-
26. Sachi
- University of Arkansas Press
- Chapter
- Additional Information
The pot roast felt heavy in his gut. His head hurt, full of churning thoughts. Nobu. His family. Sent away because they’re Japanese. Just like that day with Daddy in the hardware store. Denied service ’cause Daddy was the same color as the man that robbed the store. And he’d beat up Mr. Kimura ’cause he looked like the Japs that killed Daddy. Hell, that made him no better than the rest of them. CHAPTER 26 Sachi APRIL 12, 1942 Sachi was the first to wake. Mama slept next to her, breathing in, then out, in a slow rhythm. There were times she wished she had her own bed again. Like when Mama whispered to Papa and Taro in the middle of the night. Danna. Husband. And she kept whispering something in Japanese to Taro, but Sachi didn’t understand much Japanese. The whispers pulled her away from dreams of tea parties with her dolls at her house in Berkeley and back to the cold, dark stall. Nobu was still sleeping, too. His snoring practically rattled the walls. She liked being the first to wake. In those first quiet moments, she could look around and pretend the walls were painted white and the floors changed from dirt to gleaming wood. Dirt floors. Why did Mama waste her time sweeping them each morning? Pulling the blanket over her arms, she wasn’t sure what was worse— shivery goose bumps from the chilly air or prickly ones from the itchy blanket. Nobu had patched most of the stall’s holes with mud or tin can lids, but now in the early morning, the sun bolted through cracks and holes he’d missed, leaving bright lines and dots on the dark floor and letting in the brisk morning air. But she liked to watch dust drift and float in the shafts of sunlight that came into the dark room. In the right light, even dust could sparkle. 94 JAN MORRILL She shook her blanket to stir more flecks into the air. Something about the way it whirled around reminded her of practicing her dance lessons with Mrs. Thompson. She didn’t think she’d ever miss those lessons , but here at the assembly center nobody ever danced, and it often made her regret that she used to hate her lessons. When Mama turned over and sighed, Sachi wished she hadn’t shaken her blanket. She wasn’t ready for her mother to wake up. Her imaginary world would disappear and she’d have to face the barren room and look at Mama’s and Nobu’s glum faces. She didn’t like being ungrateful. In the last few days, they had done what they could to make the stall a home, but she still missed their real home. The smell of Mama’s cooking, the sound of her shoes on the wood floor, Nobu slamming the front door. She missed her bed, her toys, her books. The list went on and on. Now all she smelled was horse poo and hay that made her nose itch all the time. And she was tired of hearing the mumbles from surrounding stalls. She wondered what kinds of things they heard from her family. She tried to be quiet so she wouldn’t bother the neighbors the way they bothered her. Even so, Mama was always telling her “shhh.” Gravel outside crunched with footsteps going by. A few minutes later, more footsteps and muffled voices. People must already be going to breakfast at the mess hall. When would Mama and Nobu wake up? If they didn’t get up and get going, they might run out of food before they got there. Sachi’s stomach gurgled. “Mama?” Mama sat up and stretched her arms above her head. “What is it, Sachi?” “I’m hungry. Can we go eat now?” Mama sighed. “Nobu. Wake up. It’s time for breakfast.” “Ah, Mama. Can’t I sleep just a little longer?” “No, I want you to take Sachiko to the mess hall. And please bring a tray back for me. I’m going to straighten up in here.” Sachi looked around. Mama had already cleaned up before they went to bed last night. She never wanted to leave the dark room. “Why don’t you want to come with us, Mama?” “I’ll just eat here when you get back.” She got out of bed and shuffled over to Nobu’s bed and shook him. “Nobu...