{"id":70251,"date":"2017-09-11T16:53:03","date_gmt":"2017-09-11T23:53:03","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/jonestown.sdsu.edu\/?page_id=70251"},"modified":"2018-11-14T16:00:32","modified_gmt":"2018-11-15T00:00:32","slug":"jonestown-japantown","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/jonestown.sdsu.edu\/?page_id=70251","title":{"rendered":"Jonestown, Japantown"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a>(This story originally appeared in the November 11, 2016 edition of <\/em>Joyland Magazine, an online publication for short fiction.) <\/em><\/p>\n

After reading the letter once, Truth called to her son, Cuffy, who was now six years old, in the next room. \u201cLet\u2019s take a ride, babe.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat kind of ride? A bike ride?\u201d Cuffy had been playing chess by himself while looking out the window onto Mason Street. The sun was out, the street busy, the world inviting.<\/p>\n

\u201cNope. Cable car, to start with. Then we\u2019ll go from there.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut where\u2019re we going?\u201d Cuffy was a very precise person who liked to know exactly what his mother\u2019s plans were so that she wouldn\u2019t deviate from them midway through, which she often did.<\/p>\n

\u201cCity tour.\u201d Truth gathered light jackets for them both, put water and snacks in a battered gray knapsack, the same one she had taken to Guyana and had on her back when she met the father of her only child, awaiting her on the dock at Port Kaituma. \u201cLet\u2019s see. You can take your little magnet chess set if you want. We\u2019re gonna take a lot of buses.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy? Why can\u2019t I ride my bike? It\u2019s so nice out.\u201d Although Cuffy had lived in this railroad flat in the Tenderloin his entire life, he loved being outside. There were no trees on his block, not one blade of grass, but when he was younger he had liked running up and down the sidewalk, and now he preferred to bike his two-wheeler back and forth in front of the flat. He didn\u2019t mind cold or rain or fog, but Truth was very protective, and unless she also wanted to sit outside and watch him \u2013 and she was less partial to rain and fog \u2013 then he had to stay inside.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re going too far for it to be a bike ride.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere exactly are we going?\u201d Cuffy knew his city geography from the innumerable \u201ccity tours\u201d his mother had taken him on over the years. They had no car, but with a Municipal Railway pass, she had shown him nearly every corner of every district in the city, and some of the East Bay too. \u201cCouldn\u2019t I take my bike for part of it? I could ride next to the bus while you\u2019re on it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Snorting, Truth raised her eyebrows at him. \u201cHoney, you\u2019re out of your mind. You know I wouldn\u2019t let you do that in a million years! It\u2019s totally unsafe. Okay, here\u2019s the plan. We\u2019re going to the Fillmore first. And then down to State. After that, I\u2019m not sure. C\u2019mon. Let\u2019s go.\u201d<\/p>\n

Outside, various passersby waved hello to the pair. Cuffy was one of few children on this block, which was populated mostly by old people or prostitutes, though in recent years some Eastern European\/former Soviet Union refugee families had moved in, living five or more to a room.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow\u2019s chess?\u201d asked Vladimir, the old Muscovite who combed their block daily for aluminum cans and had taught Cuffy how to play when he was barely five. As always, he touched the top of Cuffy\u2019s curly hair as if it were a talisman. This gesture irritated Truth, as it seemed white people always wanted to touch black people\u2019s hair, and once she\u2019d asked Vladimir not to do it, but his English was so limited he didn\u2019t understand or pretended not to. Though the habit continued to bother her, she let the matter go when she saw how much her son liked the old man. They would sit on the stoop, playing chess for hours while she read beside them, keeping one eye on Vladimir just to be perfectly sure he didn\u2019t have any nasty ideas. As a single mother, she was ever alert for \u201ctoo friendly\u201d men who might regard her little boy with suspect interest.<\/p>\n

\u201cKarashaw,\u201d said Cuffy, who already knew more Russian than the bits Truth had managed to pick up. In Jonestown, Peoples Temple had been studying Russian in preparation for a possible move to the Soviet Union, which of course never materialized. Since Truth had been working at the Geary office those last years of the Temple\u2019s existence, she hadn\u2019t learned more than a few words of it. For a time, she did refer to herself as \u201ccomrade\u201d or \u201ctovaricha<\/em>,\u201d as did many in the inner circle, even those who stayed in the United States, but after the End, such vocabulary seemed foolish, so she stopped.<\/p>\n

