The Purple Heart (2 page)

As Aiko walked home that
day, something that she normally would not do as she usually took the Metro,
her mind was in a quiet frenzy. As a child, one of the things about her
mysterious grandfather that did leak out was that his nickname was “Home Run.”
Her thoughts were scattered about, bouncing from one mental topic to another.
Was Joey’s picture a pure coincidence? Was there any truth to his picture? Did
Joey’s grandfather know her grandfather? The plain truth of the matter was that
she just didn’t know.

Before she knew it, she was
already walking up the steps to her apartment. She was startled by the
realization that she was already home and disappointed at the same time, as she
hoped that the long walk would give her mind more time to sort things out. It
did not. She shook off her momentary sense of bewilderment and decided to
ponder the thoughts later. She had a whole weekend to think about it. She
didn’t know if that was a good thing, since it would be two whole days before
she would see Joey again. But she had decided to do at least one thing, dreaded
as it may seem: She was going to call her father later that night.

Aiko jiggled the key into
the keyhole to coax the lock to turn properly. She walked up the flight of
steps to the second floor, where her little sphere of the world was. Again, she
fumbled with the lock to her apartment until the tired old lock finally gave
way and allowed the door to swing open on hinges that yearned for some oil.

She entered the large
living room with a bay window overlooking the street and flung her coat and
purse onto the hallway chair, stepped out of her pumps, as she took her workbag
with her. The adjoining dining room had a table cluttered with stacks of schoolwork
that usually forced her to eat in the kitchen.

She headed to the bookcases
where she eyed her target. It was resting horizontally on the top shelf. She
dropped her bag to the side, placed the fingertips of her left hand on one of
the shelves to steady herself and then reaching upward on her tiptoes, she used
her fingertips to nudge the thick photo album onto her hand.

Grabbing her bag with one
hand and balancing the album in the other, she made her way to the coffee table
and laid everything out. Her mind was racing. The thoughts she momentarily
brushed aside rushed back in like an open floodgate. What was she going to
find, or would she find anything? Her family rarely talked about her
grandfather, and it was always a taboo topic, always changed or stopped in its
tracks with a stern look from her father. But that day the stern look of her
father wasn’t there to stop her curiosity. Rather, it was reignited by a
child’s drawing.

She sat on her knees on the
floor, between the sofa and the coffee table. It was one of her favorite places
for sitting, a place and position she used a lot in her own quiet time. It was
only half past three, more than enough time before she had to meet Cat.

She pulled the album toward
her and carefully removed a folded piece of paper from her bag. It was Joey’s
drawing, which she conveniently copied using the school’s color copier. She
reexamined the drawing further, taking in the entire drawing once again. A
sudden sense of sadness fell over her, since the scene presumably showed her
grandfather lying on the ground, bleeding, as he was killed. She didn’t know if
he died quickly or whether or not he was in pain. But it consoled her that he
wasn’t alone, since Joey’s grandfather was trying to apply a bandage. She
remembered what Joey said earlier that day: “My grandfather said that war is
awful and too many men died. Including his best friend, and he becomes really
sad when he thinks about it.” Was her grandfather Joey’s grandfather’s best
friend? If so, then maybe he knew what happened to him in the war and why her
grandfather was such a family secret.

She touched the drawing of
her grandfather with her fingertips, almost wanting to make a connection, to
feel the last moments of the grandfather she never knew. But she then conceded
some doubt that the fallen soldier may not even be her grandfather but she
wanted it to be, so badly. She carefully placed the drawing aside, and brushed
back her hair. The album was bounded leather, with the Japanese character for
“family” etched into it, something her mother and grandmother had made together
for her when she left for college.

Without further hesitation,
Aiko began slowly flipping through the pages. The photos were of her family
from her childhood all the way up to her high school graduation. The photos
brought a smile to her face. But it wasn’t until toward the end of the album
where the photos that may begin to unravel her family mystery could be found.
Or so she hoped. One was a picture of her grandmother with Aiko’s father
standing behind her, with his hand reassuringly on her shoulder. Other family
members flanked them on each side. Aiko’s father was an only child, born during
the Japanese American internment.

