Under the Silk Hibiscus Read online

  Hours passed; I wasn’t sure if two or three had slipped by. I heard a noise at the door, and a soldier opened it and pressed a bowl with rice and strips of pork into my hands. From his shirt pocket he pulled out a lone fork.

  The meal was oily and lacked flavor; the rice was cold, but I was hungry and ate. I finished every last grain of rice.

  Later in the afternoon, Aunt Kazuko was outside my cell, telling the soldier at the door that she must see me. “He’s my nephew,” she said. “I need to make sure he is all right. He is only fifteen. He’s a good boy.”

  I doubted she’d be let in, but the door opened, and the soldier told her to knock on the inside of the door two times once she was finished with the visit.

  My aunt plopped herself onto the chair. “I walk forever to get here,” she said. “First they tell me you are over by block number seventy-six, but when I get there, that is not where you are. So I asked at the hospital, and they tell me to come to block eighty-five, then they tell me unit A, then no, it is unit C and oh, I was so frustrated.”

  “Thanks for coming to see me,” I said.

  “You must tell me where the watch is.”

  I bit my lip and wondered why she was certain that I knew where the watch was.

  “Nathan, please. You must confess what you have done so that you can come back to our barracks.”

  I kicked myself for failing. I had grabbed the watch on impulse the instant I had seen it on the dresser in the guest room at the farm four days ago. I knew it was ours, and so I took it. At that moment I hadn’t thought that it would come to this moment. My plan had been to get the watch; for whatever reason, I hadn’t played the What If game. Had I played it, I would have gone further in my thinking, asking myself pertinent questions: What if the soldier who is a guest tells the Towsons he’s been robbed? What if the Towsons hand over all the farm employees’ names for questioning? What are you going to do then, Nathan?

  Back at camp, I had hidden the watch, not in its old hiding place of Mama’s suitcase, but inside a box that once held a doll for Emi that my aunt had ordered from a Sears and Roebuck catalog. The box looked like a kid’s toy was inside. I wrapped the watch inside the silk cloth for protection, sealed it inside the box and then stuck it under Emi’s crib.

  “You need to be truthful,” said my aunt.

  “I am to have a court case,” I said. “I’ll testify then.”

  Aunt Kazuko looked doubtful.

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “It will be all right.” The truth had to come out. Wasn’t truth supposed to prevail?

  After she left, I pushed the chair near the window and watched people walking along the roads between the barracks. When it got dark, I pulled the curtain across the window and wished for someone to talk with.

  Mr. Kubo was let into the jail that evening. He brought a plate of rice and vegetables, sprinkled with a bit of something that looked like sliced Spam. “Tonight’s dinner,” he said.

  Eagerly, I took both the plate and fork from him and ate.

  “You know, Nathan, you just need to admit what you have done. You need to let everyone know that you are remorseful for having stolen the watch and that you are sorry.”

  “It is our watch. It was my grandfather’s brought over from Japan,” I said between bites. The mystery meat was, in fact, Spam. “It’s been in our family for three generations. There isn’t another watch like it. Well, not in the United States. It was crafted by a man in Hiroshima.”

  “It is a beautiful watch and clearly one from Japan. I recognize the fine craftsmanship. It’s probably worth at least three-hundred dollars.”

  “You’ve seen it?”

  “Yes. Earlier today, we asked to search your unit. But before Mr. Ohashi and I did, your aunt handed us the watch.”

  “No, she didn’t.” This was a ploy! There was no way anyone knew where my hiding place was. “When do I get to testify in court?” I asked.

  “We aren’t going to do that.”

  “What?”

  “You see, we have to do it this way. The people of Wyoming are not happy about what happened. Think about this for a moment. A Japanese boy steals from his workplace and that makes the daily news. The people in Powell and Cody already have bad feelings toward the Japanese-Americans because of Pearl Harbor. Many of them have sons fighting in Europe and Japan. It’s very sticky.”

