Chapter 28 Present Day
PRESENT DAY
JULIA
Glad to be home, Julia sat at the kitchen table in her parents’ house.
On her drive home from San Francisco to Seattle, her medical school classmate called and asked if she wanted to get together.
She was feisty enough to ask if he was asking her out on a date or just a hookup.
She wasn’t interested if it was the latter.
The guy was handsome and, as an orthopedic surgeon, would make for a good provider, but the prospect made her angry. Some intimacy would boost the much-needed dopamine to relieve the stress from the past week, but she deserved more.
She had to laugh at herself for not recognizing the signs with the guy at the archives. He was definitely good looking and kind, but the wrong flavor. Was I so focused I didn’t see the obvious?
Now, sitting in her parents’ home, Julia thought about her two serious past relationships, one in high school and one in college. She ended both but was not sure why. Maybe she just wasn’t ready, or, possibly more important, hadn’t met the right person. When you find the “one,” how do you know?
“You need some help, Mom?” Julia hollered through the house. Her Grandmama had insisted on getting dressed when Julia arrived. A hacking, productive cough sounded from the bedroom.
“We’re just about done, Julia,” her mother answered.
Julia got up and poured her grandmother a glass of water. Her father had not returned home from work, and Julia felt a little hurt that he hadn’t carved out the time to hear about her journey.
Just as Julia arrived at the bedroom, the door opened, and her mother appeared, pushing Grandmama in her wheelchair.
“Grandmama, you did not need to dress on my account,” Julia said, observing her grandmother’s yellow kimono and red sash. Her mother had placed Grandmama’s favorite alabaster comb in her thin white hair.
“It is only proper, dear,” her grandmother said in a raspy voice that sent her into another coughing fit.
“Oh Grandmama, you sound terrible,” Julia handed her the glass of water as her mother wheeled her chair to the kitchen table. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to check on you.”
Julia kissed her on the cheek.
“The doctor has placed her on antibiotics,” Julia’s mother told her. “He says it’s walking pneumonia.”
Julia smiled at the colloquialism used by older physicians. Grandmama’s doctor was not much younger than Obāchan. “Well, I’m glad you’re on some medicine.”
Her grandmother took a sip of water and looked at Julia.
Julia thought she look pale and frailer, but had a new sparkle to her eyes.
“I cannot wait to hear what news you have found for us, dear. When I heard you were coming home, I had your mother pull out some more things for us,” she said and patted the items on the table, exuding the familiar smell of Grandmama’s treasure chest.
Julia looked disappointedly at the black lacquer photo book opened on the table with a large, folded piece of fabric and two unopened boxes. She’d hoped to be the one digging through the treasures.
“You’ve had quite the undertaking,” her mother said and sat at the kitchen table.
Julia joined them and reached for her grandmother’s hand.
“I found your grandfather at Fort Missoula, Grandmama. Hiroshi Yamamoto…I visited his grave.” Tears welled up in Julia’s eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Grandmama. I found that you, your parents, and grandmother were in Idaho during that time, in Minidoka.
I actually stood on the cement floor of your apartment block. ”
Julia searched Grandmama’s eyes, hoping the memories had not all faded. Her grandmother nodded and rocked back and forth.
“Oh, hai, Minidoka,” she whispered.
“I’m so sorry, Grandmama, I just never knew.” She looked at her mother. “Why didn’t I know any of this? Did you know?”
Her mother searched the floor with her eyes. “It’s complicated, Julia. Your father’s family had their own…experience,” she said, searching for the right words. “Did you learn about the declaration questionnaire…questions twenty-seven and twenty-eight?”
Julia nodded.
“Your dad’s grandfather answered those questions ‘no and no.’ He spent four years at Tule prison for that decision. He said that he would not fight for a country that took away everything from his family. He brought much shame to his family. Your father asked that we never speak of it.”
Julia had already considered how she would have answered those questions. No wonder it brought such controversy. “What a screwed-up time.”
Both her mother and her grandmother nodded.
“Grandmama, I learned that your father fought and died in the war. I had no idea.” Julia frowned at her mother.
When Julia looked back at her grandmother, Grandmama’s smile surprised her.
“Hai, dear. Father was quite the hero,” she said and reached for one of the boxes.
She opened the lid and carefully lifted a folded silk bundle.
The red silk matched her grandmother’s sash, and Julia wondered if it had come from the same bolt of fabric.
It was tied in a knot on top and even though Grandmama fumbled with untying it, it felt like a sacred moment and Julia should not offer to help. She noticed her mother did the same.
As Obāchan folded back the silk, the object inside was unmistakable and Julia’s eyes went wide.
“He was a Medal of Honor recipient?” Julia whispered.
Grandmama continued to unfold the fabric to reveal other medals. Julia didn’t recognize the others except for the Purple Heart.
Her grandmother laid her hand on a blue ribbon trimmed in white and red with a bronze cross and an eagle hanging from it.
“Father was first awarded the Distinguished Service Cross for heroism in combat. The year before you were born, the military upgraded it to the Medal of Honor.” She patted the sky-blue ribbon.
“You can see why this is complicated with your father,” Julia’s mother said. “What do you know of the 442nd, Julia?”
Julia shrugged in frustration.
“The Nisei generation made up the unit. Didn’t they nickname them the Purple Heart Battalion, Mama?
” Julia’s mother asked her mother and then continued.
“If I understand correctly, about four thousand men received over eighteen thousand awards in less than two years. There were twenty-one Medal of Honor recipients, weren’t there Mama. ”
Julia’s grandmother smiled at her and carefully folded the silk around the medals and started to retie the knot, but another coughing fit interrupted the task.
