Loving Seiko

Leonard

That's what we've done our whole lives...well, until recently it was me taking care of them while Ma worked. She worked hard, nothing was ever too good for her babies. We lived a hard life, but we were raised right, I always thought. We knew what mattered more than other things, and as long as we had each other and our good health, we were just fine.

And then Pearl Harbor happened, and the war, and Ma's accident...and it just became too much... The next thing I knew I was on a train to California, leaving my family behind and telling myself it was all going to be okay. I wish I'd know what I was getting myself into.

"Toss me an apple, will ya?" says a voice. I turn, and see Edgar standing in the entryway to the pantry where I was taking inventory. I toss him an apple and turn back to my work, expecting him to go away. Instead, he crunches into the fruit and stands by my side, one hand holding the apple up to his mouth and the other fiddling with his dogtag. I'd noticed he does that a lot, he made a habit of messing with that thing. "So how's your first week?" he questions, southern accent thick. I think he's from Georgia or something.

I shrug, "fine, I guess."

"Don't shrug like that, it makes you look like you don't give a shit, and I know you give a shit," he points a finger at me and sits on the stool a few feet away. "I see the way you react to the other guys, you hate it here don't ya?"

The other guys? What, like he's excluded? He's equally annoying, and I just want him to go away. I find myself shrugging, not knowing what to say. I didn't want to admit to him that he's right.

"I hate it too," he says. "It ain't right."

This surprises me.

"Then why would you agree with the other guys?" I ask him, curious as to what would make him want to abandon his morals this early in the game. He looks down, almost shamefully.

"I don't mean it, really. They find out you're a softie and they'll kick your sorry ass. Learned the hard way. Thought I'd best let you know. So, get with the program or get a punch in the gut," he tosses me his apple core and nods before heading off, seeming far less cheery than he did when he first came in.

After he leaves I take a seat at the stool he just had. I hadn't even stopped to think about something like that. I never considered that some of the other soldiers here have layers, it's interesting to think about.

I sigh and run my hands over my face, realizing how long my beard had gotten. I should shave, if not to seem clean than to impress Seiko.

What was I doing? I haven't felt this way since grade school. The familiar twist in my gut was unwelcome and uninviting. I shouldn't see her again, absolutely not. I'm here to do my job. I'll not shave my beard.

Later in the day, after doing a few runs through inventory (which wasn't really needed or taken seriously), I returned to my station, handing out todays' lunch.

I tried my hardest to ignore the tugging in my gut at the thought of seeing her again. I was in her section of the camp, I was going to see her, there is no doubt about that. Unless she doesn't come up to collect any food...but why wouldn't she? She doesn't know I'm a soldier. Well, she has to know! She must've seen that I'm not Japanese. What other caucasion person would be here, aside from someone in charge? God, that sounds horrible, even in my head.

Only once have I ever been so anxious about a girl. In the tenth grade, nine years ago, every time Besty Miller would walk by me in the hallway at school I would forget whatever it was that I thinking or saying. I would forget how to breathe just for a moment. She was simply lovely, but someone of her standards and popularity had never noticed me, a lonely honors student. She graduated high school not knowing that a boy in her class would do anything she asked. Years passed, and I heard she married a wealthy man; heir to an oil mining company I guess.

The motion of handing plates to people has become so natural, and I've lost myself in my thoughts for so long, that I barely notice Seiko standing before me, waiting for my attention. My muscles jump and I freeze momentarily as our eyes meet, and I forget where I am, what I'm doing, and who I am. All I see is a big pair of beautiful icy blue eyes looking back at me with curiosity, wondering what my next move will be.

"I-uh-you," I can't find the words for the life of me. She looks down for a second and I swear I saw her cheeks flush. I can't clear my head, my mind is so cloudy. All I see is her looking at me. It hits me, "apple?" I offer. It was the freshest of the fruit that we have, and I'd saved one for her. The last one in fact.

"Thank you," she takes the apple from me and leaves with her food. I'm suddenly serving the woman behind her and my world is much dimmer as her radiance moves on. I look towards her one more, hoping that maybe she will do something, anything, to speak with me. She doesn't look back, she just heads back to where she came without a second thought. Does she not remember the night before? She looks as though she never went through such grief!

The rest of the afternoon I sit alone in my quarters, trying to remember the name of the girl I was once infatuated with. I look down at the letter in my hands that I recieved from Ma a week ago, asking me how my transfer was going for me. I hadn't had the courage to write her back and tell her that I never made it to Hawaii, that I'd been picked out and sent here to "maintain order".

The paper falls to the ground and I lean back against the cot. I want to see her again. I can't get her face out of my mind. My thoughts are all cloudy again...

"Leonard, you're wanted," Edgar says, shaking me from my peace. I must have dozed off. Who knows how long I've been asleep, it could be five minutes or an hour.

"What?" I question groggily. "Who?"

"Your supervisor," he shrugs, sitting next to me as I rub my face, slowly waking up. "Was that her? The woman you were staring at earlier, was she the lady who was cryin' last night?" he wonders bluntly. This man has a natural curiosity for things, and not much restriction when it comes to gaining information.

"You're awfully nosey," I comment, avoiding answering him.

"I told 'ya sonny boy, it ain't right what we're doing here. If a lady needs help I ain't gonna snitch 'bout it." He looks down at his boots, fiddling with his dogtag. We're silent for a few moments before she heaves a big breath and stands up. "Your business, not mine." He holds up his hands in defense before leaving.

Edgar was around the same age as me, at least he looked to be. I wasn't too keen on speaking to other soldiers, but this may be one man I could learn to tolerate. He's the only other soldier here who knows that what we're doing is wrong. Yeah...I could learn to live with him.