They walked down Powell toward the cable car turnaround on Market Street. Even though Truth disliked tourists, she liked to watch Cuffy enjoying the street performers who congregated there to entertain for money. The captive audience of strangers had likely never seen some of the odder San Francisco live shows, like the gilded statue, a person of indeterminate gender who would paint himself or herself silver or gold and assume a position for hours on end \u2013 Buddha one day, Rodin\u2019s \u201cThinker\u201d the next. The person could remain still as stone for so long that sometimes Truth wondered if it were healthy. Once or twice she asked herself if the performer had figured out some very clever way of substituting a real statue while he or she went off for the day, and the bowl in front of the statue filled to overflowing with crisp and crumpled bills, anchored by heaps of coins in various currencies.<\/p>\n

\u201cI wonder who he\u2019ll be today,\u201d said Cuffy, his grin twitching with anticipation as they neared the turnaround, where a long line snaked up toward them. Behind dozens of tourists, they joined the end of the queue. \u201cMom, can I go see?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, you cannot.\u201d She shook her head. \u201cIt\u2019s too far from here. When we get closer, you can go look, as long as I can keep my eye on you.\u201d She held his hand tightly as they surveyed the people in front and behind them.<\/p>\n

She could hear Minnesota accents, French, Texas drawls and an African language she couldn\u2019t decipher emanating from the nearby crowd.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d asked Cuffy, listening intently as a man in a turban walked by, speaking to another, similarly clad older man. \u201cIndian?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThere isn\u2019t really a language called Indian. It could be Hindi, but I\u2019m not sure.\u201d<\/p>\n

Cuffy stared after the two men. \u201cI like their hats. Could I get a hat like that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey\u2019re called turbans. I suppose they could be Muslims, not Hindus. Maybe Sikhs.\u201d Did Muslims speak Hindi? Truth felt ashamed of her ignorance. She ought to know. She had learned in Peoples Temple of the ever-present and usually subconscious condescension of white people to those of color, especially the assumption that the latter were all the same. She too had grown up in that ignorance. Her parents never tried to correct it. \u201cIn Guyana, a lot of people worship the Hindu gods like Shiva and Kali. People who originally came from India.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTo Guyana? But Guyana\u2019s in South America!\u201d Cuffy knew a few things about the country of his birth father, information his mother was always happy to share. But she wouldn\u2019t say much about the actual man. He didn\u2019t even know his father\u2019s name.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, sweetie. But the British, you know, the Evil Empire before ours, they shipped all these East Indians to Guyana to pick sugar cane.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLike slaves?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA lot like slaves. They were called indentured servants, which was basically the same thing. Supposedly they could pay back their ship fare and then be free. Only the plantation owners ripped them off for food and shelter, so they never could get enough ahead of their debts to buy their freedom.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLike us?\u201d<\/p>\n

Truth laughed. \u201cNo. Not like us. We\u2019re not badly off, honey. Mommy gets health insurance from the city and a salary we manage to live on, right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut then how come you\u2019re always saying we can\u2019t afford it, whenever I ask for something?\u201d<\/p>\n

She messed his hair, which was very like her own, only his curls were tighter and brown where hers were loose and white. \u201cI mean, compared to plantation workers, we\u2019re pretty well off. Do you know, when I lived in a commune in the Temple, we had an allowance of two dollars a week?\u201d<\/p>\n

His jaw fell. \u201cBut that\u2019s what you give me, and I\u2019m only in first grade!\u201d<\/p>\n

The line was moving now as the cable car waiting on Market turned and began to load passengers. She knew Cuffy would rather wait for the next car so he could watch the performers, and she wasn\u2019t in a great hurry. It was Saturday, and the letter in her pocket would surely require multiple readings over the course of this day before she was ready to decide how to respond.<\/p>\n

The living statue was there, painted copper today, standing in a position resembling something from an Egyptian papyrus, shoulders front with head in profile, feet turned in the same direction as the head.<\/p>\n

\u201cWow!\u201d Cuffy walked around the statue-person, thrilled at the new color and enactment. \u201cHow does he do that?\u201d he called to his mother, who was now letting other passengers enter the cable car while she retained her place at the front of the line and kept her eye on Cuffy.<\/p>\n

\u201cC\u2019mere!\u201d she shouted, annoyed.<\/p>\n

Reluctantly, he joined her. \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFirst, you shouldn\u2019t talk about him as if he wasn\u2019t there when you\u2019re standing right next to him! It\u2019s rude. It\u2019s like how people talk about the lousy service in a restaurant right in front of the waiter! And second, we don\u2019t know if it\u2019s a man. It could be a woman. It\u2019s hard to tell.\u201d<\/p>\n

Cuffy shook his head. \u201cMom. It\u2019s obviously a man. Look at his chest.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThere are women with really small breasts like that. He\u2019s so petite. I mean, he or she is so petite.\u201d<\/p>\n

