Chapter Eighteen
“What’s your favorite movie?” Penny asked the following week. The urge to say something more refined sat on the tip of Mika’s tongue—The Shawshank Redemption, Schindler’s List, The Godfather—but she settled for the one she watched over and over with Hana. “Dumb and Dumber,” she answered.
Penny hadn’t seen it and watched it over the weekend. “Why is it your favorite movie?” she pressed Mika on their next call.
“I don’t know. It’s funny, right?” Mika said. She leaned against the kitchen counter. The phone pressed against her ear. She’d just had her first interview at Nike and was still in her collared top and pencil skirt, sans shoes. Over sugary drinks, Mika had unburdened herself to Hayato, telling him about Penny, the adoption, the lies, and her crumbling finances, then asked him to help her with a job. He’d been happy to. And upon his advice, she’d scoured Nike’s career page and applied for the first position, administrative assistant II, she qualified for. Hayato helped move her application to the top of the pile.
“Hilarious,” Penny agreed.
Mika thought more about Penny’s question. “It was kind of an escape for me. I didn’t have an easy childhood. My parents are very traditional, and there wasn’t much room for humor in our home.”
“Were they angry when you got pregnant with me?” Penny asked.
“I actually don’t know.” Hiromi’s face flashed in her mind. She still hadn’t spoken to her mother. Which wasn’t unusual. They’d spend days, weeks, even months not talking to each other. But eventually, Mika would always come back. She remembered Hiromi breaking down over a bunch of bananas soon after they’d moved to the States.
Stop buying so many, Shige had said, eyeing the rotting fruit on the counter.
I can’t, Hiromi had said. I don’t understand why they come in such big quantities. Who needs a dozen bananas?
You never split the bunches in Japan, and Hiromi had assumed it was the same in America. She decided to complain to the store manager. In broken English, she begged him to put out smaller quantities. He’d laughed and said she could do it herself. Hiromi thought he was making fun of her. But Mika understood and showed her mother. It’s what kept Mika tethered to Hiromi. The thought that they might be lost without each other.
“My mother was disappointed,” she said to Penny now. She paused. Felt her mother’s derision beating down on her like a hot desert sun. What do you know about raising a baby? “Very disappointed.”
“Sometimes that’s worse,” Penny said.
“Yep.” Mika expelled a breath.
More time passed. Mika had a second interview at Nike. Penny was wrapping up her school year. There were parties and a dance she went to with friends. They FaceTimed during Hana’s last roller derby game before she left on tour with Pearl Jam. Mika was hired at Nike and had a dizzying tour of the campus by a very competent yet brisk HR employee. That night she sent Penny a photograph of her work ID with the words It’s official. When Mika had faked finding a gallery, they’d toasted on screen, popping bottles and giggling. This time, Penny replied with a party hat and streamers. That’s all. Penny was more subdued with Mika. Their relationship was no longer a house catching flame but one being painstakingly rebuilt—what happens after the fire.
Two weeks later, Mika smoothed down her black dress pants and peered at the latest text from Penny. Happy first day of work. Call me after?
I don’t know when I’ll be home, but I’ll give you a ring, Mika tapped out. She tucked her hair behind her ear, a little overwhelmed at being in the middle of the Nike Worldwide Headquarters campus. Two hundred eighty-six acres. Seventy-five buildings. Thousands of employees. No biggie. Her phone rang. Noting the caller, she answered with a relieved smile. “Hi.”
“Hey, you finding your way?” Hayato asked. “I can step out and walk you to the Serena Williams Building.”
“I’m good,” she promised.
“Perfect, I’m so glad this all worked out,” Hayato said.
“Yeah, thanks again for putting a good word in. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”
“Buy me lunch and maybe a few more chocolate martinis, and I’ll say we’re even.” He paused. “It’s just a shame we’re not in the same department. But let’s have lunch together today. We can meet at noon in the cafeteria—do you know where that is? In the Mia Hamm Building?”
She did know where the cafeteria was, although she had no idea who Mia Hamm was. “I’ll see you there.”
“Alright. Have a good first day. I can’t wait to hear all about it,” said Hayato. They hung up, and Mika set off into the Serena Williams Building—she did know who that was. The day passed in a blur of introductions and setting up her computer. She met Hayato for lunch. They sipped Diet Cokes and nibbled on salads. He showed her his office, an open concept with large drafting tables. Several easels had been set up, and on them were artboards—pictures of shoes designed with bursting flowers and emblazoned with the iconic swoosh.
“Our Summer Collection for next year,” Hayato said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I’ve been staring at the renderings for days. Something isn’t right about the design. It’s supposed to be a play off this artist who does huge flower backgrounds behind famous people’s portraits.”
“It’s the colors,” Mika said automatically.
“What do you mean?” Hayato looked at her sharply.
She stepped forward. She knew of the artist. He’d been up-and-coming when she’d attended college. Now he was just up-and-up. “I know the artist.” She blushed. “Well, I know of him. He uses traditional colors in modern portraits. For example, when he painted that portrait of the woman refugee from North Korea, the one who escaped with her baby? He used the same colors from the fourteenth-century painting Flight into Egypt by Giotto to evoke . . .” She shook her head. “I don’t think you need to go that deep. But anyway—old colors, new ideas, same problems.”
