LITMIR.BIZ

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of the diamond-shaped panels of red glass, outlined in copper.

      “Do you know how lucky we are?” her mother asked.

      Michiko did not respond. She was busy thinking about the door. It had a knob of chipped enamel and a wooden peg at the side to keep it shut. The knob on the door at home looked like a huge cut diamond that she liked to pretend was a real jewel. Their door locked with a key. This one didn’t even have a keyhole.

      “Michiko.” Her mother spoke sharply, giving her shoulders a shake. “Do you know how lucky we are?”

      Michiko moved her gaze to her mother’s face, surprised at the tone of her voice.

      “Mrs. Morrison helped us make these arrangements.” Her mother’s voice trembled as she spoke. “Some people have to live in tents until they have a place, but we have a whole house just to ourselves.”

      Michiko closed her eyes. The sharpness of her mother’s voice upset her. Eiko did not usually speak that way to her, and Michiko didn’t want to listen any more.

      Eiko lowered her voice to a whisper. “Be grateful, Michiko, our whole family is together.”

      “Our whole family is not together,” Michiko said. She broke free of her mother’s grasp and stood up. “Father isn’t here, is he?” She turned and ran up the stairs.

      The first room at the top of the stairs had a small cot and a crib. Except for two bars, the paint on the rest of the crib was chipped and faded. Michiko plunked herself down on the cot. Two rough grey blankets lay folded at the foot of the bed. This must be my room, she thought. The springs below the thin worn mattress screeched. She bounced a few times to listen as she looked up at the ceiling. A long piece of string dangled from the single electric bulb with an enamel cuff. There were no sunburst swirls of white stucco like the ones on her bedroom ceiling at home.

      She removed her coat, unbuttoned her blouse and stepped out of the wool skirt. She looked around. There was no closet. She took off the green plaid dress and folded her clothes into a neat pile on top of the blankets.

      “Ted,” she heard Auntie Sadie shout.

      Michiko raced down the stairs.

      Her uncle was so tanned and bronze, his arms looked bigger. He opened them wide, and Michiko ran right into them. “I haven’t seen you since Christmas,” she yelled.

      Ted picked her up and twirled her about the room. Then he put her down and staggered about. “You weigh a ton,” he said, clutching at his heart. “How old are you now, fourteen?”

      “Oh, Uncle Ted, you are so silly,” Michiko giggled. “I’m nine. I just had my birthday.”

      Ted walked to Geechan and bowed. Geechan returned the bow with a nod of his head. Then Ted kneeled in front of Hiro, who was sitting on his grandfather’s lap.

      “Be careful,” warned Sadie. “He’s not a happy baby today.”

      Ted tickled his nephew under his tiny pointed chin. “Hello, Hiro,” he said, “hello.”

      Hiro looked at his uncle and gave a shy smile. Then he turned and buried his face in his grandfather’s coat.

      “Good boy,” Michiko’s mother said.

      “Yeah, you didn’t howl,” said Sadie.

      “Have you got all of your luggage?” Ted asked.

      “We weren’t allowed to bring much,” Eiko responded. “Bedding, pots and pans, the few dishes and clothes that we could carry. I could only ship two things.”

      Ted turned to Michiko. “Did you bring me a present?” he asked.

      “Your present is our safe arrival,” Sadie scoffed.

      But Michiko had an idea. She dashed over to her carpetbag, took out her orange and put it behind her back. “Close your eyes,” she told her uncle as she walked towards him, “and put out your hands.”

      Michiko placed the bright lopsided ball in them. “Now you can open your eyes.”

      For a moment, Michiko didn’t understand the look on her uncle’s face. She thought, at first, that he was going to cry. Then he lifted the orange to his nose and drank in the pungent aroma of the peel. “Thank you, Michiko,” he said, giving her a hug. “I can’t remember the last time I had an orange.”

      Over his shoulder, Michiko could see her mother’s face. She was smiling, and Michiko knew that she would be yasashi with her again.

      “So what have you been eating lately?” Sadie asked Ted.

      Ted bent his arms upward to flex his muscles. “Potatoes, potatoes and more potatoes,” he said. “I’m desperate for a bowl of miso soup.”

      “We all are,” retorted Sadie. “Goodness knows where we’ll get Japanese food out here.”

      Six

      Houses in the Orchard

      Michiko hauled off her cotton nightgown. Yesterday’s clothes lay on the floor in a pile. Her mother hadn’t put clean ones out for her. She pulled on her long-sleeved blouse and buttoned it up before stepping through the elastic waist of her wool skirt. This is what she usually wore to school. It felt odd wearing school clothes on a summer vacation.

      Michiko wiped the fine dry dust of the road from the toes of her shoes. She slapped her socks against the foot of the metal bed to rid them of the brown rings before putting them on. Hiro stirred. She picked up her shoes and tiptoed downstairs.

      The rough wooden surface of the kitchen table lay bare. Where was their embroidered cloth? Two small red enamel bowls sat alone with a pair of chopsticks across them. One bowl was half-full of rice, the other of green tea.

      Michiko lifted the bowl of snowy white rice to her face to breathe in the sweet aroma. It was cold. She looked around. Where was the bowl that held her egg? There wasn’t even shoyu on the table. Michiko always dribbled the dark soy sauce on top of the thick yellow yolk. Then she stirred the large staring eye with her chopsticks and poured it over the hot steamy rice. This is a very plain breakfast, she thought. She poured some of the cold green tea over her rice and gave it a stir.

      “Ohayo,” her grandfather called out, hearing her move in the kitchen. He sat on the verandah in a wooden chair facing the sun, whittling. “You slept a long time, my little cherry blossom.”

      “Good morning,” Michiko said as she moved to the steps to put on her shoes. The sun was bright, but the air was cool. She was glad of her long-sleeved blouse and warm skirt.

      She walked to one end of the verandah and leaned on the railing, facing the field of crumpled grey grass. The other side of the dirt road was dense with trees.

      “We should be grateful,” Geechan said.

      Now Geechan is saying it, Michiko thought as she turned to him.

      Geechan gestured to the right with his knife. “We have an orchard,” he told her. “Next spring, we will have a grand hanami.”

      Michiko glanced at the rows of short, gnarled trees sprouting small green leaves and shrugged. Geechan doesn’t understand we are only on vacation, she thought. But he often didn’t understand things about their life. He lived the same way he used to live in Japan, and Sadie complained about it a lot.

      She heard her mother’s and aunt’s voices coming from the side of the house and went to investigate.

      Sadie was busy tying a rope between two of the small, stunted trees. A large white apron covered her denim overalls and red plaid shirt. A red silk kerchief kept her shiny black hair in place. Only her short straight bangs showed. Michiko was used to seeing her mother in an apron, but not her aunt.

      The two women stared down at the large galvanized tub in front of them with their hands on their hips.

      As

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