  “When do I get my session in court?”

  “Justice has to be served, and I’m afraid this,” he said, moving a hand around to indicate the cell, “is the answer to the call for justice.”

  I didn’t want to hear any more. I thanked him for coming to visit me and hoped he would feel free to leave me. I had nothing else to say.

  I was not summoned to present myself before the panel of leaders in a court-type hearing.

  That was a shame, because had I been given my day in court, I would have done a great job. Papa would have been proud of me; Mama would have given me her brightest smile. When the judge asked, “Nathan Mori, did you steal a pocket watch from the Towson Farm?” I would have stated that I had but only because someone had stolen it from me, from our family. “I stole it back. It is ours.” That’s what I would have said. I would have been let go, free, applauded. Everyone would have agreed that it is an honorable act to fight for that which belongs to you. Wasn’t that why our country was at war?

  As the sunlight seeped through the curtain, and the soldier opened the door to let me out to use the latrine, I knew I was right. I was not at fault for retrieving what had been taken from me.

  Chapter Seventeen

  As the sky filled with cumulus clouds the next morning, my aunt brought Emi to see me. She held a small bag with my toothbrush, a tube of new toothpaste she must have purchased at the Ohashi store, because it was a brand the co-op didn’t stock, a bath towel, and a bar of generic soap. In another bag she had packed two of my shirts, a belt, and a pair of cotton briefs. She also brought Mama’s Bible. “You read and feel better,” she told me.

  I scooped Emi into my arms and positioned her on my lap. She fussed. “Did you bring a bottle for her?”

  “I fed her before I come here. She’s not hungry, just sleepy.”

  I rested my sister against my chest and patted her back. She let out a few weak cries, and then quieted.

  “She misses you,” said my aunt. “Tom misses you.”

  “Have you seen Ken?”

  “He is working.”

  “What do you mean? He’s never worked at any of the jobs he’s asked for. He only hangs out with that stupid Samurai gang.”

  She raised her hand, indicating that she didn’t want to talk about Ken.

  But I was not about to let her have an easy visit. Something had been bothering me all night. Making sure I had her full attention, I said, “Mr. Kubo told me that he found where I hid the watch.”

  She put her hand to her mouth. I knew that gesture of hers well. It was her innocent little girl move. I didn’t buy it.

  “What did you do?” I demanded.

  “Nathan, the men were going to search our apartment. I didn’t want that, and they really didn’t want to have to do that. It was much better to just give them the watch.”

  “But how did you find it?”

  She gave me a slight smile. “A doll box under your sister’s crib? A box taped up with almost whole roll of tape? How could I not know that was it? I wasn’t born yesterday, you know. I am almost fifty. I have lived a long time.” Last year my aunt was almost fifty. This year she was almost fifty. In reality, she was only going on forty-six.

  Peering into my eyes, she spoke firmly, “It’s not right that the watch was taken from us by a thief. I understand you want it back and why you steal. But look at where we are!” She lifted both arms into the air. “We have no justice on our side! You must apologize for stealing it from the farm. Write a letter so everybody will see how sorry you are. Do it tonight, all right?”

  When I said nothing, she asked if I had hear
d her.

  I shook my head, dismissing both her question and her advice.

  She shook her head, too, and then took Emi from me and left.

  Later, as the wind scattered rain across the camp, Tom came by with a story he’d written.

  It was nine pages long, and he said he wrote it just for me so that I would have something to read.

  I appreciated the visits but wondered why Ken hadn’t come to see me. Something told me that Ken had something to do with Mekley having obtained the watch. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that he had most likely given it to Mekley. Probably to pay off some debt he owed. Yet, it didn’t make sense to me. He was the chonan and what chonan worth his birthright would hand over an heirloom without consulting the rest of the family? What right did he have?

