Suitcase Sefton and the American Dream by Jay Feldman

Author:Jay Feldman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Triumph Books
Published: 2006-05-15T00:00:00+00:00

20

FROM THE POSITION OF THE MOON IN THE SKY, YAMADA guessed it was about three o’clock. He had been lying awake on his cot, staring out the window for more than two hours, his sleeplessness a combined result of the moon’s radiance and his agitated state of mind.

When Sefton had made the suggestion, it was one thing; coming from Annie, it was quite another. In the days since she had first brought it up, Yamada had been haunted. If she truly believed that it would be best for him to play baseball as a way of helping the family, he could not just slough off the idea as he had when the scout had made the proposal. And he knew his sister well enough to know that she would not have offered such an idea lightly. No, Annie was very well aware of how he felt, and if she was now suggesting that signing with Sefton might be a good path to consider, she would most certainly have thought it out quite carefully.

Yamada was suffering: Sefton had thrown his life into turmoil. As bad as things had been after the evacuation, at least here in camp a semblance of stability had begun to emerge. True, like everyone else, he was making the best of a grim situation, but at least the circumstances were known, and he had reconciled himself to them. But Sefton’s offer had unsettled the calm surface to reveal the turbulence deep down below. After all, it was not as if Yamada had not thought many times about what lay in store for him and his family. It was not as if he had not wondered how they were going to manage, starting over again with nothing.

Now, in the still of the early morning, Yamada mulled the options over and over to no resolution. He kept heading down the same blind alleys, running into the same brick walls. There was simply no good choice. He was firmly pinned on the horns of a dilemma.

Finally, after four o’clock, he fell back to sleep. He dreamt of being alone in camp, running in frantic desperation from one barracks building to the next, but finding no other people. Then he was on the old farm, and still he could find no one. Yamada was filled with a profound sense of isolation.

Nishimi appeared wearing boxing trunks and practicing shadowboxing. He danced wildly about, throwing punches without end. “Hey, Isao,” Yamada reminded him, “your old man said no more boxing, remember?” Nishimi did not respond, but kept up his manic routine. “Stop,” Yamada begged him, “I’ve gotta talk to you.”

“Can’t stop, Jerry,” said Nishimi, punching. “Just turned professional. Gotta train.”

“You turned professional? But why?”

“Good money, Jerry. Can’t pass that up. See ya later.” And he was gone.

Then Yamada was pitching to Sefton, who was using his wooden leg for a bat. Perfect time to use that change-up decoy, Yamada thought. He took an exaggerated deep breath and then threw a fastball; when it left his hand, he knew it was by far the hardest pitch he had ever thrown.

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