Read Online A Girl Like You by Maureen Lindley - Free Book Online Page A

around. No place on earth like Los Angeles, they say.”
    “You don’t want to travel far, then, Artie?”
    “No need.”
    In the space when she is not thinking about letting Artie go, or of the Japs coming to get them, she takes the time to notice that the house is unpleasantly quiet without Aaron, that the fields are weedy at the edges, that her mother is filled with sadness.
    Tamura has become listless, as though while waiting for Aaron’s return she has gone into slow motion. She works the land every day, exhausting labor even with Satomi’s help. Yet without shirts to wash and boots to clean, she feels at a loss. Being a creature of habit, she cooks the same meals, serves them on the same day of the week that Aaron had insisted on. But she can’t be bothered with the finer details and the meals seem flavorless to Satomi.
    “No more soba noodles, please, Mama. You don’t like them much, I hate them, what’s the point?”
    But as though bad luck will follow if she doesn’t, as though some link between her and Aaron will be severed, Tamura goes on making the noodles that only Aaron likes. The velvety dough sticks to her hands, little flecks of it settle in her hair like snow-flakes. It’s a messy business, familiar and somehow comforting.
    “Fat white worms, horrible soft gloopy things,” Satomi complains to Artie. “I just can’t bring myself to swallow them. Can’t think why Father likes them so much.”
    She longs for hamburger, for steak, but never asks for them.
    Used to having Aaron to guide her, Tamura turns to Satomi for confirmation of every decision she makes. It seems to Satomi that overnight mother and daughter roles have been reversed. Tamura is letting go, happy for her to be in charge.
    When she notices that her mother has started squinting, she has to force Tamura to town for the sight test with the visiting optician. The steel-rimmed prescription glasses that Tamura receives a month later make her look older than her forty years.
    “I won’t wear them in front of your father.” She grimaces into the mirror. “They make me look like my mother.”
    “Well, your mother sure must have been pretty,” Satomi soothes. “Was she?”
    Tamura doesn’t answer. Since Aaron left it seems more important than ever to her to stick to his rules, to the pact they had made all those years ago. The old families , as Aaron has labeled them, as though they are some long-lost ancient dynasty, must remain in the past.
    With twenty-twenty vision restored, Tamura sets about polishing.
    “Why didn’t you tell me things were getting so dusty?”
    “I didn’t notice, Mother.”
    “Oh, Satomi, what kind of wife will you make?” she despairs.
    Lily hasn’t been herself of late. She’s been moody and more than a bit off hand with Satomi. Satomi’s not taking her moods seriously. Lily will come around soon enough. Angelina being on alert must be as upsetting for Lily as it is for her. They’ll ride the troubles out, still be friends when everything settles down.
    Since they had smiled at each other on day one of first grade, their friendship has been steady, unbreakable, she thinks. So everything that happens on a Sunday morning in Miss Ray’s after-service needlework class, as she blanket-stitches around her piece of patchwork for the wall hanging of GOD SEES ALL, comes as a shock.
    Lily had talked her into joining the class in the first place, so that Miss Ray, who likes to save souls, would see that she was doing her best to bring Satomi into the fold.
    “Everyone should do their bit for the church,” Lily had coaxed. “And you get grape juice and a pretzel twist, two if you’re lucky. You should really be a churchgoer, but I guess Miss Ray will let you off on account of your mother being, well, you know.”
    Satomi did know, but as usual with Lily she didn’t push it. Lily didn’t mean anything by it, it was just her way. The class wasn’t so bad, it got her out of chores for a bit, and she