Eddie got to his feet, elbowed past Charlie, and shoved through the kitchen door.
Grace ran to me. “Are you all right?”
I was so dazed that at first I didn’t notice Grace squeezing my arms and legs. I pushed away her hands in embarrassment.
“I’m fine,” I bleated, though I felt bruised and sore.
Grace walked Tommy and me to the compound. She was awfully silent. I had the feeling she was remembering her father and maybe even Joe. She could change all she wanted, but a part of her would always be that scared little runaway from Plain City. I was too overwhelmed to speak either. I loved Eddie, and I was grateful to him. I never wanted to be afraid of him.
The courtyard was eerie in the middle of the night. We tiptoed into the back building and edged down the deserted hallway to my childhood room. After we put Tommy to bed, the two of us sat up, eager for Eddie to come home. We waited and worried, but my husband didn’t barge through the door still bristling and drunk or contrite and bearing forgiveness gifts. What had first been fear about him coming home turned into fear about why he hadn’t come home.
As the sun came up, Grace dozed off. I bathed Tommy, took him to the dining room for breakfast, and then sat in the courtyard watching for my husband to stroll through the gate. I finally gave up, went back upstairs to my room, and shook Grace’s shoulder.
“What time is it?” she asked, sitting up, rubbing her eyes.
“One in the afternoon.” I stifled a sob. “And he still hasn’t come home.”
“Now, Helen, you’ve told me yourself that sometimes he stays out all night.”
But her reasoning didn’t help. We went to the club at 4:00, but Eddie wasn’t there either. Charlie, worldly as he was, looked particularly anxious.
Around 6:00, Eddie arrived with a black eye and other contusions, some of them serious. I drew the back of my hand to my mouth. The ponies’ eyes widened. The guys in the band hung their heads as though they’d expected something like this might occur for a long time.
“What happened?” I rasped.
Eddie rubbed his forehead. “I got caught in an alley by a group of sailors. It’s my own damn fault.”
But that wasn’t the worst of it. In a rage or in despair, he’d staggered into an Army recruiting office and enlisted.
“Those places are open twenty-four hours a day, so they can take you any time you want.” He laughed hideously. “Uncle Sam wants you!”
“Oh, Eddie,” I sputtered. “You could get killed.”
He put a hand on his hip and turned to Charlie. “You can’t have a black-eyed Chinese Fred Astaire after all,” he said, flippant but resolute.
“Jesus, buddy, what have you done?” Charlie shook his head, deeply troubled. Then he turned to me. “Don’t worry, Helen. We’ll take care of it.”
By the end of the first show, Eddie’s anger and humiliation had burned off. The reality of his situation began to crinkle his edges, yet he continued to act the matinee idol.
“You babes all love a man in uniform,” he uttered with false bravado.
During the one-hour break after the second show, he and Charlie paced backstage, talking in low voices. By the end of the third show, Charlie had a plan. “Helen, get Tommy. Grace and Ida, we’re going to need you too.” His eyes brushed over the other show kids. “If any of you want to come, that would be great.” As we started to move, he added, “Don’t change-not your costumes, your shoes, or your makeup. I need you all just the way you are.”
What a spectacle we were-a troupe of performers in skimpy costumes with coats or jackets thrown over our shoulders-drawing the utmost attention to ourselves, like we were acrobats going from village to village, eking out an audience and a few yuan. We reached the Army recruiting office, and it was open just as Eddie said it would be. The weak-jawed sergeant and the skinny lieutenant working there seemed both surprised and wary as we filled the space with our sequins, top hats, chiffon, hosed legs, and rouged cheeks. Charlie did the talking, explaining that we were patriotic, that we were Americans, that he’d sent more than half his staff to war, so he was asking for one small favor.
“Could you tear up the paperwork my star here was fool enough to fill out last night?” he asked, pointing to Eddie, a tall man, dressed in a tuxedo, with powder on his face, and surrounded by a zoo of colorful performers.
The lieutenant made little grunting sounds, which translated to “You’ve got to be joking.”
Charlie went on. “Mr. Wu has a wife and a baby.”
The lieutenant shifted his eyes to Tommy and me, then motioned to the sergeant, and said, “So do we.”
“And,” Charlie continued undaunted, “Mr. Wu has a contract to fulfill. I’ve got it right here.” He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a sheaf of papers folded into thirds.
The lieutenant paged through the document. “He’s only got two weeks left,” he said. “Sure, we’ll give you that.”
Two weeks? For all Charlie’s plotting, he hadn’t bothered to read the contract. On to the next idea:
“As you can see, we’re performers. We’ve all”-here Charlie motioned to the rest of us-“done our bit for the war effort. I’d like to recommend that you put Mr. Wu in the Special Services to entertain.”
Even the sergeant got a kick out of that one.
Charlie took umbrage at their attitude, straightening his back and setting his face. “We’ve performed at war bond drives, for the Red Cross, and at Chinese Rice Bowl celebrations. We’ve also done USO tours to the local bases for all the different branches of service.”
We nodded in agreement-little dolls in a penny arcade.
“No dice” came the verdict. “Everyone has to do their part.”
“Of course they do,” Charlie agreed, “but the Special Services-”
“He’s an Oriental. No one wants to see an Oriental when we’re at war with the Japs.”
“We aren’t Japs,” Ida got up the nerve to say.
“And we’ve entertained thousands of boys already,” Charlie added. “Come by the club tomorrow night. We’ll”-and here, again, he gestured to us in our costumes-“show you. You should see Eddie dance-”
But no dice meant no dice.
There was one sure way out, but Eddie would have to speak it himself.
TWO WEEKS LATER, a group of us were at the Port of Embarkation in Oakland, saying goodbye to Eddie as he set off for boot camp in Tennessee. We stood on the platform with so many other women and children, bawling our eyes out. He picked up Tommy and kissed him. Then he pulled me into their embrace. He whispered into my ear, “Give the boy a chance to grow up properly. Loosen the reins a little. You cannot refuse to eat just because there’s a chance of being choked.”
He boarded the train.
“I love you,” I burst out.
Eddie’s voice cracked as he called down to me. “I love you too. And be good to your mom, Tommy.”
We waved our goodbyes, and then Grace, Tommy, and I returned to the car, drove back across the bridge, and went to work.
“I’m all alone now,” I said, although I was tied more than ever to my family.
Grace promised that she’d stick by me until Eddie came home, and Charlie was a prince. He invited me to stay on as a soloist-doing the exact same routine I’d done with my husband, only he was missing. My dancing solo was like my trying to draw a portrait of a dragon and ending up with a doodle of a dog, but Charlie was too softhearted to demote me back to a pony.