Mr. Goodwin took out his handkerchief and wiped his glasses. The elderly history teacher said, “You kids don’t remember, but back in the twenties, Seattle residents were more neighborly. After the Pandemic, people wanted to connect with each other. I’m distressed now at how uncaring we’ve become.”
Mr. Goodwin put on his horn-rimmed glasses back on and looked at his class of seniors. Mostly whites and a few Asians which included Grace. He continued, “But now we’ve got an entire village of unfortunates at Elliot Bay South. These men need our help.”
All the kids at Broadway High knew about Hooverville, the nickname for the hundreds of shacks that had popped up near the waterfront. But Mr. Goodwin called on his Honors students to help with a soup kitchen at Hooverville. Grace thought, Helen and Susie will volunteer with me. Helen’s dad had once said, “If my father had stayed in Germany, I wouldn’t be a professor at Udub today.”
Mr. Goodwin said, “As members of this great nation, we are obligated to give everyone the chance to live a good life.”
But when Grace told Papa the next morning, he said, “Bakabakashii. That sounds like a waste of time. You need to study.” He put up his newspaper, cutting off any more discussion. Grace was so annoyed by Papa’s reaction, she thought, I’m not going to bother telling him anything anymore.
Grace’s younger brother Robert noticed the uncomfortable silence in the kitchen, and smiled at Grace.
Papa flipped his newspaper down and snapped at Robert, “Naniga okashiin da! What’s so funny?”
Robert stopped smiling and looked down at his scrambled eggs. Papa sighed, “Robato, you are almost adult. You also need to do better in school. To have a chance to be a doctor.”
After Papa left for the hospital, Mama rushed them out the door, “Hayaku, hurry. Don’t be late for school.”
Grace sighed, Robert, now much taller than his sister, gave his sister a nudge. “Issei are like that.”
“Who said that?”
“Henry Uyeda. He’s a Nisei lawyer from California. He came down and talked to our basketball group the other day about some of the problems between the Issei and us Nisei.”
Grace looked up at her baby brother. “Since when did you start thinking about anything besides basketball?”
Robert laughed. “Henry’s got a point. Don’t let Papa get to you.”
The soup kitchen started off well. The Broadway High students were eager to help despite the shock of seeing so much misery up close. Ramshackle shacks as far as the eye could see! Grace thought, Is India like this? In English Lit last semester, they read Passage to India. Was America going to be like India? A few rich people surrounded by a sea of poor. I don’t want to be like Adela, that silly British girl. She ended up ruining Dr Aziz’s life because she was afraid. I’m not going to make the same mistake.
An older Quaker woman told Grace what to do. “Give each man one piece of bread, and treat them with dignity.” Men dressed in tattered overalls and dusty suits kept their heads down as they lined up. Grace was glad Helen was beside her, handing out apples. Helen stood tall, smiled and cheerfully greeted each man. She was thin and gawky, not pretty enough to get the wrong kind of attention. So Grace mimicked her and forced herself to smile. “Good afternoon,” she said as loud as she could. Her face ached from the smiling.
Most of the men mumbled, Thanks. Most likely they were some of the dock workers who were on strike. She couldn’t help but feel relieved that she only saw one Japanese man in the line. He said, “Arigato.” Did he know she was Japanese? Somehow she felt responsible for this man. She had never seen a homeless Japanese before.
Papa told her that with the Crash, Old Man Furuya, the richest Japanese in Seattle had gone bankrupt along with a lot of the Japanese businessmen. Then others lost their jobs. Still, the Japanese Association managed to keep most of their people off the streets. Grace thought, because they didn’t want Americans to get the wrong impression about the Japanese. Many left Seattle. Either they went out to rural areas to try farming or went back to Japan to stay with relatives.
Being a doctor, Papa managed to do all right. No matter how much money a person had, they still got sick. But Papa worked late and often missed dinner at home. And when he was home, he reminded Grace and Robert, especially Robert, that they would never amount to anything unless they did well in school. Going to college seemed to be the only thing that mattered to Papa anymore.
At the soup kitchen, Grace’s supply of bread was running low. “Hey, Grace.” It was Max, one of the students from German Club. “I didn’t know you guys were here.” He took Grace’s empty basket and replaced it with a full one. Max seems taller than the last time I saw him.
After Max was out of earshot, Helen nudged Grace. “I think he likes you.”
Grace blushed. Max’s just a junior. Lanky with a shock of brown hair drooping over his face. He reminds me of Jimmy Stewart but with a touch of Clark Gable’s slyness. A little dangerous. Maybe because his father made money off of the Prohibition.
