Chapter Fourteen Violet #2
I’m more confused than ever. Is Akira not truly his name? But then, why would he hide his true name? Akira wants me to free him. It wouldn’t make sense for him to obscure helpful information. Unless…there was a reason.
“Do you know any lore about learning a god’s true identity?” I imagine I must sound very strange to Mrs. Hata, but she seems to enjoy the conversation.
“I can’t say there’s any off the top of my head, but it does make me think about a fairy tale, which is similar to a myth,” she says.
“Which one?”
“ ‘Rumpelstiltskin.’ Do you know it? The miller had to learn an imp’s name to save his daughter, and Rumpelstiltskin said it every night around a fire in the woods. Learning his name was powerful and binding.”
“Yes…” I trail off, pondering. “It is similar.”
“I’ll let you know if I think of any others. By the way, I have an opportunity for you,” Mrs. Hata says. “I could use help in the library, and it might be good experience if you want to get a part-time job while you’re at college. Would you like to volunteer there after class?”
“A part-time job at college?” I pause. “Even if I graduate high school, colleges aren’t accepting students like me.”
“Have you heard of the National Japanese American Student Relocation Council?” Mrs. Hata is undeterred.
“It’s a newly formed organization that’s exploring options for Japanese American students who wish to pursue higher education.
I suggest staying the course so when the time comes you’ll be ready. ”
When the time comes. People talk all the time about when we’ll get to go home, and the adults are always desperate for the newspapers so they can track the war.
Some men in the kitchen have secretly wired a shortwave radio to get signals, and word of the broadcasts spread like wildfire.
But even the best predictions say we’ll be here for another year or so. We’ve already been here for two months.
Time here is different. Minutes, hours, days. They take longer. A year back home would pass quickly, in tempo with life’s fast rhythms. But there is no rhythm at camp. There’s only one static note, and it stretches on and on.
“Yes, I’d like to volunteer at the library,” I say, and Mrs. Hata gives a nod, pleased with my response. I’m not just doing it to build work experience. I’ll do it to pass the time.
Class concludes shortly after, and I pick up my crate to carry home. My mind returns to Akira, Rumpelstiltskin, and rituals. Then I see someone I recognize. It’s Ren’s friend, the one with green eyes.
I can’t help myself. I catch up to him as he steps outside.
“Kai, right?” He’s in a different group than me in school, but I’ve heard others saying his name. He grins, as though he likes the sound of it. I’ve noticed that he sometimes wears a bandanna tied around his forehead, but he always takes it off for class.
“That’s right. You’re Ren’s girlfriend.” The grin becomes mischievous, and I have the sense he’s teasing Ren in absentia.
“Not quite.” I think about Ren’s sullen, sad eyes and how awful it was when he realized his father was dead. He seemed so angry, but it was a trapped anger, as though it had nowhere to go. “I was wondering how he is.”
“Oh, you know Ren,” Kai replies with a shrug, as though that explains everything.
“I’m not sure I do.” I think about how I messed everything up. I don’t know if Ren will give me another chance. I don’t think he gives them easily or often, if ever.
“Hey, you should come to the Star Festival tonight. Ren is going to be there.” I’m immediately excited.
Otōsan loves Tanabata, and I do, too. Growing up, I always loved hearing the tragic and romantic tale behind it—about two lovers, Orihime and Hikoboshi, doomed and separated for eternity.
They are only able to see each other once a year, when their stars align and they use the Milky Way as a bridge to reach each other.
I could use a magical bridge just about now.
One I could cross to find Ren on the other end.
Nervousness conflicts with desire. Kai continues, “He’s not the most festive type, but his sister is feeling better, so he’s gonna walk her over.”
“Emiko?”
“Yes.” His tone has an odd note, enough to make me survey him closer. There’s a defensiveness to it. He reminds me of Ren, who’s always protective of Emi and ready to shield her from any judgment. I like Kai more than I first did.
“I’m glad she’s feeling better.”
“Me too.” The grin returns. He doesn’t seem like the sort to ever stay down for long. “Main party is held at San-shi-en Garden, but some of the guys and I are gonna make a bonfire in the firebreak across the way. You in, Miss America?”
I smile, too. “I’ll see you then.”
San-shi-en Garden is one of the most beautiful spots in Manzanar.
At this point, I dare say it’s more impressive than Griffith Park.
Green grass runs up and down graduating slopes and a waterfall pours into the pond.
