The Red Kimono

by Jan Morrill

  I tried to tell him they were just scraps, that I didn’t see a problem with using it.

  He jotted a few notes, told me that regulations posted last week said nothing was to be taken from construction sites by internees, and that I’d have to report to the administration building in the morning for assignment to work detail for the next four weeks.

  Great! That means I won’t be able to help Yuki gather wood day after tomorrow. Now how will I see her?

  Back to Sachi’s surprise. Yeah, to be ten years old again. She didn’t let the fact we’re in this miserable camp stop her from planning a Thanksgiving celebration. Like always, she looked for what’s good in the world instead of focusing on what’s wrong with it.

  Still, when her colored friends walked through our door, all I could see was Terrence. All I could feel was the hatred I have for him and everyone who wears the color of his skin.

  But unlike Mama, I didn’t say it.

  Nobu closed his journal, no longer able to ignore the conversation on the other side of his curtain. He’d never heard emotion like that from his sister.

  “How could you, Mama?” Sachi cried. “Don’t you see?” She heaved deep breaths between sobs.

  Nobu held his breath, waiting for her next words. The room was silent, except for her crying. Even the murmured conversation of the people in the rooms on either side of their apartment had stopped.

  Sachi’s voice softened. “First you did it with Sam, and now with Jubie. Don’t you see, Mama? If you hold the color of their skin against Jubie and her family … if you hate them because they’re the same color as Terrence … then you’re no better than the people who put us here, the ones who hate us because we’re the same color as the Japanese who bombed Pearl Harbor.”

  Chapter 50

  Sachi

  December 23, 1942

  One year slowly passed

  Fog blanketed memories

  Hide me from the light

  Wind rattled the window. It crept into the tiny room like an intruder and brushed its icy fingers across Sachi’s face. She’d never been so cold, and shivered, even through her coat.

  But remembering the day stung more than the cold. She wanted to ignore the anniversary and had even taken the calendar off the wall and hidden it under Mama’s stack of magazines.

  It hadn’t helped. The date refused to be forgotten.

  One year ago those boys beat up Papa at the park. For three hundred sixty-five days she had missed Papa and wished she could share each one of those days’ events with him before going to sleep at night. She still saw him everywhere.

  And lately, a new thought had begun banging in her mind, refusing to be dismissed. It poked its ugly finger at her when she least expected. Like now.

  She blinked her eyes to shake it away and decided to go see what Jubie was doing. But first she had to get by Mama.

  “Mama, can I go to visit my friend Haruko?” she asked.

  Mama looked up from the book she was reading. “I suppose so. Say hello to her mother for me.”

  She didn’t like lying to her mother. But ever since the fight they’d had about Jubie, she figured it was easier to tell Mama she was going to play with somebody else. But the Japanese girls in camp didn’t know how to do the jitterbug like Jubie, who’d been teaching Sachi all the strange moves. Images flashed through her mind and she didn’t know what was funnier: watching Jubie dance like a Japanese girl, or seeing Jubie hold her tummy from laughing so hard as Sachi tried to dance like a colored girl.

  “Remember your scarf,” Mama called, as Sachi opened the door.

  “I have it. Bye, Mama,” she replied and wrapped the scarf around her face, leaving only her eyes showing.

  She skipped past a row of barracks under construction, where men hustled around the bare frames of long buildings like ants at a picnic. She wondered if Nobu was working there and stopped to see.

  He’d been awfully mad about having to be on work detail after getting caught with the scrap lumber. But what was the big deal? He’d have volunteered to help, even if he hadn’t been forced to.

  She knew exactly why he was so upset, after sneaking a peek at his journal a few days before. What a thrill it was, doing something she knew she shouldn’t be doing. What power she felt, snooping on what Nobu wrote without anyone knowing.

  Shame on me.

  But she couldn’t resist. What else was there to do when she was alone and so bored?

  Now that she knew all about Yuki, it was hard not to tease Nobu. Of course, then he would know she had read his journal. A real dilemma.