  In the days that followed, I sat by the window and watched people who couldn’t see me. It was like they were part of a movie, performing for my entertainment. Children tossed a baseball, others held hands and skipped. Adults ambled to the mess halls and carried buckets of water from the washroom to their barracks. Our camp house was not near this jail, so the people I saw were not ones I knew. Yet their camp life mirrored ours; the truth was, we all looked the same.

  As I sat, I remembered a sermon about Paul and Silas being thrown into jail. Then there was the story of Daniel in the lion’s den that I had been taught in Sunday school in San Jose. But perhaps the biblical character that I could most identify with now was Joseph. He had been sold into slavery by his own brothers. How he must have cried out to God, wondering why he had been put into such a dismal situation.

  Speaking of prayer and God, where was He? “Why does He allow these things to happen?” I asked in the solitude of my confinement. Wasn’t it enough that my family and friends, neighbors, and schoolmates had been ordered to leave homes and businesses to go to this camp? Wasn’t it enough that they had broken our family up by sending Papa far from us, and allowing Mama to die? I thought about pneumonia and birthing a baby and wondered which one had caused Mama the most pain.

  “You stole, son.” The words from Mr. Kubo rang in my ears over and over. How did that make me a thief when I was only taking back what was mine?

  If Papa were here, all would be set straight. He’d be my advocate, making what was wrong right again. He had a way with words and knew the hearts of people. I’d watched him at his fish market with the customers. He knew how to sell, but he always knew just how much his customers were willing to pay for a mackerel or a flounder.

  Closing my eyes, I recalled how he worked at his shop donned in his black apron and thick black rain boots. I remembered how excited he’d be when a truckload of fresh fish, caught by one of our neighbors, would pull up to the store. As a young boy, the slippery fish were usually too large for me to hold. But Papa showed me how to grab a fish with my bare hands and place it into a bucket with other fish. At first, I recalled being scared that the fish might slip from my hands onto the floor. At first that was exactly what happened. But Papa didn’t scold me, in fact, he’d laughed. “Oh, look at that fish swim away!” Of course, the fish merely lay on the floor of the store, its lifeless eyes grey. Since he’d been caught, he’d relinquished his swimming days. Papa picked up the fish, pretending that it was fighting with him. With much drama, he’d wrestled the fish into the bucket. “Stay there!” he’d commanded while I giggled. He’d raised his hand as though that gesture would keep the fish in its place. “Look,” he then said to me in mock surprise, “the fish is obeying me!”

  Mr. Kubo came to see me after a day of loading coal. He had not showered, and his hands and face were blackened from the soot. He apologized for being in his work clothes.

  I didn’t mind, I was just glad to see him. After yesterday, I thought he’d never come back.

  “I know you feel you had a right to take back the watch,” he said.

  “It is ours, you know that, right?”

  “Yes, but the word has spread to Cody and Powell, and rumors have twisted the truth.” He showed me a page from our camp’s newspaper, the Heart Mountain Sentinel. The paper was creased because he'd had it in his trousers' pocket all day. “There’s an article in here that is responding to one in the local Cody paper. It comments on how the locals are calling us Jap thieves.”

  “We aren’t!”

  “I thought you should know that Charles and the two other men are no longer able to work at the farm. The Towsons felt it best not to have anyone from camp working there until this matter has been taken care of.”

  “Why?” But I knew why. We were now not only dirty Japs, but thieves, and no one wanted to be associated with crime. “Someone stole the watch from us!” I shouted.

  “That part people don’t want to believe.”

  “But that part is the truth!”

  “Nathan, you must realize that you are in a very precarious position. You are Japanese.”

  “I am American!”

  “Not to the people outside of this camp. You are the dirty Jap.”

  “But it’s that court—those men—that . . .” I sputtered, unable to recall what the council of men was known as. I knew these men had either been appointed or elected to ensure civil justice to our camp.

  Seeing that I was struggling, Mr. Kubo said, “You have to be patient.”

