Chapter Fifteen
Arms full of wine bottles and plastic cups, Mika shouldered her way into Stanley’s studio again later that evening. “Here, let me.” Leif jogged over, relieving her of the load.
She followed him to the back where a long folding table had been set up, white cloth draped over it. He arranged the wine and started uncorking it. “Leif. I cannot thank you enough.” Mika viewed her and Penny’s handiwork, impressed and proud. The sculptures told a story now. The only thing left was Stanley’s final piece, still draped in canvas in the center of the room.
“You haven’t seen the best part. Check it out.” Leif showed her a little acrylic stand with business cards, her name imprinted on them: mika suzuki gallery, then her phone number. Over the table was a banner that said the same but no phone number. “Adelle helped make them. She’s great with design.”
“Oh, wow.” Mika picked up one of the cards, running a padded fingertip over the sharp corner. This was as close to her dream as she’d ever been. Back when she painted, she had yearned to see her name on an exhibit—imagined her own work under the spotlights. Shaking hands with admirers. Discussing how she used light to capture the subject. And though this was slightly different, seeing her name in a studio, with the word gallery next to it . . . it was, well, it made her emotional. She peered up at Leif, words tangled in her throat. “Leif . . . thank you. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”
“It’s cool.” He thumbed his bottom lip, trying not to smile.
“It’s not,” Mika said. She pressed on. “I shouldn’t have said the things I said when we broke up. I’m sorry I called your dreams stupid. They’re not.”
“I did some shit that wasn’t cool either. I shouldn’t have asked you to transport seeds for me.” He opened his arms. “Truce hug?” He did his Chris Farley voice.
“Truce,” Mika said. They smiled at each other and embraced.
The door opened. Mika tore herself from Leif. Thomas, Penny, and Stanley shuffled into the gallery. She rushed to them. Thomas wore his suit from the other night, and Penny still wore her roller derby T-shirt. “This is amazing. We walked around outside for a few and saw all the artists putting up their tents. It’s such a creative, happy vibe,” Penny said. “And I think in honor of your new show, I should have a glass of wine.”
“Not going to happen,” Thomas said, humor in his light eyes as he stared at Mika. Her mind blanked. Their gazes held, stretching into an uncomfortable silence until Leif interlaced his fingers with Mika’s and squeezed.
“Hey, nice to see you again.” Leif shook Thomas’s hand in a way that seemed almost protective. “Glad you could be here to support Mika.”
Stanley clapped his hands together. “Well, since everyone has arrived. You all ready to see the pièce de résistance?” His accent was bad, so bad.
Mika slinked away from Leif’s hold. “Yes, please.” Then she whispered to Thomas and Penny, “I can’t wait to see. Stanley is a talented artist.”
Stanley moved to the sculpture and stripped the canvas with a whoosh. Mika squinted, unsure what she was seeing at first. Metal twisted together to form the head of a dog but the body of a man? Yes. And . . . a penis. Mika’s brain caught in a hamster wheel. It was all she could see—a very large, very erect penis.
“Penny, close your eyes,” Thomas said quietly.
“No way,” Penny said.
“Well, what do you think?” Stanley stood proudly by the last sculpture. “I’m destigmatizing the male form.”
Leif out and out grinned. “I love it, Stanley. You’ve outdone yourself.”
Mika tried to hide her surprise. She swallowed. “Yes, I can see it.” What could she say? “The welding work is phenomenal. You can really feel the strength of the animal. Don’t you think?” Mika wasn’t sure who she was asking, but her eyes connected with Thomas’s.
Thomas shifted, sliding his hands into his pockets, eyes crinkling with humor. “Yes, very . . .” He couldn’t even. He coughed into his fist. “Sorry, thirsty.” He thumped his chest. “I think I’ll get a drink.”
Penny stepped to Mika’s side. She locked arms with Mika, bringing her in close. “I don’t really understand art, but I think this is great. If you love it, I love it,” Penny said unconditionally.
“You do?” Mika asked, voice softening.
“Of course I do. All of this exists because of you,” Penny said. And they squeezed each other in a kind of half-hug.
The night went on. Stanley’s art received a lot of attention. Bad or good, it remained to be seen. Hana made an appearance but left to go skip around the booths. The gallery grew hot and crowded, and soon all the wine had been consumed. “I have more in my car,” Mika said.
