Free How to Be an American Housewife by Margaret Dilloway Page B

wanted to go and take me, but the country wouldn’t let her out. They were gearing up to take over the world. No special considerations for her, especially as she was Eta.” He looked into the shrubbery at something I couldn’t see. “It wouldn’t have worked out anyway. Englishman and Japanese.”
    “It’s different now,” I said.
    “I hope so. I don’t fit in here, I might as well try my luck elsewhere.” He finished his lunch and replaced the red lid with a click. “I have a plan.” He looked at me sideways. “America, here I come. The land of opportunity.”
    I was excited despite myself. “What will you do there? Cook in a Japanese restaurant?”
    “Landscape. Like I do here, but bigger. I have big dreams, my Shoko.”
    How dare he? “I am not ‘your Shoko.’ ”
    He ignored that. “There is nothing for me here. I want to be my own boss.”
    “I wish you well.” I finished eating my own lunch, demurely taking small bites and chewing slowly. I admired his dreams, but they were as crazy as my diplomat ones. I would not tell him this—what good would it serve?—so he continued to talk and to gaze starry-eyed at me, and I continued to feel guilty. “We are friends only, you know that,” I said to him over and over.
    “Friends.” He grinned. “Whatever you say, Shoko.” There was no disguising the hope in his eyes. I wondered if mine were the same.
     
     
    MY MOTHER THOUGHT it was time for Tetsuo and me to get engaged. “You can’t run around with only him unless you’re engaged,” she told me. “Everyone will think you’re fast.” Needless to say, she didn’t know about Ronin.
    Tetsuo made good money, and had been promoted to work at the front desk. Everyone thought he’d be a manager one day. My brain had to agree with my mother’s logic. It only made sense, though my heart sank when I thought of spending the rest of my life on this island. She arranged it all with Tetsuo’s parents, and we were officially engaged.
    Then one day I arrived home from work a little early. I unlocked my door and saw Tetsuo’s face, eyes closed, poised above my prostrate roommate. It took a minute for me to realize what they were doing, since I had never seen it done before. “Aaaah!” I screamed. Yuki screamed. I left the apartment and ran down the street.
    “Shoko, wait!” Tetsuo called from the apartment window. “It’s not what it looks like.”
    The engagement was off. Secretly, I thanked Tetsuo. I was free again. Then I began my American phase.
    Though I flirted with the Americans (all the better for tips), I never had dated one. Plenty wanted to. Of course they did; they were a bunch of young servicemen in love with Japan.
    It wasn’t worthwhile for me. There was a ban on dating Japanese girls, effective for all ranks. Not that that stopped many. A girl, Mariko, who worked at the checkout desk did. She was two years older than me, with a long face and teeth a bit too big for her features. Still, she had a nice figure and a sweet laugh.
    “She’s seeing a staff sergeant and a lieutenant,” Megumi, who worked with me in the gift shop, whispered. Megumi was a decade older, married to one of the lower-level managers, and the best gossip source in the region.
    “Single guys?” I was doubtful.
    “And they both want to marry her.” Megumi’s painted-on brows lifted in amazement.
    “Pick the officer.” I laughed and dusted another figurine.
    Mariko disappeared one day. She didn’t show up for work and no one was interested in finding her.
    “What happened?” I asked Megumi.
    Megumi shushed me. “She is not coming back.”
    “Did she get married?” I asked eagerly.
    Megumi waved her hand in front of her face, indicating no.
    I understood. Mariko had gotten pregnant and left. Would her family take her in? What would become of her? Poor Mariko. This was not going to happen to me.
    Then something surprising occurred. Mariko had been far from the only one dating Americans. Finally the