Then a picture of a wooden
barrack, set back against a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire appeared.
It was part of her history as a Japanese American. Japanese Americans were
thrown into wartime suspicion as collaborators with the imperial army of Japan
after it bombed Pearl Harbor more than sixty years ago.

A few more pages documented
the daily life at the internment camp until they gave way to only pictures of
the abandoned internment camp. There was even a picture of a baseball diamond,
which gave Aiko fleeting hope that she might at least catch one picture of her
grandfather, but there was none. She flipped the page once more and came upon a
picture of a younger woman, probably in her early twenties. She donned an
old-fashioned hairstyle but very feminine for that time. Her cheeks and her
eyes were full of life. Aiko realized that the photo was of her grandmother.
She was awestruck at her grandmother’s classic beauty. There were additional
photos where her grandmother was with her own parents, Aiko’s great-grandparents.
Aiko then saw her grandmother holding a little baby, and she knew that the baby
was her father.

Finally, she came to the
end. She was disappointed to not find any pictures of her grandfather. She
folded the back of the leather album onto the last page and then turned the
entire album over as the Japanese character for family stood out from the
album. “Family,” she thought. How can it be a true family album if not everyone
was in it?

As she pondered her
thoughts, the muffled ring of her cell phone could be heard from the hall,
where she left her purse. Aiko walked briskly down the hall, pulled out her
cell phone and saw that it was Cat.

“Hi Cat? What? I can’t hear
you. Hold on, let me move over to the window.” Aiko walked to the bay window in
her living room. “Can you hear me now?” asked Aiko.

“Much better,” replied Cat.
“Are you ready yet? You know I want to pick you up at six o’clock sharp.”

“Ready? It’s only…” Aiko
looked at her watch and realized, to her surprise, that it was already half
past five. “Oh my God, it’s five-thirty! I totally lost track of time.”

“See, it’s a good thing I
called. Look, why don’t you get ready and I’ll come get you.”

“Sounds good Cat, I’ll see
you soon. Bye,” said Aiko as she made her way into the bedroom, as she untucked
her white blouse.

Cat came down the street in
her black sports car, which was clean on the outside but notoriously messy on
the inside. Fashion magazines were strewn about the back seat along with empty Pellegrino
bottles on the floor. She came to a screeching halt in front of Aiko’s
apartment and honked the horn. While she waited, she pulled down the vanity
mirror to check her lipstick and made sure there wasn’t any on her front teeth.
A man who was passing by on the sidewalk looked at Cat curiously and she took
notice. Cat bent her head down a bit and looked at him through the partially
open passenger window. “What? You got a problem with a girl checking her
makeup?” she said. The man looked away and hurried off. Under her breath, she
said smugly, “I thought so,” as she went back to the vanity mirror to fluff her
hair.

That’s when she heard the
front door of Aiko’s building open. With her usual smile, Aiko came down the
short flight of steps in a pair of slim fitting jeans with a pink cashmere
sweater and black high heels. Instead of her black swing coat, she wore a black
waist-length jacket that showed off her figure. She bounded over to Cat’s car,
opened the passenger door and hopped into the front seat.

“Hey, hon. Don’t you look
sweet tonight?” said Cat, as she flipped the visor back into its position.

“And you look scandalously
delicious as ever,” said Aiko, noticing that Cat had changed into a pair of
leather pants, a lacy red top that showed just enough cleavage, finished off
with a pair of tall high heels.

“Why thank you, hon. I’m
hoping a particular someone will notice as well,” replied Cat.

Cat put her car into gear
and started down the street as she turned up the music to liven up the ride.
Aiko pushed herself back into the soft leather seat. She turned to her friend
and saw that she was humming to the music, and every now and then, her head
would cock ever so amusingly to the left and right, in sync with the music’s
beat. That was Cat, always living for the moment and searching for bliss, no
matter how elusive it was. She was definitely the sexy, feisty, free spirit.
Cat had definitely earned her nickname.

