Sruti Peddi
Grades 9-10 Honorable Mention

It was a small, unassuming building on the verge of crumbling. The bricks belonged to an era older than the landscape that enveloped it.
But it was all I had.
I pushed open the door, and a bell from somewhere inside jingled.
“Welcome!” greeted the blonde receptionist cheerily. A badge pinned to her pink blouse said ‘Caroline Jones’. “Did you walk all the way here?” she said, her smile dropping into a frown. “I can see the water dripping from your clothes.”
I grinned slightly. “Guilty as charged.”
Caroline wasn’t as amused.“This is the second time this month. Did that Alex kid steal your bus money again?” She looked just like Mom did when she was worried. Their eyebrows would both scrunch up in the same way and their foreheads would wrinkle right along the creases.
I hesitated. “No…” “Don’t lie to me, missy!” “I’m not!”
“Then why are you coming in here tracking mud all over my floor?” Caroline said, pointing at my shoes.
“Fine,” I grumbled. “Alex took my money. Happy?”
Caroline held up her hands. “Don’t look at me child. You need to learn how to stand up for yourself.”
“O.K., O.K.,” I said distractedly. “Can I go now?”
Caroline sighed annoyedly. “The room number is 101 for a Mrs. Eloise Foster Shima -” “Yeah, I know,” I said, already walking up the stairs. I could feel Caroline rolling her
eyes behind me.
I reached the door to room 101. A plaque underneath the peeling gold numbers read ‘Mrs. Eloise Foster Shima’. Yet apart from the minimal decoration, the door was as unassuming as the building itself. I rested my palm upon the handle’s cold metal, taking a deep breath, and pushed open the door.
At first glance, the room seemed empty. Then my eyes sharpened, and I could make out a figure no taller than myself sitting beside a rain-streaked window. They were so wrapped up in what was happening outside that they didn’t notice me coming in.

“Hello?” I called out.
No response.
“Hello?” I said even louder. Still no response.
I walked towards the window, my footsteps pounding the floor, and tapped the woman on her shoulder. She nearly jumped from her wheelchair.
“Good lord!” Eloise exclaimed in a surprisingly loud voice. She put a hand to her chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”
“Sorry, I -”
“Do I know you?” she interrupted, looking at me curiously. I hesitated. “No, I don’t think -”
“Why are you here? You seem a bit too young to be a journalist.”
I took a deep breath and pointed towards my ear. “Could you please turn up your hearing aid?” I said as loudly as I dared.
Her eyes widened in realization, and she fumbled with something behind her earlobes. “Can you hear me now?” I asked in a more normal voice.
She nodded, but before she had the chance to repeat all her questions, I started talking. “If you could give me the chance to explain myself,” I said, taking a tape recorder out of
my pocket, “I’m actually a student, and I have to interview a senior for this project we have.” Eloise looked at the recorder distrustfully. “That’s you,” I clarified.
“Yes, I could tell,” she said. “But I don’t know -”
“I can always ask someone else,” I said, moving towards the door. “No, wait!”
I turned back. Slowly.
“I’ll do it,” Eloise rushed. “But you mustn’t share the recording with anyone else. Just write it down when you get home - it’s safer that way.”
“Uh, O.K.,” I said slowly, hitting the play button on the recorder and tucking it back into my jacket.
“Well then, what should I talk about?” Eloise said, clapping her hands together. “Whatever you’re most comfortable with,” I said.

“Hmm…” She thought about it for a few moments. Her long, elegant fingers drummed the arm of her wheelchair. “Would you mind if I talked about my husband?”
I sighed inwardly but plastered a smile on my face. “Of course.”
Eloise sat back in the wheelchair. “My husband always said laughter is the best medicine,” she said with a far-away look in her eyes. “He was always cracking me up, though I must admit, oftentimes the situation was uncalled for.”
“How so?”
She smiled, remembering a particularly wonderful instance. “On the same day we met, I, as a pilot two years his senior, he, as a recruit barely eligible to volunteer, there was a meeting. General Foster was going through his initiation ritual for the recruits - that is to say, he utterly humiliated them. I don’t remember what the purpose was for, though I’m sure he had made one up, one thing was clear: you didn’t talk back to the General. And because Hiro was the scrawniest one out of all of them, so he got it the worst.”
Eloise paused as if to savor the memory. “But he didn’t take it. He was the only one to retaliate, and he humiliated the General so bad that everyone was laughing with him - except for the General, of course.”
I winced. “Your husband must’ve gotten in a lot of trouble for that.”
Eloise shrugged. “I actually think he got off pretty easy. His pay and rations were just docked off for a month, and he had to do some manual labor.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“It could’ve been worse,” she insisted. “He could’ve been publicly shamed.” “Maybe,” I said, still not entirely convinced. “Don’t you have any, uh, happier
memories?”
“Isn’t that happy?” Eloise asked, looking confused. “Perhaps not for a modern audience,” I said carefully.
“Well, I’m sure they are. It’s just that they are all a blur in my mind.” She twisted a ring on her right index finger. “I know we went to dances a lot. Segregated, of course, but I could pass for white, and Hiro was so popular with the men that they made an exception.”
“You passed?” I asked, slightly surprised.

