Amends of a Sort.

“Miss Rachko was your grandmother?”

The eighty-five year old man before me seems confused. His grandson hovers after pouring the green tea.

“Yes,” I lie.

“I am so sorry for your loss.”

Suddenly, I am overly-conscious of etiquette. Am I supposed to wait for him to drink first? This is a home visit, not a tea ceremony. Does it matter?

“How did you find my grandfather?”

The grandson is uncomfortable. My presence here is an intrusion, I understand that. The old man’s state is as delicate as my great-aunt’s. But I have questions. I can’t leave yet.

“She gave me your name a long time ago… there were some things about her I’d like to know, things I can’t ask her now. I think talking to you will help me.”

Nishiyama Kazuo finally sips his tea. I follow as gracefully as possible. The grandson makes a sound between his teeth before he excuses himself to make a phone call.

“Gertie-chan.” Kazuo smiles. For a moment, I’m afraid he’s confused me with my great-aunt. But then he adds, “That’s what I used to call her. Never aloud, of course. We only corresponded… through the letters.”

“Yes… I understand you wrote back and forth for three years.”

His gaze falls toward his tea. “She had to stop writing. A brother-in-law disapproved.”

I shift uncomfortably in my chair, watching the steam curl up from my tea. The brother-in-law was my grandfather who had served in the Pacific during the war.

“Yes. Those were different times. I know she regretted it though.”

“Oho! She couldn’t. Not if she ended up with a bright granddaughter. Your Japanese is very good!”

I humbly brush off the compliment. My Japanese is terrible.

Kazuo’s eyes glaze over for just a moment. He leans back in his chair and scrutinizes me.

“You said you’re Miss Rachko’s granddaughter?”

I nod.

“Ah, that’s right. What questions did you have?”

“Well, firstly… what was she like? In the letters… was she happy?”

“Hmmm! Happy? I hope so! She talked a lot about her studies and her family. She wanted to go to nursing school. I don’t know if she ever did.”

“Oh… no, she didn’t.”

“Is that so? That's too bad, too bad. She had a good mind!”

“Did you ever… talk about the war?”

“Hmm! Yes, but just when she wrote about that brother-in-law.”

“She wanted to come here, I think. To meet you.”

Kazuo’s face looks fifty years younger when he replies. “Yes, I asked her to. I wanted to marry her. Such a long time ago...”

“But… well, everything turned out well. You ended up with a loving grandson, anyway.”

The old man nods, suddenly fixated on my teacup. When he looks up, I know I’ll have to backtrack.

“Who are you again?” he asks.