The worse I felt about the situation I’d put myself in here in Los Angeles, the more I held myself accountable for what had happened with Joe. He’d never seen me the way I’d seen him. He must have thought of me as Ruby’s kid sister, which is why he’d taken me to see The Wizard of Oz. Weren’t boys supposed to be nice to a little sister-buy her treats, take her to a fair, show interest in her activities-to impress the girls they were sweet on? Even at the time, I saw it, but I didn’t let what was right in front of me sink in: the way Joe always stared at Ruby, the slightly weary tone in which he said, “You again. Great!” whenever I surprised him at Treasure Island, the way they sat together for three shows back to back at the Forbidden City. I thought he’d come to the club because of me, when it was all about her. I was still hurt, but the blame I put on myself was crushing, because Ruby had been right that night. They hadn’t set out to hurt me. I’d acted like a dopey, lovesick kid and they’d both been trying to protect me, hoping I’d grow up enough so they could tell me the truth, like Ruby had said. I’d sure been unsuccessful in that department. Now I was friendless and failing-in a new city. Helen was right. Consequences. I never should have left San Francisco, but I was too ashamed to go back or even write to Helen. I was horribly lonely, but I refused to make new friends. When you’re so poor you don’t know where your next meal is coming from, I told myself in my fuzziness of hunger and disappointment, you can’t afford to have friends.
In July-after I’d been in Los Angeles for five months-I fainted in ballet class. “I’m just tired,” I explained to Maestro Kolmakov when I opened my eyes and found him hovering over me. When you’re poor, you don’t tell anyone.
“You’re a good dancer,” the maestro said as he helped me to a sitting position, “but your body is your instrument. You must take care of it. If you have a beautiful car and you don’t put gas in it, it won’t run. If you have a Lincoln Zepher convertible coupe and you put inferior gas in it, you’ll ruin the engine. I live four blocks from here with my wife and sons. Have dinner with us tonight or you can’t come to class tomorrow.” He didn’t want anything in return. I was reminded, once again, of human kindness.
Part Two – The Moon: August 1940-September 1945
HELEN: Carried by the Wind
Things happened fast after Grace left. I’d always been second in the line, but Ida got promoted over me. That was all right. I couldn’t see myself bringing pots of tea and kowtowing to the Lim Sisters every night as part of a five-dollar raise. And Ruby? Unemployed, and without Grace to help with the rent, she gave up her apartment and went back to live with her aunt and uncle in Alameda. We met once for tea, but it was awkward. I’d recognized what was going on between her and Joe months ago. Anyone could see-if they’d chosen to look-that they weren’t exactly “in love.” What they had was irresistible, wet, and uncontrollable. And fffft. Over. A raging fire doused. It wasn’t personal or deep to Ruby, and maybe not even to Joe.
“I’m not seeing him anymore,” Ruby told me, as though that would make her any less guilty in my eyes. “It burned us up to see Grace hurt like that.”
I’d always been wary of Ruby. The reports coming out of China were worse every day. The barbarian monkey-people were burning, looting, and raping their way across my ancestral homeland. Maybe brutality was in the nature of all Japanese and therefore in Ruby’s. Monroe had cautioned me: “You’re going to get hurt.” That it ended up being Grace instead of me made me feel like a sea slug on the ocean floor. I should have done a better job protecting her.
“Have you heard from Grace?” Ruby asked.
“No, and I don’t have a way to reach her.”
Grace and Ruby were like blossoms blown from a tree-carried by the wind, relying on goodness in Grace’s case and wiles in Ruby’s. They insisted that they’d endured so much, but I interpreted their tragedies differently. Grace’s father had beat her; there were worse things in the world. Ruby’s parents had wanted to return to Japan; good riddance. Grace went to seek her dream in Hollywood, Ruby would glitter wherever she was, while I had scars I would take to my grave.
“I miss the three of us being together,” Ruby said.
A part of me enjoyed seeing her suffer, but later, as I watched her retreating, I was reminded just how fleeting life is. Love disappears. Friendships dissolve. I was alone once again.
IN AUGUST, SIX months after Grace left, business at the Forbidden City slowed even more. Charlie was so broke, he couldn’t even change a twenty for a customer. Many of our acts moved to jobs either at other clubs in Chinatown or out on the road on what the show kids called the Chop-Suey Circuit. When Eddie got an offer to dance at the Club Casa del Mar-a private beach club and hotel in Santa Monica-he jumped at the chance. One problem: the run was for a duo.
“They want a Chinese Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers,” Eddie explained. “Now who wants to be my Ginger?”
I was quick to sign up for auditions because, first, I was looking at going back to work at the Chinese Telephone Exchange, and, second, if I got the job with Eddie, then I could search for Grace. (Ida laughed at me. “That will be like looking for a needle in a haystack.”) Every girl saw this as an opportunity not just to go to Hollywood but to be with Eddie. You could practically hear the wedding gongs, cymbals, and firecrackers. Finally, he got around to me. All right, so I was last on his list, but when he took me in his arms I was able to follow the subtle pressure of his hand on my back, the way he leaned in to me, or he pulled me toward him. Afterward, he sat me down.
“You’ve changed a lot since you first started at the Forbidden City,” he said. “You used to be so shy, and you talked like you’d been raised in a moon-viewing pavilion overlooking a lake. I don’t mean to insult you.”
“You haven’t.” Because I had changed in the nearly two years since I’d first auditioned and Mr. Biggerstaff asked me to lift my skirt to see my legs. At the very least, I could now speak the lingo, so I sounded like I belonged in a nightclub.
“If you come with me,” Eddie went on, “I won’t have to deal with any goo-goo eyes coming from you, will I?”
“No goo-goo eyes,” I promised.
Eddie still wasn’t sure. He wanted to see if I could learn a complicated routine. “Even metal and stone can be pierced by hard work,” he recited, which reinforced my knowledge that he’d been raised by good and proper Chinese parents. We practiced in the afternoons before the Forbidden City opened for business. We worked on a ballroom number to “Night and Day”-a song I remembered Grace singing to herself. I soaked into my body every turn, every flick of the wrist, and every lift Eddie showed me. He wanted the dance to end with my back bent over his thigh and his head on my chest. It was a romantic and beautiful move, and it would look gorgeous when I wore a gown, which would drape on the floor around me. When we perfected the maneuver, he pulled me back to my feet, and then brought me into his arms. He stared into my face for a long moment, and then he kissed me. His lips were soft and delicate on mine. His mouth tasted like bourbon.
“You’re doing a fabulous job,” he said. “You look good.”
“Thanks,” I said, “but please don’t do that again.”