by Jan Morrill
Patty wasn’t even born yet, so he couldn’t have been more than four or five when he woke to the sound of muffled voices. He remembered thinking it was strange that they were talking in the middle of the night. He’d known he shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but he pressed his ear to the wall anyway.
“John,” Momma said, “what you gonna do about it?”
Daddy’s deep voice rumbled on the wall. “Ain’t gonna do nothing, Momma. Ain’t nothing I can do that’s gonna change anything no how.”
Momma’s tone got louder and she talked real fast. “But you didn’t mess up that engine. You one of the best mechanics Allen’s Garage ever had. You can’t let Mr. Allen fire you for something you didn’t do—just ’cause you the one who found it broke? You been a good employee for near five years now. You got to stand up for yourself.”
Terrence remembered a long silence, when his ears rang with quiet. He’d pressed harder against the wall, straining to hear Daddy’s reply.
“You think arguing with Mr. Allen’s gonna get me my job back? ’Course not. Only make matters worse.” Daddy paused. “You know what I am gonna do though?”
“What?”
“Ain’t got no choice, Momma. Gotta get me a job. I’m gonna join the navy.”
“John! You can’t!”
“Momma, hush now or you wake Terrence. I done made up my mind, and there ain’t nothing more to be said about it.”
Terrence stared at the darkness that had taken him back to his boyhood bedroom. Thoughts flooded his head. Daddy might’ve never joined the navy if that old Allen hadn’t fired him for something he didn’t do. Which means he wouldn’t have been at Pearl Harbor when it was attacked. And that means he wouldn’t be dead. And if the Japs hadn’t killed his Daddy, Terrence wouldn’t have been looking to get back at one of them that day in the park. And he wouldn’t be in this jail cell. If all that hadn’t happened, he’d be home, right where he should be, helping Patty with her problem about William.
That all made him wonder if Daddy would do it like that all over again. Would he still ignore what Allen said? And would Daddy tell Patty to ignore what was happening to William? Would he leave things be to keep from stirring up any more trouble?
All Terrence could think was what might’ve happened if Daddy had gone back to talk some sense into Allen. Maybe the old guy had had a bad day when he’d fired Daddy. What if there’d been the smallest chance he could’ve got his job back?
Well … they sure as heck would’ve all been in a better place than they were now.
What would Carter think he should tell Patty? What if it happened to Jenny? Carter was deep into a book over on his bunk, but Terrence didn’t care. He had to talk to someone.
“Hey, Carter.”
Carter flipped a page.
“Got a minute?”
“Yeah, what is it?” He set the book down.
Terrence drew a deep breath. “What would you say to Jenny if she told you a Negro kid had a crush on her—”
Carter sprang up. “I’d tell her to stay away from him. Then I’d tell him to keep his dirty hands off her.”
He might as well have punched Terrence in the gut. Unable to hold back a gasp, he glanced down at Patty’s letter. Sure couldn’t let Carter see the surprise in his eyes. No way would he let him know he’d hurt him.
Carter’s book slapped to the floor. Bedsprings squeaked.
“Hey, sorry, Tee. I wasn’t thinking.” Carter whispered from near the cell door.
Terrence turned away.
“After what Pa did to Jenny, I can’t think of her with anyone. Doesn’t matter if he’s a Negro or not. Not anyone.”
Terrence huffed, still not ready to talk to this guy he thought he knew. But he couldn’t hold his anger inside. “You mean to tell me it didn’t have anything to do with the guy being a Negro?”
Silence.
Carter pulled out a chair and sat across from Terrence. “Okay, I won’t deny that got me going. Mostly, it was just imagining some guy messing with Jenny again. Why’d you ask me that anyways?”
Terrence stared at Carter, still not sure if he wanted to talk to him.
“Come on, Tee. I said I was sorry. You know I don’t got nothing against coloreds. But come on. There’s a real world out there, with plenty other people who don’t want to see a white girl with a colored kid. Why would I want Jenny going through all that? So, why’d you ask me that question?” He pointed to the letter on the table. “That from Patty?”
