HISTORICAL FICTION By Michael G. Malaghan
As much as Haru wanted to help her sisters, the more troubling issue at hand was the tension between Taka and his father. Taka wasn’t the first Nisei teenager to take issue with the daily rush from public school to Japanese language school. But advising mothers on how to address the issue of older children resenting the “boring and meaningless” lessons was much easier than handling it with her own son. As she started to rehearse key points, she saw Taka pedaling up the street.
“Let’s ride over to Waikïkï,” she shouted through the back door. She untied her apron and hung it on the wooden peg next to the vegetable cutting board. Swinging open the screen door, she scampered down the steps to the backyard, where Taka had just pulled up on his bike, his legs on the ground straddling his bike’s chipped, red-painted steel bar. Haru ignored her son’s wary look and stepped under the kitchen overhang to grab her lady’s Schwinn. “Let’s go by Kaläkaua and McCully. We can see how the Ala Wai dredging is progressing. I want to share a special memory with you.”