Orchards (12 page)

and my mother emails

yokatta, ne?

good, right?

and my dad emails

wow!

and I think

yeah

to all three

I post some photos

for friends

then separately

email them to Lisa

W
hen Obon is over and

Kota has left and

we’ve taken down

the inside altar

and Koichi and I are taking down

the birdhouse altar

I murmur something like

until next year

but Koichi says
no

don’t say that

it seems the birdhouse altar

is used only for funerals

and the three Obon seasons

after a death

but never

when there is

not a death

in the family

now I remember thinking the altar

was a garden decoration

during that week we were here

for Jiichan’s funeral

and now I understand

why Baachan comes outside

to watch as Koichi and I

remove the greenery and

dismantle the wood sections

and now I know why

she sighs so

heavy

three years

since Jiichan’s death

over

he has truly

left us

if I were in New York

I would do like my Jewish cousins

with their relatives and

drape an arm over her shoulders

or take her hand

or give her a hug

but Kohama is not New York

and Baachan is not Jewish

and Baachan never

ever

hugs

she grunts

and fusses

and tells us to put the used greenery in the truck

and sweep the garden clean

where the altar stood

even though we know

and had already

started to do

just that

we resume work in the groves

thinning again the same groves

we were thinning in June

when I first arrived in Kohama

second pass

Uncle says

makes for sweeter fruit

less stress on the trees

so now we thin to get rid of

inferior fruit

scarred fruit

animal-damaged or

punctured fruit

any fruit unsuitable for market

but it seems a waste

so much good fruit

just tossed to the ground

so at the end of one day I ignore

Uncle’s frown

and gather
mikan

that aren’t rotten

or split

or drilled with beak holes

into a bin

after the dinner dishes

and under Baachan’s scowl

I squeeze the hard green fruits

juicing till my wrist and forearm ache

then add sugar

more

and more

and more sugar

far more sugar than Baachan wants to spare

for a drink

of discarded
mikan

but when I stir and pour

a glass for her

with ice cubes

even she admits

it’s better than lemonade

I take tiny glassfuls

to the others

and even set one

at the altar

for the ancestors

and you, too, Ruth,

if you’d like

a sip

A
fter thinning in the groves

all day one day

I come in from work

and on the table by the phone

lies a letter for me

not from my mother

or father

or Emi

but from Jake

friend
I say to Baachan

whose eyebrows are way up and

who I know

wants to know

who it’s from

she doesn’t say so but

later I know

she will also

want to know

what it says

after my bath

sitting on my futon

I read Jake’s words

on a half page of notebook paper

words that

stay with me

play over and over

in my head

even after
Physics and You

even after Newton’s prisms

even long after Yurie has turned off

the light

it’s good to know someone cares

I keep wishing I’d done more

like we do for my sister

even though that’s no guarantee

she won’t do what Ruth did

someday

I try not to hate Lisa

for what she did

but it’s hard

I try not to hate myself, too

I try not to hate all of us

for what we didn’t do

lying there

in the dark

I wonder if Jake’s list

of what we didn’t do

is the same as my list

which is

end the texting

talk with you

laugh with you

listen to you

include you

which seems so

basic and short

I keep thinking

there must be

something

else

in the morning Baachan

still has those eyebrows

way up

gives me extra work

shadows me

won’t let me go to the groves

keeps me with her

on the roof hanging laundry

in the gardens watering

on an errand to the tofu shop

like my very first days

in Kohama

she doesn’t ask

about the
friend
who wrote

doesn’t talk

about Jake’s letter

doesn’t mention it

all morning

but finally

as I rinse the rice for lunch

I tell her

who it’s from

and what it says

Baachan nods

and grunts

and mutters

and we eat lunch

and I go up to the groves

but when I come back down

end of the day

she says

shouldn’t you

maybe consider

telling this Jake boy

to write

to that girl
,

Lisa?

that night I check email

and with still no reply from Lisa

about my photos

I decide to do

what Baachan suggests—

write another letter to Jake

and tell him how quiet

Lisa has been

online

how I know she feels bad

how I think words

from him

might help

I start to write it out on paper

then turn on the computer

and this time

I send it by

email

then wait

okay

he emails back

in the morning, his night

nothing else

M
id-August

is the regular

Obon holiday

with most of Japan

off work and even Yurie

home two days

midweek

Uncle and Aunt keep working

saying

they’ve had their summer break

Kohama Obon

but Koichi and Yurie and I

are free to play

so we put mats, snorkels, masks, towels

and three of Baachan’s
bento
lunches

in Koichi’s car

blast music as we drive

down the west coast of the peninsula

curve after curve

of cliff

high above the sea

Yurie puts her hands in the air

and sways to the music

and the curves

I’ve never seen her

this way

relaxed

fun

acting young

we arrive at a crescent beach

edged by a village

of yellow and blue and red roofs

and backed by mountains

and flanked by craggy bluffs

on both sides

I think

I might just stay here forever

we change

then drop our bags onto

mats we set on the sand

and Koichi points to a float

takes his mark like the start of a race

says
yoi … don!

and we three fly to the water

charge

          splash forward

                 dive under

                        swim crawl

hard as we can

out to the float