for having picked a girl with attributes he had scarcely thought possible. The female sex was so thoughtful. Losing himself in reverie, he was aware of becoming faint. The heat was making him groggy. Hurriedly he got out of the bath. He poured several basinfuls of cold water over his head and dried himself with a fresh towel.
He returned to the room and after telling her to take her turn at the bath, he sauntered forth into the street in his cool yukata.
Honolulu was a small town of perhaps thirty thousand. The Japanese clustered about along the Nuuanu River and infiltrated into the more established Chinatown for business. Aala Park was a loitering place for the hundreds of laborers travelling back and forth from the Oahu plantations and awaiting trains, the principal means of transportation. Men turned brown by constant exposure to the sun, wearing coarse dungarees and slouching lauhala hats, stumbled from the corner saloon and made merry on the green lawn of the park. Dusk was just settling and the leaves of the ironwood trees along the western edge of the park were restling with the slight breeze that stirred with the setting sun. Prostitutes of different nationalities plied their illicit trade here, and Seikichi, as if the mere sight of these women defiled his eyes, moved away toward the railroad station. The evening train had just pulled in from the country with forty or fifty passengers. This was Friday and people were being attracted to the town for the weekend.
To Seikichi's country mind, even the laborers here seemed a little more dapper. Maybe their ways of spending money were not quite the same. He looked at the little shops that catered to this fluctuating and floating population. Certainly they were enjoying a brisk business. The soft drink parlors and fruit stands were packed with customers who came to quench their thirst and to buy something for friends or for families back on the plantations. He was interested in the way the merchandise was arranged and displayed on the counters and shelves. The clicking cash register bespoke modernization. The kimono-clad girls in the shops seemed to be an attraction in some stores. Perhaps this was essential when competition was keen. The Chinese merchants operated more substantial shops and seemed more prosperous.
He made the rounds along Aala Street, onto Beretania, and back to the hotel. It was already dark and the gas street lights illuminated the early evening. Under the shroud of fading light and encroaching darkness, the street scene took on an exotic quality of softness and quiet. He wanted to linger a while longer but in spite of himself he was drawn upstairs.
Haru was wearing a yukata of bright design tied firmly at the waist with an abbreviated obi, and had finished her evening toilet. Noticing this, Seikichi sat on the edge of the bed. He wanted very much to stretch and sprawl on the mat as was his wont in Japan. Inadvertently, without forethought, he fell on his back. Softly as a cat she was at the side of the bed, with a pillow for his neck.
"Thank you. Oh I nearly forgot. I noticed yor appetite was not much. So I bought some Hawaiian fruits that I am sure you have not yet seen or tasted. You will find them in that package on the table. Help yourself." Haru was touched. He had noticed her to the extent of gauging her wants and needs; not only noticed but took active steps to rectify and supplement them.
"Oh I am so glad! In this package? What do you call these oblong ones that are so fragrant? Mangoes? I know these are bananas because I saw them in pictures. These oranges are much larger than in Japan. I think I shall try the mangoes first." She went out and borrowed a knife and two plates from the kitchen. She peeled one, sliced it and placed it on the plate. Taking out a few toothpicks, she placed them on a plate and offered it to Seikichi.
"Don't consider me. It was meant for you."
"But you must also share it. I shan't have it alone. Oh, this is delicious. There is a pleasant odor, isn't there? Not bad, like pine oil." He smiled and she smiled. It was the first time they had smiled in unison.
CHAPTER 5
Picnic at Waikiki
SEIKICHI WAS LATE IN AWAKENING. HE HAD slept like a log. It was already light outside, perhaps seven o'clock. The bed beside him was empty and the odor of her person faintly lingered on the pillow. He drew out a cigarette and was puffing leisurely, smiling to himself inwardly of what had transpired last night. She had become his wholly. Even the thought of it sent his blood surging through his body, accelerated by the feminine aroma that still remained there. Just then she slipped silently into the room. She had arisen early and had already completed her toilet. Not to let her husband catch her in a dishevelled condition from the night's rest was one of the virtues of a Japanese wife. She was to arise and wake her husband when she had made herself presentable.
" Have you been awake long? How has your sleep been?" he asked. Her eyes were averted, her cheeks colored deeply.
She answered, "I was not able to sleep for quite a while, but once I dozed off I slept well. I was out on the veranda and taking in the fresh morning air." Seikichi was relieved that she was no different. Last night's experience had not changed her any.
"By the way, do you know the bride next door, Mrs. Murayama? I happened to meet the husband yesterday and we became friends."
"Yes. She and I became fast friends on board the ship. In fact we shared adjacent bunks." She was now able to face him eye to eye. There was no shyness left in her glance. She had earned a rightful place in this unit of society that was to begin with them. The act she had been dreading inwardly for some time was consummated rather easily. She was surprised to find herself the same; her thoughts and bodily condition were the same and there was no momentous subjective change, either mental or physical, that she could feel. Such had been her thoughts, introspection, and self analysis this morning as she had stood outside and inhaled the fresh breeze blowing from the Nuuanu Pali. But as she faced the man she was conscious of an inner metamorphosis; to feel that she was the same as yesterday was a delusion. There was a change, subtle but definite. She belonged to this male to whom she was mated. The biological aim of her being and her existence had just begun and in time would bear fruit. She no longer was afraid of him. In fact, she was aware of a desire to monopolize him, to make him hers solely and she was able to say calmly, "It is time you got up; I saw the maids were busy in the kitchen. The call for breakfast may come any minute."
The street car was horse drawn and extended to the Waikiki district. The Arata and Murayama couples boarded the car on King St. and were taken into downtown Honolulu. The sights on the streets were not only novel to the women, but also to the men, for in spite of the fact that they had been living in Hawaii for a number of years, their knowledge of Honolulu was practically nil. They had been sent to the other islands directly from the immigration station. Therefore the imposing stone and brick buildings of the main business section about Fort St., the new Young Hotel, the Palace of the King, the Legislature, the Opera House, and the executive buildings were sights to impress these young country people. The dusty road that was King St., lined with residences and interspersing shopping districts, impressed upon them the size of Honolulu.
Turning to the right at Pawaa Junction, the view changed to a rural scene different from anything they had yet laid eyes upon. Pond upon pond extended as far as they could see and myriads of domestic ducks leisurely floated in droves, busily ducking their necks into the water for morsels of food. The surface of the stagnant water was green with scum and algae. Near the homes of the Chinese who owned these ponds were wire corrals within which the birds took shelter at night. It was then that Seikichi remembered the Chinese were great duck eaters, preferring duck eggs even to those laid by chickens.
As they neared Waikiki, banana farms took the place of duck ponds. In geometrical rows the stunted variety of so-called Chinese bananas were planted and heavy bunches of green fruit dotted the roadside. The immaculately white Moana Hotel and cottages of the Seaside Hotel came into view. Waikiki Beach was then a stretch of white sand in its natural state, untarnished by stone walls or eating places. From the outer reef's edge, against which the billowy waves battered, waves of gigantic height and extent raced towards the shore like white crested steeds. More than a dozen native boys were riding these turbulent waves sitting astride, lying or standing on, long wooden boards. They approached the shore at breakneck speed, only to be stopped in the shallows as the waves lost their original impact and force. In the bright sun the deep blue of the Pacific, the numerous streaks of white crests of onrushing waves,