Under the Silk Hibiscus Page 9

  “Hi, Nathan,” she said.

  “Hi. How are you?” It was a silly question. Of all the suave things I could have said, I went for the least memorable.

  As she smiled, I got caught up in her beauty—the curve of her cheeks, the tilt of her nose, the way her long hair hung over her shoulders. She had not given into the trendy hair styles of the day, short and bobbed or curled. She wasn’t like that, and I admired that, and so much more about her.

  Ken helped Lucy into the jacket, buttoning all the buttons as she looked at him with adoration. “Now you’ll be warm,” he said, and looking up at me, waved. “See you later, Nathan,” and with an arm around Lucy’s shoulders, he guided her down the road.

  “Hey!” I called out. “I found our watch!”

  But either the two hadn’t heard me or were just being too stubborn to turn around. They continued walking, even laughing.

  I might as well have just slipped under the barbed wire fence and let one of the guards shoot me. At least then I would have gotten some attention. The way I saw it, nobody seemed to care.

  I expected to see Mekley smirking at me. He often offered that expression whenever I felt discouragement kick in. A Jeep roamed along the road, but the driver wasn’t Mekley. I knew that because he had no toothpick hanging out of his mouth.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “You must not be mad at Ken,” Lucy said to me at dinner the next evening. She sipped from a white mug of water.

  “About what?” I wanted to ask. About the fact he is never around to help out? About the fact that Papa left him in charge of the family, and he didn’t know how to take charge?

  She smoothed the cowlick over my forehead and then let her hand rest against my sweater. “He is a great guy.”

  Anger boiled. I could feel it rising, and I knew I had to get out of there. I left my bowl, still full of rice. It was better than flinging it across the room. I ignored the murmurs that buzzed as I stormed past tables of people. I made sure the door banged hard when I exited the mess hall.

  Ken was a jerk. How could she call him a great guy? I cursed my luck for not being born handsome, witty, clever, and with sparkles in my eyes.

  Aunt Kazuko had Emi in the highchair, one that Mr. Kubo had built. “She has eyes like your Mama’s. Have you noticed?” My aunt tickled Emi until she let out a robust laugh and then my aunt repeated the action. “See those eyes? Look at them, Nathan.”

  I didn’t want to look, but my aunt was persistent, so I glanced at my sister. I searched her face as she guzzled from the bottle. Mama’s eyes? How could you really tell in a baby?

  “Eyes,” said Emi. She lowered the bottle onto the highchair’s tray and, with a pudgy finger, pointed to her left eye. “Eyes. Eyes.”

  “She’s a smart one.” My aunt was obviously amused. “Not even a full nine months old and she can say ‘eyes’!”

  I didn’t know whether to be happy or sad. Charles had told me that most babies’ first words were Mama or Papa. Of course, why would Emi say those? She had no Mama or Papa here in camp.

  “She speaks like an American,” said my aunt with pride.

  “She is American! We are all Americans.” I recalled the sign we had taped to our fish market that spelled out those very words. It had not mattered that Papa had spent ten minutes writing it, perfecting each letter. The FBI still took him away, accusing him of being a disloyal Jap.

  “Well, some people think we aren’t worth it,” my aunt said matter-of-factly.

  “We are worth it. You are worth it. We are all worthy. We are not second-class citizens!”

  “No need to tell me that,” she said as she folded Emi’s shirts. “I know we are all God’s children.”

  Outside, I sat on Tom’s rock and watched the lights come on across the camp. “Papa,” I said, “where are you? I miss you, Mama, but I’m glad you’re out of this mess here.”

  I thought of Mama, her hair curled, her face filled with a smile and heard her say, “You are my favorite son named Nathan.” Yes, it was good that she wasn’t here having to combat all the sadness in this camp. It was good she’d left us.

  A tear slipped down my cheek. I batted at it, wanting to remove it as though it was some sort of disease like pneumonia, like polio. But my lungs and legs were not weak due to illness, but to something far worse. I felt fear spread over me. Fear that I would no longer be able to live. I really didn’t want to live. Not here, not like this.