“Yeah.” Feeling protective, Terrence folded the letter and put it in his pocket.
“What’d she have to say?”
Terrence rolled his eyes. No use fighting Carter off. “She said she and this white kid named William have a crush on each other. Said some bullies beat up on William. Called him a nigger lover.”
“Guess I been called that a few times,” Carter said, grinning.
Terrence smiled. All those times Peachie and his gang called Carter a nigger lover, just ’cause he shared a cell with a colored man. Heck, they almost killed Carter over it. No wonder it was a blow to hear Carter’s response to his question. A hard blow that still smarted some.
“She wants me to tell her what to do,” Terrence said. “What in the world am I supposed say?”
“Hmm. That’s a tough one.” Carter rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s funny, you know. Behind these bars, we’re kinda in a protected world of our own.” He tore a piece of paper off a tablet and put it in his mouth, then chewed on it like gum. “We can sit here and talk about how it’s okay for our sisters to have crushes on boys with skin different from theirs—after all, you and me get along just fine. But that ain’t the real world, is it?”
“Guess not.” Something about Carter’s reaction still stuck in his craw. Until … he smiled at a realization that hit him. “You forgot I’m colored, didn’t you?”
“Huh?”
“When you said what you said about what you’d do to a Negro kid who liked Jenny. You didn’t think about me being colored when you said it. Right?”
Carter tapped his fingers on the table. “Maybe. Never really thought about it.”
“’Course not! That’s my point. If you’d thought about me being colored, you wouldn’t have said what you said. I know you wouldn’t have. So somehow, the color of our skin doesn’t matter to us no more.”
“Maybe. Why do you suppose that is?”
Terrence got up and walked over to Carter. “’Cause we’re the same color,” he said, poking Carter’s chest, “right inside there.”
“There you go getting all philosophical again, Tee.”
“Maybe. But it’s true.”
“Yeah, but like I said, it ain’t the real world. So what’re you going to tell your sis?”
“I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”
Carter smacked on his paper gum. “Might come as a surprise, but there’s some things can’t be fixed.”
“You might be right.” Terrence smiled. “Least not while I’m in here anyways.” He stared at the markings on the wall near his bunk. Only 147 days to go. “But you know what? I got less than five months in this place.”
“Yeah? Then what?”
Terrence tore a sheet of paper from the tablet. “Can’t say right now. Mr. Blake’s been trying to tell me to get a college education. Keeps giving me these articles on civil rights. But I don’t know. It’s not something I ever thought I could do. Then again, maybe he’s right. Someone’s gotta do something, ’cause it sure ain’t gonna get better on its own.”
“You’re right about one thing,” Carter said. “Nothing’s gonna happen overnight. And for sure not in time to help Patty figure out what to do about William.”
“No, but bad as she feels now, she’s just a kid. She’ll get over it.” Terrence rubbed the sides of his forehead. “I feel bad about what William’s going through, but I can’t fix that problem from a jail cell. For now, maybe it’ll help to remind Patty that I’ll be outta here soo
n. Then we can figure something out together.”
Chapter 62
Sachi
April 12, 1944
It seemed like it had been raining forever. But at last, patches of blue appeared between gray clouds that drifted away from camp. Sometimes, sunlight cast shadows; but like ghosts, they disappeared when the monster gray clouds shoved the sun behind them again.
Sachi watched a line of people file through the gate. Their shadows disappeared, reappeared, then disappeared again. Each carried the few things that still existed in their lives. Suitcases. Boxes. Babies. For weeks, they’d been coming, transferred from the relocation center in Jerome, Arkansas.
Mama told her it was because Jerome was being closed and that eventually, all the internees would come to Rohwer. Sometimes she wondered if the government was just playing games—like chess—moving the internees around all the time. Why had the people from Jerome been transferred to Rohwer? Were they considered “disloyal” like Nobu and all the others who were sent to Tule Lake? She still couldn’t believe so many had to be sent away, just because of how they answered two silly questions. Nobu was her brother. No way was he disloyal.
