The Red Kimono: A Novel

63. Terrence

CHAPTER 63 Terrence APRIL 12, 1944 Release time was noon. Terrence could hardly stand waiting and paced back and forth at the cell door. He checked the clock in the corridor. Eleven o’clock. Back and forth. Back and forth. How many paces until noon? He figured Momma was counting the minutes too. She was probably already waiting outside. Last time she came to visit, she told him she could hardly believe it would be the last time she’d have to see Terrence from behind a window. Remembering her tear-filled eyes made him smile. She’d tried to hide it, but he knew her too well. “Son, next time we come, it’s gonna be to take you home.” She’d dug a hanky out of her purse and blew her nose in a funny, honking way that always made him chuckle. “And I be able to give you a good, long hug ’stead of just wishing I could.” He inhaled long and deep. The next two hours were going to seem longer than the 730 days he’d already waited. “Hey, Tee,” Carter called from his bunk, “you ready to get out of here or something? Settle down. You’re making me nervous.” Much as he wanted out, he was gonna miss the white boy. He worried about leaving him alone there. Wondered how he’d do if he had to go to San Quentin when his trial was over. The thought made Terrence queasy, even tempered his impatience to get out. What a waste, Carter being in prison the rest of his life. With what went on between his daddy and Jenny, maybe he’d get off with a lighter sentence. But he also knew life didn’t always work out that way. Memories of his 730 days flooded his mind. Arriving at the facility. Wondering how he’d survive two years in prison. The haunting nightmares of Mr. Kimura. The way the guards snickered when they threw The Red Kimono 277 Carter in the cell with him. Peachie and his gang. He chuckled. And of course, the day Carter came back from the dead. Yeah, it was Carter who’d made the whole thing bearable. Maybe Terrence had made it a little more bearable for Carter too. Now, he’d be gone, and he couldn’t imagine being left like Carter was about to be left. Who would the guards throw in with Carter now? Another colored? One of Peachie’s gang? A feeling of desperation penetrated him like a chill. Less than an hour left. He had to say something to his cell mate. “Carter?” “Yeah?” What should he say? How could he put his thoughts into words without sounding like a wimp? “Can you believe it’s almost time?” “Yeah. The way you’re pacing back and forth, I can believe it. Hell. What time you supposed to get outta here anyways?” “Noon.” “Well, it’s about damn time.” Terrence smiled. Carter wasn’t gonna be no wimp, neither. “You right about that. Heck, I ’bout had enough of being stuck in this tiny cell with a white boy.” They were quiet for what seemed like a long time. Terrence flopped onto his bunk and stared at Carter’s bunk above him. “Sure feel sorry for whoever’s here after me, what with your snoring and all.” “Bet he won’t whine about it as much. And I’m guessing for sure he won’t have a cockroach for a pet. You got Archy packed with all your books and stuff you’re taking?” Archy. ’Course he couldn’t take him. No way Momma would allow it. He’d kinda miss that cockroach. “Nah,” he said, “I’ll leave him for you. He doesn’t need much care. Just sneak a few crumbs from the cafeteria every once in a while.” “Yeah, right. Like I’m gonna take care of your cockroach.” Quiet again. Terrence ran his fingers over the marks on the wall, then dug his pencil out from under the mattress. One last mark. Seven hundred thirty. “What do you think your momma’s gonna cook for dinner tonight?” Carter asked. Terrence’s mouth watered with the thought. “Don’t know, but I’m 278 JAN MORRILL guessing pot roast. She knows it’s my favorite. Whatever, it’ll be better than the crap around this place.” “Hell, yeah...