Angel of Okinawa; Chapter 6

 

Angel of Okinawa; Chapter 6

© 2024 by Amber Wright

“Thanks, Angel.” Derek gripped my hand, staring at me as if lost in thought.

“For what?” I was even more confused.

I hadn’t really planned on taking thanks for showing him the way. He wasn’t welcome in the least for that. I pulled back my hand.

“For saving my life.” Derek picked a palm leaf off its branch and twisted it absently.

I shrugged. “Probably saved my own, too.”

“Why’s that?” Derek turned back to stare at me, sweat trickling down his tanned forehead.

I looked away and squinted my eyes in the bright sunlight. “The soldiers might’ve shot me for spy—me being American and all—showing an American the shortcut and secret route to the airport.” I took a deep breath, thankful no natives were around to hear me.

I started walking again.

Derek grabbed my elbow and faced me with a gaping stare. “You’re American?”

“Yes.” Suddenly I felt like I was floating.

Stop it, Angel!

I stepped around him and led the way again.

Which side of the war did I belong to anyhow? It was as if I was fighting against myself. My flesh seemed to speak for my native Okinawans, and yet my blood was American.

Derek silently followed me back to the yard.

I glanced back at him a few times, but still he said nothing. He seemed lost in thought.

I focused my eyes onto Meema's back yard and frowned. Soldiers were setting up tents and laughing in a way which I would call too jolly for such a time. Right then Derek noticed, too.

“Guess we’ll be seeing more of each other,” he pointed to the guys, tents and gear. “See?”

“I see, and you all better behave.” I said in a growl with a scowl, and felt a howl inside for I knew there could be no more privacy until they left. Bugs!

“We will,” Derek promised.

“And no ruts in our yard or no messing up our garden!” I added firmly, giving my loose white kerchief one tight yank on my head.

“We’ll try.” Derek smirked as he joined the guys setting up tents.

I ran up the back steps into our latticed porch and fumed inside when I found more soldiers drinking Meema’s homemade orange punch.

I flung the back door open and made a quick escape into the bedroom we girls shared.

I sunk to the floor with a sob and bitterly gave a muffled cry, “Those stupid invaders!”

^{· · ·}

Supper was a silent one for the six of us as we sat there in our cool, dim dining room on our cushions, eating cross legged.

English speaking voices echoed from outside.

They were everywhere, it seemed. Outside in tents or on the grass. In our latticed back porch.

We sat in dulled silence.

Our area of Okinawa had been taken.

We were in the hands of our invaders now.

Our wooden chopsticks clacked against our teeth as we ate and our glasses of orange punch slowly lowered as we drank.

And our plates emptied of its brown rice with beans and chicken, slices of bananas, and sweet rice pudding.

We were lucky.

We still had a huge supply of food from last harvest and our chicken coop, nestled behind our garden in a mass of vines for camouflage, kept us supplied with fresh eggs and fresh chicken.

As I ate on my red cushion in silence, my thoughts went back to the first time I could ever remember of my life.

Learning how to walk.

I didn’t even talk then, except for my famous “Meema” and a grunt or two, but I could still remember as if it were yesterday…

14 years ago

Meema held me by my hands and let me take a couple steps and pulled her fingers away.

“Now little Angel, you must trust your own legs to carry you. Meema won’t always be there when you want to walk.”

I stared up at her, trying to understand.

“One little step, my sweet little Angel,” Meema coaxed.

I kept staring at her, blinking.

I watched her back up a few steps and stretch her arms out to me.

“Come, Angel.” Meema smiled. “Come to Meema.”

I moved my right foot forward.

Then I lost my balance.

In the middle of a terrified whine, I felt my fingers touch the floor.

I hadn’t really fallen.

I pushed myself back up on my two little arms and smiled in triumph. Meema was smiling back at me and I felt a little more ready to try again.

I moved my feet again.

And again.

And again until I realized that I was walking—I was really walking.

I was so excited that I took off waddling faster.

Then—SPLAT.

I fell right on my nose and felt it wiggle on the wood floor. I began screaming, more from fright than from the pain.

What happened to my nose?

Meema rushed over and picked me up. “Shh, Angel. You’ll be alright. Don’t cry. Meema’s proud of you. It only took one step and you were walking...”

I smiled in remembrance. It only took one step to do something great.

^{· · ·}

Stop thinking about her, Derek. Your heart isn't even healed since your last girlfriend. Man! But I was feeling less dead now.

For months now, all I'd felt was a big lump of stone inside me.

I tried my best to die.

I tried to get in the line of the most firing when the battles were going.

I hoped our ship would explode.

But now, did I want to stay alive?