The Red Kimono Read online

  Finally, she stopped beside a six-foot spruce. “This here look like a good one. What do ya think, son?”

  Looks like every other tree to me.

  “It’s perfect, Momma,” he said, barely giving it a glance. All he wanted to do was get home and get the darn thing decorated so he could go shoot baskets with his friends. He reached through the prickly needles and lifted it out for Momma to see.

  “Boy, you just like your daddy.” She chuckled as she dug in her purse for her wallet.

  Just like Daddy? Maybe in past years, Terrence had been so busy chasing around the rows with Patty and Missy that he hadn’t seen his father rolling his eyes, huffing and puffing, getting annoyed with Momma for spending all that time picking the perfect tree. At any rate, it made him feel kinda good inside for Momma to compare him to Daddy.

  “Come on, girls,” she called. “We found us a tree. Let’s go home and put lights and ornaments on.”

  Missy and Patty serenaded all the way home. “Jingle bells, jingle bells …” Over and over. Way too many times.

  He shook his head. “Come on, you two. Don’t you know any other songs?”

  It wouldn’t matter anyway. He just wasn’t in the mood, even with a tree tied to the top of the car, Christmas carols, and colored lights showing through windows everywhere. It’d be a fine scene—if only Daddy was home.

  Momma turned into the driveway. “Wonder why Brother Harold’s sitting on our porch swing? And who’s that man … in the uniform?” Her voice faded to a whisper.

  Patty and Missy stopped singing.

  No.

  The whole world came to a stop. The talking. The movement. The breathing. Something buzzed in his ear and clutched Terrence’s heart tight. Wouldn’t let go. It might never let go.

  No.

  Momma’s hands clutched the steering wheel. She whispered real slow. “You kids … go on in the house now. I be there in a minute.”

  Terrence lifted Missy out of the car and took Patty’s hand. No matter how bad he didn’t want to know, he knew.

  Let’s just back up, Momma. Get back in the car. Get back to the Christmas tree lot. I promise I won’t complain about looking for the perfect tree. Won’t never complain about having to get up early. Just please. No way. No way do we want none of what Brother Harold has to tell us.

  Terrence nodded at Brother Harold as he shuffled past. But he couldn’t—wouldn’t—look him in the eye.

  Brother Harold touched him on the shoulder with his large, warm hand. It sent shivers all over, tensed every part of his body. Somewhere, deep inside his head, he heard, “No. No. No.”

  Once inside the house, Terrence put Missy down and shut the front door. “You two go on and play now,” he said.

  Missy ran off to her room, but Patty stared at her brother, her eyes looking bigger than he’d ever seen them. “I don’t want to play. Why is Brother Harold here? Is it Dad—”

  Don’t you say it!

  “I said go on now Patty. I wanna talk to Momma when she comes in.”

  He pressed his ear to the door, wanting to hear, yet so desperately not wanting to hear. His heart begged for a way—any way—to stop time, to go back in time. He struggled to rationalize Brother Harold’s visit.

  There could be a hundred other reasons why Brother Harold would be here with a navy man. Maybe he needs Momma’s help with a special sermon for veterans. Maybe someone else’s Daddy got killed and he wants Momma to help him tell the family.

  But his head pounded with the hopeless truth that refused to be ignored.

  Not with the sad, sorry look in their eyes. Daddy’s dead. I know it. I feel it. No, no, no. Don’t think that, else it’ll come true! Daddy, Daddy. Don’t let it be about Dad—

  Momma’s long moan sliced through the thick wood door like a dull knife—the saddest sound he’d ever heard in his life. He bit his lip hard, and clutched the knob. On his side of the door, he could pretend for just a little while longer that Daddy was still alive. Once he opened it, Daddy was gone and his world would change forever. He squeezed his eyes shut, let the tears fall, then wiped them away with his sleeve.

  Gotta be brave for Momma.

  When he opened the door, he found Brother Harold holding Momma, limp in his arms as she sobbed. She clutched a crumpled piece of paper. Terrence took it from her and helped Brother Harold walk her to the porch swing.

  “Momma,” he whispered, wiping the tears from her face.

  “He’s gone, Terrence. Your daddy’s gone.”

