The Purple Heart by Vincent Yee Page A

fan that gently blew the smoke
away in an effort to thin out the smoke. Only a few items were burned at a
time, which slowed down the process. Sweat had soaked through his white T-shirt,
which exposed his darkened skin from being out in the sun while at sea. He
wiped the sweat off his brow occasionally with his thick forearm. There was a
sense of determination on his face. In the beginning, his children didn’t
understand why he ordered the burning. But when the visitors arrived, the
unknown fear that they had felt was enough to convince them that their father
was right.
    Minami appeared with the
last box full of items. A box containing family photos was still untouched, as
well as another with books but the personal letters from Japan were burning
silently. The scent of ash was everywhere.
    Minami looked up at her
father who despite the sense of impending doom, gave a weak smile to reassure
his daughter.
    “I didn’t believe Mom at
first,” said Minami.
    “Believe what?” asked her
father.
    “That we could be
considered spies. We live here, Dad, we’re not spies. How could anyone think
that?”
    Minami’s father tossed a
couple of more letters into the fire and then responded, “I know. It’s tough
Minami and things are not looking good right now. You’re still young, there’s
still much for you to learn about people. Your mother and I are not American
citizens but you, your sisters and brother are. But white people don’t care.
All they see now is that we are Japanese.”
    Minami sighed. For a
moment, they just looked at one another, and then a tap on the wooden gate
leading out to the street startled them. The tall wooden fence hid the person
tapping from view. The tap came again along with a whisper, “It’s me, Joe.”
    Mr. Ito cautiously walked
to the door and motioned to Minami to stand in front of the fire to hide it
from view as the smoke billowed behind her. He opened the wooden gate a crack
and Minami could see a sliver of Joe. She heard Joe whisper to her father,
“They’re two houses down, they’re coming.” Her father nodded and he quickly closed
the gate. Her father turned around when Minami’s mother came rushing out and
said under her breath, “They’re coming!”
    With nervous eyes, Minami’s
father looked at her and indicated to her to discard the burnt ashes as best
she could and to hide the remaining items. Minami’s mother hurried in with her
father, who was already taking off his sweaty white T-shirt. Minami dumped the
ashes from the barrel into the softened dirt her father had previously prepared
and mixed the ashes into the dirt with a hand shovel. She gave the barrel one
more rinse and then sprayed the air with the water hose in a vain attempt to
disperse any lingering smell of the burnt ashes. She then picked up the two
remaining boxes and looked about. There was nowhere to put them. Then she
remembered a place.
    She hurried into the
kitchen and up the stairs just as her father was coming down in a new shirt.
Her heart raced. Her father looked alarmingly at the boxes in her arms. There
was no time to explain as she rushed past him up the stairs and pulled down the
ladder to the attic crawlspace. She remembered a place when she used to play
hide-and-go-seek with her sisters. At the top of the creaky ladder, she tossed
the boxes into the attic. In one corner of the cluttered attic, she quickly
removed a few loose floorboards and placed the items carefully into the floor
space. The empty boxes were tossed into another corner and then she lowered
herself down the ladder when she heard the ominous knock at the door.
    She closed the panel to the
attic crawlspace and quickly entered the bathroom. After washing up and
brushing away her bangs, she opened the door and was startled to find a man in
a dark trench coat facing her. He looked down at her and said in an abrupt
tone, “What do you think you’re doing?” She regained her composure and was
annoyed that he would dare ask her