Cuffy snorted. \u201cMom, it\u2019s not a girl! He doesn\u2019t have a shirt on! Can I go back and look?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right. Only stay where I can see you, and don\u2019t talk about him in the third person. I mean, don\u2019t say \u2018he\u2019 when he\u2019s right next to you.\u201d<\/p>\n

She watched as another child, roughly Cuffy\u2019s age, joined him in circling the gilded statue-person. When the other kid, a white girl with light brown hair and eyes, went to touch the statue, Cuffy pulled her hand back and whispered something. She could just imagine what he was saying: \u201cDon\u2019t do that while my mom\u2019s looking. She never lets me touch him.\u201d<\/p>\n

Truth looked around for whoever was with the girl, and spotted a middle-aged man perusing the newspaper while he surveyed his daughter. They weren\u2019t waiting for the cable car but seemed to be stopping on a walk up or down Market Street. As she watched the girl and Cuffy now running in circles around the statue, she thought she recognized something in that girl, something that reminded her of herself. She wanted to tell the kids to stop running, but she didn\u2019t want to lose her place in line, and the street noise was pitched at too high a volume for her to shout over. Just then the father went over to the kids and apparently told them to stop, for they did. After Cuffy pointed at Truth, the man came toward her.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s your boy?\u201d<\/p>\n

She nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s a sweetie. They seem to like each other. How old?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSix.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMine too. Just had her birthday last week.\u201d While he paused to read the headlines on his folded newspaper, she studied him. Business suit. Tie. Balding. The kind of guy she used to assume was a racist, capitalist monster on appearance alone. Lately, she had begun to reserve judgment on strangers, a new experience for her, something she was learning from her son.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s her name?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnna.\u201d<\/p>\n

Truth gasped. The name was the same as That Woman\u2019s mother, who had died of cancer at Jonestown, before the End, and it was That Woman the girl reminded her of \u2013 hair, complexion, eyes. She hadn\u2019t thought about That Woman in a while, actually, as the life of the Temple receded while Cuffy\u2019s life and needs grew larger. But that was silly. Anna was a common name.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd what\u2019s your son\u2019s name?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCuffy.\u201d<\/p>\n

Usually, his name elicited a long discussion. Either she would explain that he was named after the great slave rebel of Guyana in the 18th century, and then she\u2019d have to offer that her son was half Guyanese, and then she\u2019d have to say where Guyana was, because everybody thought it was in Africa, and since Cuffy had terracotta skin, they assumed he was African. Which he was, by way of the slave trade to the east coast of South America. Or else she would say it was a \u201cfamily name,\u201d which cut off the questions and was true in a non-blood, chosen-family sort of way.<\/p>\n

\u201cHmm. Unusual. I know that name from somewhere.\u201d The man looked into her eyes. He was about her height and age, and behind his wire-framed glasses his hazel eyes searched with sympathetic curiosity. \u201cAnd what\u2019s very odd is that you look a lot like my wife.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s odder is I think I know your wife.\u201d Truth hesitated. She had never referred to That Woman by name ever since the latter had defected just a few months before the End, and went off to warn everybody, including the FBI and State Department, that mass suicide was planned by Jones and the leadership, though nobody took her seriously, except Leo Ryan.<\/p>\n

For years, Truth had blamed her for instigating the suicides, for sending the congressman to investigate Jonestown, which had in turn led to the murder of Ryan and the crew of reporters, which then led to the Peoples Temple membership assuming that the compound would be stormed by the Guyanese military and that it would be more noble to die than to fight, especially since the Guyanese army was black and basically stooges for American capitalist interests. But now, nearly twenty years later, she wasn\u2019t so certain of this interpretation of events.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know Susan? From the bank?\u201d<\/p>\n

Truth laughed. \u201cNo. Not from the bank. Is that where she works now? I think I heard that from someone.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh.\u201d The man\u2019s eyes narrowed. \u201cSo you know her from before. Were you in the Temple?\u201d<\/p>\n

Truth nodded.<\/p>\n

The man sighed. \u201cI\u2019m Alan, by the way. Alan Friedman. And you are?\u201d<\/p>\n

She hesitated. \u201cWell, Susan probably remembers me, but I\u2019m sure she doesn\u2019t like me.\u201d<\/p>\n

He shook his head. \u201cShe\u2019s not like that. Really. She doesn\u2019t hold grudges. But I won\u2019t tell her we ran into you if you don\u2019t want me to.\u201d He looked away from Truth and regarded their children, who were sitting cross-legged on the ground near the statue; Cuffy was showing Anna his palm-sized chess set.<\/p>\n