She sighed. “I admit it wasn’t my finest moment - or moments - but it did make life easier. I didn’t just go to the army for a job, I went for a fresh start without the stigma of a past life.”
“Did Hi - I mean, your husband know?”
She laughed. “Oh yes, you can’t keep these kinds of things secret if you’re married. But I did try hard. I would always wear hats and sunscreen - so I wouldn’t get tanned - and I would cake on enough foundation to make my face positively look paper-white.”
“Then when did he find out?”
Eloise twisted the ring again. It was crystal with a tarnished, silver band. “On the day he was about to propose.”
My eyes widened. This was new.
“I was scheduled to leave for Europe in a week. They needed my identification papers, and, like an idiot, I had just left them on my dresser. If it had been anybody else…” She took a shuddering breath.
“Was he angry?” I said, half-fearing the answer.
She stroked her chin thoughtfully. “Not about what you think,” she said slowly. “Yes, he wasn’t happy about the white-passing, but he understood why I did it. What he was really mad about was that I was going to Europe. I understood as well - he was only planning to propose to me, not get married in a week.” Eloise took off her ring. “Do you want to look at it?”
I nodded and took it from her hand. The crystal sparkled in the thin stream of light filtering through the window, and the band was as cold as the door’s handle. “When did he give you this?” I asked.
“That same day. He said that as long as I wore it, we would always be together. And, thank God, the Europe trip was canceled. We got married on the day I was supposed to leave.”
“That’s nice,” I said, truly meaning it. The ring started warming from the heat of my fingers “It’s like the metal is melting in my hand.”
“It feels beautiful, doesn't it?”
“Yes,” I said, carefully giving the ring back to her. “It looks beautiful too.”
“All pretty things come at a steep cost,” she said with a pained smile. “Hiro had to spend all the money he earned working in the internment camps. His parents weren’t happy.”
“They didn’t approve of you?” I said curiously.

She shrugged. “I imagine they would’ve preferred if he had married a nice Japanese girl, though I wouldn’t know for sure. They got tired of conversation, so they weren’t very talkative.”
I could relate to the last part. Though Alex and his cronies never seemed to understand, being quiet was just easier. Frankly, keeping up this conversation was exhausting, though she knew it was necessary.
“His parents must be proud of him for his service,” I thought out loud.
“No,” she said. Her voice was unusually cold. “They were infuriated. He was their oldest son, and they had wanted him to stay with them in the camps. Then…” She shuddered, and her knuckles whitened. I could tell what was coming next.
“He died,” I said.
“Yes. H-he sacrificed his life for another soldier on I-Iwo J-Jima." Her voice broke at the end, and for a few seconds, I was silent.
“Well, they must’ve been close,” I said at last lamely.
She scoffed. “Close? Smith made Army life hell for my husband because he was Japanese. Racist idiot," she muttered.
“Maybe he changed after your husband saved him?”
Eloise shook her head. "No. He became worse. After Hiro’s death, he said he wanted to marry me.” She paused to let it sink in. “And I was pregnant. With Hiro’s baby.”
I shuddered. “That’s horrible.”
“But I didn’t marry Smith,” she said quickly.
“I know. You care too much about your husband to do something like that.”
Eloise smiled. “That’s what I like to think. Say…are you sure we’ve never met before?” I hesitated. The question had just come out of the blue, and I was unprepared. “Um, no,
not from what I can tell. Unless I have some memory problems,” I joked.
Eloise didn’t laugh. She seemed intent on figuring out what was behind her familiarity. “Maybe some other family members? Siblings? Parents? Even Grandparents?”
“I came here alone,” I said, staring down at the ground.
I could see Eloise frowning out of the corner of my vision. “Well, that’s not good. I can’t in good conscience just ignore the fact that a little kid like you is here all by - oh, wha-what’s wrong?”

