Chapter Nineteen
One week before Penny was to arrive, Thomas texted Mika.
He opened with a Hi. Mika was at work and stared at her phone next to her keyboard. She checked around the office. Everyone was busy, filing or plinking away softly on keyboards. Of course, they couldn’t tell the adopted father of Mika’s daughter was texting or that the two hadn’t spoken since the gallery opening where Hiromi had brought the world down around Mika’s ears.
Hi, she typed back, bending down, hiding in her cubicle.
It’s Thomas, he wrote.
She tapped out, Yes. I know.
Three dots inside a gray bubble appeared on the screen. Right. Sorry. Penny’s flight arrives Sunday. Can you pick her up? I’d rather she didn’t have to take an Uber or cab alone, he said.
She straightened. Already planning on it. Penny and Mika had agreed—Mika would pick Penny up from the airport, then drive her to the dorms at the University of Portland and help her settle in. If Penny was feeling up to it, they’d have dinner somewhere and hang out for a bit.
She’s never flown alone. I offered to fly with her. She declined. Then he added, Her no was quick and emphatic. Mika pictured him in his office. Sitting behind an enormous mahogany desk. Suit and tie on. Frown firmly in place. Did he hate her?
Gus, her boss, passed by her cubicle. Mika dropped her phone and swung back around, putting her hands to the keyboard. She waved at him. “Don’t work too hard,” he said with a genuine smile. She smiled, laughed a fake laugh, and waited until he was gone before replying to Thomas. I’ve got it covered.
Twenty minutes later, he responded. Are you sure? It’s not an inconvenience?
Really, it’s no problem. We’ve got the afternoon planned. Hookers, drugs, the whole shebang. Mika chewed her lip. That was a joke. Too soon?
Another few minutes passed, and Mika continued the spreadsheet she’d been working on. Thomas texted. Way too soon. So he hated her. Definitely hated her.
Please don’t worry, she responded. She’s in good hands. I promise.
Have her text me when she arrives, was all he answered.
* * *
That Sunday, Mika pulled into the arrivals terminal at the airport. Penny stood at the curb, waving to her with one hand, the other clutching the handle of a burgundy suitcase. Today Penny’s hair was whipped up into a glossy ponytail. Mika popped the trunk and got out of the car. They both said hey at the same time and hugged, falling into each other’s arms easily. Mika held on for a second too long. Then she slung Penny’s suitcase into the back, and they climbed into the rusted Corolla.
Penny buckled her seat belt. Either she didn’t notice the spider crack in the windshield or the tape holding the side mirror together, or she was politely ignoring it. “Whew. I almost didn’t make it. My dad dropped me off this morning, and I swear he was going to cry. I’m pretty sure he was considering kidnapping me. Can you kidnap your own child?”
Mika checked her rearview mirror. “He’s texted multiple times.” Once to remind Mika when Penny’s flight arrived, She gets in at 12:15, and then an hour later, Penny’s flight is delayed. Mika had responded with encouraging words, hoping to calm him. She’d earned back Penny’s trust, but Thomas’s was harder won. Fair enough. I know. No worries. I’m already at the airport in the cell phone waiting area, she’d written—the same place where she’d idled and left her rambling voicemail. I’ll be here whenever Penny is ready.
“I know. He’s the worst. I texted him as soon as the wheels touched down,” Penny said, then fanned herself. “It’s hot. Will you turn up the air-conditioning?”
“Sure,” Mika said. “Roll down the windows.”
Penny flushed even more and cranked the window down. They veered right off Airport Lane, passing some hotels and a Swedish furniture store. Mika watched Penny, eyes bouncing back and forth between her and the road. Penny pulled down the visor, her face half in shadow. The wind in her hair, the smell of summer, made Mika think of herself as a teen. When she’d driven streets aimlessly or hung out at the first twenty-four-hour Starbucks with Hana. Looking for trouble, Hiromi said once. But really, they’d just been looking, period.
Penny applied some lip gloss from her bag. Mika didn’t remember her wearing makeup before. Mika pursed her lips but didn’t say anything. They coasted down Eighty-Second and into the north side of town. The University of Portland was located in the St. Johns neighborhood on a bluff overlooking the Willamette River. The campus might have belonged somewhere on the East Coast with its stretching green lawns, brick buildings, and white trim. A sister school of Notre Dame, a sign boasted at the entrance. Penny produced a stack of papers from her backpack, one with a map on it. “It says we’re supposed to go to Corrado Hall to check in and receive room assignments.” She pointed to the right, and Mika steered her car down a small road.
They found parking nearish the dorm. Mika popped the trunk and removed Penny’s suitcase. “Here, these are for you too.” She dipped into the back seat and pulled out a new pillow and a set of twin sheets she had purchased and washed. The pattern was cute, tiny yellow chrysanthemums.
“For me?” Penny squinted against the afternoon sun.
“Yep. I know they said everything was provided, but I thought you’d like something with a higher thread count and a new pillow. Bedding is very important,” Mika said, as if imparting ancient wisdom.
Penny took the sheets and pillow, staring at them. “Thanks. That’s really sweet. But can you afford this?” She hurried on to explain. “I mean, your car . . .”
