The Ohana by CW Schutter Page B

what is there to do?”
    “He’s not going to die,” Kazuko’s muscles tensed. Tuberculosis sounded so final. Her hand clutched her daughter’s arm so hard, Mariko winced. “Your father will get better.”
    Kazuko spoke to convince herself. But despair hit her and caused her to relax her grip on Mariko as she slumped down in the car seat.
    “Yes, Mama,” Mariko huddled against the car door.
    Kazuko saw the pitying look on Han san’s face. Tetsuo respected Han, she wondered if he had confided in the Yobo .
    Kazuko’s mind drifted back to the last two years. Their first watermelon crop had been a big success. After the success of the first crop, Tetsuo’s partner insisted they lease twice the acreage and thereby double their profits. Tetsuo wanted to keep his profits and stay out of debt. Despite Tetsuo’s misgivings, his partner convinced him to take the gamble.
    It poured last year and the crops were ruined. They were wiped out. It shamed her to think Han san might actually pity her. She pressed her fist to her mouth.
    “This is a fine car.” Mariko ran her hand over the leather seats.
    “Thank you.” They pulled to a stop in front of the hospital.
    “If there’s anything I can do to help I would be pleased and honored to do so. Not only did you save my son's life, but I consider your husband my friend,” Han san told Kazuko as the driver opened the door.
    Kazuko was silent but Mariko nodded and said, “Thank you.”
    Kazuko followed Mariko. She turned to thank Han san; but his eyes were on Mariko as she sprinted to the shelter of the front door of the hospital.
     
    Tetsuo was the only patient in the dreary ward with gray concrete floors. Kazuko stood at the foot of the bed while Mariko approached her ashen father lying motionless under the roughly textured blankets and dingy sheets. His eyes were closed. His harsh death rattle cutting through the silence was the only sound in the room.
    “Papa,” Mariko whispered. Her father’s paper-thin eyelids fluttered slightly. “Papa, it’s me, Mariko.”
    Tetsuo looked at her and smiled.
    “Oh, Papa.” Mariko threw herself on him.
    Her father stroked her back. “It’s all right.” He coughed and turned away into the mattress, covering his mouth.
    “It’s not all right!” Mariko sobbed.
    “Listen to me, little one. Your mother and I tried to cheat fate. We thought we could plan our own lives. It’s my fault. How terrible life here has been for her. She was a great lady back in Japan.” Tetsuo’s eyes filled with tears and he coughed again. “I have so many regrets.”
     Kazuko stepped closer and put her hand on Mariko’s shoulder. “You must go now,” she whispered. “Children aren’t allowed here and someone might see you.”
    “I can’t.”
    “You can’t stay. Besides, your father is very tired. He needs his rest.”
    Mariko kissed her father on his forehead. “Good-bye, Papa. I love you.”
     
    Tetsuo’s friends and their families were gathered in his home. Kazuko thought the clamor seemed almost festive. Women gathered in the kitchen rolling sushi, frying vegetarian omelets, and making the round rice balls reserved for funerals.
    The cooking, the people, and the cloying smell of incense made the room unbearable. Kazuko saw Mariko sitting in a chair in front of the white casket rocking her upper body back and forth against the straight-back. The intense look on her face was troubling. Beads of perspiration peppered Mariko’s upper lip and brow. She looked like she was in a trance as she stared at her father’s ghostly white face draped with diaphanous white netting. The casket was surrounded by flowers and incense.
    “He’s not dead, he’s not dead,” Kazuko heard Mariko tell herself over and over again as she rocked back and forth.
    “Mariko,” Kazuko put her hand on Mariko’s shoulder.
    Mariko stopped rocking and looked up at her. “He’s not dead, Mama. Soon I’ll wake up and find out this was all a bad dream. He’ll