  Her brother was in love. The thought of it made her giggle, though she had to admit she felt sorry he’d had to work over the last four weeks. All he really wanted to do was spend time with his secret crush.

  She could see why he liked Yuki. She was one of the prettiest girls in camp. Sachi had seen her talking to Private Collins a couple of times, and the way he acted around her, he must have thought she was awfully cute, too. Why did boys act so goofy whenever there was a pretty girl around?

  She found Nobu leaning over two saw horses, cutting a piece of lumber in two. “Hi, Nobu,” she called.

  He stopped and turned around. “Hi, Sach. What’s up?”

  His question caught her off guard. She couldn’t tell him what she was really doing; she’d have to lie to him, too, because he would surely side with Mama about playing with a colored girl. “I’m on my way to Haruko’s,” she replied.

  At least she should keep her lies straight.

  He waved his hand. “Have fun.”

  “I will. Bye.” She walked away, hoping her brother wouldn’t watch her for too long. The turn down Haruko’s row was coming up, and she wouldn’t be turning. No, she’d go straight to the gate to sign out. Then, on to Jubie’s.

  What if …

  There it was again—that nagging feeling that kept sneaking into her thoughts. It bothered her anytime things got too quiet.

  She started to skip again and strained to hold the fading sounds of construction in her ears. Anything to avoid the quiet that invited the troubling thought.

  Yuki was standing at the gate entrance again, chatting with Private Collins. She smiled and twirled her hair around her finger as she spoke. The private wore one of those silly grins and leaned across the counter like he wanted to get closer to Yuki.

  He was okay as far as guards go, but watching him stare at Yuki made her feel sorry for Nobu. She knew from his journal that Nobu thought of Yuki every minute of every day. And here she was flirting with Private Collins.

  Unfortunately, there wasn’t much she could do about it. She wasn’t supposed to know anything about Yuki. Still, maybe she could break up their little interlude by hanging around and talking about dumb things until they got bored. According to Nobu, Sachi was good at talking about dumb things.

  Skipping up to the gate, she spoke in her friendliest tone. “Hi, Private Collins. What are you doing?”

  Yuki stepped back. The private straightened.

  “Looks like you’re pretty busy,” Sachi continued. “I’ve been busy today, too.”

  “Oh?” he replied.

  It wasn’t lost on Sachi that he didn’t ask what she’d been doing. She stood on her tiptoes to sign out. “Don’t you want to know what I’ve been up to?”

  He crossed his arms. “I guess.”

  She extended her hand to Yuki. “By the way, I’m Sachiko. I live here with my mother and my brother … NO-BU.”

  Yuki’s gaze flashed toward Private Collins for the tiniest second, then she smiled at Sachi. “Nice to meet you, Sachiko. My name is Yuki.”

  Sachi nodded and continued. “So, where was I? Oh, yes. First, I had to help Mama fold the laundry. That was boring.” She looked up at Yuki. “That’s a pretty scarf you have on. And you sure do smell good.”

  The private raised his eyebrow.

  Yuki smiled. “Why, thank you.”

  A deep breath and Sachi continued. “Anyway, so
on with my story. Let’s see … I helped Mama fold laundry. Oh! Then she asked me to sweep the floor, which I did. But that was boring, too. So, I pretended to be Cinderella. Remember how the evil stepmother and stepsisters always picked on her? Made her do all the chores? Well, that helped a little, pretending I was Cinderella, but pretty soon, even that got dull, dull, dull.”

  Yuki shrugged. The private rolled his eyes.

  “So with the laundry folded and the floor swept, I figured there wasn’t much more Mama could ask me to do. Right?”

  Yuki replied politely, “Right.”

  The private stifled a yawn.

  “Wrong!” Sachi said, slamming her hand on the counter. “Then, Mama handed me a dust rag and asked me to help her dust the shelves. Not that we have many shelves to dust, but still. It was the principle. I do have other things to do, you know. Want to know what?”

  Yuki fiddled with her scarf. “I would love to hear what else you have to do, but I’d better be going. Who knows, my mother may very well have a list of things for me to do.”