Hayato nodded thoughtfully. “We should use some retro Nike colors.”
Mika shrugged. “You could try.”
Hayato grabbed a set of colored pencils from a cache of art supplies on his desk. He chose three and scribbled on the artboard. Mika felt something rise within her. Envy. The desire to draw and let it swallow her up. She wondered if Hayato could see the deep hunger in her eyes. After Peter, all the colors she had once painted with were gone. Afraid she’d run into him, she had dropped her art courses and switched majors. I lost everything. Time. Myself. My future. How could she not feel as if something had been stolen from her? First, her body. Then, her painting. And last, her baby.
“Like these?” Hayato asked, eyes blazing with inspiration.
“Sure.” She smiled encouragingly.
“You really unlocked this for me. How do you know this?”
She shrugged. “Anyone would.”
“No, not anyone. But thank you.”
“Of course. Always happy to help you exploit art for profit,” she joked. Then realized it sounded kind of mean. Had she been keeping herself from the thing she loved for so long, she’d become bitter? “Sorry.”
He shook his head as if dazed. “No, it’s okay.” He laughed it off. “Lunch again tomorrow?” he asked, walking Mika out, and she agreed.
After work, she stopped and purchased a few groceries. She wandered the aisles and checked her bank account. Lunch with Hayato had put a considerable dent in it. She decided she could afford some ramen and maybe some Lucky Charms but passed on the wine.
Once home, she called Penny. “Hey,” Penny answered. “How was it?”
Mika slipped off her flats and unbuttoned her pants. “Good. It’s mostly spreadsheets and scheduling meetings for my boss.” Mika’s boss was a nice man named Augustus, Gus for short. His face was round, his complexion ruddy, and the slightest southern accent bent his speech. He had a wife whom he adored and packed him lunch every day. And he didn’t mention anything about Mika being Japanese but did make sure he pronounced her name right.
“So,” Penny started. “I have some news. I got an acceptance letter today from U of P.”
Mika stopped. The running program Penny had applied to before when she’d visited. Mika had remembered it but was careful not to ask. She didn’t want Penny to feel any pressure. “Did you?” Mika asked, keeping her voice light but still injecting the right amount of curiosity.
“I did,” she said. “And I think I want to come.”
“That’s fantastic.” Mika tried to sound casual. Cool. “Would your dad be okay with you returning?” Thomas was a subject that didn’t come up much during their conversations. Although, Penny had reassured Mika, he knew they were speaking again. What did Thomas think of Mika now? She remembered the night of the gallery opening, the bottle of wine between them. The way he’d spoken to her, voice as rough as crushed velvet, It’s been good for her. For us. She’d lost Thomas’s respect, his hard-won trust. And he didn’t seem the kind of man who forgave easily, especially when it came to Penny. All at once, Mika admired that trait. It was something they shared. But she hated being on the receiving end of his disappointment, his derision.
“Oh yeah,” Penny huffed out. “He said it was my decision. But in the same way he said, ‘Go ahead,’ when I wanted to try riding my bike without training wheels for the first time. Like he wished I wouldn’t, but there really wasn’t any way to stop me.”
“When does the program start?” Mika asked.
“Third week of June. I have a couple weeks in between when school dismisses here and the start there. I’ll probably come a day or so early to settle in and maybe spend some time with you?”
“Yes. Absolutely.” Mentally Mika ticked off the days. It was the end of May. “We could go to the Asian supermarket. Maybe another roller derby game. You can meet my other friends, Charlie and Tuan.”
“That would be great,” Penny said. There was a pause before she went on. “Do you think . . . I might be able to meet your mom and dad?”
A new heaviness settled across Mika’s chest. “I don’t know, Penny. I’ll check with them, but I don’t want to make any promises. My mom and I . . . we have issues.” Hiromi’s unhappiness hung like a dark cloud over most of Mika’s childhood. How could she willingly thrust Penny under that same shadow?
“That’s okay,” Penny said, and from the tone of her voice, Mika could tell it was not. “I get it. I mean, she would barely look at me at the gallery opening.”
Mika bit her lip. “I’ll talk to my mom. Let me see what I can do.”
“Alright,” Penny said thickly. “It’s not a big deal.” But Mika could tell it was. She vowed to make it happen. Didn’t Penny know? Mika would do anything for her.
* * *
Mika waited two whole days before calling her mother. It was Friday evening when she sat on the couch and dialed Hiromi. She turned the television down as the line rang.
“Mi-chan,” Hiromi answered. “Is this my daughter? I wasn’t sure I still had one.”
“Okāsan.” Mika rubbed her brow. “How are you?”
