Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet Read Online Free PDF Page B

their favorite Japanese teams.
    Henry found a seat on a bench and read through a day-old copy of the Japanese Daily News , much of which, surprisingly, was printed in English. There was a going-out-of-business sale at the Taishodo Book Store, and a new owner had taken over Nakamura Jewelry. As Henry looked around, there seemed to be a lot of businesses for sale; others were closed in the middle of the day. All of which made sense, as many of the news articles had to do with hard times in Nihonmachi. Apparently business had been bad, even before Pearl Harbor – going all the way back to when the Japanese invaded Manchuria, in 1931. Henry remembered the year only because his father mentioned the war in China so often. According to the news article, the Chong Wa Benevolent Association had called for a boycott of the entire Japanese community. Henry didn’t know what the Chong Wa was exactly, some sort of Chinatown committee like the Bing Kung Association, which his family belonged to – but larger and more political, encompassing not only his neighborhood but the entire region and all the tongs –social networks that sometimes resembled gangs. His father was a member.
    As Henry looked at the scores of people milling about the streets, shopping and playing, their numbers belied the hard times, boycotts, and the boarded-up, flag-draped storefronts. Poking through the streets, most of the locals ignored him, though some Japanese children pointed and spoke as he walked by, only to be shushed by their parents. There were more than a few black faces speckling the crowd, but no white faces to be seen.
    Then Henry stopped in his tracks when he finally saw Keiko’s face – or a photo of it anyway – in the window display of the Ochi Photography Studio. There she was, in a dark sepia print of a little girl dressed in her Sunday best, sitting in an oversize leather chair, holding an ornate Japanese umbrella, a bamboo parasol with koi painted on it.
    ‘ Konichi-wa ,’ a Japanese man, fairly young by the look of it, greeted him in the doorway. ‘ Konichi-wa, Ototo-san ?’
    Confused by the Japanese greeting, Henry opened his coat and pointed to his button that read ‘I am Chinese.’
    The young photographer smiled. ‘Well, I don’t speak Chinese, but how are you today – looking for a photograph? A sitting? Or are you just looking for someone?’
    Now it was Henry’s turn to be surprised. The young photographer’s English seemed near perfect compared with Henry’s own grasp of the language.
    ‘This girl, I go to school with her.’
    ‘The Okabes? They send their daughter to the Chinese school?’
    Henry shook his head, waving his hand. ‘Keiko Okabe, yes.We both go to Rainier Elementary – the white school across Yesler Way.’
    A moment of silence vanished in the car engines that roared by. Henry looked on as the photographer regarded the photo of Keiko.
    ‘Then you both must be very special students.’
    Since when did special become such a burden? A curse even. There was nothing special about scholarshipping at Rainier. Nothing at all. Then again, he was here looking for someone. Maybe she was special.
    ‘Do you know where she lives?’
    ‘No. I’m sorry. But I see them a lot near the Nippon Kan Hall. There’s a park, you might look for her there.’
    ‘ Domo ,’ Henry said. It was the only Japanese word he knew, aside from what Sheldon had taught him earlier.
    ‘You’re welcome. Come back, I’ll take your picture!’ the photographer yelled.
    Henry was already down the street.
     
    Henry and Keiko walked through Kobe Park on their way home from school each day, and he knew the hillside park by the numerous rows of cherry trees that lined the streets. Across from the park sat the Nippon Kan Hall, more of a Kabuki theater really, complete with posters for plays he’d never seen, or even heard of – like O Some Hisamatsu and Yuku No Ichiya – written in kanji and English. Like Chinatown, the whole area