girl?”
Next to me, a light flipped on in Grace’s eyes as she finally put two and two together.
“I won’t be hurting the family,” Helen insisted calmly. “I’ll be helping more than before. And besides, this isn’t a reflection on you—”
“Don’t be stupid! You have a choice to bring shame or honor on your family. Which is it going to be?”
Helen met her father’s disapproval with surprising stubbornness. “You always say you expect me to maintain the proprieties, recognize right from wrong, and not bring embarrassment on our family.”
“That’s right. Embarrassment!”
“I’m going to make twenty dollars a week,” Helen said.
Her father blinked. “Twenty dollars? A week?”
“Are any of my brothers making that much?” she asked.
He grumbled a bit more—“What will our neighbors say?”—but it was clear Helen had won. I guess the money had convinced him. Still, he’d gone down a lot easier than I expected.
“You can do this on one condition,” he said, acting like he’d once again gained control over his daughter. “I won’t have you walking all over Chinatown … at night … unescorted. Monroe will drop you off and bring you home.”
“Yes, Ba,” she answered, sounding both contrite and disappointed, as though he’d failed a test she’d given him.
“All right,” he said. “I expect you to be home in time for dinner.”As he gathered himself to leave, he ran his eyes over me again. “And, Helen …”
Here it comes , I thought. Now my new friends would know the truth about me. I didn’t have a clue about how they would take it.
“One word of warning. Watch out for this one. She’s a Jap,” he said, nodding in my direction.
Helen acted unimpressed. She gave him a bland look: As if I didn’t know .
Faced again with his daughter’s coolness, he squeezed the newspaper a little more tightly to his ribs and continued down the street. It was a moment of triumph for Helen, utter bewilderment for Grace, and the icing on what had already become a crappy day for me. Grace was the first to speak.
“Why would he say that about Ruby?”
Helen frowned. “You really are a bumpkin,” she said. “Ruby is Japanese. Can’t you tell?” She pointed to the sign above our heads. “It’s the Forbidden City. Like Charlie said, it’s for Chinese. The Japs have invaded China, so no Japs allowed. Naturally, Baba wouldn’t want me to spend time with someone like her.”
My being Japanese wasn’t why I didn’t get hired, but I said nothing to square the error. Grace stared at Helen—shocked, shocked, shocked. “What are you talking about?”
Helen spelled it out again. “Ruby is Japanese.”
Grace looked like someone had bopped her one. “Why would you—he—say that?”
“Because it’s true,” Helen insisted, her tone superior.
“It’s also mean.” Grace turned to me. “You’re Ruby Tom,” she said, positive as could be. “That’s a Chinese name. You’re a real Chinese girl.”
“Ethel Zimmerman changed her name,” I said, “because she thought it wouldn’t look good on a marquee. Now she’s Ethel Merman. My real name is Kimiko Fukutomi. Ruby suits me better, and Fukutomi … well … I shortened it to Tom.”
“That’s a Chinese name, right?” Grace repeated weakly. Then shelightly tapped her head with her fingertips—another light going on. “When you said your family wanted to go home, you meant to Japan.”
I nodded.
“Oh!” The surprised syllable came out like the first time you put a hand down a boy’s pants. “I get it. You’re like a Negro pretending to be white.” She sighed. “Where I grew up … Prejudice, you know—”
“I’ve always been able to pass,” I said, trying to put an end to the commiseration. “I’m good at it. In the Occidental world, no one can tell that I’m different. Even here in Chinatown, most people don’t see me as different.”
“I did,” Helen pointed out. “And my father
Next to me, a light flipped on in Grace’s eyes as she finally put two and two together.
“I won’t be hurting the family,” Helen insisted calmly. “I’ll be helping more than before. And besides, this isn’t a reflection on you—”
“Don’t be stupid! You have a choice to bring shame or honor on your family. Which is it going to be?”
Helen met her father’s disapproval with surprising stubbornness. “You always say you expect me to maintain the proprieties, recognize right from wrong, and not bring embarrassment on our family.”
“That’s right. Embarrassment!”
“I’m going to make twenty dollars a week,” Helen said.
Her father blinked. “Twenty dollars? A week?”
“Are any of my brothers making that much?” she asked.
He grumbled a bit more—“What will our neighbors say?”—but it was clear Helen had won. I guess the money had convinced him. Still, he’d gone down a lot easier than I expected.
“You can do this on one condition,” he said, acting like he’d once again gained control over his daughter. “I won’t have you walking all over Chinatown … at night … unescorted. Monroe will drop you off and bring you home.”
“Yes, Ba,” she answered, sounding both contrite and disappointed, as though he’d failed a test she’d given him.
“All right,” he said. “I expect you to be home in time for dinner.”As he gathered himself to leave, he ran his eyes over me again. “And, Helen …”
Here it comes , I thought. Now my new friends would know the truth about me. I didn’t have a clue about how they would take it.
“One word of warning. Watch out for this one. She’s a Jap,” he said, nodding in my direction.
Helen acted unimpressed. She gave him a bland look: As if I didn’t know .
Faced again with his daughter’s coolness, he squeezed the newspaper a little more tightly to his ribs and continued down the street. It was a moment of triumph for Helen, utter bewilderment for Grace, and the icing on what had already become a crappy day for me. Grace was the first to speak.
“Why would he say that about Ruby?”
Helen frowned. “You really are a bumpkin,” she said. “Ruby is Japanese. Can’t you tell?” She pointed to the sign above our heads. “It’s the Forbidden City. Like Charlie said, it’s for Chinese. The Japs have invaded China, so no Japs allowed. Naturally, Baba wouldn’t want me to spend time with someone like her.”
My being Japanese wasn’t why I didn’t get hired, but I said nothing to square the error. Grace stared at Helen—shocked, shocked, shocked. “What are you talking about?”
Helen spelled it out again. “Ruby is Japanese.”
Grace looked like someone had bopped her one. “Why would you—he—say that?”
“Because it’s true,” Helen insisted, her tone superior.
“It’s also mean.” Grace turned to me. “You’re Ruby Tom,” she said, positive as could be. “That’s a Chinese name. You’re a real Chinese girl.”
“Ethel Zimmerman changed her name,” I said, “because she thought it wouldn’t look good on a marquee. Now she’s Ethel Merman. My real name is Kimiko Fukutomi. Ruby suits me better, and Fukutomi … well … I shortened it to Tom.”
“That’s a Chinese name, right?” Grace repeated weakly. Then shelightly tapped her head with her fingertips—another light going on. “When you said your family wanted to go home, you meant to Japan.”
I nodded.
“Oh!” The surprised syllable came out like the first time you put a hand down a boy’s pants. “I get it. You’re like a Negro pretending to be white.” She sighed. “Where I grew up … Prejudice, you know—”
“I’ve always been able to pass,” I said, trying to put an end to the commiseration. “I’m good at it. In the Occidental world, no one can tell that I’m different. Even here in Chinatown, most people don’t see me as different.”
“I did,” Helen pointed out. “And my father
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