind off Hank and everything. I couldn’t help but think of the last time we went to the movies together, with Bud and Eddy. With my luck, Bud would be there today. With Debbie Sue. Sigh. But Trixie’s my best pal and I knew she was hoping to see Eddy so I said I’d go.

  After my chores and before the movies, I took some pictures for Hank. The cherry trees in the churchyard were bursting with buds and they reminded me of Margie all frothy in pale green tulle for the Senior Dance two years ago. Mrs. Lee was sweeping the stoop of her little market, where Hank and I always bought penny candy. He loves Neccos but not the brown ones, so he always gives those to me. I don’t like them, either, really. I only eat them for Hank. I got a couple of pictures of Mrs. Lee. I have a good feeling about the one where she’s framed in the doorway. I hope that one turns out. I finished off the roll with some snaps of Garfield High School, Hank’s alma mater.

  You won’t believe who I met on the way to the theater. Here’s a clue: His initials are B.G. And he was by himself. No Debbie Sue in sight. I tried to pretend I didn’t see him but he called out my name. I couldn’t be outright rude, could I?

  It turns out his mom and Debbie Sue’s mom play in the same bridge club and it was their idea he and Debbie Sue go to the dance together. I know it sounds like a phony excuse but I believed him. Those green eyes were so sincere. He ended up walking me all the way to the theater, before he headed off to do his paper route.

  I wish I’d had my camera with me to capture the look on Trixie’s face when I showed up with Bud!


  Sunday, March 1, 1942

  DeeDee —

  It was John’s birthday today. He’s 22. We took him a birthday cake. It was my idea to put four candles on it, two for him and two for Del. When we got there, I was afraid that was a bad idea but he said he was glad I did it. He wants to remember Del. And he was glad that we remembered him, too.

  I took a picture of him blowing out the candles. “What did you wish for?” Margie asked him. He winked and said he couldn’t tell her that or it wouldn’t come true. That made us all laugh.

  After that, I gave him the present I’d brought.

  “A dictionary?” Margie said when he opened it.

  “It’s just what I wanted,” John said. “Not much to do in here but read and there are a passel of words in these books that I never heard back home.”

  He asked the nurse for a pen and had me write an inscription inside. I wrote, “For Professor John Anderson on his birthday. March 1, 1942. With love, Piper Davis.”

  When I handed it back to him, he smiled. “I like the sound of that. Professor Anderson.”

  His burns are healing right up. And you’d hardly know he only has one arm; he can do about everything now. He ate three pieces of cake while I read him the Sunday funnies.

  The doctor is pleased with how he’s doing and said they can start thinking about sending him home. Pop said that we should be happy for John. Of course he wants to go home.

  But having him here makes me feel closer to Hank. And I don’t want to let go of that.

  Monday, March 2, 1942

  DeeDee —

  It’s a good thing I was sitting on the porch steps; otherwise I would’ve fallen over in a dead faint when Bud asked me to be his girl. He gave me his DeMolay pin. My hands were so shaky I couldn’t get the clasp at first. I got my compact out of my pocketbook and admired myself in the mirror. “It looks swell on you,” Bud said.

  I touched it lightly, pinned right over my heart. “I won’t be able to wear it, you know. Pop would have kittens if he knew.”

  Bud reached over and squeezed my hand. “We’ll know and that’s all that matters.”

  And guess what else? Now I’ll never be able to say that I’m “Sweet Sixteen and Never Been Kissed.”

  Wednesday, March 4, 1942

  DeeDee —

  Margie found Bud’s pin when she was sorting clothes to do laundry. It had gotten tangled in one of my sweaters. She said she wouldn’t tell Pop; that was my job. But she did suggest I invite Bud to dinner again, let Pop get to know him better, before I break the news.

  Friday, March 6, 1942

  DeeDee —

  Bud came to dinner tonight. He even asked for seconds on Margie’s meat loaf. I was so nervous, I couldn’t eat anything. I was terrified that Bud might let something slip about us going together. Or that somehow, Pop would be able to figure it out. So far, so good.

  After dessert, we all played Monopoly and promptly at nine o’clock, Pop said that it had been a pleasant evening and handed Bud his jacket. That’s my pop.

  Bud got a devilish look in those green eyes of his and pulled me out the door with him when he stepped out. He spun me around and gave me a quick kiss — all before I even knew what was happening.

  Margie raised her eyebrows when I came back in, all windblown and breathless, but I don’t think Pop suspected a thing. He was too engrossed in his newspaper.

  Monday, March 9, 1942

  DeeDee —

  Another assignment for Miss Wyatt. This one’s a biography. As I was leaving class, she called me to her desk and suggested I choose Margaret Bourke-White, the famous photographer, as a subject. She’d taken the first cover shot for Life magazine.

