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My mom used to talk about the city lights of Tokyo. She used to tell me how they blinded her with an excitement she couldn’t obtain.
How the whole place looked like a mirage. The wet pavement reflects a different world from the one above.
The city was alive, she said. It had breathed a heartbeat even. The noise was its tongue, a language only communicated by physical movement.
She said the world wasn’t as small as my father made it out to be. Even if you’ve been around the world, you haven’t seen it all, experienced every unique landscape; she said no matter where you go, you haven’t met all the people you need to meet.
Tokyo was her escape.
She found my dad there.
And he stole her away.
“Enzo, can I talk to you for a minute?” My dad calls from the backyard and I walk out to meet him.
We have a family get-together near Cleveland, I don’t know why. My mom picked it up, and here we are.
“What’s up, Dad?” But I shake my head. “I mean, yes, sir.”
My father is sitting on a camping chair watching the woods. I sit down beside him.
“Did you enjoy your time in the Navy, son?”
I don’t know how to answer.
“It was good for me.”
“Yeah, but did you enjoy it?” This time, he leans closer to me.
“I met my best friends there.”
“Kenzo, was it for you or not?” Settling back into his chair.
“No.” I stare out to the woods too. “But you already knew that before you asked before I even signed up.”
“It helped me in so many ways; I thought it might help you along your way.”
I’ve never had a heart-to-heart with my father. Now that I am above thirty, I don’t know if I want to have one.
“My stepmom doesn’t approve of your mother. It was prejudice. Her daddy was in World War Two. But she managed to turn my father against us.” My dad tilts a beer to his lips. “She didn’t all like my daddy either; they were both raised in the south. But when my mother died, he needed to hold onto something. She was closest.”
I never asked why Dad’s parents didn’t see us; it wasn’t essential to have grandparents when you had other things to worry about.
“I think I have done the same with your woman. Not the Japanese thing, but her spirit her bravery in some ways. It scares me because there isn’t a foundation for it. I didn’t like her because she was free and open when I’d been—”
“Closed as fuck?” Because I guess now that I am an adult and he respects me, I can say whatever I want without consequences.
“I was going to say indifferent. But I guess that’s true.”
“Why does it seem like you hate Mama for being Japanese?”
“I don’t hate her for it. I hate that I couldn’t protect her from my family's comments about her.” My dad doesn’t hold grudges or hate. He has no time for them.
So whatever was said before between his family and him was bad enough. He still fights the anger today.
“Everything worked out. You married Mom, had two acceptable daughters, one mediocre son, and just a badass for another son.” Let that flare shine.
“Kenzo, what I am trying to get out is, you weren’t lost before the Navy. I know you did it to make me and your mother proud. Mostly me, and I appreciate it, but I feel guilty because I know you didn’t want it. It wasn’t for you. Phoebe is the woman your mom always talks about. She’s always been for you.”