  He read the paper he’d taken from her hand. A telegram:

  THE NAVY DEPARTMENT DEEPLY REGRETS TO INFORM YOU THAT YOUR HUSBAND, JOHN TERRENCE HARRIS, COOK THIRD CLASS USN, WAS KILLED IN ACTION IN THE PERFORMANCE OF HIS DUTY AND IN THE SERVICE OF HIS COUNTRY. THE DEPARTMENT EXTENDS TO YOU ITS SINCEREST SYMPATHY IN YOUR GREAT LOSS.

  It was true.

  The words shuddered through his body. Sucked everything out of him. Left him emptier than he’d ever felt. Monster waves of sadness, rage, and revenge filled him up. Flooded him. He couldn’t breathe.

  The Japs killed my daddy!

  Brother Harold placed his hand on Terrence’s shoulder. “I pray God will comfort you,” he said.

  Terrence jolted up and glared at Brother Harold.

  Pray for comfort? Yeah. Hell of a lot of good praying did for Daddy!

  Shuddering, he fought hard to keep from punching the man in the face. He snarled. “Brother, I ain’t never gonna feel comfort again.”

  Momma wailed again. He couldn’t let her see him this way. He had to get away.

  Go! Go! Go!

  “I gotta leave for a little bit, Momma. I’m sorry.” He kissed her cheek and ran from the porch.

  Gotta get away.

  His head buzzed. He struggled for memories of his father, but they swirled like crazy in his mind. He chased after those memories. Tried to grab them, hold them. Couldn’t reach them.

  The world around him faded to a gray blur. Nothing out there. Nothing inside. His heart was cold, but he burned like fire.

  He ran somewhere. Anywhere. Nowhere.

  Got no place to escape.

  “Hey, Terrence.”

  “Hey man, wait up.”

  Familiar voices. He turned to find them. Tried to ignore them. Joe from his basketball team. And Ray. Trouble.

  Joe came up and put his arm on his shoulder. Smelled like cigarettes.

  Terrence pulled away. They were like mosquitoes whining in his ear. Buzzing. Bothering. “Get away from me, man.”

  The other voice. Ray. “Hey! What’s going on? You in a hurry to get somewhere?”

  Terrence stared straight ahead. Swatted them out of the way. Didn’t want them around. “Leave me alone.”

  “Aw, come on,” said Joe. “What’s eating you?” He shoved a pack of cigarettes in Terrence’s face. “Want a smoke?”

  “Hell no.”

  Joe tucked the cigarettes back in his pocket. “Damn, Tee. You’re in some kind of shitty mood.” He shrugged his shoulders. “But if you don’t wanna talk about it, me and Ray’ll leave you alone. Come on, Ray. Let’s get outta here.”

  “Wait a minute,” Ray said, his snake eyes studying Terrence. “There’s something ticking in that brain of yours, and it’s itching to get out. I can see it in your eyes. Come on, man. Spill it.”

  “Shit! Why can’t you leave me the hell alone?” Terrence’s throat tightened. His heart beat harder. Faster. Everything swirled around like crazy.

  “Terrence! Watch out!” Joe grabbed him.

  A horrible screech. Honk!

  A car. Only inches away. The man behind the wheel yelled at Terrence. “You stupid kid! Watch where you’re going.”

  Terrence glared at him and pounded his fists on the hood.

  The driver honked again.

  Joe pulled Terrence out of the way.

  The car accelerated. Its tires squealed and burned as it sped away.

  That’s what Terrence wanted to do. Get away. Speed
away. It was like Daddy’s death was driving him, and anger was accelerating his engine so hot and fast he was gonna crash if he didn’t do something to slow it down.

  “You okay?” Joe asked.

  Terrence snarled and pulled at his hair. “Okay. You wanna know what’s wrong? Think you can handle it?” He looked up at the gray sky.

  You ain’t up there, are you, God?

  He wiped his face on his sleeve. “Just found out my daddy’s dead. That’s what’s wrong. DEAD! He ain’t never coming home. Got it? Never.” He poked Joe in the chest. “The goddamn Japs killed him at Pearl Harbor.” He fought to hold back burning tears.

  Don’t you dare cry in front of these two.

  “Ah, man. You shittin’ me?” Joe took a last drag on his cigarette before tossing it on the ground and smudging it with his foot. He licked his thin lips and spit out a fleck of tobacco.