\u201cNational hero of Guyana, right? Paul Cuffy.\u201d Proud of his memory, he smiled at her.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou have got to be the first and only person I\u2019ve ever met not from the Temple who knew who Cuffy was.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I suppose I\u2019m a member by association. Or former member. Or apostate maybe.\u201d<\/p>\n

Just as Truth was thinking, \u201cor traitor,\u201d Alan added, \u201cOr traitor. I know that\u2019s what a lot of people call Susan. You know, she really wanted to save people.\u201d<\/p>\n

Truth blinked. \u201cBut she didn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d Alan looked into Truth\u2019s eyes. \u201cNo, she didn\u2019t, though not for lack of trying. I know she lives with a lot of guilt about it every day. She\u2019s getting closer to forgiving herself. I mean, she did everything she could to save those people. Were you there? In Georgetown, I mean?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. I never went over. Jim didn\u2019t let me.\u201d She wanted to say more, but stopped herself.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re lucky.\u201d<\/p>\n

Truth didn\u2019t respond.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know, Susan lost her mother there, a couple of sisters-in-law, or ex-sisters-in-law, and you know all about her brother.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

Another cable car rolled down the tracks, and the conductor pushed it with his back and shoulders across the turnaround.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know who you are!\u201d He smiled. \u201cSusan\u2019s told me about you, mostly because people used to get you two confused.\u201d<\/p>\n

Truth was surprised. She was used to being taken for Susan, but had never considered that others might take Susan for her. Susan had been very high up in the inner circle, at Jim\u2019s right hand. That\u2019s why her defection had so disturbed him, perhaps more than anyone else\u2019s. And her brother was Jim\u2019s sycophantic male adorer, who had pretended to defect with the others on November 18th<\/sup>, only he took a gun into the plane and started shooting, failing to kill anyone because his gun had malfunctioned. Still, he went to prison for years.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re Truth.\u201d<\/p>\n

Truth winced. It sounded a little silly, being called Truth, when who knew what Truth was, anyway? Truth was relative. She had given her son a proud, strong name, a heroic name with a history. Truth was nobody\u2019s name, just an idea. An idea of Jim Jones. An idea her 18-year-old self thought was terrific. \u201cWe\u2019re going to take this cable car, Alan.\u201d<\/p>\n

He smiled. \u201cOkay, Truth. I\u2019m glad we met. It was nice to see our children get along, don\u2019t you think? No sins of the fathers for them, huh? Sins of the mothers would be more accurate, I guess.\u201d<\/p>\n

She frowned. Truth supposed he meant to be funny, but his remark disturbed her. \u201cCuffy! C\u2019mon, we\u2019re going now!\u201d she called to her son as the people on line began to gather their belongings. \u201cCuffy<\/em>!\u201d<\/p>\n

Alan bowed a little. \u201cMaybe we could get the kids together again sometime. Here\u2019s my card. So long.\u201d He walked off toward the statue and collected his daughter, who turned to wave at her, and they headed east toward the Bay, hands held. Just as the conductor gestured for people to board, Cuffy arrived by her side.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know what that girl said?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnna, her name is Anna.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, anyway, you know what she said?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat did she say?\u201d They managed to get their favorite seats on the rear right banquette, where no bodies would obstruct their view of the world.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe said the statue was magic. That it wasn\u2019t a boy or a girl. Like a fairy.\u201d<\/p>\n

When Cuffy said fairy, he pronounced it \u201cferry,\u201d which always made Truth smile. San Francisco had plenty of fairies and ferries; either pronunciation worked.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you agree?\u201d<\/p>\n

Cuffy nodded vigorously. \u201cDon\u2019t you? It\u2019s the perfect solution!\u201d Then he was distracted by a clown walking by with many balloons and pointed. \u201cMom! Could I get one? Please? Pretty please with sugar on it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSaved by the bell,\u201d she said, as the conductor rang to signal to the brakeman, and the car lurched into motion. Then Cuffy saw something even more interesting on the sidewalk and promptly forgot about the balloon. She took the letter from her back pocket, unfolded it and read.<\/p>\n

Dear Elizabeth,<\/p>\n

We haven\u2019t seen you in so long. We haven\u2019t seen Cuffy since he was born. We want you to come visit us. Soon. Your mother isn\u2019t well, and I\u2019m not doing so hot either. Will you come? We\u2019ll buy your plane tickets. It would mean a lot to your mother, and to me of course too. I want to see my grandson again before I die. I\u2019m not saying I\u2019m planning on dying next week, but it turns out I have cancer. And I finally got your mother to the doctor to have that shaking looked at \u2013 do you remember? You noticed that her hands trembled when we visited you after Cuffy was born. She has Parkinson\u2019s. Growing old is no fun, believe me, but we\u2019re not complaining. Anyway, there are some things we want to talk to you about, and not on the phone. It\u2019s too complicated to write it all down in a letter. So, please. Make a reservation, and I\u2019ll send you a check to cover it.<\/p>\n