  The private flashed a look of alarmed protest, but Yuki held her finger to her mouth and shook her head.

  “You two continue without me,” Yuki said, a slight giggle in her voice.

  “Bye, bye,” called Sachi. She watched Private Collins watch Yuki walk away, then leaned toward him as if to tell him a secret. “She’s pretty, but I’ve seen prettier.”

  “That so,” he grumbled.

  “Well, I’d better be going now. Like I said, I have other things to do.”

  She heard Private Collins cluck his tongue as she left the gate. Nobu owed her.

  The chill in the air numbed her cheeks. When she arrived at Jubie’s door, she looked forward to the warmth inside. Her hand tingled with cold when she pulled it out of her pocket and knocked.

  Jubie’s mother answered. “Hello, Sachi.”

  “Hi, Mrs. Franklin. Is Jubie home?

  “No, she gone to choir practice with Auntie Bess. She be back in a couple hours.”

  Sachi shoulders slumped. What was she going to do for the next few hours? “Okay. Will you tell her I came by?”

  “Sure will. Say hi to your mama for me, would ya?”

  “Yes ma’am. Bye for now.” Sachi turned to leave, wishing she could tell Mama that Mrs. Franklin said hi.

  The door clicked shut behind her. She didn’t want to be by herself. She felt a little irritated that Jubie wasn’t home. But there had been no way for Jubie to know what day this was.

  Everything was still and quiet, as if the cold air had frozen the world. She hated the quiet, especially today.

  What if …

  There it was again, ramming its way into her consciousness. Unease rippled inside, and she searched for a distraction, a place to hide. But the street was empty. Quiet.

  She started running, as if she could escape the thought. But it was too strong this time. There was nothing to drive it away. It burst into her mind, full force. She stopped. Breathless. Overcome.

  If I hadn’t begged Papa to take me to the park, he might still be alive.

  Tears burned her eyes. It was her fault. She covered her face with her hands, hoping darkness would hide her from the bitter realization.

  Mama had warned them that it wasn’t a good idea to go to the park that day. Papa had probably agreed, but with Sachi begging day after day, he’d finally given in and ignored Mama’s warning.

  It was her fault.

  If she hadn’t dragged Papa there, if she had left when Papa said it was time to go, those boys wouldn’t have found him. If Mama and Nobu blamed those boys, surely they blamed her, too.

  I’m sorry, Papa.

  Something cold tingled on the top of her head, trickled down her collar. Goose bumps? No. It was colder. It prickled on her hands, too. She took them from her face and opened her eyes.

  White flakes drifted all around her. They landed on her eyelashes, her nose, her tongue.

  She stared at the flakes that landed on her jacket, lifted her arm to her eyes to see better. Tiny, tiny crystals, shaped like the ones she cut from paper, each different from the others, but all clinging together.

  Falling, falling.

  Softly.

  Gracefully.

  Unbelievably quiet.

  Snow! Her first snow.

  Chapter 51

  Terrence

  December 23, 1942

  Another long night. But then, Terrence didn’t know why it should be different from any other. Soon as it got quiet, things would start jumbling around in his mind, popping up as dreams that haunted him. Dreams of Daddy’s final minutes. What had his father been thinking about in those minutes? Was he in pain for long, or did he go quick? Then, just as he got those nagging thoughts out of his head, he’d dream about Mr. Kimura. Had it really been one year since his family got that telegram? It seemed like so much longer. It seemed like only yesterday.

  It’d been a year since that day in the park, too. Over and over again, he saw flashes of the fear in Nobu’s father’s eyes as he lay helpless on the ground, wincing with every kick. What did he think about in his last minutes? Same thing as Daddy?

  He hated the quiet.

  He got to wondering what he’d think about if he was ever dying. Momma. Daddy. Patty and Missy. He’d think about how he loved them and hoped they’d always know it. He’d wish he could tell them just one more time.

