Orchards (5 page)

Baachan outfits me—

smock

wrist covers

gloves

baggy pants

and a huge

flower-print

bonnet

with visor

and neck ruffle

I complain

but she won’t stand

for my Yankees cap, a gift

from my dad one summer

not enough coverage

Baachan says and

double-knots

the bonnet ties

under my chin

very first time in that getup

I take a picture

email it to my mother

and the next week

in a packet

in the mailbox

is an all-sport sun hat

that Koichi and Uncle

covet

I ask my mother to send two more

which she does

express

but Baachan says the hats were wasteful

scowls through dinner

the day they are delivered

interrupts

to change the subject

if anyone

dares

ask me a question or

draw me into

conversation

upstairs

Yurie tells me not to worry

I expect her to go on

say

Baachan’s a stubborn old fool

or something in my defense

but she sides with her

says

Baachan’s lived through hard times

in a farm household

where nothing is thrown out

everything recycled

and no item purchased

          unless absolutely necessary

I roll my eyes

but Yurie frowns

says

it’s due to Baachan’s ways

that the farm’s a success

that she could study pharmacology

that Koichi could specialize

in agricultural mechanical technology

that Uncle could purchase additional lands

that they could open their home

this summer

to me

in the bath

I fume

and sulk

and curse you, Ruth,

for sticking me here

with cheapskate relatives

and ancestors always hovering

in the altar

and I wonder

how will I make it through

nearly two more months

in this village

so far from everything?

Y
ou’d think the way they talk

and don’t talk about certain things

around here that it was

my father’s fault

my mother left the farm

but she’d decided sometime

in her last year of high school

she would study abroad

so when she failed

her college entrance exams

instead of studying to take them again

she took a job

at the district agricultural office

that she could cycle to

from the farm

and for two years

saved

her money

then, despite Baachan’s

and Jiichan’s protests

despite warnings

from aunts, uncles

and villagers

but with encouragement

from an escapee cousin

in Queens

she flew to New York

moved in with three

other Japanese

taking advantage of

the late-eighties

bubble-era

crazy days

of plenty

of yen

she took classes at a

community college and

worked at a Japanese restaurant

where she rose to rank of hostess

and learned to wear kimono

and walk and bow and hold herself

like farm girls generally don’t

and where she seated my father

at the same street-facing window table

for lunch every

Sushi Fair! Wednesday

his routine escape

from the rigors

of law school

it wasn’t his fault that

as he gathered his notes

from the tabletop one afternoon

she confided in him

that someday she, too

hoped to attend

university

to study what?
he’d asked

plant science
she’d hastily replied

then laughed

suddenly

wildly

hysterically

what’s so funny?
he’d asked

I grew up on a farm!
she said

so?
he said

I’m here in New York
she said

so?
he said

no green! no plants!
she said

and because he didn’t get the joke

that by then had her clutching her

obi-bound sides

he’d asked her

if she would join him

for brunch

in Brooklyn

on Sunday

which is when she first had

an everything bagel

with cream cheese

and lox

here in Kohama

no one says so but I know

they blame my father

for taking my mother

but my mother says it

was the fault of the lox

that after she ate the lox

bit through the softness of

salmon with slivers of onion

she looked at this man

my father

and listened

to everything he had to say

about anything

understanding only

one quarter of what he had to say

about anything

but those were the days

before U.S. orange imports into Japan

when village
mikan
brought in good money

and Jiichan was able to lure my mother home

with promises rare for a fourth daughter

that he had yen left over

to help her start a business

that he would purchase land

for hothouses

for her

so my mother

understanding at last

her love for plants

and growing things,

and thinking she owed her father gratitude,

and thinking my father

          a law student who loved

          not plants but

          ideas and debate

didn’t fit her future,

returned to Kohama

worked at the agricultural office again

harvested
mikan

and planned a business raising

salad greens and heirloom vegetables

even now when we’re walking

through the village

Baachan sometimes says

your mother planned to put her

first hothouses here

or

your mother had her eyes

on that plot there

or

that man standing over there

had planned to ask your mother

to marry him

but within a year

after passing the bar exam

my father caught a plane to Narita

found his way to the city of Numazu

took a bus to this
mikan
district

arrived

in Kohama

unannounced

unknown

asking at the gasoline stand

owned by my grandfather’s brother

for the home of

Sachiko Mano

Emi and I always loved the tale

the daring

the nerve

but Jiichan and Baachan

never forgave the surprise

of this man

who our mother

had never mentioned

to anyone in Kohama

until he appeared

in the driveway

and dropped to one knee

speaking words of English

even Baachan understood

even Jiichan guessed

and words of Japanese

he’d practiced for weeks

in night classes

they married three weeks later

held a party paid for

from my father’s savings

in Kohama’s village hall

followed several months after that

by a quiet ceremony

and brunch reception

in Brooklyn

with bagels and lox

they moved to the far suburbs

of New York City

upstate

they joked

to buy a small house with

enough land for plots

of Asian vegetables

I arrived

after hothouses had been built

soil was compost rich

Sachi’s Farm
had been born

and my mother was marketing her first

Japanese pumpkins and edible luffa

Emi followed

in the year the daikon grew

long as two-year-old me

visits from New York

back to Kohama

started when I was three

but by age seven

I could tell

things were strained—

us staying

not at this house

not with Jiichan and Baachan

Aunt, Uncle and first cousins Koichi and Yurie

but in homes of second cousins

and once, even

an inn

not till the start of Jiichan’s cancer

when my mother tutored us

for months before

bringing us over

to help

to behave

and make amends

not until then

did we sleep at this house

did we get treated like family

did Jiichan have a good thing to say

about my father

or Emi

or me

that was when Jiichan

on his good days

taught me how to dig clams

for soup

how to sharpen a knife

on a stone

and clean and scale

aji
fish by the pump

in the driveway