  I didn’t really know about her but she sounded interesting. More interesting than Admiral Halsey, the person Bud chose.

  I’m going to go to the library at lunch tomorrow to see what I can learn about her.

  Thursday, March 12, 1942

  DeeDee —

  Bud said if I tell him one more “interesting fact” about Margaret Bourke-White, he may take back his pin. He’s kidding. I think.

  But she is pretty amazing. Did you know she was the first Western photographer, male or female, allowed in the Soviet Union in the 1920s? And Henry Luce hired her to be one of the very first photographers for Life magazine. A woman!

  She didn’t start out wanting to be a photographer. She wanted to be a (shudder) herpetologist — someone who studies snakes. It wasn’t that she loved snakes so much, it was because she wanted to go on jungle safaris and do things women had never done before. She is as brave as Superman—without the superpowers. So maybe that makes her even braver. I don’t know if I could do the things she has done but it’d be something, wouldn’t it? Can you picture plain old me flying off to Paris or Russia or Timbuktu, taking photographs that will end up in magazines that will end up in every house in America? After reading Margaret Bourke-White’s story, I’m thinking, why not? If she can do it, why can’t I? Trixie says when she’s a famous movie star, I’ll be the only photographer she’ll allow to take her picture.

  On Saturday, I’m going to the public library to see if they have any books of MBW’s photographs.

  Friday, March 13, 1942

  DeeDee —

  This is a lucky Friday the thirteenth — a letter from Hank. He says he’s getting fat from all the “gee-dunks” he’s eating — that’s what they call ice cream in a cup on his ship. He also said they had a lively dance party a few weeks before. That confused me for a bit — a dance on a ship?! But then I realized he was talking about some kind of action. I wrote him right back: “Be careful! I want you home with all eight of the lives you have left.”

  Saturday, March 14, 1942

  DeeDee —

  Trixie could not believe I’d rather go to the library than to the show. Bud says I care more about Margaret Bourke-White than I do about him.

  I can’t help it! She’s so interesting. I mean, how many people would climb up to the tops of skyscrapers to take pictures? She got into photography when she was a kid, too. About my age.

  Maybe I could be a photographer for Life magazine, like Bud said.

  Sunday, March 15, 1942

  DeeDee —

  Mrs. Tokita was sick today so it looked like I’d be on my own with the four-year-old Sunday school class. But she had called over to the Satos’ and both Jim and Betty showed up to help.

  There were only ten of the little guys but it seemed like a hundred. Two kids were fighting over a fire truck, one little girl was trying to give her friend a bang trim with the safety scissors, and another little girl sat in the corner, crying for her mama.

  “Okay.” Jim bounced to the center of the room. “Everybody look at me. Do you know how to play Simon Says?” Pretty soon, he had all ten kids laughing and following along, pretending they were elephants or hopping on one foot or sticking out their tongues.

  While he had them distracted, Betty and I organized the arts and crafts. We found some white paper, cotton balls, and paste.

  “We can make lambs,” Betty said.

  “Great idea!”

  “Simon Says — time for crafts!” Ready or not, Jim led the kids over to the table. One little boy ate most of the paste before we realized it, but there was enough left over to do the craft. There were more cotton balls stuck to us and to the kids than to the paper, but the parents didn’t seem to mind. They oohed and aahed over what their kids made when they came for them after church. Jim, Betty, and I couldn’t stop laughing as we cleaned up the classroom.

  I don’t think those little kids have ever had so much fun at Sunday school in their lives. And I don’t think I’ve ever been so bushed!

  Tuesday, March 17, 1942

  DeeDee —

  You’ll never guess what my sister did! She sent that picture of Mrs. Lee in to the Seattle Times for a photography contest and it won. First prize! One of the judges is a professional photographer and he said the picture had “artful
composition as well as heart.”

  There was a cash prize, too — $15. Pop said I had to save 10 percent of it and give 10 percent of it to the church, but that the rest was all mine.

  I went out and bought more film!

  And another tube of Tangee lipstick, which is hidden safely in my underwear drawer.

  Wednesday, March 18, 1942

  DeeDee —

  Pop is pacing and fussing around like a caged cat. The papers are full of the news about President Roosevelt signing Executive Order 9102, “By virtue of the authority vested in me … it is ordered as follows …” The “as follows” part was hard to follow. But we went over it in Civics today. This order is about setting up the War Relocation Authority. They’re going to be the people responsible for moving people out of military zones, if that happens. What I don’t understand is that, even if you read the whole thing—which I had to for Civics! — you don’t see any mention of who the people are “whose removal is necessary in the interests of national security.” Nowhere in the order does it say anything about Japanese people being relocated, but when I told Pop that, he said it was there, between the lines.