Read Online How to Be an American Housewife by Margaret Dilloway - Free Book Online Page B

gather in the garden for a service early in the morning. It was a compromise he had reached with Mother. Father saw the good in everyone.
    Mother gasped. “I am ill. Why do you try to kill me?”
    “I am not. You will be well.” Father’s voice was firm, a hand holding hers in the darkness. “I blessed the rice myself. You must find it in yourself to be strong.”
    “I cannot.” Mother choked. “It’s been too hard for too long. I cannot.”
    Father exhaled. “We will do what is necessary to live.”
    “Even if it kills me?” Mother muttered, but this time I could hear the humor in her tone.
    “If it’s not one thing, it’s another.” I heard him kiss her. “Good night.”
    The Eta woman kept sharing her rice—I think she got extra because she didn’t report that her two young children had died from scarlet fever—and we kept eating it until Mother was up and about again. She still would not greet the woman if we saw her in the street, but she no longer crossed to the other side.
     
     
    I WENT STRAIGHT to the Kumamoto Hotel, not even bothering to change out of my maid’s uniform. I had to get another job fast. I couldn’t survive long without money. That Shigemi. I would have to find a new roommate, too. How could I live with someone who would throw me to the lions in a snap?
    I walked through the big double glass doors and went up to the front desk. My heels caught in the thick, plush carpeting. Enormous landscape paintings of lands I’d never seen decorated the walls. The man at the desk told me the manager would be right out. I went and sat on the red velvet couch, staring at a painting of the Eiffel Tower. How nice it would be to visit France, drink coffee at an outdoor café.
    I heard a low whistle behind me, and turned. I was startled to see my brother’s childhood friend, Tetsuo, dressed in a bellhop’s uniform, leaned over the back of the sofa. I hadn’t seen him in over a year, and he’d grown into a handsome young man, with quick eyes and a strong, dimpled jaw.
    “Tetsuo! I didn’t know you worked here.”
    His eyes widened when he recognized me. “Shoko-chan! I can’t believe it.”
    “Why are you whistling at strange girls, then?” I smiled. Tetsuo was my favorite of my brother’s friends. He and I were like brother and sister. Until now, the way he was looking at me.
    He hopped over the back and landed, cross-legged, beside me. His face broke into a grin. “You still playing baseball?”
    “When I can.” I smoothed out my skirt.
    The manager appeared, a short, balding American with a potbelly. Tetsuo stood up. “Hello,” the manager said in English. “I’m Mr. Lonstein.”
    “I can vouch for her, sir,” Tetsuo said. I was surprised that he knew English so well. I only knew a few words. Stop. No. Please.
    Mr. Lonstein gave me an appraising look. “You can start right away.”
     
     
    HE PUT ME in the gift shop, where I had to ring up purchases for the American sailors and others coming through. Mostly, the gift shop had glass cases full of figurines and cheap Japanese souvenirs marked “Made in Occupied Japan.” Many servicemen stayed at this hotel. They also liked coming to the restaurant and dance club.
    “Thank you very much,” I said after each purchase. I got to wear a beautiful cream silk kimono, decorated with pink camellias and climbing green vines. One lady even took a picture of me to show her friends back in the States, her arm around my waist, as though we were bosom friends. Americans were overly familiar. I got used to it.
    Within a week of me starting the job, Tetsuo showed up at my counter. “How would you like to go out on Friday?” he asked.
    “Let me think about it.” Nice girls turned down the first request. “No, Friday I’m busy.”
    “Guess you’ll miss out on the fun. Oh, well, I’ll call another girl.” Tetsuo pretended to leave.
    I smiled. I needed fun. And no one was around to tell me how to behave. “I suppose I can go with