Suddenly, there was shouting down the line. Everyone turned to see what was going on. Grace saw one homeless man punch one of the volunteer boys. Apparently, even a down and out man can feel slighted by a careless comment. In the ensuing scuffle, a student got a bloody nose but no one else was seriously hurt. Grace was relieved she didn’t know the hurt boy. Nonetheless, a volunteer coordinator ordered them to stop. He herded the grumbling students back to the bus.
Over the next months, the waterfront strikes wore away the compassion. Everyone was feeling the pinch. Broadway High stopped allowing the students to volunteer. Grace overhead Papa and Mama fighting one night. When she woke up to get a drink of water, she was shocked to hear Mama crying as Papa scolded her, “You know my patients haven’t been paying me. You’ve got to be much more frugal.”
Grace was on the Honor Roll again which Papa seemed to take for granted. But for her senior picture, Mama allowed her to go to the beauty salon and get her hair styled like that of her favorite actress, Myrna Loy. Loy’s latest film “The Thin Man” was a huge hit. Grace, Helen and Susie loved Myrna Loy’s character, the beautiful, wealthy, wise-cracking wife of Nick Charles.
In the scene where Nora finds her husband Nick in the bar, she said, “How many drinks have you had?”
Nick said, “This will make six Martinis.”
Nora didn’t blink an eye and shoots back at the waiter, “All right. Will you bring me five more Martinis, Leo? Line them right up here.”
Helen and Susie replayed that scene over and over after the movie while Grace giggled.
And there was Max. Helen was right. He did like her. It was thrilling to know that a boy liked her. At German Club, she noticed Max looking at her. But he’s younger than me. And he’s white. That doesn’t feel right. But that fact didn’t seem to bother Max. One day, he lingered after everyone else was gone to help Grace clean up. As the two of them wiped down the chalkboard, he suddenly leaned down and kissed Grace on the lips. Grace was so surprised, she didn’t push him away. His lips were soft and warm. His blue eyes glimmered like the rare clear skies.
But then she whispered to him, “Don’t tell anyone about this.”
She wasn’t sure what made her say that. Was it the fact that he was younger? Or that he was white? Or was it what Papa and Mama might say if they found out? They never talked about romance. Papa had never said anything about boyfriends, but she couldn’t imagine him welcoming a boy, Japanese or Hakujin, who was interested in her.
When Grace asked Mama why she married Papa, she only said, “Unmei datta. It was fate.” Mama and Papa’s past was a mystery.
Everyone at Broadway High knew about the girls who were dating or engaged. They were always strutting around with their boyfriends. But she didn’t know of any couples made up of a Japanese girl like her, and a Hakujin boy. For sure, the teachers would frown on an Honor Roll student dating someone of a different race.
After German Club the following week, Max stayed behind again to talk to Grace. “Let’s meet at Pike Market this weekend,” he said.
Grace was thrilled. Her first date. The memory of that first kiss stayed with her. Although Helen thought Max was cute, Papa would definitely disapprove. Especially because Max’s father supposedly made his money doing something illegal.
But Grace felt like she would burst unless she told someone about the date. So she finally confessed to Helen who said, “Golly, that sounds like fun. I wish someone would ask me out.”
Well, as long as no one else knew. Anyway, she would be going off to college at the end of the year while Max would still be in high school. Maybe she’d meet a suitable boy at the Dub. Max would just be a high school thing.
The days until the weekend seemed to crawl by. At German Club, Grace avoided looking at Max and sat by Helen and Susie. When the club members discussed films with German directors and actors, Max suddenly said, “I saw Shanghai Express. Marlene Dietrich was all right but Anna May Wong was super.”
Grace blushed furiously at the mention of that Asian actress. Did Max think she was like Anna May Wong? Sexy. Chic, Helen nudged her and winked. Then Susie said, “What was so great about Anna May Wong?”
Helen shoved Susie and glared at her. Susie gave Helen a “what did I do wrong?” look.
That Sunday afternoon, the clouds hung low but thankfully the rain had let up. Grace met Max in front of the Virginia Inn restaurant. Max leaned over to give her a kiss but Grace shrank back. “No, not here,” she hissed. “Not in public.”
“Can I at least hold your hand?” he said.
“No,” she said and she wrapped her arms tightly around her pocketbook.
Max’s laughing at me. She softened and said, “Look, I’m sorry, Max. I’m new at this,”
“That’s okay. You’re smarter than me, but maybe not about everything,” he smiled.
They started walking over to the market, Grace as stiff as a school marm while Max put his hands in his pockets and slowed his gait to keep pace with Grace.
