The Red Kimono: A Novel

12. Nobu

“I’m sorry,” the nurse replied. “It was out of my hands. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” She walked away, shaking her head. Mama gasped. Her eyes filled with tears. “What are we supposed to do? How do we know where they took him?” “It’s out of my hands,” Nurse Sherman repeated, not looking back. Hurt overflowed and had to be released. Sachi called to the nurse, “Why didn’t you call us sooner? Maybe we could have stopped them. We did not get to say goodbye!” The nurse kept walking. “Look at me! I was only nice to you because I thought you’d take care of my father. But now . . . now he’s gone and—” Nobu grabbed her and put his arm around her. “Sachiko, shh, shh.” She felt the warmth of Nobu’s hand when he touched her cheek and wiped the tears away. Papa wiped her tears the very same way. The morning she’d fallen off her bike. When she’d found a butterfly she caught, dead in the jar. The afternoon she’d come home from school crying because some kids had teased her. Trance-like, Mama moved her o-juzu beads through her fingers and chanted prayers to Buddha. She whispered as she walked away. “There is nothing left to be done here now. Let us go home.” CHAPTER 12 Nobu DECEMBER 26, 1941 They’ve taken Papa away. How is it that the government can come without warning to take an injured man, a man who has committed no crime, to a “Justice Department” camp? Where is the justice in that? There are no words to describe my anger, my emptiness. Last night he was here. Now he is gone. Last night, as Mama, Sachi, and I opened Christmas gifts, there should have been five of us, but there were only three. 54 JAN MORRILL Aswecelebrated,Papawasbeingtakenawaybystrangers.Washeevenaware of what was happening? Did he wonder why we were not there to protect him? So why did we celebrate? We told ourselves it was what Papa would want. First, we watched Sachi open the package that held her doll. For a little while, her smile made me forget all that had happened. Sachi gave Mama some stationery that she’d painted kimonos on. She said it was so Mama would have something pretty for her letters to Taro-nisan. She gave me this journal where I am writing now. I felt bad that I had no gift for her. How could we know that Papa would be taken the next morning? Last night when I took pictures with his camera, Mama said I looked like him. When she said that, something inside me yelled “No!” Something in her words almost swallowed me, as if they would chase away Papa’s spirit. Now, when I look in the mirror, all I see is Papa. I thought Joe and Terrence were my friends. I still don’t understand how they could beat up my father. Are we Japanese hated so much? And if they could forget we are friends, why can’t I, too, forget? Why did I hesitate to tell the police what happened at the park, like I was “ratting” on my friends? And why would I give a second thought to letting them sit in a jail cell over Christmas? Papa was like a shelter against the cold wind of hate that swirls around us. Now he’s gone and I shiver inside. Who will be our shelter now? Taro is gone. Will it be up to me? How can I be strong for Mama and Sachi? CHAPTER 13 Nobu JANUARY 2, 1942 Nobu picked up a towel and folded it. “I’m sure we’ll find him, Mama. Maybe now that the holidays are over we can talk to someone who can actually give us some information.” Mama didn’t look up, but kept folding laundry, as if the repetitive movement of picking up and folding, picking up and folding, was a The Red Kimono 55 ...