I want to see my grandson again before I die, and of course I want to see you too.<\/p>\n

See you soon, Elizabeth.<\/p>\n

Your dad.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

\u201cWho\u2019s that from?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYour grandfather.\u201d<\/p>\n

Cuffy tried to read it. \u201cWhy does it say Dear E\u2026Eliza\u2026?\u201d<\/p>\n

She folded it back into the envelope, which she stowed deep in the gray knapsack. \u201cYou know my real name is Elizabeth. I mean, the one I was born with.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, I didn\u2019t!\u201d He was smiling, excited by his mother\u2019s revelation of such a juicy secret.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, you did! I\u2019ve told you before. You just forgot.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s an Elizabeth in my class. She\u2019s nice.\u201d<\/p>\n

Truth grunted. It had taken forever to get people to call her Truth; she didn\u2019t want her son to make her name an issue. \u201cGrandpa usually calls me Truth. He must have forgot.\u201d She paused. \u201cHe\u2019s not well.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe has cancer.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s a really bad sickness. Sometimes it can kill you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI wish I had it!\u201d Cuffy looked gleeful.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, you don\u2019t! That\u2019s a horrible thing to say.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t mean it. So, is he going to be all right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAre they going to come visit?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey want us to come to New Jersey.\u201d She frowned. \u201cI hate it there.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, please? Can we go? I want to ride on a plane. You\u2019ve ridden on planes. Why can\u2019t I?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHoney, it\u2019s not so simple.\u201d<\/p>\n

Above Chinatown, they got off the cable car to wait for an electric bus to take them west to the Fillmore. It was a route they\u2019d traveled many times, when Truth had described what her life had been like before Cuffy entered it. He didn\u2019t seem to believe there had even been life before he arrived, and while he was curious about his mother\u2019s history, he didn\u2019t think her life then was as real as it was now.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat are we going to do in the Fillmore? Stare at the place where the Temple used to be?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t like your tone, Mister. That Temple was very important to me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLike, a hundred years ago.\u201d<\/p>\n

She shrugged. \u201cThere\u2019s the bus coming.\u201d<\/p>\n

They got on, and the bus eventually descended from the heights, where wealthy people had fancy flats and freshly painted Victorian mansions, down to the flatlands, where what had once been acres and acres of decrepit buildings were now gentrified co-op apartments. Gay men seemed to be everywhere, always the first to move into the inner city and fix it up so that blacks couldn\u2019t afford the rents anymore. Truth sighed deeply. The only thing that seemed to have changed since 1978 was that gay people were no longer oppressed \u2013 at least in San Francisco.<\/p>\n

When the busdriver called out \u201cJapantown, next stop Japantown,\u201d they both rose.<\/p>\n

\u201cMom, this is so boring for me. Can\u2019t we go into Japantown instead? I\u2019ve never even been there, and we\u2019re always so close whenever we come here.\u201d<\/p>\n

She steered him down the stairs and up the block toward Geary. The Temple building had been destroyed in the 1989 earthquake, and a post office had taken its place. There really was nothing to look at, but she had to stand there, on the sidewalk where she\u2019d once spent years of her life, going in and out of the Temple, sleeping there in the days when she worked like a maniac, so full of purpose. She closed her eyes, trying to sense Jim\u2019s spirit, which sometimes lingered here, but felt nothing. There was no point in lingering.<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay, are you done?\u201d<\/p>\n

She wanted to smack him. \u201cCuffy! This place is part of your history. A big part. You probably wouldn\u2019t even be here if not for the Temple.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBig deal. Can we go to Japantown now?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t like that place. It\u2019s so fake.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy? We go to Chinatown all the time.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know. But Chinatown is where real people live and have lived for a long time. Japantown is some architect\u2019s creation. It\u2019s for tourists.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo what? I heard they have a really neat fountain.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWho told you that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMidori. Her father has a store there.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019s probably filthy rich.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWho cares? I like her. She\u2019s one of my friends at recess. Could we go see her? She told me she usually spends Saturdays at the store.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you know which store?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOpposite the fountain. Thanks, Mom!\u201d<\/p>\n