Hundreds of people had been arriving every day. Even with the rows of new barracks and the units vacated by the transferred occupants, she wondered if there would be room for everyone.
But Sachi didn’t worry so much about that. All she cared about was who she might see come through the gate. She’d watched people reunited with family or friends, and whenever it happened, she got a little lump in her throat, seeing the laughter and tears of those brought together with loved ones.
Excitement and anticipation flitted all around, like a brightly colored butterfly. Would it light on Sachi, too? Would she find old friends? Maybe Sam? Even if she weren’t so lucky, maybe she and Jubie would meet new friends.
Jubie watched from outside the gate. Sachi waved at her, wondering why visitors were not allowed inside while the internees were arriving from Jerome. What difference did it make whether Jubie stood a few feet outside the gate, or inside next to her? Just one more dumb rule. Praise to Buddha that she’d learned Papa’s philosophy. Shikata ga nai. We do what we must do.
Sachi and Jubie had worked out their own sign language to communicate. A smile and raised eyebrows expressed excitement, perhaps at the sight of a group of giggling girls—possibilities for new friends. The flash of an exaggerated frown and “thumbs down” showed disapproval, maybe of a scowling woman. Who would want her as a new resident in the camp?
A bunch of boys Nobu’s age sauntered through the gate, joking around and punching each other. It was obvious they were showing off in front of the gaggle of girls who whispered to each other and tried to act like they didn’t know the boys were watching.
Sachi signaled to Jubie, and pounded her heart in a mocking way. She laughed at the scene, but inside, it made her miss Nobu. She’d have to write to him about how love-struck the Jerome boys acted in front of the Rohwer girls. On second thought, that might not be a good idea. It would only remind him of Yuki.
Tired of watching new internees arrive, Sachi huffed. Her exaggerated yawn signaled Jubie: I’m bored.
Jubie nodded her head. Me, too. Then she pointed in the direction of town. I’m going home. See you later.
Sachi waved goodbye, yet felt a little perturbed. Now what was she supposed to do? Things would really be dull without Jubie.
Time for something new. She stared at the cast of characters trudging off the bus and through the gate. She could pretend they were characters in one of her books. But which book? Pride and Prejudice, of course! She was almost finished reading it, and kept imagining what the characters looked like, especially Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. Fitzwilliam. She loved that name—perfect for an aloof and proud gentleman.
She watched one young woman walk around, staring at the camp, her new home. Very proper and pretty, too. She would make a good Elizabeth and she imagined her in a nineteenth century-era dress and imprinted her image in her mind for her next reading of the novel. Now, on to find a Mr. Darcy.
He had to be handsome, very proud. What about that one? Probably too young to be as regal as she imagined Mr. Darcy to be. There? No, he looks cocky, not proud.
Maybe the man walking through the gate. Handsome, and he had a proud stride, though with a bit of a limp. Something about him. He wasn’t quite right for the role of Mr. Darcy, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of him. He wore a hat that hid much of his face, until he turned slightly. She studied his profile. Maybe too old.
But …
Her pulse quickened and excitement surged through her, but only for the tiniest moment. Swift as a rushing river, sadness swept it away. That man looked just like Papa. The same long nose, unique among Japanese men. But the hat he wore was too big, and covered much of his head. Still, the likeness drew her like a magnet. So much like Papa from the side—same height, but thinner.
Would she ever stop seeing Papa everywhere? And now, even in the book she read?
Moving closer to get a better look, she hoped he would look as much like her father from the front, but feared he would not.
She tiptoed toward him, like a cat stalking a field mouse. One tiny step forward. Stop. Another measured step. Stop. She lingered in that moment of wondering, that magical split second of fantasy.
The similarity was overwhelming. Nothing else in the world mattered but the man she was approaching.