Tears dripped down from my eyes and splattered the floor right ahead of her wheelchair. I dried them with the tattered sleeve of my jacket. “Sorry,” I mumbled, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m being so stupid. It happened a year ago and I’m still - ”
She rolled closer to me and held my hand. “Hush, hush it’s fine. Don’t apologize. We all deal with grief in different ways and at different times. There is no right way to mourn.” Her grip was firm and warm like her comforting words, and she smelled of pinecones and fresh paper.
She smelled like Dad.
I closed my eyes and counted to 10. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. “They were good people,” I said, opening my eyes. “Why did they have to leave?”
Eloise didn’t respond to that. I was half-glad she didn’t. So many people, too many people, had tried to explain why my parents had died. And every time, they cared more about fate and circumstance than my own grief.
“Would you like to continue with the interview?” Eloise asked gently.
I cleared my throat. “Yes, we can do that. I think we were talking about your baby or - ” “Oh, yes, Frank,” she said, unintentionally interrupting me. “He’s very friendly and is
great with kids. It would be wonderful if you could meet one day. I’m sure you'll love him.” Her face was already brightening at the prospect.
I had a sinking feeling in my stomach, but I plastered a smile on my face. “That sounds… great. I’d love to know more about him if that’s fine.”
She beamed. “Of course it is. My son, my only son is the pride and joy of my life. I named him after his great-grandfather, God bless him. I like to think that he’s watching over Frank from Heaven.”
The cold feeling in my stomach sank even deeper, but Eloise continued talking, blissfully unaware of the chill in my bones.
“Frank had always been a popular kid too. Once, when I was picking him up from school, I saw he had gotten into a fight. Good Lord, he looked ghastly. I was out of my wits, but he begged me not to step in.” She lowered her voice. “I had somewhat of a reputation in his school.”
I chuckled slightly, trying to imagine a young Eloise lecturing schoolyard bullies. No, it was impossible. Despite all the suffering she had been through, she seemed so innocent and kind.

Yet at the same time, I thought of her as a worldly, almost regal figure - someone who had seen the horrors life had to offer but had still emerged more or less whole.
“Frank had always been a weak and sickly child,” Eloise continued, “so when it came to fighting back, I wasn’t expecting much. But the next day, I received a call from the mother of one of his friends. This ‘friend’ was the one who had beat up Frank - I don’t even remember why
- but now he wanted to apologize because all the other classmates were ganging upon him. Isn’t that funny?” She laughed, but I didn’t. I could tell that this wasn’t genuine. “He only wanted to do the right thing when it suited him,” she said, her voice slowly morphing into steel, “just like Smith, the General, and every other despicable - ”
“Is General Forester related to you?” I interrupted before she could get too far. Eloise looked at me suspiciously and not without irritation at being interrupted. “The receptionist told me your name,” I added hastily.
She sighed. “Unfortunately, yes. He is - was - my father.” “Oh.”
“Oh indeed. He’s a horrible, horrible man. Had a drinking problem too. No wonder he achieved so much in the military.”
“But isn’t that sort of a good thing? Couldn’t he have helped you become more successful because he was a general?” I ventured.
Eloise placed her wrinkled hands lightly on her lap and raised her chin. She really did look like royalty.
“The only good thing he ever did in his life was getting me that job. And after that, I didn’t want to feel anymore indebted to a man who left my pregnant mother starving and penniless on the streets.”
My breath hitched. I couldn’t believe someone would be that cold-hearted and despicable to the people who depended on them. “I’m so-sorry,” I said for lack of better words
Eloise’s voice grew even quieter. “Sorry doesn’t fix anything. They didn’t stop my white father from abusing my black mother. They didn’t stop him from running off with another woman. They didn’t convince the world to give this mistake a chance.”
“You’re not a mistake,” I said hotly.
She looked up at me, surprised by the emotion in my voice. “Then what do you think I
am?”

“I think you’re loved,'' I said. “You had a husband that loved you, a son that loved you, and - ” I took a deep breath “ - who knows? Maybe some grandchildren. That’s more than what some people could say.”
She smiled, but before she could say anything, the door suddenly opened. Caroline stood before them, one hand holding a glass of water.
“It’s time, ma’am,” she said.
Eloise stared back at her blankly. “Time for what? And who are you?”
Caroline sighed and walked over to her. “Just take this please,” she said, reaching into the pocket of her skinny blue jeans to take out a striped green-and-blue pill. “Here, drink this with water.”
Eloise gave her a distrustful look, but ultimately she was won out by her curiosity over the colorful pill.
“Fine, I’ll take it,” she conceded. “But give it to me. I want to take my own poison.”
Caroline looked like she was about to roll her eyes, but she kept her demeanor remarkably cool.
“Whatever you say, ma’am, though I do think you are overreacting - ”
“Nonsense!” Eloise said, her words a bit thick as she swallowed the water. “You never know what they’re putting in this - ”
Her head suddenly lolled to the side and her eyes closed. Soon, she was snoring, entrenched in a deep, albeit artificially-induced sleep.
Caroline reached over to me and squeezed my hand. Despite our differences, I could tell she cared for me.
“I’ll give you some time with her,” she whispered. I briefly hugged her back, and she tiptoed out the door with feather-like steps.
I reached into my pocket and pressed the red button on the recorder.
“Another one for my collection,” I said, the words coming out louder than I intended. Still, Eloise didn’t stir. I closed the gap between us, taking care to be as quiet as possible, and hovered for a few moments over her wheelchair. Her chest rose up and down, punctuated with snores, and I could tell she wouldn’t wake up for a few hours. Taking a deep breath, I bent down and brushed a kiss on her leathery cheek.

“See you again next week,” I said quietly, already sniffing back the tears that I knew would come. This was always the most emotional part of the visit.
I stood back up and walked towards the door.
“Goodbye, Grandma,” I whispered to the still air. And knowing there would be no reply, I opened the door and left the room.