She smiled ruefully. Even when she was dead set against whatever it was he wanted, Cuffy often managed to get his way. She realized she had never been very good at opposition. Not with the neighbor boys, who wanted her titties; not with Jim, who wanted her energy; and not with Cuffy, who basically wanted her love. This giving in was different than the others, she told herself. This was appropriate.<\/p>\n

Japantown made her eyes hurt. Just as she\u2019d always suspected, it was full of rich people. Not, in this case, only rich white people, but lots of rich Asians too. She remembered how Jim would talk about how the Japanese had been put into what he called concentration camps; yes, they were concentrations of Japanese people, but not the same as what happened in Germany, not extermination camps, not what he said would happen to black people in the United States. In Jonestown, he\u2019d terrified the elderly blacks, insisting the KKK was marching down the streets of Los Angeles, but it wasn\u2019t true. She looked around. No black people here except Cuffy, who was running in circles around the fountain, now joined by a little girl who had run out from a fancy store featuring silk kimonos and other shiny articles of clothing. A silver-haired man ran out behind her, yelling in Japanese.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s okay,\u201d Truth called to him. \u201cThey\u2019re in school together. Cuffy wanted to say hi to Midori since we were nearby.\u201d<\/p>\n

The man looked at her suspiciously. \u201cWho are you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m Cuffy\u2019s mother. They\u2019re both in first grade. He and Midori play at recess.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay. You watch them. I go back to my customers.\u201d<\/p>\n

When he said, \u201cWho are you,\u201d did it mean that she couldn\u2019t possibly be Cuffy\u2019s mother? Or did he mean, who are you, as in, I\u2019ve never seen you before? Hard to tell.<\/p>\n

With her eye on the children, Truth made her way over to his store. It was so expensive there were no prices anywhere, a sure sign of a place exclusively reserved for the excessively rich, for whom prices were irrelevant. She frowned. Yet Midori and Cuffy were playing the chase game like old friends. Clearly they had done it many times before. She wondered if Cuffy, like her, was always attracted to what was different, rather than what was like. Then again, there were only a few black girls in his grade, and their names came up sometimes, but not as often as Midori\u2019s.<\/p>\n

An African couple came out of the store with shopping bags full of purchases. The woman smiled at her, pointing to the display. \u201cBeautiful kimonos, no? We can\u2019t get these in Togo.\u201d<\/p>\n

Flustered, Truth nodded, then shook her head. \u201cOh. I suppose so. I mean, I suppose not. Hello.\u201d<\/p>\n

The very tall man and woman, dressed in brightly patterned bou-bous, smiled again and then walked off. Clearly, they had plenty of money and were not worrying about the high cost of shopping at Midori\u2019s father\u2019s store.<\/p>\n

After his customers had departed, Midori\u2019s father re-appeared. \u201cGood afternoon. Forgive me for rudeness before. I am Yoshi. And your name is\u2026?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTruth. Truth Miller.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAh. Miss Miller. I am glad to meet you. Midori is always talking about your son. Cuffy this. Cuffy that. They like each other a great deal, I think.\u201d<\/p>\n

He, too, was an older parent. So old he looked like he probably had grandchildren too. Truth assumed Midori was the product of a late second marriage.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you have other children, Yoshi?<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. Just Midori. My wife and I try very very hard without luck, and finally we receive our gift, just after we have given up.\u201d<\/p>\n

So, Truth was wrong. Again. \u201cHad you considered adopting?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLike you?\u201d<\/p>\n

She frowned. \u201cNo. Not like me. Cuffy is my natural child.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAah. I see.\u201d<\/p>\n

But he looked a little confused. Surely, if he would study their faces, he would see that she and Cuffy had the same eyebrows and nose, but most people saw only skin color. To most, skin color was everything, the only thing. So they assumed she had adopted him, like Midori\u2019s father and probably Midori too, if she thought about it. Truth was sure no one ever assumed he had adopted his daughter.<\/p>\n

\u201cExcuse me. I have things to attend to inside.\u201d<\/p>\n

She nodded. Despite persecution during World War II, and the fact that the Japanese had suffered mightily from the dropping of the atom bomb, she had never felt pity for them. Most importantly, the Japanese had joined the Germans, and though they were Asian, like the Nazis, they seemed to believe they were superior to all other humans. During that war, the Japanese had enslaved Korean women and devastated China, all in the name of their superiority. Sighing, she chided herself for condemning all Japanese people, as if Midori and her father were among the guilty of fifty years ago. They weren\u2019t.<\/p>\n