Several festival lanterns light the area.
Colorful streamers hang from young, newly planted saplings, and a bamboo wish tree is erected in the middle. Wishes, cut like tags, are tied to it.
Children, up past their bedtime, run around and adults laugh and talk. I told Mama I was going to the festival with a girl my age. After demanding the name of the girl—a generic name I made up on the spot—and making me promise to be home by ten, she finally agreed, and I felt like I could breathe.
Music fills the air. Instruments thrum. A guitar, a koto, a violin, a ukulele, and a shakuhachi play together. It sounds beautiful. Dancers perform the Tanabata Ondo on the grass, their movements graceful and their hands and heads moving in perfect unison.
I turn in a slow circle, mesmerized.
The light from the watchtower crashes through the area, but otherwise you can’t tell we’re imprisoned here. You’d almost think we were all home, celebrating in the streets of Little Tokyo.
Across the way, I see Kai’s bonfire. It’s paltry—nothing more than a small, very contained fire in a makeshift circle of rocks.
I’m sure the guards would snuff out anything bigger.
Everyone is terrified of fire because of the climate, and the wooden buildings are the equivalent of dry tinder.
Back home, we used to have bonfires on the beach.
The boys would feed it until it was a beacon of fire, reaching over eight feet tall.
It would flicker and crack like a hungry, angry monster while the ocean roared, the flames licking the night sky and the waves forming ragged tendrils on the wet sand.
I always felt so wildly alive there and protected, as though the fire monster could ward off the ancient beings deep within the sea.
I make my way over to the firepit. Kai sits on a crate.
A girl is next to him, wrapped in a blanket despite the heat.
It must be Emiko, who I’ve only seen one other time, when we first arrived.
They’ve found her a chair. Ren sits on her other side, but from the angle of my approach his back is to me, and I can’t see him properly.
It’s like he’s always obscured, the world for once helping him be exactly as he wishes. Unobservable.
A few other guys and girls sit and stand by the fire, and a flask is being passed around. Its reflective surface flickers red in the firelight as hands reach for it and heads tilt back to drink. Kai takes a long swig and holds it out to Ren. He shakes his head no.
“Hey, Violet!” Kai spies me. He nudges Ren. “Scoot over. Let her sit with you.”
Ren looks up over his shoulder at me. Our eyes meet.
I’ve seen him in many lights—moonlight, daylight, even drenched in the searchlight’s beam.
Each one transforms him. It’s like seeing the same subject painted with different colors.
Firelight is no exception. Red and orange mixes with thick black, warping his features into a dynamic, flickering mask.
He’s startled I’m here. Surprise makes the shadows jump and twist across his face.
Instead of scooting over so I can sit with him on his crate, he stands, steps to the side, and stares down into the fire.
Most would probably think he was being chivalrous, but I know better.
I sit down, unable to tear my eyes from Ren.
“You warm enough, mi amiga?” Kai asks, unaware that I don’t want space. Or at least not space from Ren.
“I am,” I say, and then glance at him with curiosity. “Your mother is Hispanic, right?”
“Sí!” Kai flashes a broad, confident smile. “I bet I’m the first conquistador samurai you’ve ever met.”
“Do you speak Spanish?” I ask, intrigued.
“Sí!” Kai repeats with the same gusto.
“All he speaks are a few curses,” Emi tells me with a laugh. Her face is drawn, but her eyes sparkle, as alive as the spinning stars overhead. “Otherwise he just adds ito or ita onto words.”
“That’s not true, senorita liar…ita,” Kai protests. “I also know how to ask where the bathroom is.”
“Dónde está el bano?” Ren interjects, speaking for the first time. Even though he’s joking, my heart tightens at the sound of his voice. “Yeah, everyone knows that.”
Kai pointedly ignores Ren and turns to me.
“Manzanar Manhattan, mi amor?” Kai holds the flask out to me. Sweet, pungent fumes lace Kai’s breath and rise from the flask. I wince.
“That smells like it could kill a horse. No thank you.”
“More for me, then!” He takes another long drink and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Remember you’re going to have to walk home,” Emi says, glancing at me, and shakes her head in exasperation.
“And remember your dad is going to be there when you arrive,” Ren adds. He still hasn’t looked at me. I try to gauge how he’s doing simply from his face, but it’s impossible. Kai, sufficiently frightened by Ren’s reminder, screws the cap on the flask.