Taichi
Saturday, December 5, 1942
The mess hall is decorated festively with garlands and red ribbons and other items that look wonderfully out of place here in Manzanar. The band plays Christmas music that’s upbeat enough for dancing, and those who are inclined cut up the dance floor, including James and Margaret, and Aiko and Ichiro.
Aiko is usually glowing when Ichiro shows up for these events, but tonight she seems a bit more sluggish out there. A bit more grim. Maybe they’ve been fighting?
“Hi, Taichi.”
I turn to find Rose standing beside me. “Oh, hi . . .”
I instinctively look toward the door, as if I could somehow hide. But this is Manzanar. There’s nowhere to hide.
“How are you?” There’s a softness in the words that wasn’t there the last time we spoke.
“I’m fine.” I put on a polite smile. “And you?”
“Honestly, I feel really stupid.” She blows out a puff of air. “I was downright awful to you the last time we spoke, and I’m really sorry about that. I don’t know if you heard, but my father was released to Manzanar earlier this week.”
“James told me. I was really glad to hear it.”
Rose is no longer looking at me, but rather her hands, which she twists together in front of her. “Thank you. I’m so sorry for the awful accusations I made about your uncle—”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not. I was stupid for listening to gossip. My father . . .” Rose’s eyes grow watery, and I look away. “He’s not himself. Not yet.”
I reach into my pocket and shove my handkerchief into her hand. “My uncle gets better with each week that passes. I hope the same will be true for your father.”
Rose wipes at her eyes. “He used to be embarrassingly patriotic about America. He was so reverent about the flag, the National Anthem, everything. If the government ever opened up doors for Japanese nationals to be citizens, he would have camped outside the office for a week just to be first in line.” Rose’s wistful smile dies on her lips. “But last night I heard him and my mother talking about how there’s no life for us here. How we should just go back to Japan when we get the chance.”
It’s strange to stand so close to her when she’s crying, yet to keep my arms crossed over my chest. Any kind of affection seems awkward, though. Especially considering what Aiko told me. “He’s been hurt and betrayed. Don’t we all feel that way, if we’re being honest? And the majority of us weren’t sent to North Dakota.”
“I suppose.” Rose sniffles. Her tears glitter when the light catches them. “Taichi, I think Aiko needs you.”
The change of her tone—watery to urgent—makes my heartbeat kick up a notch. I follow her eyeline to see Aiko shuffling off the dance floor with her arms crossed over her stomach. Her face is blank, but I’ve seen my sister mask pain enough times to recognize it for what it is.
“I’ll see you later, Rose.” I skirt around the dancers to where Aiko is easing into a chair. “Aiko, what’s going on?”
“Probably nothing. Maybe just really bad”—her face twists briefly before she can slide the mask back over it—“cramps? I don’t know.”
“Where’s Ichiro?”
“Getting me a drink. It’s been so dry. I might be dehydrated.” She winces again, and her breathing becomes even more labored. “Or maybe it’s my monthly cycle.”
“But I’ve never seen you in this much pain.”
Aiko groans and leans forward. “Food poisoning?”
Ichiro materializes with a cup of water and a deep frown. “She’s worse.”
“I think she needs to go to the hospital.”
“I don’t need to go”—she gasps for air—“to the hospital.”
Ichiro is as inclined to ignore her as I am. He takes one side, and I take the other. Despite Aiko’s initial protest, she does nothing to prevent us from helping her out of the room. Ichiro thinks to grab coats from the pile, which is good because the temperature has plummeted to the thirties with the setting sun, and the hospital is several blocks away.
When Aiko cries out in pain and her legs collapse beneath her, Ichiro scoops her up and carries her the final block to the hospital. I jog alongside him to keep up, and then hold the door open so he can run through.
“Ichiro!” A nurse rises from behind a desk. “Aiko! What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know for sure,” Ichiro pants. “But I think Aiko’s appendix is about to burst.”
Dr. Goto briefly examines feverish, vomiting, and moaning Aiko before agreeing with Ichiro.
“Prepare her for surgery,” he says to the nurses.
Horror rises up in me as the nurses spring into action, as I think of my sister being sliced open and possibly losing her life here.
Dr. Goto turns to Ichiro and then me. “Are you family?”
I try to speak, but can’t seem to find my voice.
“Taichi is her brother, doctor. Should I go get her parents, or do you need me in surgery?”
“I have Peggy. Please go get her parents.” To me, Dr. Goto adds, “Do you know where they’ll be, son?”
“Playing Go with the Kanitos and Kameis, I think. Maybe in the rec room on block four?”
Ichiro races off, and Dr. Goto and I both watch as Aiko retches into a pail one of the nurses holds for her.
“Hopefully we’ve caught this early enough that her appendix isn’t leaking or ruptured. When that happens, there’s a high risk of infect—”
“Help me!” A yell from outside the room cuts into our conversation. The desperation infused in that voice makes my blood freeze in my veins. “Someone, please help me!”
“Get Aiko moved and the room prepped,” Dr. Goto orders the nurses over his shoulder as he jogs out of the room. “I’ll meet you in surgery.”
“Help me!” The voice calls again from the direction of the front doors. “Is anyone here?”
I stand in the doorway, useless to everyone. I should’ve run for Mother and Father since Ichiro could at least do something.
“What’s happened?” Dr. Goto’s question reaches me back here in Aiko’s room.
“They beat him!” The voice is male, but high and hysterical. “There were six of them. I couldn’t make out any faces because it was dark, and they ran off when they saw me. I thought he was dead at first, because he was just lying there.”
“Peggy!” Dr. Goto barks down the hallway.
One of the nurses caring for my sister brushes past me. “Yes, doctor?”
“Get Mr. Tayama to a room and get him stabilized. I’ll be in as soon as I’m done with the appendix.”
The name is like a magnet, and I’m drawn the few steps down the hall to where I can see the hospital entrance. I don’t recognize the hysterical man, and I wouldn’t recognize the beaten man either if Dr. Goto hadn’t used his name. But yes, it’s Fred Tayama.
Number one on the death list.
It’s beginning.