They promptly arrived at
Cat’s favorite Italian restaurant. Aiko and Cat exited the car and the keys
were tossed to the valet, who smiled at Cat. Cat knew everyone and acted like
she owned the place. The doorman opened the restaurant door for the two young
women.

Vic, the maitre d’, who was
in his usual tuxedo, saw Cat walking in. It was unmistakable; her bold strides
spoke of a nonchalant, sexy, confidence topped off with a sliver of arrogance.
Vic loved it, and greeted her with open arms. He then greeted Aiko in similar
fashion and told them that their table would be ready momentarily and steered
them toward the bar.

Aiko and Cat settled in on
a couple of leather bar stools and Cat quickly excused herself to visit the
ladies’ room. Aiko smiled and turned her attention to the bar and grabbed the
cocktail menu. As her eyes glanced over each delicious concoction, a man’s
voice came from behind.

“
Ni hao
,” said the
man. Aiko rolled her eyes in annoyance. She knew all too well this cheesy
attempt at a pick-up line. She decided to ignore him, but the voice got a bit
closer and louder as the man said once more, “
Ni hao
.” Aiko looked up
from the cocktail menu and seeing that Cat was nowhere in sight, she took a
deep breath and turned toward the man.

The man smiled back at Aiko
as a wisp of his dirty blondish hair fell off to one side. He was well dressed
with his navy sports coat, khaki dress pants and a white button-down collar
Oxford dress shirt. He had already presumptuously placed his left hand on the
back of Aiko’s chair and was already leaning in a bit toward Aiko. His blue
eyes creepily stared at Aiko as his grin belied his sincerity.

Aiko did not smile at him
and quickly glanced at the hand on the back of her chair. She then looked up
and simply said, “I don’t speak Chinese and I’m not interested.”

The rebuff did not deter
the man as he then said, “
An yung ha sae yo
.”

Aiko stared at him in
disbelief and then simply blurted out, “First off, I speak English, since you didn’t
notice when I first told you that I wasn’t interested. Secondly, just because
I’m an Asian American woman doesn’t mean I will be easily wooed by you just
because you are speaking to me in Chinese, then Korean, or any other Asian
language. So for the last time, please go away.”

Other patrons at the bar
along with the bartender couldn’t help looking in Aiko’s direction as the
situation unfolded before them. The man looked at Aiko and seemingly unfazed,
sought to ease Aiko’s agitation and continued, “Hey, I was just trying to be
friendly. I thought you Asian women liked it when us Americans speak Asian. Why
don’t you let me buy you…”

Before the man could
finish, a familiar man’s voice came from behind and simply and sternly said,
“The lady asked you to leave and she’s not interested.”

The annoying man smiled at
Aiko and gestured at her to give him a moment as he straightened up. He then
spun around to confront the man who came to Aiko’s rescue and stammered, “Yeah?
You and what army?”

The annoying man found
himself staring at Tom’s broad chest as Tom stood several inches taller than he
did. He stared at the black silk-screened image of an eagle atop a globe
emblazoned across his grayish T-shirt. Tom responded, “U.S. Marine Corps
actually,” as he stared down at the man.

The dirty blond, obviously
flustered, took a step back, cleared his throat a couple of times as he
straightened out his sports coat. Without looking at Aiko, he sheepishly turned
and walked away. Aiko, who couldn’t help herself, waved at him and said, “
Sayonara
!”

Both Aiko and Tom looked at
each other and gave out a laugh, and it was clear that Aiko was glad to see
Tom. He leaned in as Aiko gave him a warm hug from her seat and she gave a few
pats for good measure on the back of his camel-colored sports coat. Tom stepped
back to Aiko’s side and with a smile she said, “Thanks for the backup.”