  The world buzzed again. Terrence walked faster. Joe and Ray kept talking at him, he didn’t—couldn’t—pay attention to anything they were saying. Until …

  “We’re gonna go Jap hunting,” Ray said. His eyes were flashing wild. “Gotta get back at one for killing your daddy.” He marched off in a determined stride.

  Joe jogged to keep up. “You coming, Tee?”

  Terrence watched shriveled leaves skip after them, unable to move, unable to breathe. Get a Jap? His heart pounded hard through his body, and finally, through clenched fists. He began to breathe again, deep and hard. Yeah. Maybe. Just thinking about getting a Jap made him feel a little better. Just rough one up a little. Teach him a lesson is all.

  He called after Joe and Ray. “Hey! Wait up.”

  They hid behind a bush at the edge of the park and watched the Japanese man sitting on the bench. Nobody else around except for a paper boy riding on his bike. A dog chased behind him, yipping and barking.

  “Hey,” Ray whispered. “You two ready?”

  Joe rubbed his nose. “Yeah, I guess. Looks like an easy enough target.”

  Terrence felt a chill on the back of his neck and pulled his collar up. A memory busted into his mind. Two summers ago, he and Daddy had been waiting in a long line at the hardware store. It was hot, and he’d been swatting at a mosquito buzzing around his ear.

  When they finally reached the counter, the clerk slammed the cash drawer shut and said, “You know, last week a Negro man robbed this store.” He squinted and stared at Daddy like he was already behind bars. “Looked kind of like you. ’Course, you all look alike.”

  Daddy smiled and placed a hammer and nails on the counter. “Well, it wasn’t me.”

  “Sorry. This register’s closed. I’m not selling to a Negro who might be the man who robbed me. Matter of fact, you better get before I call the cops.”

  Daddy nodded and left the hammer and nails. “Let’s go, Terrence.”

  Terrence had wanted to hit something. Sweat trickled down his forehead. “You’re not gonna let him get away with that, are you?”

  Daddy was quiet until they got in the car. He shut the door and said, “Son, it ain’t my problem if the man’s just plain stupid. And if I react to it, I be just as stupid. ’Sides, with that kind of folk ever where, I’d wear myself out.” He chuckled. “We’ll get the hammer and nails somewheres else.”

  Yeah, Daddy. Look where not reacting got you. Dead!

  His fevered anger had even boiled over onto memories of Daddy.

  He stared at the Japanese man sitting alone on the bench, his hands folded on his lap. Yeah, an easy target.

  Still, maybe beating up a Jap was, as Daddy put it, plain stupid. But hell, what was he supposed to do? He had to do something.

  “Hey, Terrence. You chickening out on us?” Ray asked. “We’re doing this for you, y’know.”

  The Japs killed Daddy. He couldn’t get that out of his head and it fanned his emotions like a bellows, pumping him with hatred, revenge, until he was ready to explode. No. Wondering what Daddy would think wasn’t helping him at all. Besides, it didn’t matter anymore what Daddy thought. He was gone. Dead.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  He clenched his fists, keen to make contact with the skin of a Jap. His vision narrowed in on the man sitting on the bench. Nothing else mattered. Only the Jap.

  The man stood up and faced them with questioning eyes.

  Ray snickered. “You a Jap?”

  “I am Japanese. Is there a problem? What do you want?”

  Joe poked him in the chest. “We wanna get us a Jap.”

  Ray grabbed the man’s coat and threw him to the ground, then kicked him once.

  Now! Now! Do it for Daddy!

  Everything. Everyone. All blurred together.

  Kicking.

  Yelling.

  Spitting.

  The Jap. Weakened prey. Fuel for the pack’s rabid attack.

  Minutes passed. Or was it hours?

  Didn’t know. Didn’t care.

  He gasped for breath. Stared at the man lying on the ground, motionless.

  Was he alive? Yeah. He was breathing.

  Terrence was hovering at the edge of a cliff. So very dizzy. Yet, he couldn’t make himself step away from the edge.

  Anger. Sadness. Rage. Emptiness. Every emotion—violent and swirling inside—pushed, pushed, until …

  He lifted his foot. Held it for a split second. Plunged it hard into the man.