Her mother chatted on about a windstorm coming through and how her father had eaten something disagreeable. Of course, they didn’t discuss the art opening or what had happened that night. In the tenth grade, Mika had been caught shoplifting. She’d taken an item of clothing from the line of a white pop star who dressed up in a kimono and outlined her eyes in kohl—she said it wasn’t appropriation but appreciation. Mika may not have wanted to belong to Japan, but she didn’t believe Japan belonged to the singer either. Anyway, Hiromi had picked her up from the security office. The whole car ride had been silent. Then at dinner that night and for the next three days. That was the root of their real issue. Silence. Intractable, the emotional killing kind.
Mika settled back on the couch, closed her eyes, and remembered her promise to Penny. “Okāsan,” Mika interjected. “I’ve got a job now, and I’ve been talking to Penny again.”
The other end of the line went quiet. Mika checked to make sure they were still connected. They were. She put the phone back to her ear and spoke. “She’s coming to town again in June for a cross-country training camp. She’s a runner, has won all sorts of medals and awards,” she said warmly. “And she’d like to meet you.” Mika gazed at the popcorn ceiling while she waited for her mother to answer.
“I have to go,” Hiromi said finally. “Your father needs me.” Click. She’d hung up, and that was it.
* * *
Eventually, June came.
“I can’t wait. Two more weeks,” Penny chirped happily on the phone one night. “I’ve got a bunch of new running gear. And I’m rooming with this awesome girl from California named Olive.”
“Olive like the fruit?” Mika asked. She was at home. Was spending more and more hours at home these days. Opting for quiet meals in lieu of dinners out. Water instead of wine. All to tuck a few extra bills away in her savings account. For once in a very long time, Mika was planning for the future. Living for Penny.
“Yep. Hold on.” There was some shuffling. And Penny talked to someone there. “I’m on the phone, Dad.” So, Thomas. Mika listened carefully but couldn’t hear what Thomas said back, just the dull sound of his voice. “I’m talking to Mika. Yeah, got it. Money is on the counter. Go, I’ll be fine. I’m just going to get a pizza or something. Sorry.” Penny came back. “You’d think he’s never left me alone in the house before.” Mika couldn’t help but imagine Thomas in his suit again, on his way out on a date. What kind of woman would Thomas go out with? Was Thomas some sort of sex-crazed superhero widower who masqueraded as an awesome dad by day? “He’ll be back in, like, a couple hours. He has some big deposition tomorrow and had to finalize some details, but I’m sure he’ll call three times. Once to tell me he’s at the office, then to tell me he’s almost done at the office, and finally, to tell me he’s on his way home from the office.” Right, so Thomas wasn’t a sex-crazed superhero widower. He was just working late. “Anyway, so what was I saying? Oh yeah . . .” Penny went on, and Mika happily listened.
On Saturday, Mika pulled up to her parents’ house and honked. Her mother opened the front door right away, followed very slowly by her father. The sky was bright blue. Not a cloud in sight.
“Mi-chan,” Hiromi scolded, coming down the cement walkway. She flapped a dish towel in her hands like it might dampen the noise.
Mika climbed from her car and stepped around the hood, a piece of paper in her hands. She thrust it at Hiromi. “Here.”
“What’s this?” Hiromi asked, scanning the piece of paper.
“It’s a check.” Mika had written it that morning for one hundred dollars, five percent of what she owed her parents from the church loan. “I’ll give you more once I get paid again.”
Hiromi harumphed but stuck the check in her pinafore apron pocket. “What’s that?” She gestured at the back of Mika’s car. The windows were rolled down and half sticking out of the back seat was the bushy head of a maple tree.
“That is a tree I’m going to plant in our backyard.” In the hole where Hana had torn the dead, malnourished tree from. “I feel like watching something grow.” She grinned at her mother, at the day, at her life.
“You have to water it every day,” Hiromi warned.
Mika rolled her eyes. “I know.”
“At least twenty minutes.”
“Got it.” Mika rounded the hood again. No way would she be roped into going inside. Let her get away now. Please.
Hiromi rubbed a leaf between her pointer finger and thumb. “This one has white spots on it. Might be a fungus.”
“It’s fine.” Mika opened her car door and sat in the driver’s seat. She started the engine, and Hiromi knocked on the window. She rolled it down. She missed driving Charlie’s car around, with its automatic windows and air-conditioning. Maybe in a year or two, she might be able to afford a new used car.
Hiromi peered in the car, then at Mika. “Your father and I want to meet her, the baby,” she said, dropping her voice as if the subject were taboo.
Mika stared at her mother a moment, confused. She opened and closed her mouth. Penny, she meant Penny. But Penny wasn’t a baby anymore. That baby, the one Mika had given away, was gone. She shook off the thought, not ready to examine it. “You want to meet Penny?”
Hiromi nodded once. “You can bring her to dinner here.”
“Or we could go out to a restaurant,” Mika suggested. She hadn’t been inside her parents’ house in years.
“No, too expensive,” Hiromi said with finality. “Bring her here. I will cook.”
“Okay.” Mika could only agree. And she did it for Penny. Penny who wanted to meet her biological grandparents. Penny who wanted to see where Mika grew up. “I’ll tell her. She’ll be so happy.”
Hiromi did not smile. “Don’t forget to water the tree.”