Ash by Holly Thompson

Author:Holly Thompson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Stone Bridge Press

Fourteen

CAITLIN’S FIRST thought was a fly, and she kicked each time it lit on her foot. Then she thought, Hiroshi’s hand, no Naomi’s. But as consciousness bloomed, she noted that each kick was followed by a chorus of giggles and more “flies” alighting—scrambling up her shins, even on her shoulders. She turned over and opened her eyes. Naomi glared back. “Remind me never to sleep beside a blond foreigner again.”

“Hallo,” one child said above Caitlin’s head, and Caitlin pulled the blanket over her eyes. But the hands on her legs and head became more persistent, so she sat up and made a face that caused all four children to collapse in hysterics. “Ohayo-gozaimasu,”—good morning—she said, and they whooped with delight. “What time is it?” she asked the eldest, then groaned to his reply of “Six-thirty-five.” “All right, listen carefully,” she said. “You, Oniichan, two cups of coffee. And you,” she said to the others—a younger boy and two girls, “a warm washcloth, a rose for the sleeping girl, and two glasses of orange juice, please.” The kids ran off, and Caitlin lay down and closed her eyes again.

“Good work,” Naomi muttered.

But it seemed that only seconds had passed when Caitlin heard a voice above her saying, “Hai, hotto kohii.” She and Naomi sat up rubbing their eyes and laughed; the eldest boy held out two cans of hot coffee from a vending machine. “I was joking!” Caitlin said, but he shrugged and thrust the cans toward her. “How much? A hundred yen each?” He nodded and Caitlin pulled the coins from the pockets of the shorts she’d been wearing the day before.

They opened the coffee and as soon as they’d taken the first sweet sips, one of the girls came running up and dropped what looked like crumpled paper into Caitlin’s lap. Caitlin examined it; the girl had folded a tourist brochure into some semblance of a flower. “Oh, for the sleeping girl, thank you,” Caitlin said and gave it ceremoniously to Naomi. Seconds later canned juice arrived, then a warm moistened Anpan-man washcloth. Caitlin and Naomi were wide awake now, and others on the floor were stirring, with eyes turned toward them in amusement.

At seven the overhead lights beamed on and the loudspeaker announced the hour, the types of breakfast available in the snack bar and cafeteria, the estimated time of arrival in Osaka, and the weather report saying that yesterday’s typhoon was due to hit Kagoshima that afternoon but had weakened and was turning west; in the Kansai region, sun and clear skies were expected. A few cheers were heard, and the bunkroom came alive. Naomi hurried off to the bathroom to wash up ahead of the “crowds,” but Caitlin sat idly chatting with two of the children who had wakened her, until a parent called them away.

They passed the morning reading, playing cards, and sipping tea. Every now and then Caitlin ventured a question as to how Naomi’s grandfather celebrated O-Bon, what they did at the grave, what they did at home during the three days—Caitlin wanted to be better prepared.

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