Hiroko wondered silently if her mouth would be glued together forever. Sally realized what was happening and handed her a glass of milk, but Hiroko's first taste of American food had not impressed her.
Takeo returned to the backyard with his charcoal then, and as he did, the dog came bounding into the kitchen. And as soon as she did, Hiroko smiled. This was at least a familiar breed. She was a type of Japanese dog called a Shiba. And she was obviously very friendly.
“Her name is Lassie,” Tami explained. “I loved the book.”
“Not that she looks anything like her. The real Lassie was a collie,” Ken said, and reminded Hiroko instantly of Yuji. It was the kind of thing he would have said. Ken reminded her a lot of Yuji, and in some ways it was comforting, but in others it made her even more homesick.
Ken went next door to visit his girlfriend, Peggy, that afternoon, and Sally disappeared quietly down the street, to a neighbor's. She would have offered to take Hiroko with her, but she was afraid Hiroko might tell her mom. She didn't know her that well yet. And Sally wanted to visit her friend because she had a particularly handsome sixteen-year-old brother she liked to flirt with.
Only Tami stayed home with them, but she was busy in the backyard with her dad, and Hiroko stayed in the kitchen to help her Aunt Reiko. Reiko was impressed with how quickly and competently Hiroko did everything. She said very little, and she expected no praise, but she moved around the kitchen, preparing things, like lightning. She understood quickly how the mashed potatoes were made, although she'd never seen them before, and she helped prepare the corn and make the salad. And when Tak asked his wife to marinate the meat for him, Hiroko was quick to learn that as well, and then she went outside with Reiko to help set the enormous buffet table. She was the quietest, most efficient girl Reiko had ever seen, and in spite of her obvious shyness, she knew exactly what she was doing.
“Thank you for all the help,” Reiko said quietly to her when they went upstairs to change. She was a lovely girl, and Reiko knew they were going to enjoy her. She only hoped that Hiroko would be happy with them. But she had seemed happier that afternoon, once she had things to do. And it was only now, as they stood on the stairs, that she looked wistful again, and Reiko sensed without Hiroko saying it that she missed her parents. “I really appreciate it,” she said gently. ‘We're glad you're here, Hiroko.”
“I am very glad too,” Hiroko said, and bowed low to her older cousin.
“You don't need to do that here.” Reiko put a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“I do not know another way to show you respect, and thank you for your kindness,” she said, as Reiko walked her to Sally's bedroom. Hiroko's things were all neatly put away, and the only visible mess was Sally's.
“You don't need to show us respect. We understand how you feel. Here you can be less formal.” Hiroko began to bow again, and then stopped herself with a small smile.
“Here everything is very different,” Hiroko admitted. “I will have many things to learn, many new ways.” She was just beginning to understand what her father had meant when he said that he wanted her to see the world and learn new customs. She had never imagined for a minute that it would all be so completely different, especially in the house of her cousins.
“You will learn very quickly,” Reiko reassured her.
But as she stood at the barbecue that night, Hiroko wasn't so sure. She felt surrounded by a sea of chattering strangers. They came to meet her, they shook her hand, they greeted her, she bowed to them, and they talked about how adorable she was, how pretty her kimono was. But even though many of their faces were Japanese, all of them spoke English and were either nisei or sansei, first- or second-generation Americans. But most of them had lost their Japanese customs and traditions long before,
Takeo returned to the backyard with his charcoal then, and as he did, the dog came bounding into the kitchen. And as soon as she did, Hiroko smiled. This was at least a familiar breed. She was a type of Japanese dog called a Shiba. And she was obviously very friendly.
“Her name is Lassie,” Tami explained. “I loved the book.”
“Not that she looks anything like her. The real Lassie was a collie,” Ken said, and reminded Hiroko instantly of Yuji. It was the kind of thing he would have said. Ken reminded her a lot of Yuji, and in some ways it was comforting, but in others it made her even more homesick.
Ken went next door to visit his girlfriend, Peggy, that afternoon, and Sally disappeared quietly down the street, to a neighbor's. She would have offered to take Hiroko with her, but she was afraid Hiroko might tell her mom. She didn't know her that well yet. And Sally wanted to visit her friend because she had a particularly handsome sixteen-year-old brother she liked to flirt with.
Only Tami stayed home with them, but she was busy in the backyard with her dad, and Hiroko stayed in the kitchen to help her Aunt Reiko. Reiko was impressed with how quickly and competently Hiroko did everything. She said very little, and she expected no praise, but she moved around the kitchen, preparing things, like lightning. She understood quickly how the mashed potatoes were made, although she'd never seen them before, and she helped prepare the corn and make the salad. And when Tak asked his wife to marinate the meat for him, Hiroko was quick to learn that as well, and then she went outside with Reiko to help set the enormous buffet table. She was the quietest, most efficient girl Reiko had ever seen, and in spite of her obvious shyness, she knew exactly what she was doing.
“Thank you for all the help,” Reiko said quietly to her when they went upstairs to change. She was a lovely girl, and Reiko knew they were going to enjoy her. She only hoped that Hiroko would be happy with them. But she had seemed happier that afternoon, once she had things to do. And it was only now, as they stood on the stairs, that she looked wistful again, and Reiko sensed without Hiroko saying it that she missed her parents. “I really appreciate it,” she said gently. ‘We're glad you're here, Hiroko.”
“I am very glad too,” Hiroko said, and bowed low to her older cousin.
“You don't need to do that here.” Reiko put a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“I do not know another way to show you respect, and thank you for your kindness,” she said, as Reiko walked her to Sally's bedroom. Hiroko's things were all neatly put away, and the only visible mess was Sally's.
“You don't need to show us respect. We understand how you feel. Here you can be less formal.” Hiroko began to bow again, and then stopped herself with a small smile.
“Here everything is very different,” Hiroko admitted. “I will have many things to learn, many new ways.” She was just beginning to understand what her father had meant when he said that he wanted her to see the world and learn new customs. She had never imagined for a minute that it would all be so completely different, especially in the house of her cousins.
“You will learn very quickly,” Reiko reassured her.
But as she stood at the barbecue that night, Hiroko wasn't so sure. She felt surrounded by a sea of chattering strangers. They came to meet her, they shook her hand, they greeted her, she bowed to them, and they talked about how adorable she was, how pretty her kimono was. But even though many of their faces were Japanese, all of them spoke English and were either nisei or sansei, first- or second-generation Americans. But most of them had lost their Japanese customs and traditions long before,
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