\u201cMom. Watch this!\u201d<\/p>\n

Cuffy and Midori were now doing cartwheels around the fountain. Midori was better at them and could perform in perfect parallel to the edge. But Cuffy was more spontaneous and less accurate. His second cartwheel caught his right leg on the low cement wall of the fountain, and before she could yell \u201cwatch out!\u201d he was down.<\/p>\n

\u201cBaby!\u201d She ran very fast to his side.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m okay, Mom.\u201d Cuffy was sitting up, rubbing the side of his leg. \u201cGood thing I was wearing jeans, though.\u201d<\/p>\n

She pulled up the material. His skin was chafed but not bleeding.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet me put something on it,\u201d she said, though she didn\u2019t have anything with her.<\/p>\n

\u201cNah. I\u2019m okay. Hey, Midori! Can you do three in a row? I can.\u201d And he was off again.<\/p>\n

Shaking her head, she sat down on the edge of the fountain, hoping her presence there would prevent a repeat injury, and pulled out the letter, re-reading her father\u2019s neat print.<\/p>\n

Anyway, there are some things we want to talk to you about, and not on the phone. It\u2019s too complicated to write it all down in a letter. So, please. Make a reservation, and I\u2019ll send you a check to cover it. I want to see my grandson again before I die, and of course I want to see you too.<\/p>\n

See you soon, Elizabeth.<\/p>\n

Your dad.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Did he want her to feel sorry for them? They were old. They had lived long, healthy lives. She hated the thought of returning to New Jersey. Since she\u2019d left at l8, Truth hadn\u2019t been back, despising the nauseating sameness of suburbia that had formed her, a sameness she\u2019d spent a lifetime rejecting. Her parents hadn\u2019t suffered the way the old people in the Temple had. They were white. They were middle class, though not wealthy, like some of the white families other members had left behind. They weren\u2019t educated, like the lawyer and academic types who populated the inner circle. For a moment, she wondered if Jim found her less useful to him for her relative lack of privilege. She\u2019d never thought of that before. Was that why he hadn\u2019t slept with her? Because she could offer him nothing of status? Because there was no advantage to her being his lover, in comparison with Jocelyn, for instance? She didn\u2019t like that idea, not at all.<\/p>\n

\u201cCuffy! Let\u2019s go. We did what you wanted to, and now we\u2019re going to State, like I wanted to.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMom. Not yet! I\u2019m hungry. I\u2019m thirsty.\u201d<\/p>\n

Just as she was getting the snacks out of her bag, Midori was pulling Cuffy behind her toward Truth. \u201cMrs. Miller? Can you come into my father\u2019s store? We have plenty of food in back.\u201d<\/p>\n

Truth wanted to say no. She wanted to get away from here, from the thoughts she\u2019d been having, but Cuffy said \u201cPlease? Pretty please? I like Japanese food. Sometimes I share Midori\u2019s sushi at lunch.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou never told me that!\u201d<\/p>\n

Reluctantly, she let her son pull her into the store. Separated from the retail area by a silk tapestry was a kitchen area on the left and storage on the right. After opening a small refrigerator, Midori arranged several California rolls on a red enamel tray.<\/p>\n

\u201cYummy!\u201d said Cuffy, rubbing his belly and smiling hugely at Midori.<\/p>\n

Truth shook her head. So Cuffy liked to eat seaweed! She never had. She would try it, though, to be polite. It was funny to her that Cuffy had this other life she knew little about, the life of a first grader in a multicultural public school in a big city of the 1990s. It was nothing like the life she had known in 1950s New Jersey, a life she had preferred to forget. Whenever her son asked about her own first grade experience, she had to say, truthfully, that she didn\u2019t remember. Truth had willfully suppressed most of her life prior to meeting Jim Jones.<\/p>\n

Midori\u2019s father entered the room and said something in Japanese to his daughter.<\/p>\n

\u201cCan I get you anything, Mrs. Miller? Cuffy?\u201d<\/p>\n

She shook her head. \u201cYour daughter is quite the hostess.\u201d She wasn\u2019t sure she meant it as a compliment, but the man beamed.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes! This is very important in our culture. Excuse me. I wish I could sit with you, but I have new customers.\u201d<\/p>\n

The children were eating sushi off the tray with chopsticks and talking about their teachers and classmates. Truth sampled one and nearly spit it out. If she were alone she would have said, \u201cYuck!\u201d but she said nothing and instead sipped the water Midori had set before her. Perhaps she would not insist on going all the way to State after all, on her tour of places of Truth\u2019s past she chose to remember, the world of her early Temple days.<\/p>\n

