Shard of Glass | Page 5

left after just a few weeks, traveling
by ferry and local train to one of the most remote areas in Japan: the
Kerama islands, just to the west of Okinawa's main island. The war had
ravaged this place, you could see it in the faces of the women in hitched
kimonos who hacked at the sugar cane or in the occasional mortar that
washed up on the rocky beaches. My mom found a job as a
housekeeper in the only hotel on the islands--not a hotel, really, just a
modest two-floor inn with Japanese-style furnishings and a window

where the locals liked to pick up their lunches. Almost despite
ourselves, we began to settle into a routine, reassemble our lives from
the pieces my mom had scattered that day she picked me up from
school. The line between my mom's eyebrows never entirely
disappeared, but as the weeks passed and she began to hope that we
were finally safe, I saw her begin to smile again. Once in a while, I
would catch her staring out at one of the magnificent island sunsets, her
nappy hair ruffling in the wind, and I would be reminded once again of
how beautiful she was. Even here, in this island in the middle of
nowhere, she stood like a woman who wouldn't quite forget that she
had once been a glamour queen.
The main school was on our island, but my mother thought it was too
dangerous for the other kids to get to know me, even here. So I stayed
behind, often helping Sato-san, the owner's wife, batter and fry the fish
and vegetables for lunch. In the mornings, I would wake up early and
go with her husband (also Sato-san, which sometimes got confusing) to
the docks, where we would wade in the water up to our thighs with
buckets to catch the crabs as they ran in from the tide. On our way back
we bought the first catch from the fishermen and then hauled it all back
to the inn on a rickety wheelbarrow. My mom didn't speak more than
she had to, but I had been starved for conversation for months and my
Japanese soon became fluent.
The Satos had two boys, one six and the other about my age. On
weekends, their father would take us out on his small rowboat and we
would sit for hours, catching fish. The boys had been afraid of me at
first, but after a few weeks it seemed that they had forgotten I was a
foreigner, let alone an American. Koichi and I would run around the
island together, with Yuki tagging along behind when we let him. We
found all of the island's secrets--the grottos with the best crabs, the
beach with the deepest water, the cliff where you could sometimes see
the humps of huge whales arcing above the waves at sunset and dawn.
And then, one day, Koichi and I found the island's greatest secret of all.
It was sunset. Koichi and I scrambled in bare feet over the top of an
unfamiliar cliff on the western side of the island.

"Sun," I said in English, pointing to the rapidly sinking red ball.
Koichi grimaced. "Do we have to do this?" he asked.
"I told Sato-san I would teach you English. What's she going to say if
you don't know any new words?"
So I taught him a few more: stone, cliff, beach, crab, adventure. He
repeated them good-naturedly, and I tried to correct some of his
pronunciation as we walked along the rock.
"We have crab adventure on stone beach," he said slowly.
I clapped my hands and laughed. "That's good!" I said. "Say that to
your mom and she might let us share one of the manju she got from
your aunt."
"Never. She saves all of those for Yuki, the spoiled brat." He paused
before a small outcropping and put his arm on my left side, so I
couldn't get past.
"You know," I said, "we should really get back before the sun goes all
the way down. I have to do your math homework, remember?" Koichi
hated homework and my mom wanted me to get an education, so I had
ended up practically being his tutor.
Koichi nodded, but he didn't move. His broad face had a curious look
to it, as though he were staring at me through a tank of water. I shifted
uncomfortably.
He kissed me. Out of sheer surprise, I staggered backwards. Instead of
hitting the rock, however, I fell through a hole. Koichi tumbled down
on top of me.
We untangled ourselves and looked around. The cave was fairly large,
considering its small, hidden opening. For a few moments the
descending sun shone directly into the crevice, illuminating the back