“I don’t pretend I’m dead,” said Emi, moving over on the step to let her mother up. “I just rest my eyes. I’m recovering from tuberculosis, remember?”
“Of course,” said Keiko compassionately. “But I have seen you swim twenty laps in the pool, barely coming up for air, your legs kicking so strongly that your whole body is almost out of the water. So I was under the false assumption that your lungs were healed.”
“They work differently underwater,” Emi protested. “My gills must help. And who says I’m out here to socialize. It’s just a little less hot today. I thought I’d enjoy the weather.”
“You enjoy it then,” said her mother, putting her hand on Emi’s shoulder as she made her way inside.
Emi listened for the latch closing on the door and pushed her feet out into the sandy road. It was true that she hadn’t tried to make friends, but who was there to make friends with? She was one of the only women her age at Crystal City, too old for the school-aged crowd, yet not identifying with the young mothers, who were always trying to comfort their crying babies and little ones.
She knew that the high school children, especially the Niseis in the Federal School, did many things together, trying their best to pretend they were still out in the real world. She just didn’t have the heart to join them.
As Emi put her head down to avoid saying good evening to two older women walking past, she heard a voice very near her call out her name.
“I was wondering who lived there,” the man continued, his West Coast accent noticeable. Emi looked up and saw that it was her neighbor, a middle-aged man always dressed in ill-fitting clothes. She’d seen him sitting in front of the little house he shared with his wife and daughter many times. “I live right here. Right next to you,” he pointed out. “So close you can probably hear me snoring. I’m John Sasaki.”
“I’ve seen you before,” said Emi, offering him a tiny smile.
“And I’ve seen you before,” he said as he approached her, “but you’ve never stood still long enough to say hello, always running through the front door avoiding everyone. I didn’t want to be the one to interrupt your misery. But here you are, sitting happily tonight, so I dared to say hello.”
“Do you think I’m miserable?” Emi asked, looking up at him. She wondered if she should stand out of politeness. She started to and he motioned for her to stay where she was.
“Yes, I do think you are rather miserable. Am I wrong?” he said in a fatherly voice.
“Not exactly,” Emi said. She was looking at his hair, which was short and streaked white in the front. The streak was so even that it looked painted on. “I have been pretty miserable. I was supposed to be on the boat back to Japan in June last year with my father. But I came down with tuberculosis and my mother and I had to stay behind. We weren’t supposed to be interned.”
“None of us are supposed to be interned. We just are interned,” said John, tucking in the hem of his short-sleeved button-down shirt, which was sticking out on one side.
“Of course. It’s just that if I hadn’t contracted tuberculosis, I wouldn’t be here. Looking at all that.” Emi pointed out to the fence. She knew that none of them merited being locked away like they were, but she had felt like she and her mother’s circumstances were more unjust than most. It was a selfish way to think, she knew, but it was a thought that had looped around her brain since they arrived and no one had been able to stop it yet.
“No one likes that,” said her neighbor, pointing to the fence in turn. “But I don’t think you should be too desperate to sail off to a country at war, either.”
“Do you think it will be that bad in Japan? That dangerous?” she asked, leaning back on the stair above her.
“Yes, I do,” said John. “I think it will be worse than anyone can imagine. So don’t let that terrify you too much,” he said, nodding to the fence again. “My son is fighting right now,” he added. “Training to fight, anyway. He’s in Mississippi with the 442nd. That’s the all-Japanese-American combat team that was just formed.”
“All Japanese-American?” said Emi surprised. “Why would they want to fight against Japan?”
Both Emi and John stayed quiet for a moment as two guards walked past them, not bothering to greet any of the internees.
“Because they’re American,” said John when they’d passed. “Physical features do not ally you to one country or the other. It’s where you were raised, what you were taught to believe, don’t you think? And he, and I, think Japan is wrong in this war.”
Emi shrugged, not in the mood to get into a political discussion.
“It sounds very brave of your son,” she said tactfully. “Especially since the Americans put his family here. Does he speak Japanese?”
“A little,” said John. “But it won’t make too much of a difference. I’ve been told that they’ll head to Europe eventually.”
“Then I hope the war ends before your son is shipped over there,” she said, her voice quieting. “I was in Austria just before the war broke out. I would not want any of my loved ones to go there or anywhere else in Europe right now.”
“I have faith,” said John, and Emi noticed the small cross around his neck. Many of the Issei and Nisei, she noticed, were Christian. Some very devout.
“So tell me, Emiko Kato,” said John, sitting down next to her. “Why are you in such a good mood today when you’ve been so discomposed since you arrived here?”
Emi thought back to the way Christian had stared at her when they’d reached the swimming pool. As if he’d found something he’d been looking for for a long time.
“I don’t know. Something terrible happened today, actually. I shouldn’t be happy at all. I feel a little guilty that I am.” She looked up at John’s pleasant round face and said, “A pregnant woman on the German side was hit by one of the guards’ trucks and lost her baby. I was working at the hospital when it happened. The poor woman. She was screaming and screaming in pain.”
“I heard about that,” said John. “Another death in the camp when it should have been new life.” He looked at Emi and said, “That can’t be it then. So what happened after the baby died?”
“I suppose . . .” said Emi, her voice lingering as she thought about Christian’s glowing face when they’d spoken German together. “I suppose I helped cheer someone up after the baby died.”
“Sometimes the sullen are the best at cheering others up,” said John. “With the frown you’ve been carrying, I’m sure you were excellent at empathizing with his grief.”
“Did I say it was a him?” said Emi.
“Just a guess,” said John, taking a step back toward his house. “A word of advice: if you don’t try to make the best of a bad situation, you’ll never survive.”
“Fence sickness?”
“No. Just regret. Trust me. It’s worse.”
CHAPTER 9
CHRISTIAN LANGE
MARCH–APRIL 1943