  He’d gone over the edge.

  He felt the sickening crush of ribs giving way to the heel of his shoe. Sour tingled on the back of his tongue. He shook all over.

  He leaned over the man and gritted his teeth. Bitterness overflowed. “You. Japs. Killed. My father.”

  The man stared up at him with swollen, dark eyes. “I am sorry for your loss. But … I … am not … a Jap.”

  Terrence panted. Fast. Shallow. Bile rose in his throat. A million thoughts raged in his head.

  Daddy didn’t rob that store and this man’s not the Jap who killed my Daddy you all look alike we all look alike.

  “Stop it! Stop!” The cry came from the playground.

  Terrence blinked hard and looked around. He was cold again. The winter wind chilled through his sweat-soaked clothes. Ray and Joe were laughing. Slapping each other on the back. The man from the bench was on the ground. Moaning. Too loud. Blood. Red blood. On the man’s face. On the ground. On Terrence’s shoe.

  “Stop! Leave him alone!”

  Where did the cry come from? The swings? No. He turned to see a little girl coming off the slide. A Japanese girl.

  “Stop! Please, stop!” she cried, running toward them.

  He grabbed at Ray and Joe. “Okay! Okay! That’s enough. Let’s get outta here!”

  But Ray kept kicking the man. His head. His stomach. He’d gone wild, frenzy in his eyes.

  “That’ll teach you and your people a lesson,” Joe said, patting Ray on the back.

  Terrence pleaded again. “Come on! We gotta go! You’re gonna kill him!” He ran away when the little girl approached.

  “Papa!”

  That’s her daddy.

  He looked back and caught a glimpse of the girl’s tear-filled eyes.

  A split-second. Forever.

  He ran faster, harder; trying to escape what he’d done, knowing he never would.

  Ray and Joe followed at last.

  Someone yelled from the sidewalk behind them. “What have you done?”

  Terrence stopped running and turned back again. Nobu?

  His friend’s voice haunted. “Why would you do this to my father?”

  Nobu’s father?

  The world buzzed and turned gray again.

  Daddy was dead, and the only thing left were his words, ringing in his head: “just plain stupid.”

  He turned the corner for home. Did he feel better now? Hell, no.

  God help me. God forgive me. Hell, there ain’t no God. No God.

  Chapter 6

  Sachi

  December 23, 1941

  The sounds in the emerge
ncy waiting room were the worst. Sachi could close her eyes to escape the sights, but she couldn’t block out the whimpers of the little boy who sat across from her, holding his bloodied arm. Or the baby wrapped in the blue blanket who cried as the nervous mother bounced him in her arms, whispering, “Shh, shh, shh.” Gurneys with new patients startled Sachi each time they came crashing through the doors.

  Papa moaned while Mama held her o-juzu beads and softly chanted a prayer to Buddha. Sachi liked the pretty crystal beads. But her favorite part of Mama’s bracelet was the tiny Buddha etched inside the large center bead.

  Nobu couldn’t sit still and paced the floor, back and forth, running his fingers through his hair at every turn. Maybe Mama should let him hold her beads.

  The second hand on the clock above the check-in desk moved slowly around the white dial. Sachi calculated how many times it had made its journey around the dial since they’d arrived. Seven fifteen. That would be about 117 times.

  What was taking so long? Couldn’t the doctors and nurses see that Papa needed help? Nobu must have asked, “How much longer?” a dozen times already.

  Finally, a nurse peeked from behind a door and called Papa’s name. “Michio Kimura?”

  Mama and Nobu lifted Papa from his seat and walked him to the door. Sachi wrapped her finger around one of his belt loops and followed behind.

  The nurse took Papa’s arm and started to enter the examination room. “Please, wait here.”

  Mama clung to him. “But I would like to stay—”

  “Please,” interrupted the nurse, “have a seat in the waiting room.”

  When the door began to close, Sachi let go of his belt loop. She returned to sit with Mama, Nobu, and all of the other sick people who had to wait in the hard chairs that lined the dingy, green walls.

  Mama moved the circle of beads through her fingers, making a clicking noise that was somehow soothing to listen to. Nobu stared ahead, trance-like and still, except for his left foot rapidly tapping the floor.