Her new doubts about Jim and his motivations buzzed in her brain like trapped honeybees. Against her better judgment, she began to list all his lovers, and what each had brought to him in terms of status: Jocelyn had the big-deal minister father, whose praise he courted, whom Jim thought would confer legitimacy on the Temple. The first major traitoress, the one who was Sean\u2019s mother, had a husband who was an Ivy League lawyer, an inner-circle chief who seemed to think Jim was God up until the day he himself defected. Privately, Truth had wondered if Jim really wanted the lawyer but settled for the wife, instead. Their child had died at Jonestown. And That Woman, Susan, she was a big-deal rich Jew, whose mother, Anna, had given the Temple tons of money \u2013 a quarter-million in properties. It felt awful to think this way about a man who had worn thrift-shop clothes all his life and driven second-hand cars when he could have been like the Bagwhan, with 28 Rolls Royces, or Sun Myung Moon, with his mansions all over the world. No, Jim wasn\u2019t into money. It was just coincidence, all these women with connections who caught his eye and shared his bed. She flushed, angry with herself for reviving petty, jealous concerns of long ago, of the life pre-Cuffy.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, Mom. Hello?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t say \u2018hey,\u2019\u201d Truth said automatically. \u201cIt\u2019s rude.\u201d She wondered where that had come from, then remembered her mother saying it to her, and suddenly she could picture her mother and father and herself at breakfast in their little kitchen, eating eggs and white toast, the room probably the size of this one, big enough for a table, three chairs, a fridge and stove and that was about all. \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou weren\u2019t listening! I was saying that Midori\u2019s been on a plane.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSix times!\u201d said Midori proudly. \u201cWe go to Japan every year to see our relatives. It\u2019s a long trip, but I love flying.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re a lucky girl, Midori. But you know, flying is expensive.\u201d<\/p>\n

As she spoke, Truth realized that money was not what kept her from visiting her own family. She was lying not only to Cuffy but to herself. And in the letter in her pocket, her father was offering to pay their way.<\/p>\n

\u201cMom, why can\u2019t we go visit\u00a0our<\/em>\u00a0relatives? I\u2019ve never been on a plane,\u201d he said sorrowfully to his friend, who nodded knowingly.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I\u2019d never been on a plane at your age either,\u201d Truth retorted. She didn\u2019t like how Cuffy was acting like some deprived child, just because he hadn\u2019t flown by the age of six.<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease, Mom? You said Grandpa was sick. I\u2019ve never even met him.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou did meet him. He and Grandma came to see you when you were born.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut I don\u2019t remember! It\u2019s not fair. Midori goes every year all the way to Japan. Japan is much farther than New Jersey.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow do you know?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve seen them on the map. At school we have this huge world map, and everyone writes their names on places where they have family.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you wrote New Jersey?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYup. And Guyana too.\u201d<\/p>\n

She shook her head, amazed by the way Cuffy accepted the circumstances of his life in stride. He didn\u2019t judge everything like she did. Truth had always been like that \u2013 unwilling to accept the world as it was, distrustful, always assuming people were lying. Cuffy must be more like his father, she thought, if trusting people were something that could be passed on in the blood.<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe what?\u201d Midori and Cuffy spoke simultaneously.<\/p>\n

\u201cJinx!\u201d they shouted. \u201cDouble jinx! Triple jinx! Quadruple jinx!\u201d<\/p>\n

(Annie Dawid is a regular contributor to <\/em>the jonestown report. Her other literary work in this edition is\u00a0Long Before Jonestown: Indianapolis, 1956<\/a>. Her two book reviews are <\/em>New Materials Worth Reading in New Jones Biography<\/a> and Jonestown Plays Minor Role in Novel<\/a><\/em>. Her <\/em>complete collection of articles for this site may be found\u00a0<\/em>here<\/em><\/a>.\u00a0She can be reached at\u00a0<\/em>annie@anniedawid.com<\/em><\/a>.)<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

(This story originally appeared in the November 11, 2016 edition of Joyland Magazine, an online publication for short fiction.) After reading the letter once, Truth called to her son, Cuffy, who was now six years old, in the next room. \u201cLet\u2019s take a ride, babe.\u201d \u201cWhat kind of ride? A bike ride?\u201d Cuffy had been […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"parent":71043,"menu_order":12,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-70251","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/jonestown.sdsu.edu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/70251","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/jonestown.sdsu.edu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/jonestown.sdsu.edu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jonestown.sdsu.edu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jonestown.sdsu.edu\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=70251"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/jonestown.sdsu.edu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/70251\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":84500,"href":"https:\/\/jonestown.sdsu.edu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/70251\/revisions\/84500"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jonestown.sdsu.edu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/71043"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/jonestown.sdsu.edu\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=70251"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}