  My will to die must have sent a message over the camp because moments later, I looked down the road between the barracks to see Lucy. Lucy, dressed in a gold and dark pink kimono, a silk hibiscus positioned behind her right ear. The flower was the color of a sunset over San Jose.

  “It’s almost time for the talent show,” she said as she approached me. “What are you going to do?”

  Talent show, I inwardly groaned. I really had very few talents, and none of them was worthy of being staged in a show. “Are you singing?” I asked although it was a stupid question. Of course, she was going to sing, she was Lucy Yokota and singing was what she did best, well, next to making my heart palpitate. “I guess I’ll head over to the rec hall,” I said, standing.

  She fell into step with me. It felt so right having her next to me.

  “So Nathan, what talent are you going to share with us?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You should play the piano.”

  “There isn’t one.”

  “Someone donated one to the church yesterday.”

  “It’s been so long since I’ve played.”

  “It’s like riding a bike, right? You never forget how.”

  “I suppose.” Again being witty or charming eluded me. I took a deep breath. Get it together, Mori, I said to myself. Say something intelligent. Make an impression. But my mind was blank, just like a newly erased chalkboard.

  The rec hall began to fill; in the chairs were many I recognized, even Mrs. Busybody was there, telling a group of ladies that this camp was not fit for a dog. “That’s why there are no dogs here,” she said. “Because this place isn’t fit for one.”

  I found a seat far from her, near Charles. Tom later slipped in the vacant chair beside me, carefully maneuvering his braced leg so that it didn’t bump against the chair in front of him.

  One of the newly-married men was the master of ceremonies. His wedding ceremony had occurred shortly after the New Year, and Aunt Kazuko had attended while I stayed in the barracks with Emi and Tom. She spoke so highly of the service and dabbed at her eyes hours after she returned back to our billet. “It was so grand,” she’d repeated. “So lovely, like painting. Yes, I cried. An old woman should have a good cry at least once a week.”

  The emcee welcomed us all, and then announced that the first talent was a shamisen piece, to be followed by a flute duet. After those performances and much applause, a band of five young men with mandolins and guitars stepped onto the stage and sang to Hawaiian surf music.

  Lucy’s two songs came after that. She sang about freedom and love and God, and all of the words were so beautiful that a few women were wiping their eyes with handkerchiefs before she finished. As I looked around, sure enough, there was Aunt Kazuko with my sister on her lap, blotting her cheeks with one of Emi’s blankets.

  “You sang really well,” I said to Lucy, as we followed a group back to our block.

  “Thank you.”

  “You were the best. You could be a professional.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “Here she is, the talented Lucy Yokota.” I tried to sound like the master of ceremonies, but my voice was not as deep as his.

  “I always thought I could be called Meredith Rose.”

  “Meredith Rose?”

  “Don’t you think that has a nice ring to it?”

  “I suppose.” I motioned toward the silk flower in her hair. “How about Hibiscus Silk?”

  “That sounds like the name of a woman with a questionable reputation.”
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  “Oh. Really?”

  “Yeah. I think it would have to be Meredith Rose.”

  With an eye toward Heart Mountain’s distant peak, I said, “What about Heart? Rose Heart? Or how about Lucy Heart?” Perhaps those were all stupid suggestions. Quickly, I said, “Whatever your name is, you’ll be great.”

  Her eyes sparkled as she smiled. “You are such a kind person, Nathan.”

  “I try,” I teased.

  I realized that the evening had been a good one after all. Although the walk to the talent show had had me kicking myself for not sounding intelligent, by the end of the show, I had overcome my fear and had been able to even tease. Perhaps there was hope for me. Perhaps I wasn’t such an idiot after all.

  “Her voice is perfect,” I said to Ken later that night.

  Our aunt put Emi into a pair of pajamas with tiny white bunny rabbits while Tom removed his brace.

  “She’s okay,” Ken said. “I mean she sings pretty good.”

  “Pretty good?” What did he know? He hadn’t even come to the show. “Where were you? You missed the talent show.”