Another inch forward. Gravel beneath her feet crackled.
He turned around.
Her heart jolted. Her breath caught in her throat. She held it, afraid to breathe, lest she lose the moment.
His eyes—eyes that were surely Papa’s—widened.
Every part of her wanted to lunge forward. To hug him and never let go. Every part, that is, except the awful, nagging memory that Papa was dead.
This man is a stranger.
And that look on his face, half caught between a cry and a scream. Did she startle him? Was he angry that she stared?
No. His eyes were kind. So much like Papa’s, except …
Are those tears?
He opened his mouth as if he wanted to speak, but no words came.
Fear prickled over her body and she stepped back. Too much like Papa—a ghost come to haunt her.
He held his arms toward her.
Her face was hot. Her body was cold. She turned to run away.
He called her, his voice broken. “Sachiko? Please, do not run away. It’s me. Papa.”
Drawn to him again, she whispered, “Papa? No. My papa died.”
How can this be?
He inched toward her, shaking his head slowly. “Died? No. I did not die. Why would you think—” He stopped and his eyes widened. “Sachi-chan. I did not die. They took me away while I was in the hospital. I could not find you.”
She willed herself to remain still, to not run away. She stared at the barracks, the clouds in the sky, dust on her shoe. She smelled wet dirt, heard birds sing. All of it seemed real. But if it was a dream, she hoped never to wake.
The-Man-Who-Said-He-Was-Papa knelt down and hugged her, gently at first.
Still afraid, she shut her eyes and wished with all her heart for it to be true. Yet, she was unable to believe it. It was too much. Her heart beat so hard and fast she thought she might explode. She cried, as her words struggled against a flood of questions roaring in her mind.
But we received a telegram that said you had died. Why did they lie to us? Why couldn’t you find us?
She wrapped her arms around his neck. The word, his name—Papa—lingered at the tip of her tongue. Something inside feared if she said it the dream would dissolve, like it had so many times before.
“Sachi-chan,” he whispered. “It is me.”
A tentative comfort began to wash over her, like feeling water from the camp showers finally turn from icy cold to warm.
Only Papa could make her feel that indescribable warmth. Onl
y Papa.
He turned his cheek to her and tapped it. “Are you not forgetting something?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.
Joy and relief came at last. “Papa!” she cried, then gave him the kiss he always asked for. “It is you.”
He picked her up and spun around. “Sachi-chan. I don’t believe it,” he cried as he put her down. “I do not believe it.” He held her at arm’s length and looked at her. “You’ve grown into a beautiful young, lady.”
A young lady? Nobody had ever called her that before.
“Where’s Mama? And Nobu and Taro?” he asked.
She needed her own answers and asked again as she pressed her face into his coat. “What happened, Papa? Why did they tell us you were dead? Why didn’t you find us?”
“I do not know what happened. We will figure it out. But for now, please. Take me to Mama and Nobu and Taro.” He clutched her hands in his, and she remembered all the times in the past when she had felt his strong hands hold hers.
“I will take you to Mama, but Nobu and Taro …”
“But what? Is everything all right with your brothers?”
“Papa, Nobu is in the Tule Lake camp.”
“Tule Lake? Why would he be there?”
“They sent him there because of his answers on the loyalty questionnaire.” She didn’t want to tell Papa the rest.
His eyes widened. “You mean … he answered no-no?”
She found it odd, her sudden need to protect Nobu. Protect him from Papa? “He said he had to answer no-no. Because America was disloyal to him. To all of us.”
Papa shook his head and clucked his tongue. “Nobu, Nobu,” he whispered. "And Taro?"
“Taro joined the army. That was while you were still in the hospital. Mama told you, but I guess you didn't hear her.”
Still shaking his head, he took Sachi’s hand. “Please, take me to Mama now.”
She had so much to tell Papa about all the things that had happened since she’d seen him. But walking next to his silence, she could not make her mouth speak, though her mind raced with memories of the last two years.