Author: Michael Holloway Perronne
Publisher: Chances Press
Pages: 268
Genre: Gay fiction/Historical Fiction/Historical Romance
On the surface, Jack appears to have all a
man in World War II era 1941 could want with his solid middle-class background,
upcoming college graduation, and the perfect, devoted fiancee. But one night
when he accidentally stumbles upon a shadow life of men who desire other men in
a Downtown Los Angeles park, he begins to realize exactly what has always left
him with a feeling of emptiness.
Despite the constant danger of being
arrested by vice cops, Jack continues to visit the park every chance he has to
feel a connection, no matter how fleeting, with another man. One night he meets
a handsome and charismatic Japanese-American, Hiro, who appears to want more
than a quick encounter, and Jack surprises himself by starting to truly fall in
love for the first time.
However, after the bombing of Pearl
Harbor, President Roosevelt issues Executive Order 9066 and orders the
mandatory relocation of over 100,000 Japanese-Americans, who have never been
charged with a crime, to far flung internment camps sites. Jack and Hiro
suddenly find themselves torn apart before their secret, fledgling romance can
blossom. Desperate to find and reconnect with Hiro, Jack accepts a high school
teaching position at an internment camp in the California desert, Manzanar.
There, surrounded by armed guard towers and a prison-like environment, Jack
begins to fully realize the injustices being faced by Japanese-Americans during
one of the most controversial times of United States history and shifts his
world view- forever.
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I stuffed my hands in the
pockets of my pea coat and continued to walk faster and faster toward the park,
fast enough that I began to sweat even though it had turned downright cold at
this point. I walked by the May Co. Christmas window displays with their Santas
and snowmen and wondered how anyone could have a jolly holiday now knowing the
danger that threatened us all after the attack on Pearl Harbor.
Sure, we had been listening daily to the news on the radio describing bombings
in Europe, but I knew that having a mass attack on
American soil woke many people up to the fact that we were not immune to the
violence or the war.
When I eventually reached
the park, it was dim and looked deserted. Usually there were a few men milling
about and trying not to look obvious about why they were there and a few other
people who had come there simply to go to the park. Maybe everyone was as
shaken up by the bombing that they were staying home with their families—which
is probably exactly where I should have been if I hadn’t been so weak, I
admonished myself.
Finding the park so
deserted felt like another kick to my stomach. There was no way to run from or
ignore my feelings at the moment, and defeated, I slumped down on a park bench
by myself. I could hear the distant voices of people walking outside the park
and even a few laughs. I wondered if the laughing people had heard about the
bombing yet. News traveled much slower back then with no TV or Internet. It was
possible to be “out of the loop” for a period of time when it came to bad news.
Now it just hits you like a high-speed train throughout the day with one
breaking news story after the next.
I looked up at the clear
sky, and even with the city lights, some stars shone brightly.
Increasingly, I felt
lonelier.
I knew I should probably
be with Sally, my family, or friends instead of by myself in this deserted park
in Downtown, but none of them would understand all the confused feelings I had
swirling in and dominating my brain. I didn’t even understand it all.
Suddenly, I heard a loud
chirping sound and felt a small but sharp peck on the top of my head.
“What the….” I started to
say.
The bird loudly squawked
again before diving down and pecking at my head again. I threw up my arms and
waved them around to scare off my tiny attacker.
That’s when I heard a
chuckle coming from across me. In the dim light I could make out another man.
Back then, he would have been referred to as Oriental. He was a few inches
shorter than me and about my age with short-cropped black hair, and I could see
his wide smile even in this light.
“You must be near her
nest. That’s why she’s attacking you. They do that sometimes. I’d move if I
were you,” he said.
Quickly, I got off the
bench and walked toward him, and the bird stopped attacking.
“Thanks,” I said.
As I got closer, I got a
much better look at him.
He had broad shoulders
that hinted at a somewhat muscular body. He wore a black knit sweater with
fitted gray slacks. His cheeks had dimples when he smiled, and just his gaze on
me quickened my heart. The more he came into focus, the more I saw how
incredibly handsome this man looked, even bordering on the term pretty.
“Sorry, but I couldn’t
help laughing,” he said, his smile growing bigger as I got closer.
I paused and continued to
look at him to see if I could recognize that tell-tale look in his eyes and the
possibility that he had ventured out here by himself for the same reason I did.
“That’s okay,” I said,
conjuring up a small laugh on my end to appear relaxed. “I hadn’t expected to
be harassed by a bird.”
He nodded and said,
“Yeah, by the police maybe but not a bird.”
The police?
Even though anything
resembling a real conversation had been short, I had heard from a couple of the
guys I met up with at Pershing Square to keep an eye out for the police who
showed up on occasion to make sure nothing happened in the bushes and grass
that shouldn’t. Some men’s arrest reports ended up in the newspapers and their
lives were basically ruined. One man described the arrest and beating in the
park of a guy with premature salt-and-pepper hair and bright blue eyes. I immediately
recognized his description. The two of us had gone off together just a couple
of nights prior.
My heart fluttered. His
comment did strongly hint at something. Maybe he was here for the same reason
as me.
This young man with his
warm smile could help me forget….at least for a few moments. In his arms, I
would be able to block out the rest of the world just long enough not to feel
so low about myself. I wanted to take him to the back of my parents’ shop. I
wanted to run my fingers through his black crew cut, let my hands run up and
down his arms to feel his masculine torso, and pull him close to me enjoying
the buildup of warmth between our bodies.
“What’s your name?” he
asked, his eyes darting around every now and then to stay aware of who was
around.
“Jack,” I managed to say.
All I could think about
at that moment was how badly I wanted to kiss him and taste his lips. I could
now see a bit of stubble on his check that I wanted to stroke with my fingers.
“I’m Hiro,” he said.
“Sounds like h-e-r-o but spelt with an ‘I’ instead of an ‘e.’ It’s Japanese.”
“Hiro,” I repeated. “Nice
to meet you.”
