Angel of Okinawa; Chapter 2

 

Angel of Okinawa; Chapter 2

© 2024 by Amber Wright

I greeted the strange man as cordial as possible—but I knew I must have had the face of a blank piece of paper.

I felt just like one.

Blank.

For once in my lifetime I was glad for the strict Japanese rules! Children in one company; adults in another.

I happily left the front porch very soon after meeting the man. I was still fifteen and so still considered a child.

Whew!

I dropped my package of American books on my pallet on the floor in us girls’ bedroom.

Please God, help me not to have to endure another awful stepfather!

Or another funeral.

Please!

Three year-old Dai woke up from her nap and climbed out of her pallet to me, crying.

I took her in my arms.

“What is it, Sweetheart?” I asked her, rocking her in my lap on my pallet.

“Bad dream.” Dai said between jerky breaths. “Loud. Bad.”

“Shh.” I rocked her back and forth, stroking her straight black hair. I asked brightly, “Do you want some pineapple?”

Dai stopped crying and smiled big. “Yes!”

“Come on then,” I stood up and lifted Dai on my hip.

As we crossed the living room, I could hear voices from the front porch.

The windows were open and a cool breeze blew in. Evening was coming on.

I heard the man mumble something.

And Meema said quietly, “I’ll pray about it, and I’ll have to talk to my girls, too.”

Brother!

I hurried to step inside the kitchen.

Not another funeral—oh why!

Why can’t things just be left the way they are?

But I won’t argue or stop it. I’ll let Meema’s blood daughters speak for us all.

I sat Dai on the counter in the kitchen and bent over to open the little cooler where we store our day-to-day eaten fruits and milk.

The rest of the fruits, vegetables, butter, cheese, etc. are in the cellar below us.

It was so primitive, looking back to this time, but things don’t matter when you know it’s all you’ve got.

“Eat carefully.” I told Dai.

Dai reached her little brown hands out to grab the pineapple pieces I had cut for her.

“Eat one at a time.”

Dai started eating her pineapple.

I stood there patiently, still trying to listen to what Meema and the strange man were saying. There was only muffled voices and mumbling.

Sigh!

Dai looked up at me with startled brown eyes. I smiled back at her and ruffled her little pig-tails, and she continued eating.

^{· · ·}

Here I am again—at another wedding.

The ceremony was small and simple in the Okinawan fashion.

Meema was to be married again—the fifth time. I thought all this wedding stuff was over but I guess it wasn’t just yet.

Would there be another funeral?

I hoped not, but it did look pretty likely since Meema’s husband-to-be was a soldier. He was a Christian and a good man, thank goodness! I don’t think I could’ve endured it otherwise.

“I want Meema,” Dai whimpered on my hip.

I quieted her as we stood in the back yard of our house. The preacher was now having them join their hands.

I sucked in my breath.

Ruri gave me a frown.

Meema's oldest daughter, sixteen year-old Ruri, was the first to agree to Meema’s marriage, and I simply agreed.

This Hwang guy may not have been my idea of handsome but he was sweet. Maybe a little too quiet for my likes but at least he seemed a decent sort of person.

“I now pronounce you man and wife,” the little preacher smiled happily.

I stifled a laugh when Dai started exclaiming at Meema and Hwang giving their ceremony kiss.

“Meeeema,” Dai pointed to them and spoke in an accusing tone, eyes frowning.

“Shh!” I hissed and Dai covered her eyes with both her hands, shaking her pig tails.

I shook with laughter but managed to keep it silent. The rest of the ceremony ended.

The evening passed in a whirl.

People hovered around our yard like a swarm of bees, buzzing back and forth, all chatting.

I barely managed to keep my feet out of everyone’s way, and laughed every chance I got. With the news of the war coming close, I had to lighten the day somehow.

News of the U. S. Army’s advance just hit us yesterday and I was a bit uneasy.

^{· · ·}

U.S. Marines Base

The battle of Iwo Jima was over and its blood and gore didn't even phase me. We'd gained control over the Japanese island February 23^rd and that was all that mattered.

Ever since Christmas, I feel like there's this big huge hole inside me, slowly ripping me apart and there's nothing I can do about it.

It was my birthday and my girlfriend broke up with me. Said she'd found a bigger, better man than me.

Apparently, I hadn't proposed to her on Christmas Day and she was all upset. I mean, come on! Christmas was my 17^th birthday. Like I really want to settle down just yet. That's crazy!

I joined the Marines the next day. I was 17 and legal. And I wanted to die.

“Derek Penn!” somebody was shouting at me and I crawled out of the tent to face the glaring sun overhead.

I knew. It was time to invade another little Japanese island. Maybe I'll die there, rest in peace.