Papà is writing something in the little notebook he always carries. He doesn’t seem to hear.
“Please take the route along the bay,” I say to the driver in Japanese. “The ambassador’s wife wants that.”
The ambassador looks at me as though he’s just realized I was there. “Such good Japanese,” he says.
“I know it, too,” says Carolina.
The ambassador nods at me. “I watched you with the Japanese children last summer at the villa. How old are you?”
“Almost ten.”
“Only ten.” He taps his fingertips together.
Today is bright and clear. No clouds. But there’s a cold wind. We can see the bay now. I wish the windows were down, so I could smell it. The Tokyo Bay is enormous, with lots of ports and many rivers that empty into it. The five major ones are the Tama, the Sumida, the Edo, the Obitsu, and the Yōrō. At school I stand in front of the big map and try to memorize every detail of this area. The others in my class learned all this in first grade; I’m always working to catch up.
The water in the bay is choppy, and there’s a gigantic battleship out there. The waves slosh over the decks, but the ship barely sways. Naoki says the Japanese navy is invincible. He must be right.
When we get back to the embassy, Papà prepares breakfast for the ambassador and Pessa.
“Don’t forget the canary,” says the ambassador, in Italian, and he and Pessa disappear up the stairs.
Papà turns to Hitomi. “The ambassador’s wife wants a canary bird. Can you find one? Today?”
Hitomi’s eyes widen. “She already has so much to eat.”
Papà laughs. “She wants it as a pet. A live canary.”
Papà grinds coffee beans with his mortar and pestle. The smell coats the air. He sets out fresh bread and bowls of jams. But my mouth doesn’t water at the sight like it used to. Now I love Japanese breakfast. I love all Japanese food.
Carolina and I run into the room off the kitchen, where Naoki waits for us every Sunday. I think he’s extra glad on Sunday, because it’s his one day with his mother. She works such long hours at the embassy. I don’t know if he has a father. He talks about his uncle, but never a father.
We sit on mats and eat rice balls rolled in dried fish flakes and sesame seeds. And we nibble pickles. A wonderful breakfast.
Hatsu arrives with Botan, but Hatsu doesn’t stay. It’s not her job to look after Carolina ever since Carolina started school in April. I don’t know what job she has now. I watch Hatsu leave; she’s thinner than before. Maybe Botan is thinner, too.
The girls immediately sit beside each other and share food. They’re together in class all week, but you’d think they never get to see each other, the way they talk now.
Finally Aiko arrives, and we five play games all morning.
Papà comes into the room. “Do you want to help me prepare your lunch?”
“What will we make?” asks Carolina.
“There’s leftover pasta. And spicy leaves. And eggs. Not the powdered kind that we buy in the ration lines. Fresh eggs, that beat into the right froth. So I thought we’d make—”
“Frittata!” shouts Carolina. “We’ll help.”
“Western food?” Naoki wrinkles his nose.
“It’s omelette, one of Papà’s specialties,” I say. “You can crack the eggs.”
Naoki smiles.
We make the best frittata ever. All the servants share. Then Papà serves Carolina’s birthday cake, a giant crust with lemon-like custard. Enough for everyone.
We play outside all afternoon.
Evening falls early these days. Aiko leaves by herself; I know that she lives close enough to walk alone, though I’ve never been to her house. Hitomi and Naoki also live close enough to walk; Carolina and I went to his house once. He leaves with Hitomi, and Hatsu arrives to take Botan home.
I bow and hand Hatsu a furoshiki. “Old foods. Half-rotten. I’m so sorry to bother you with them. If you cannot use them, dispose of them, please.”
Hatsu bows deep.
We avoid each other’s eyes.
“Maybe Botan can come every Sunday,” I say. “Otherwise Carolina is lonely while I play with Naoki. It would be a service to us if you brought her here.”
Hatsu bows again. She and Botan leave.
Carolina hugs me around the waist. “I won’t tell Papà.”
She’s right, it’s a secret, because in a sense I stole the food I gave Hatsu. The food is supposed to be for the employees of the embassy, including the day servants and the live-in guards, and Signor Rosati, the consular officer. And I may have made a problem for Papà; it’s his job to feed us all within the budget. But Hatsu and Botan look hungry—hungrier than any of those others. So I’m a thief, but maybe not the worst kind.
* * *
—
The next morning, ready for the start of the school week, we go to the kitchen, where the servants are sitting on their heels in a circle around the radio.
Hitomi jumps up and gives us each a breakfast tray with rice and salted plum.
I whisper to Hitomi, “What’s going on?”
“The Americans think they can tell Japan what to do in Indochina. The white pigs. But we won’t let them. So before dawn this morning, our air force bombed them in Hawaii. Pearl Harbor. Now they know how strong we are. They will remember the eighth of December forever.” She rushes back to her spot on the floor.
The eighth of December. But Tokyo time is seven hours ahead of Italy time—so it happened on the seventh of December in Italy. In America, too. I don’t correct Hitomi, though. Whatever the date, everyone will remember today. Japan bombed America!
The radio announcer describes how boats were sunk in the harbor of an American island. Many people died. A surprise attack.
Papà rushes down the stairs into the kitchen. The ambassador and Pessa must have had breakfast in their rooms. He chews on his bottom lip as he throws our lunches into bento boxes. When Carolina started school, Botan told her that everyone uses bento boxes, so now we use them, too. Papà walks with us to the side door.
I touch his hand and whisper, “Hitomi says this is good news. Your face says it isn’t.”
Papà puts one hand on my head and one hand on Carolina’s head. “America has stayed out of the war that Italy and Germany are waging in Europe and North Africa. It has stayed out of the war that Japan is waging in China and Indochina. But now that Japan attacked, America can’t stay out of these wars. And America is unbeatable.”