“I’ll help you.” Thomas had removed his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He followed Mika down the stairs and to the parking lot. Cold night air greeted them, and Mika slowed for a moment to let it press against her warm face. The sun was setting, and the aisles of vendor and artist booths were cast in a red glow. There was a hint of rain and the buzz of conversation in the air.
“This feels good,” Mika said, fanning her cheeks.
“Yeah.” Thomas ambled beside her, hands in his pockets. “I don’t know, something about all that art . . .” He trailed off.
Mika glanced up at him, alarmed. His mouth was set in a firm line. “What?”
“It was rubbing me the wrong way.” The corner of his mouth curled, and his eyes twinkled.
“Ha, ha.”
“Sorry.” Thomas held up his hands. “I couldn’t help myself. I’ll try harder.”
“Keep laughing, buddy. And I’ll have a serious bone to pick with you.” Mika smiled wryly.
He placed a hand over his mouth and laughed. Mika liked the sound, low and husky. “You’re right. I’ll try not to be so cocky.”
They came to the car, and she opened the door to the back seat. “Is that all out of your system now?”
Thomas shook his head. “Actually, I’ve got about an hour’s worth of material. Surprisingly two jokes center around ghosts.”
“Who knew copyright lawyers were so funny?” She grabbed a bottle of wine. “My feelings might be hurt, but I know this all comes from your lack of knowledge of fine art.”
“Ouch.” Thomas winced. He wrapped his fingers around the base of the wine so they were both holding the bottle. “Have I hurt your feelings?”
“No.” Mika felt herself flush. “Of course not. Stanley is an excellent welder, but his concepts need developing.” Or just burning. Some things shouldn’t see the light of day. Better to start fresh.
“It’s a beautiful exhibit, Mika,” Thomas said thickly.
Mika’s heart skipped a beat. For a full sixty seconds, neither spoke. Thomas’s lids lowered. Blink, and she might have missed it. The heat in his eyes. The pulse hammering in his neck. The telltale signs of desire. What would happen if she closed the gap between them? The air was charged with possibilities. She shook her head. This is ridiculous. She was ridiculous. Entertaining the thought of Thomas’s lips on hers. She let go of the bottle, the zap of electricity shorted out, and she toed the gravel on the ground. “Th-thank you,” Mika stammered out. Her eyes drifted to the back seat of the car, to the bottles of wine. “Um, I have half a dozen more, mostly reds, but . . .” Her throat was dry. “But we should be able to get them all between the two of us.”
“Sure. Right.” Thomas stepped back. They loaded up with the drinks, then set off back to the gallery.
Between steps, she stole glances at Thomas, examining his relaxed face. Had she imagined it? The heat in his eyes? Definitely. He had said something nice to her, that was all. When would she ever learn? She’d done something similar with Marcus. Projected her feelings, read too much into his smiles, his kindness. She’d confused lust with love. Let her desire eclipse reality. Let herself become lost in it.
The night of Marcus’s party, she’d arrived early. After knocking on the door, she’d appraised her outfit. The tights, plaid skirt, and fine turtleneck sweater made her feel older, but really, she’d been a little girl playing dress-up. Peter, the graduate student hosting the party, had answered the door, Marcus behind him in the empty apartment.
I’m early, she had said, twirling to go, I’ll come back.
Marcus grinned, grabbed her arm, and pulled her through the door. His eyes were red and hazy. Drunk, already. You’re right on time, he said, spinning her around. He placed a hand on her back and swayed to the music. She rested a hand on his shoulder. It was the first time she’d ever touched him. She remembered the sinewy feel of his muscle under her fingers, his hot skin burning through the fabric of his shirt. Right behind her, another few people came—graduate students, a colleague or two of Marcus’s.
Peter brought Mika a drink, something strong in a red Solo cup, then she was dancing with Marcus again. Laughing. She felt his attention like a physical force, a boulder rolling into her, a hand turning her into a new direction. She’d been smitten from the beginning, falling under his spell. Thinking of koi no yokan—the sensation upon meeting someone that falling in love with them is inevitable.
Cool wind swept through, forcing Mika to the present. She bowed her head in the fleeting shame. “So,” Mika said, squinting against the dying sunlight. “Penny told me she’s applying for a summer program here.”
“Yes,” Thomas intoned. “She announced that to me this morning.”
“She said you’re okay with it.”
