Sachi
December 24, 1941
Sachi sat at the kitchen table, looking out the window at fog that blanketed the neighborhood. Blurry dots of Christmas lights on the house across the street blinked through the grayness. It was not merry like Christmas Eve should be.
Nobu walked in. “Hurry up, Sachi. Visiting hours start in thirty minutes.”
She pushed her bowl of rice and eggs away. “I’m not hungry anyway,” she said and scooted from the table.
He picked up her dish and put it in the sink. “We’re leaving in five minutes. Mama’s upstairs getting dressed.”
“I’m almost ready,” she said, then ran upstairs to her bedroom. She called for Mama. No answer.
She called again. “Mama!”
She found her mother in the dance room, kneeling in front of the altar. Her hands were pressed together and wrapped by o-juzu beads. Incense drifted from the wooden box where a small bowl of rice and an orange had been placed—an offering to Buddha. Mama bowed several times.
Sachi listened to Mama’s whispered prayer. Though she couldn’t hear all of the words, she did hear “Papa” and “Taro” repeated over and over. Twice she heard Nobu’s name, and once her own. What prayers did she say for them?
Mama’s head remained bowed, and she did not acknowledge Sachi.
In silence Sachi watched, until at last, Mama placed a hand on the table to pull herself up.
“What is it, Sachiko?”
She held out a handful of books. “Can I bring these to the hospital today?”
“Yes. But not too many—maybe three or four.” Mama walked out of the room.
Sachi followed, still trying to talk to her mother. “Look at this picture I drew for Papa.” She held it up for her mother to see. “It’s a picture of our Christmas tree … to hang by his bed.”
But Mama didn’t turn to look. “Nobu,” she called, removing her coat from a hanger, “are you ready to go?”
“Yes, Mama,” he replied. “I’ll start the car.”
Sachi placed the picture inside one of her books, guessing Mama didn’t care if she brought it. Papa would like it though.
From the back seat of the car, Sachi watched Christmas decorations on street light poles drift by as they drove along University Avenue. Smiling children looked out windows of cars with suitcases tied on top. Mothers sat in the front seats. Fathers drove. She wondered where they were all going. It didn’t matter. Any place was better than the hospital on Christmas Eve.
They walked into the waiting area on Papa’s floor, and Mama pointed to the green vinyl chairs. “Wait here, Sachiko” she said. “One of us will come out in a little while to let you know how Papa is doing.”
She plopped down and felt the slap of cold vinyl against her legs. “Wait! Don’t forget this,” she said, holding her drawing.
Nobu took the picture of the Christmas tree and smiled. “Papa will like this, Sach.”
She watched them walk down the hall. The waiting area was empty. One, two, three … fifteen chairs in the room, and nobody to keep her company.
Swish, swish. Swish, swish. A patient shuffled down the hall. Maybe he would stop to talk to her. But he passed, and when she saw the open back of his gown, she closed her eyes and held her hand to her mouth so the poor man wouldn’t hear her laugh.
This place was quieter than the emergency room the night before. Too quiet. Only an occasional cough or moan from patients in the rooms broke the ringing in Sachi’s ears.
She opened one of her books, but couldn’t concentrate to read. She hated silence. In hushed moments, horrible images of her father’s beating haunted her. Flipping the pages, she hummed “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town.”
After what seemed like forever, Nobu returned and sat next to her. His face held no expression, but his eyes were red and puffy.
“What, Nobu? Was Papa awake? Is he okay?” She longed for good news, but feared it would be bad.
“No, Sachi. He hasn’t woken up since we brought him here last night.”
She felt the urge to cry, but wanted to be strong like her brother. “Maybe he just needs more rest. Did you give him my picture?”
“Yes. He’ll see it as soon as he wakes up.” Nobu took a deep breath and patted her hand. “I better get back in there. Sorry you can’t come in, too.”
“It’s not fair.” She could no longer hold her tears. “He’s my papa, too.”