  He grabbed a cardigan off his bed, put it on, and buttoned it. “I have to go.”

  “You’re never here.”

  He shot me an angry glare. “Just keep your thoughts to yourself, Nathan. And anyway, Lucy isn’t right for you. She’ll never be interested in your type.”

  The urge to smack him overcame me, and I caved. With a punch to his shoulder, he teetered. I’d caught him off-guard.

  He grabbed my wrist, bulldozed into my stomach, and knocked me to the ground.

  Emi screamed from her crib. Tom moved quickly so he wouldn’t be in the way, and our aunt shouted, “That’s enough. Stop it now!”

  We rolled onto the floor like two angry animals, clawing at each other. My foot hit a bottle that had somehow fallen to the floor. It shot under Ken’s cot, and shattered.

  Aunt Kazuko had to pry us apart. When she stepped between us, so that her feet were at our heads, we both stopped. Dizzy, I clung to my bed before standing.

  Ken stormed outside

  “You boys, stop nonsense!” Aunt Kazuko spoke with an authority that made me cringe. With a finger pointed at me, she said, “You have to realize that we need each other right now. We need each other much too much to be at each other’s throats.”

  Tom had Emi in his arms, patting her back to quiet her sobs.

  Aunt Kazuko hadn’t shouted, “Shame on you,” but it was as though she had, because in that moment shame covered me from throbbing head to throbbing toe.

  I crawled onto my cot. It had been such a nice night talking and walking with Lucy. Why had I let my emotions get the best of me?

  You’re such a kind person.

  At least Lucy hadn’t seen the fight. Perhaps I could still be a kind person in her mind. At least that was what I hoped as I swept the broken glass off the floor and into the waste can.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I would still be a kind person. I had it all planned out. I’d ask Lucy to dance with me at the next dance. I’d practice being more confident and less fearful. She would have to like me. She wouldn’t be able to resist. I was two years younger than she and Ken, but that wouldn’t matter. She would see how much I cared for her, and that would win her over.

  The next morning, I was ready to go with my plan to show Lucy just how suave I could be.

  But the knock on the door that morning was not in my plans. The knock on our door was soft at first, and then grew louder.

  Aunt Kazuko stepped into her slippers and went for the door, Emi in her arms. As dampness from a wet spring morning blew in, there stood Mr. Ikeda and Mr. Ohashi, two of the block leaders. Like me, both had been born in California; we were Nissei (second generation Japanese-Americans).

  “Is Nathan Mori here?” asked Mr. Ikeda. He had a scraggly beard and a pair of thick spectacles with black rims. “We need to speak with him.”

  I got that awful feeling in the bottom of my stomach that something bad was getting ready to happen.

  When I looked into Mr. Ikeda’s face, I wished that I could sink into the floor.

  “We need to question you about the watch.”

  “Watch?” I tried to play dumb, tried to take on the persona of Henry.

  “You know about this.” Mr. Ohashi gave me a stern look, worse than any look my aunt had ever come up with.

  “Come with us,” said Mr. Ikeda. He motioned for me to follow him out of our unit.

  “Where? What are you doing? He’s only fifteen,” Aunt Kazuko sputtered.

  “It has already been decided. Come on, Nathan.”

  My aunt drew my sister closer to her chest. Her next words were all in Japanese. I picked out the gist of their meaning: What has been decided? What are you talking about?

  In a building on the other side of the camp, court sessions were held. Seven judges had been appointed by the project leader. I recalled hearing bits and pieces about the need for civil cases within the camp, but up until this moment, it had not been anything that had interested me. Now things had changed. Suddenly, I wondered what the procedures were.

  When I got inside the stark barracks, the first thing I saw was the American Flag hanging on the far wall. I wondered if they wanted me to pledge to it. Was this going to be a test to see whether or not I was patriotic? If I proved to be, would they let me go?

  But of course, the reason for being brought here had nothing to do with patriotism. From the first statement on, I knew that this session was to interrogate me about the watch. If only it had been to show allegiance to a flag.