Thomas let out a little laugh. “I don’t think I have much of a choice.” Their pace slowed. “But I am okay with it. I think this has been good for Penny.” He grew thoughtful. “For us. Plus,” he added. “You’ll be here.”
Mika couldn’t help a smile from creeping across her face. Thomas trusted Mika to look after Penny. “I’ll take good care of her.”
They came to the warehouse, and Mika used her back to push through the door. She tromped up the steps, aware Thomas was behind her. They deposited the wine on the table, and Leif set to uncorking it. “You’re all flushed,” he said.
Mika’s stomach flipped. “It’s warm in here.”
Leif eyed her suspiciously, then Thomas, who stood over her shoulder. “While you were gone, Stanley got a commission.”
“He did?” Mika poured herself a healthy glass of wine.
“Some hipster wants him to sculpt himself as a centaur,” Leif said.
Mika nearly choked on the sip she’d just taken. She patted her chest. “My god.”
Penny joined them. “I feel like we should toast to the evening. Leif, would you mind pouring me a glass of that cabernet?”
“Penny. No,” Thomas said again.
Penny shrugged. “Never hurts to try.”
“Mi-chan.” Mika shook her head. She could have sworn she’d just heard her mother. She couldn’t have possibly, though. What would Hiromi be doing here? “Mika.” Her name again, this time unmistakable.
Mika’s blood ran cold as she straightened and slowly turned on one foot. There was Hiromi, hair slicked back into an unforgiving dome, knee-length skirt, and purse slung over her elbow. “Mom,” she said, stunned, poleaxed really. “What are you doing here?” The chatter in the gallery died away. It was like they were in a bubble suddenly—Leif, Penny, Thomas, Mika, and Hiromi.
“What are you doing here?” Hiromi flung back.
“Hi,” Thomas cut in. “I’m Thomas Calvin. Penny’s dad.” He stuck out his hand, and Hiromi stared until he dropped it.
Penny stepped forward too, a hesitant smile on her face. Mika could only watch as Hiromi and Penny looked at each other, saw each other for the very first time. Noticed how they shared the same cheekbones, the same tiny nose and bow-shaped lips. How their hands were similar too, thin with longish fingers that tapered into oval nails. How if time fast-forwarded a few decades ahead, Hiromi might be an age-generated portrait of Penny, of Mika—because blood always tells. Mika knew the moment it registered for Hiromi. Her mother’s lips parted. Her black button eyes watered. She couldn’t stop staring at Penny.
At her granddaughter.
“This is so amazing! I thought you were on a cruise,” Penny said, totally uninhibited. Why wouldn’t she be? Penny was used to being loved, to having others love her in return. She didn’t know Hiromi didn’t want Mika to have her, didn’t know that instead of “baby” or “her,” Hiromi called Penny “it.”
“Cruise?” Hiromi’s raven brows darted in. “I’ve never been on a cruise.”
“Hey, kiddo,” Thomas said, calling Penny softly back to him.
Mika’s stomach plunged, an elevator with its cables cut. “Mom.” She couldn’t think of anything to say. “How did you know I was here?”
“I followed you. You haven’t been returning my phone calls. I was worried. What’s going on?” Hiromi’s eyes fell on the business cards on the table. Then on the banner above the table. mika suzuki gallery. “Is this what you spent the money I gave you on?” she asked, gesturing at the gallery, arm encompassing the terrible art. “You’re supposed to be looking for a job.”
Mika saw Thomas’s brow dip in confusion. Saw Penny’s smile dissolve. Saw the questions forming in their eyes.
“Okāsan,” Mika said, inching forward, hand out to guide her mother away. “Let’s talk outside.”
Hiromi sidestepped Mika. “What’s he doing here? I thought you broke up with him?” She stared at Leif, face twisting as if staring at a plate of food she did not like.
Mika rubbed her brow. Feeling the pieces fall around her. How could she pick them all up with only two hands? “We did. But . . .”
At that, Thomas’s light eyes flared.
“We’re working things out,” Leif interjected, trying to help in the worst possible way.
Hiromi snorted. The noise said it all. “And who is this?” she flicked a hand at Penny, and it seemed to fall on Mika’s daughter like a physical blow. Penny flinched. “Mi-chan?” Hiromi pressed. Hiromi knew exactly who Penny was. It was unmistakable. But this was Hiromi’s efficient way. Refuse to acknowledge Mika had had a baby. Wield her words like a pair of garden shears. Clip Mika down to a nub.