  Sometimes his dreams would all melt together into one, and it’d be like he was watching Daddy and Mr. Kimura die right next to each other. Pretty soon, their bodies would disappear, and all that was left was the things they felt when they took their last breaths.

  He was sick to his stomach all over again, thinking about killing Mr. Kimura. In those final minutes, when they thought their final thoughts, it didn’t matter what color Mr. Kimura’s skin was, or what color Daddy’s skin was.

  Daddy’s last thought. Mr. Kimura’s last thought. They were probably just the same.

  Strange how that realization brought him a little peace, like light shining down in a deep, dark hole. A hole that sometimes pulled him down, down, down.

  Maybe it was peace, or maybe exhaustion. Maybe just plain surrender. But finally, he felt himself sink into sleep.

  Too soon, morning light blared through the window. A rude awakening, too, like Momma shaking him awake when he didn’t want to get up yet. He wanted to sleep some more. But with the sun came noises of the prison coming to life.

  Loud yawning. Guys yelling about being hungry. Toilets flushing.

  No more sleep for him.

  One more day, one more mark on the wall. He took a pencil from under his pillow and pressed hard. Still 476 days to go. Felt like it had already been ten years. Long as it seemed, he reminded himself every day: He’d be out someday, but never, never would Nobu have his daddy back.

  Outside, he would have been counting down the days to finishing his freshman year in college—instead of inside, where he was counting the days to freedom. Least he was still learning things, thanks to Mr. Blake. All his tests had been going well, and now that he and Carter were getting along better, studying with a cell mate wasn’t so bad.

  Heck. Those guards were probably good and pissed that they weren’t getting the action they’d hoped for when they put a white boy in the cell with a black one. Salt and Pepper. Come to think, it was a stupid nickname, being as salt and pepper go together just fine. Matter fact, one don’t go so good without the other. Yeah, him and Carter had shown those jerks. The more the two talked, the more Terrence learned they had things in common. He’d even got to liking Carter.

  The turning point had been Thanksgiving Day, when Terrence had come back to the cell after visiting with his family. Carter was lying on his bunk, back to the wall, after the blowup with his mother. Terrence felt like he was walking on glass—didn’t really know what to say. He just knew he better say something, and fast. Carter’s face was all snarled up and the veins on his neck were bulging out. He�
��d surely explode as soon as Terrence said something. Didn’t matter though. Least Terrence might get to know more about that mysterious sister of Carter’s.

  He remembered taking a deep breath, trying to figure out what to say. So he’d joked with Carter. “Man, you and that family of yours sure know how to break up a good, old Thanksgiving gathering. When you started yelling at your momma, I thought I’d choke on my turkey!”

  Carter’s eyes bugged out as he shot back his response. “What’re you talking about? You didn’t have no turkey in your mouth!”

  “Yeah, and it for dang sure wasn’t no good, old Thanksgiving gathering, neither. Come on. Lighten up,” he said, shoving at Carter. “What went on out there, anyways? Why’d you yell at your momma on Thanksgiving Day? What could’ve been so bad?”

  Terrence could tell by the look in Carter’s eyes, there was plenty he needed to talk about. But whether he would talk was another story. He leaned against the opposite wall and watched Carter.

  Carter bit at the corner of his lip. When he finally started talking, his words came slow. Quiet. It took awhile to come out, but Terrence still remembered the exact words of what Carter needed to get out, the only thing he’d said that really mattered in the jumbled words he’d spoken.

  “I killed my daddy ’cause I was tired of hearing Jenny cry when he snuck into her room at night.”

  He killed his own father?

  At first the confession sent shivers down Terrence’s spine. Daddy flashed in his mind—a memory of him sitting in his big chair, Patty and Missy on each knee and snuggled into his chest as he read to them. He got queasy thinking about what Carter had said: “Pa did things to Jenny.” He shut his eyes and tried to make the image go away.

  No way could Terrence imagine Daddy ever doing something bad to his little girls. Yeah, he could imagine wanting to kill anyone who ever laid a hand on them. Sure as hell couldn’t stand to hear them cry. But his own Daddy?