Nobu hugged her; so like Papa’s hug. For the first time since she held Papa in the park, her tears rushed forth like crashing waves between deep, panting breaths.
“It’s okay, Sach,” Nobu said, stroking her hair.
Her usual soft voice teetered on the edge of a scream. “How can you say ‘it’s okay’? Why did those boys hurt Papa? He wasn’t bothering them. And what about that mean nurse? Why does she look at us the way she does? Just like the way kids at school look at me.”
Nobu slumped into the chair. “I don’t know, Sach. I wish I did.”
He held her for several minutes. The beat of his heart comforted her.
Straightening, he asked, “You know what?”
“What?”
“I’ve been keeping an eye on that nurse behind the desk. She’s so absorbed in reading charts, she’s not paying attention.”
Sachi’s eyes widened.
“Let’s sneak you in. No one will know.”
“Really?”
“But only for a few minutes, okay? Promise you won’t get upset when it’s time to leave?
“Promise. A few minutes will be better than nothing.”
“Okay, let’s go. Be very quiet, and walk quickly.”
She tiptoed behind her brother, trying not to giggle, yet at the same time scared about what might happen if the nurse caught them. Would she lock Sachi in a dark closet? Make her wait outside in the cold? No. She was sure she could out run those squeaky white shoes.
Besides, seeing Papa was worth any trouble she’d get into. Maybe he’d wake up for her.
She turned the corner into his room. The sight of him was like a kick in the stomach. He’d looked bad last night. But now in the light of day, his swollen eyes looked like raw meat. His cheeks were black and blue. Blood had seeped through the bandages on his head. And he was wheezing like Mr. Ihara.
“Papa,” she whispered, then walked to the front of the bed. She wanted to hug him, but was afraid to tangle in the tubes that seemed to be connected to every part of his body. Instead, she placed her hand on his fingers sticking out from his cast. Did they move when she touched him?
“I drew a picture of our Christmas tree for you.” She held her breath. If she was very quiet, she might hear his response.
Nothing.
“If you wake up, you can come home to have Christmas with us.” She smiled, but tears threatened to spill over the brave mask she wore for her father. This is Christmas Eve. Tomorrow is Christmas. No, Papa will not be home.
Nobu touched her shoulder. “We better get back to the waiting area before someone sees you.”
“Just a few more minutes?”
“Sachi, remember? You promised you wouldn’t argue. Maybe I can sneak you in again later.”
She kissed her finger and placed it on her father’s cheek. “Bye for now. I’ll see you later.”
Though Sachi felt her heart being tugged to stay, she crept behind Nobu back to the waiting room.
“I’ll come back and check on you soon,” Nobu whispered, then turned to leave.
“Nobu?” she called. “Thanks for sneaking me in to see him.”
He returned two more times to sneak her in. Still, Papa slept.
When they returned home that evening, trees glittered through the front windows on Peralta Street. But the Kimura house stood in darkness.
It didn’t matter. It didn’t feel like Christmas Eve anyway. How she’d looked forward to celebrating Christmas like all of her friends. Now, Papa wouldn’t even be there. There’d be no last-minute rush to wrap presents. No aroma of cakes or cookies or ham cooking for Christmas dinner. And Papa wouldn’t read The Night Before Christmas like he had promised.
Lying in the quiet darkness of her room, she tried to think about the gifts she’d open in the morning—about what Santa Claus might bring in the night. But the silence brought only thoughts of Papa’s beating. She wanted to sleep, to escape everything that had happened in the last few days. But she was afraid. Afraid of the dreams that would come again in the silent night.
Moonlight coming through her window cast a soft, blue light on the porcelain faces of her geisha dolls. They seemed to move in the light and shadows, and their black eyes stared at Sachi, so like Papa’s eyes when they had stared into nothingness at the park.
She threw off her covers and ran to her shelf. Then, she turned the dolls to face the wall.