“Mika?” Thomas pressed.
But Mika didn’t have an answer. She couldn’t answer. At the prospect of lying again or telling the truth, Mika’s mind came to a crashing halt. Her world had spun out of control. Cold spread through her, in her feet, into her hands, into her bones. All over. She was frozen.
Thomas cleared his throat. “This is Penny. Mika is her birth mother.” He paused, put an arm around Penny, pulled her in. “It sounds as if you and your daughter need to talk, and I think we should let you.” Thomas moved to go, but Penny broke from her father and stepped over to Mika.
“Looking for a job? Why would you be looking for a job? You quit to open the gallery. This is your job,” Penny said, brow furrowed. “I’m so confused. You said you took out a business loan for the gallery. But you borrowed money from your parents? Did you lie about that? Why would you lie about something like that?” Her voice cracked, pleaded.
Mika’s shoulders hunched with heaviness, with the past catching up with her. She regretted so many things in that moment. Under Penny’s scrutiny, what else could she do but tell the truth? “I didn’t quit my job,” she said in a whisper. “I was fired.” Penny stood stock-still, but her face was open, willing, wanting this all to be a misunderstanding. Mika cleared her throat. “I borrowed money from my parents to make ends meet.”
Penny shook her head. “I still don’t understand.”
Mika rubbed her lips together. “Um . . . I didn’t tell you the truth about a lot of things, actually. I don’t have an art history degree. I barely graduated college with a business degree, and it took me eight years. Since then, I’ve hopped around jobs. The gallery is Stanley’s, he rents from Leif, they let me borrow it for today. And Leif and I aren’t a couple. We were, but we broke up.” She opened her hands, smiled helplessly at Penny. “I can’t seem to hold on to anything.”
“Mika,” Leif said softly, sadly.
“So you’re a liar?” Penny flicked out, eyes blazing.
Thomas, Penny, Leif, and Hiromi all looked to Mika, and Mika looked away, sick. She couldn’t say it aloud, so she dipped her chin in silent confirmation. Yes, I am a liar.
“C’mon, kiddo,” Thomas said. “I think we’re done here.” Mika glanced up as Thomas peeled Penny away, tucking her under his arm again.
“Why would she do that?” Penny whispered up to her father. A tear slid down her cheek.
“I don’t know,” Thomas said. “But let’s go back to the hotel. We’ll talk there.” Thomas made eye contact with Mika. He nodded once, eyes exacting and unforgiving—a set of closed doors. “Goodbye, Mika.”
Penny let her dad lead her away, and Mika stood there, rooted to the spot. Watching as they walked out of the gallery, out of her life. The day she left the hospital after she’d had Penny, a nurse had pushed her out in a wheelchair, depositing her on the bench right outside the maternity ward, Hana beside her with their backpacks. They sat for a while. Mika staring off into space, flexing her empty hands. Doctors and nurses came and went. A new mom rolled out, her baby in the car seat with balloons tied to the handle. The dad pulled up to the curb and gently assisted them into the car.
Everyone just going about their business. Nothing to see here. Their worlds turning, while Mika’s had stopped. She’d been pregnant, had given birth to something alive and wonderful, had held on to it for a few precious hours, and now it was gone—her baby. And Mika was left with no reminder of what had been except some cramping and bleeding.
If we don’t go soon, we’re going to miss the last bus, Hana gently pressed, her voice a tinny wobble. A gust of wind tore at her hair. The light leached from the sky.
Yeah, okay, Mika had murmured.
Now, all around them were people again. Viewing the art as if none of this was happening in the corner of the gallery. As if Mika’s heart wasn’t breaking all over again. She focused on Hiromi. Even though it should have been drilled out of her, it was still Mika’s natural instinct to search out her mother.
Hiromi opened her mouth, clicked her tongue. “Mi-chan,” she said with such utter disappointment it made Mika tunnel even deeper into herself, into a space where no one could follow.
Someone squeezed her shoulder, Leif probably, but Mika couldn’t feel him through all the layers of pain. Mika wanted to scream. Mika wanted to run after Penny, cling to her like ivy. But Mika didn’t move an inch. She didn’t make a sound. She did as she’d been taught. Hold in the pain. Be silent. Don’t make a scene.