  What was he talking about? Patient? Why? I had to know something, so I asked, “How did Mekley get our watch?”

  He just shook his head and said that he had to go.

  How did Mekley get our watch? No one would touch that subject. It seemed everyone knew how, but no one would tell me.

  “I’m no threat to anybody,” I said to Mr. Kubo. It was crazy to lock me up when I was already locked up behind barbed wire in this camp.

  I was ready for him to argue with me. I wasn’t expecting him to say what he did. “I know,” he said calmly. “I know you are innocent. Nathan. Just hang in there. We are praying for you.”

  After he left, I paced the twenty by twenty unit until my legs ached. Then I opened Mama’s Bible and read. “Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee.” She had underlined this verse in pencil. These very words must have been a comfort to her during her last months on earth. I said them over and over until I fell asleep.

  Chapter Eighteen

  If only I had a radio so that I had some voices to listen to, or a good book to read to take my mind off my isolation. But no one had a radio to spare and, so far, my request for a novel was not granted.

  After eating the breakfast that my aunt brought me, I remembered Tom’s story he’d written. As I lay on my cot, I began to read it. It was a space and alien story, of course; I had expected no less of my baby brother. But it was so much more, and the last paragraph had me fighting back tears. I chose to read it aloud for two reasons. One was so that I could hear an audible voice, and the other was because I felt this portion of the story needed to be savored.

  The mother said she had to go. The spaceship had come to take her away. It was not a regular spaceship but one decorated with angels’ wings, and it was as golden as the sun. The mother hugged her children and said, “Don’t cry, my little ones. I will see you again one day. Don’t cry. When you look up at the moon, always remember that I am beyond the moon and the stars in a place where life is happy and peaceful. There is singing there every day.” So the children did not cry. But every night they watched the heavens and knew that their mother was safe and happy. The End.

  After six days of being locked up, Lucy came to see me. Underneath her unbuttoned coat, I could see she was wearing a dress with yellow flowers. I asked what kind of flowers they were.

  “Sunflowers.”

  “I thought sunflowers were bigger.”

  “In San Jose, they are. Maybe these are Wyoming flowers, and they grow smaller because they get less sunlight.”

  She made me laugh. How good it felt to laugh.

  But after a moment, her face grew somber, like when a cloud pa
ssed over Heart Mountain and blocked the sun. Suddenly, I felt cold, as though a draft had entered the room.

  “I need to tell you something.” She sat on the chair.

  Shivering, I asked, “What is it?”

  Silence filled the room as I waited. Perhaps she would say that she loved me. That she wanted nothing to do with Ken, that she loved me and only me. She would ask if we could dance together and be impressed by all the practicing I had done in the cell.

  She looked me over and then said, “I don’t want you to be mad at Ken.”

  “Why? Did he take the watch? Give it to Mekley?” I had wracked my brain to try to come up with some reason the watch was gone and in Mekley’s possession. Had Ken given it to him, and if so, why?

  She shook her head, fumbled with a few words and then looked lost.

  “What did Ken do?”

  Standing, she covered her eyes and then knocked on the door, knocked to be let out.

  “You know what really happened, don’t you?” I shouted.

  “I don’t.”

  The guard opened the door and she was gone.

  I slammed my fist against the wall. I wished she hadn’t bothered to visit me. From now on, I’d let it be known that I wanted nothing to do with the others in the camp.

  But by the next morning, I regretted my words. I asked to be let out to use the latrine, and later asked to take a shower. The water was lukewarm, like the food I was being fed, but that didn’t matter. I felt much more human and presentable after my shower. I combed my hair with my fingers and put on a fresh shirt.

  “Somebody must pay,” Aunt Kazuko said when she stopped by. Emi was napping, and Lucy had offered to watch her. “If you are innocent, then Ken is guilty. Don’t you see?”

  I didn’t want to see.

  “They said you must stay here for another two weeks.”

  “Two more weeks!?”