Silent Honor(2)

There was music, and many friends, and dozens of distant relatives and cousins. Hidemi's cousin from Fukuoka played the koto, and a pair of dancers performed a slow and graceful bugaku. There was endless food as well. Especially the traditional tempura, rice balls, kuri shioyaki, chicken, sashimi, red rice with nasu, nishoga, and narazuki. There were delicacies that had been prepared for days by Hidemf's aunts and mother. Her grandmother, “obaachan” had overseen all the preparations herself; she was pleased that her little granddaughter was getting married. She was the right age, and she had learned her lessons well. She would be a good wife for anyone, and the family was pleased with the alliance with Masao, in spite of his reputation for being fascinated by modern concepts. Hidemi's father was amused by him; Masao liked to discuss world politics and speak of worldly things. But he was also well versed in all the important traditions. It was a good family, and he was an honorable young man, and they all felt certain that he would make her an excellent husband.

Masao and Hidemi spent the first night of their marriage with her family, and then left for Kyoto the next day. She was wearing a beautiful pink-and-red kimono her mother had given her, and she looked especially lovely as Masao drove her away in the brand-new 1922 Model T coupe he had borrowed for the occasion. It belonged to an American professor at the university in Kyoto.

And when they returned to Kyoto they settled into his small, spare home, and Hidemi proved everything he had believed about her from the moment he met her. She kept his house immaculate for him, and observed all of the familiar traditions. She went to the nearby shrine regularly, and was polite and hospitable to all of his colleagues whenever he brought them home for dinner. And she was always deeply respectful of Masao. Sometimes, when she was feeling particularly bold, she giggled at him, particularly when he insisted on speaking to her in English. He thought it was extremely important that she learn another language, and he spoke to her on many subjects: of the British running Palestine, of Gandhi in India, and even about Mussolini. There were events happening in the world that he thought she should know about, and his insistence on it amused her. He was very good to her in many ways. He was gentle and kind and considerate, and he told her often that he hoped they would have many children. She was deeply embarrassed when he spoke of such things, but when she dared, she whispered to him that she hoped she would bring him many sons, and great honor.

“Daughters are honorable too, Hidemi-san,” he said gently, and she looked at him in amazement. She would have been deeply ashamed to give him only daughters. She knew the importance of bearing sons, particularly coming from a farm community like Ayabe.

She was a sweet girl, and in the ensuing months they became good friends, as they learned to love each other. He was gentle and thoughtful with her, and always deeply touched by her myriad delicate gestures. She always had wonderful meals waiting for him, and flowers, perfectly arranged, particularly in the tokonoma, the alcove where the painted scroll was kept, which was their home's most important and honored decoration.

She learned what he liked, and what he didn't, and was careful to shield him from the most minor annoyance. She was the perfect wife for him, and as the months wore on, he was ever more pleased that he had found her. She was still as shy as she had been at first, but he sensed that she was growing more comfortable with him, and more at ease in his world. She had even learned a handful of phrases in English to please him. He still spoke to her only in English at night when they shared dinner. And he spoke to her often of his cousin Takeo in California. He was happy with his job at the university, and had just married a kibei, a girl who had been born in the States of a Japanese family, but had been sent to Japan to complete her education. Takeo had said in his letters that she was a nurse, her name was Reiko, and her family was from Tokyo. And more than once, Masao had dreamed of taking Hidemi to California to meet them, but for the moment, Masao could only dream of going there. He had his responsibilities at the university, and despite a very respectable career, he had very little money.

Hidemi did not tell her husband when they were expecting their first child, and according to tradition, and the instruction she had had, the moment it began to show, she bound her stomach. And it was early spring before Masao even knew it. He discovered it one day when they were making love, very discreetly as always. Hidemi was still very shy. And as soon as he suspected it, he asked her. She couldn't even bring herself to answer him. She turned her face away in the dark, blushing scarlet, and nodded.

“Yes, little one? …Yes?” He gently moved her chin so that she faced him, and smiled down at her as he held her. “Why didn't you tell me?” But she couldn't answer. She could only look at him, and pray that she wouldn't disgrace herself by giving him a daughter.