  Mr. Ikeda pulled a single wooden chair into the center of the room and asked me to sit down.

  Obediently, I obliged. I wondered if the seven judges were going to appear, and if this was going to turn into a court case.

  “There’s been an accusation,” he said. He stood in front of me while Mr. Ohashi stood to my left. “You have been accused of stealing a pocket watch from the Towson Farm.”

  “Who said that?”

  “We were told.”

  “By whom?”

  The two men exchanged glances.

  Finally Mr. Ikeda spoke. “A soldier staying there for a weekend of R and R said it was missing. He brought it to the attention of Mr. and Mrs. Towson. They called the police, and the Cody police came to their house. After questioning, they came to camp with your name and the name of a few others.”

  “All were people from camp who work on the farm,” Mr. Ohashi clarified.

  “You stole the watch, didn’t you?” Mr. Ikeda glared at me.

  I thought of Papa and how he’d been accused of disloyalty to our country. The day he’d been questioned at our home, he’d kept his head steady, his eyes focused, but not on anyone’s face. I wanted to be brave like my father.

  “Didn’t you?”

  I refused to answer.

  “Do you want to have a court case or just hand over the watch?” Mr. Ikeda asked.

  “Why don’t you just give the watch to us?” Mr. Ohashi said. “That would be the easiest way to go.”

  “No, I’ll take my chances,” I said.

  “You want a court case?”

  I steadied my voice, determined to rid it of all fear. I looked Mr. Ohashi in the eyes. “Yes. Yes, I want a court case.”

  I didn’t sleep any that night, just lay in bed listening to the others snore and wondering where Ken was.

  The next morning, right about the time the sun was displaying its late spring light onto Heart Mountain, there was a rap at our door. My heart froze. I wanted to disappear, but it was too late, my aunt was telling the visitor that I was here.

  Quickly, I pulled on my clothes.

  Aunt Kazuko whispered to me, “Tell the truth, Nathan. It’s Mr. Kubo, and he is on your side.”

  Mr. Kubo said, “Good morning, Nathan.”

  “Good Morning.” I tried to sound both confident and pleasant. “How are you?”

  “I n
eed you to hand over the watch.”

  “What watch?”

  “The one you took from the Towson Farm.”

  I wasn’t going to hand over our family watch. It belonged to us, no one else.

  “Nathan, it would be in your best interest if you would hand over the watch.”

  “No, I can’t.”

  “Listen, we have to take care of this matter.” There was urgency to his tone and when he repeated himself, my aunt came to the door.

  She reminded them that I was just a boy of fifteen. “He is a child. Children make mistakes.”

  But that didn’t stop him from saying that he had been told he was to take me to a building that would be my confinement.

  “Confinement?” Aunt Kazuko cried, as my sister began to whine. “Why? You mean jail?”

  I was told to follow Mr. Kubo to the other side of the camp. Other evacuees greeted me on their way to the mess halls for breakfast. To them it probably seemed like a normal day in camp. But with each step, I knew that I was in trouble.

  Mr. Kubo stopped at a building and opened the door. He ushered me inside a dark unit.

  “This is your cell, Nathan. You are to stay here until they decide what to do.” He switched on the light bulb. Even its light barely lit the room. “A guard will be stationed outside your door. When you need to go to the latrine or need more coal for the stove, knock on the door two times.”

  Although I had questions, there was no time to ask them. Mr. Kubo was gone; the door was closed and bolted from the outside.

  I was alone.

  The room was stark, dank, and held a cot and a pot-bellied stove with a box that was filled with coal. There was no shovel or scoop in which to add the coal to the stove. A metal container sat on the wooden floor in the corner, like a guest that wasn’t sure whether or not she should be at the party. It didn’t take me long to realize that the container was my chamber pot.

  I waited for the tears to come. I felt them in the back of my eyes. But my eyes were dry. I sat down on the cot, wrapped one of the wool army blankets around me and tried to think. Thinking clearly can be hard to do when you’ve just been shoved into a jail cell.