Margaret Dilloway - How to Be an American Housewife

Table of Contents

G. P. PUTNAMS SONS
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Copyright 2010 by Margaret Dilloway

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Dilloway, Margaret.
How to be an American housewife / Margaret Dilloway.
p. cm.

eISBN : 978-1-101-18924-5

1. Mothers and daughtersFiction. I. Title.
PS3604.I4627H
813.6dc22

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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FOR MY MOTHER, SUIKO OBRIEN, 1932-1994

PART ONE

Jacaranda Street

One

I had always been a disobedient girl.

When I was four, we lived in a grand house with a courtyard and a koi fishpond. My father worked as a lawyer and we were still rich, rich enough to have beautiful silk dresses and for me to have dolls with real hair and porcelain faces, not the corn-husk dolls I played with later.

We even had a nanny to help my mother. One day, Nanny told me she was taking my baby brother and me on a picnic. We walked for what seemed like miles, until my small feet were blistered. In those days, people expected more from a four-year-old than they do now.

Where are we going? I asked Nanny.

To rest from the heat, she said. By a pond.

I did not like Nanny. I didnt trust how she eyed my brother, Taro, like he was the last bowl of rice. She always hugged him tight, so tight he wailed, like she wanted to absorb him into her body. She had never had a son of her own, only daughters. Sometimes she called Taro my little peach, like he was the peach boy out of the old fairy tale, granted as a wish to the old woman.

I told my mother that Nanny made me uncomfortable. She dismissed it as the whining of a spoiled child. You dont like Nanny because she makes you behave, Mother said. Now go with her. I have business in town, and your father is busy, too.

Nanny was old and had a crippled leg; she moved slowly. We stopped by a tree-shaded pond to play and have lunch. Afterward, in the high-noon heat, she took us under a willow tree to nap. Day turned to night. I awoke with a start to see the moon rising above the fields. Where are we? I asked.

Shush, Nanny said soothingly, smoothing my bangs back. Were going on a trip to my hometown. She looked down the road as though waiting for someone, or something. Her eyes glittered black onyx in the dim light. Taro began wailing and Nanny stuck a bottle into his mouth. Go back to sleep, Shoko-chan.

Something was not right. We had missed supper. Mother didnt allow us to stay outside past dark. I stood. You take us home right now! I screamed.

Sit down, sit down, Nanny said, trying to push on my shoulders. You bad girl, listen to Nanny.

No! I kicked her in the shin as hard as I could, then pushed Taros pram back up the road. I knew the way home, even though it was far.

Nannys hand grabbed my arm and she lifted me up. Now she looked like a terrible witch, her wiry white hair free of her scarf, her jagged teeth bared like a wolf. Were going on a trip. You must listen to Nanny!

I bit her hand, bearing down hard in desperation. She yowled and dropped me. I stood up and pushed Taro away again.

This time she didnt follow. I looked back once and saw her standing in the middle of the road, holding her hand. Taro wailed.

Mother and Father were outside the wall of our house, looking left and right. Theyd sent servants out looking for us. When they heard Taro, they ran to meet us. Where have you been? Mother cried, sweeping me up. Father cradled Taro to his face. Taro quieted.

I told you she was no good! I said, and recounted what had happened.

Some mothers would have not believed their child, but mine did. Mother said she had tried to steal us. Or, at the very least, steal my brother. Who knows what she would have done with me.If it werent for Shoko, Mother would retell visitors, shaking her head, Ai!

I was a hero. All because I wouldnt listen.

WITHIN A YEAR OR SO AFTER THAT, Father tired of dealing with bad people in his business. Too much cheating, he told my mother. All anyone cares about is money. Money is God.

He was always so busy. Perhaps he felt guilty that a nanny had almost made off with his children. He decided to sell the house and his practice and become a priest in the Konkokyo, the Konko Church.

In 1859, there was a Japanese village where people feared a god called Konjin, who brought misfortune. One farmer named Kawate Bunji had a streak of bad luck. Once when Bunji fell very ill, he was visited by the god Konjin, who told him that people shouldnt fear him, that he was good, and that his real name was Tenchi Kane no Kami, One True God of Heaven and Earth. When Bunji became well, word of his visit from Konjin spread. People came to the farmer Bunji for help, and Tenchi Kane no Kami would speak through him. Bunjis name became Konkokyo Daijin, and he became a god, too. The Konko Church was born.

Mother never made a word of complaint when Father became a priest. Instead, she sold the house and all of our fine possessions, bargaining a more than fair priceIt goes to the church and brings you honor, what more could you wish? she told the buyer. She let me keep one doll, my Shirley Temple with curly hair Father had bought in Tokyo, the one that melted later when I left it too close to the fireplace.