Julia’s mother finished the knot, tucked the bundle back in the box, and closed the lid, while Julia got up to get a tissue for her grandmother.
Grandmama cleared her throat and took a sip of water from the glass that Julia had put on the table. Julia gently patted her on the back, wondering if all this military history was where some of the animosity between her father and grandmother had originated.
“Grandmama, I stood on the spot where your grandmother arrived on Angel Island as a picture bride,” Julia said, changing the subject.
“And I found her…Shibata Rikka!” Julia grabbed the stack of papers the archivist had printed for her.
She thumbed through the stack. “And look at this, Grandmama—their wedding license.” Julia proudly displayed it.
She tried handing it to Obāchan, but her grandmother leaned toward the lacquer photo album and started turning pages.
Julia gasped when the page opened to the original license. She looked at her grandmother, who smiled. “Grandmama…you knew?”
Obāchan gave Julia’s mother a knowing smile and then tilted her head back and forth as she grinned at Julia.
Julia let the papers in her hand playfully drop on to the table. “Oh Grandmama, you are so bad!”
Her grandmother leaned over again, grabbed a gray bundle of fabric, and handed it to Julia.
The mothball smell was almost overwhelming, but Julia ran her hand over the coarse fabric, not sure what she held.
Her grandmother turned the pages back to the photo that the immigration officers had taken when Julia’s great-great-grandparents first met on the dock, pried the photo from the corner holders, and handed it to Julia.
Julia stared at it in disbelief. “Oh my gosh, Grandmama. This is the kimono that she wore the day she arrived.” Smell and all, Julia hugged it to her chest.
“Hai,” Grandmama’s eyes twinkled. She turned to the page showing the lineup of picture brides that included Julia’s great-great grandmother. Grandmama ran her hands over the red satin sash around her waist. “This is the sash she wore that day. I’m wearing my grandmother’s obi.”
Julia reached out to touch it. Then she turned and picked through the papers she’d dropped on the table.
“Grandmama, a translator at the National Archives wrote what the back of your grandmother’s photo says.
” She found the paper and read the translations.
“I don’t know what order all this belongs in, she said and read the list: Shimabara…
an area in Kyoto? Little sister? The flower and willow world? Yoshino tayū?”
Grandmama looked at Julia’s mother, who nodded, then she turned back to Julia, this time with a hint of sadness and seriousness in her eyes. Obāchan whispered in Japanese.
Julia looked back and forth from Grandmama to her mother, trying to understand. “Will someone help me out, please?” Julia said in frustration.
“Well, it’s complicated,” Julia’s mother said and looked at Grandmama.
“Yes, I am beginning to understand that,” Julia huffed.
“What we can ascertain is that Shibata Rikka lived…and worked…in the Shimabara district.”
“What do you mean ‘worked’?” Julia asked.
“Well…” Julia’s mother hesitated. She looked at Grandmama again, who nodded. “The flower and willow world refers to the hidden world of the geisha, the entertainment world.”
Julia sat back in her chair. “Shibata Rikka was a geisha girl?”
“We don’t say it like that,” Grandmama scolded.
“Geisha was an honored and prestigious profession, Julia,” her mother said.
“The problem lies in the fact, and this is what we don’t know…
the writing says she was imōto, little sister to Yoshino tayū.
All Geishas were raised and trained by an older sister.
That was customary. The questions come in with these characters,” Julia’s mother pointed to two Japanese characters. “These are the characters for tayū.”
“Tayū?” Julia asked.
Both Grandmama and Julia’s mother sighed in unison.
“Some believe the tayū were the highest class of oiran in Japan and known for their extensive training in arts, music, and dance.” Julia’s mother explained.
“That sounds pretty cool, but what are you not telling me?”
“Well…oiran were sex workers as well.”
Julia slumped in her chair. “Are you telling me my ancestor was a prostitute?” she demanded.
“NO!” Grandmama yelped and cut through the air with her hand. “No,” she said again.
“Like I said, it is complicated.” Julia’s mother said. “And…we just don’t know.”
“What do you know?”
“Shibata Rikka’s mother is Shibata Mizuki.”
Julia’s mother looked at her grandmother, who paged through the photo book again and stopped at a picture.
Julia stood to look at the black-and-white photo.
“This is Shibata Mizuki.” Grandmama said.
“Mizuki translates to water lily.” Julia’s mother said. “She is obviously Geisha.”
Julia stared at the beautiful woman in the picture with a white face and painted lips adorned with a fancy hair piece and a beautiful kimono. The girl in the photo returned an alluring stare.
“Incredible,” Julia said.
“My dear,” Grandmama said and clutched Julia’s hand. “Would you go to Japan and find out for me? Find what you can about this young girl for me.”
“Your dad and I have already talked, and we have plenty of miles to turn in for a free ticket,” Julia’s mother said, answering Julia’s as yet unasked question of how she could afford the trip. “And I’ll call my travel agent for hotel options.”
Julia searched her grandmother’s eyes. Grandmama had never asked anything of her before.
Yes, she’d had given up her bedroom at her parents’ insistence, but a trip to Japan?
Don’t they understand how much studying I have for medical school?
Time is getting short. If they want her to go to Japan, why had they already sent her on this week’s journey for information they already knew?
Julia felt heat rising up her neck. But when she saw a tear forming in her grandmother’s eye, all she could say was, “Yes, of course, Grandmama.” She brushed the tear from her cheek. “Obāchan, what makes you think Rikka was not...Oi…ron,” she tried remembering the word.
“Shibata Rikka’s father was samurai. It would be highly unusual,” she replied in a raspy voice.
Julia’s brow furled. “Are you telling me my ancestor was a samurai?”
Grandmama’s face turned stern. “Julia, my dear…you are samurai.”