Suddenly she noticed how many farmers were in their stalls at the market. Some were probably Japanese. Do any of them recognize me? Maybe one of them remembers me and Papa from our trips to Bainbridge Island. Oh, God. What if someone says something to someone who knows Papa? “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” said Grace as she stopped and turned back.
“What? Why’re you so worried?” said Max. “No one cares.”
Grace glared up at Max. “You don’t know what it’s like to be me.”
“No, I don’t. But that’s why I like you,” he said. “You’re not like the other girls.”
Grace thought, why am I so afraid of Max? He’s just a boy.
Max suddenly grabbed her hand and pulled, “Come on. I want to show you something.” His legs were so much longer than hers, she had to run to keep up. He led the way down a wet narrow side street into a penny arcade. The shop was crowded with kids like them, all too busy playing with the coin-operated machines to notice a Japanese girl like her. She had never been here. Smells of tobacco and sweat and gum. Noisy bells and laughter filled her senses as Max led her deeper into the den.
One boy with slicked back hair whistled at her. “Mighty fine looker,” he said and grinned with a missing tooth. She noticed a few Asian faces in the arcade. Filipinos? Chinese? No one from Broadway High, I hope.
Grace flushed with excitement. No boy had ever looked at her with lust, much less whistled at her.
Max stopped. “Here. This is my favorite - Princess Doraldina,” Grace found herself in front of a large wooden fortune-telling machine with glass windows. Seated behind the glass was the life-sized figure of a gypsy - beautiful dark hair wrapped in a purple head scarf and large hoop earrings glittering from her ears. Her one hand was on a crystal ball while the other hovered above a set of tarot cards spread out on the table before her.
Max put in a nickel in the copper slot, and suddenly the gypsy came to life. The machine whirred, the crystal ball lit up, and the gypsy’s head moved. Grace gasped, “Oh my God, she looks alive!”
The gypsy waved her hand over the cards and even her jeweled chest moved with every breath as if she were listening to the spirits. She stopped at one card. Then a pink card appeared in the slot below. Max said, “Let’s see what she says about me this time.” He picked up the card and read, “You are a hummingbird destined to enjoy the nectar of many blossoms.”
Max turned to Grace and smiled, “Are you a blossom?”
Grace felt her cheeks redden. Then Max gave Grace a nickel and said, “Here. Let’s see what Doraldina predicts for you.”
Grace put the nickel in and watched the Princess come to life again. Then in the slot below, her pink card appeared. Her hand shook as she read, “When the desert moon is full, love will appear.”
Max laughed, “Well, there’s no desert moon around here, so you’re out of luck.” Grace slipped the card into her pocketbook. I’m going to remember this forever.
“Max Thomas, all this time in German Club, I didn’t realize what a smooth talker you are,” said Grace. It was true. This boy was usually quiet when she saw him at school, letting the others do all the talking.
Then Max led her to the back of the penny arcade where he pulled back a heavy velvet curtain to reveal a door. How did he know about this hidden door? As they stepped into a surprisingly large room, it occurred to her. A speakeasy. Helen said Max’s father made money selling liquor. Did this place belong to his father? Oh, God Papa’s going to hit the roof if he finds out.
Max found a corner booth and went to get drinks. Grace was so excited, her heart pounded and she took a deep breath to calm herself. God. Wait till Helen hears about this. A real speakeasy. Maybe not as nice as the places Nick and Nora drank at in the Thin Man movie. But she could hear Helen urging her on, “Grace, you’ve got as much right as anyone to have some fun.”
And Max was right. Here, no one cared who she is or what she was doing. She didn’t have to be the doctor’s daughter or the Honor Roll student or Japanese. Here she could be just another girl.
“Here. Try this,” Max placed in front of her a small glass filled with ice, sparkling pink liquid with a twist of lemon. A small amount spilled down the edge of the glass. He quickly pulled out his folded handkerchief and placed the glass in it before handing it to Grace.
She accepted the drink as if it were a cup of sake. One hand around the wrapped glass and the other cradling it. A cocktail! She sniffed. The bubbles tickled her nose. She took a sip. The tart lemon with the dry champagne was pleasing. “What is this?”
“French 75. Ernest Hemingway’s favorite drink they say,” he said.
The mention of a famous writer charmed her. “Max Thomas. You’re full of surprises,” she said and smiled.
He leaned in and kissed her. This time, she leaned into his kiss and let him explore her mouth. He tasted of sun and must and beer. Then he put his hand on her knee and squeezed gently. “You’re going to get a lot more surprises, Miss Ishii.”
* * *