“Shh.” Mika patted the car near a little rusted dent. “You’ll hurt her feelings. If you’re asking if I bought sheets and a pillow instead of eating tonight, the answer is no. I can afford it. I promise.” Just two days ago, Mika had even given her parents another check. Hiromi had taken the piece of paper, eyeing it suspiciously as if anticipating it to spontaneously combust. Then she had stuffed it in her apron pocket and asked about the baby and when Mika would bring her. They’d scheduled dinner for next week. Penny was elated at the prospect of meeting her biological grandparents. Mika less so. Way less so.
Penny smiled and hugged the bedding close to her chest. Mika locked the car and came back to Penny’s side. “Ready? Hey, you alright?” she asked, seeing Penny worrying her lower lip.
“Yeah. It’s just . . .” Penny hugged the bedding to her tighter, like gathering a blanket around oneself before a storm. “Runners will be here from all over the country. Everyone is so good . . . That’s why they, like, got into the program.”
The glaring vulnerability stirred something inside Mika. She grabbed Penny by the shoulders. “You’re going to be great,” she said. If only such a power as a mother’s confidence in her children existed, the world might be different. “Say it. Say: I’m going to be great.”
“I’m going to be great,” Penny mumbled, pink with embarrassment.
“What’s that?” She shook Penny, spoke louder. Students paused in their wanderings to stare, the deranged Asian and her mini-me. “I can’t hear people who don’t believe in themselves,” she all but yelled.
“I’m going to be great!” Penny near shouted.
Mika smiled and released her. “That’s better.” Together, they walked to the dorm. In the lobby, a gold-and-purple banner read: welcome to university of portland. A girl with long curling hair checked them in. “Penelope Calvin. You’ll be in room 205, just up the stairs and to the left.” She handed them a set of keys and motioned for the next in line. Amid other families, they climbed to the second floor and found Penny’s dorm room. The hall was crawling with people, teenage girls and boys, Mika noticed, making themselves at home in the rooms. “You didn’t mention this was a coed thing,” said Mika, eyeing a room where a boy with sunken eyes and floppy kiddie pop star hair spread a plaid comforter on his bed while his mother deposited drinks into a mini-fridge.
“Didn’t I?” Penny put the key into the lock, turned, and pushed her way into the dorm room. “Funny. I thought I did.”
“You most definitely did not.” Mika dragged Penny’s suitcase into the room. There was a single window, and on either side of it two tall beds with ladders, a desk under each, and a wall of cabinets. There was a shared bathroom outside in the hall, but the room had a sink and a little mirror above it. All in all, it was on the nicer side of dorms. Mika’s dorm room had been in an older building and slightly larger than a shoebox, but it had felt enormous, so full of potential. Penny dragged her suitcase to the center of the room and unzipped it, clothes bursting free, mostly running gear, stretchy tank tops, and small shorts. On top was the roller derby T-shirt Mika had bought her. Penny shook it out, then carefully refolded it, placing it in one of the wardrobe drawers.
Penny’s roommate arrived, a freckled redhead whose name, Olive, fit her perfectly and who seemed to be the human embodiment of an exclamation mark—her body long and taut and filled with energy. “Oh my god! We’re going to have so much fun! What summer training schedule did you do last year?! On Mondays, I did an eight-mile fartlek, then on Tuesdays, I did a five-to-seven-mile easy run with eighty-meter strides, and on Wednesdays, I did hill repeats . . .”
Mika didn’t understand any of it, but Penny nodded like an eager puppy. She half listened as she tucked the sheets around Penny’s lumpy mattress.
“Hey.” The boy with the pop star hair leaned against the door, hands half jammed in his pockets. Cool. So cool. Mika nearly rolled her eyes. “Devon.” He jutted his chin up.
“Penny,” Penny said, preening. Olive introduced herself in much the same way.
“Listen, a bunch of us are going to get dinner and play Frisbee after. You two want to come?” Devon said.
Penny glanced at Mika uncertainly. “I kind of had plans . . .”
Mika held up her hands, grinning through a burst of disappointment. “No worries. We can catch up later.”
“Really, you don’t mind?”
“Of course not.” Mika forced a smile, burying her emotions under a happy facade.
“Cool,” Devon said. “I’ll just meet you outside.”
“Thanks.” Penny threw her arms around Mika. “I’ll call you.” Then she and Olive started chatting about strides, and Mika waited a beat, watching the two girls with a sort of sad fascination, then left.
The door was open a crack, and Mika heard Olive say to Penny as she left, “Was that, like, your mom? She’s super pretty.”
“Kind of. She’s my biological mom.”
“Got it. You have layers,” said Olive. “You can tell me over dinner.”
Mika left and wandered around the campus for a few minutes, feeling like a weird old lady, even though she was only thirty-five. She thought of herself before and after, and a sharp bolt of longing shot through her chest. How much she’d changed but wanted to stay the same. She sat on a bench. A wide green expanse of lawn stretched before her.
Mika. She heard her name drift by on the summer breeze. She blinked, wondering if it might be real. No, just a memory. It appeared before her like a hologram. It was spring of her freshman year, and she could still hide her belly under oversized sweatshirts. But she had started feeling the extra weight, the press of Penny against her ribs, and had sat down on a cement half wall to catch her breath. Mika, the voice called again, this time closer. She looked up. Marcus. I wasn’t sure it was you. He stopped in front of her, a messenger bag slung over his chest, paint splattering his hands. Where have you been? You dropped my class. She stared up at Marcus, rendered mute. The sun blazed behind him, cut a path across his cheekbone. It reminded her of Rembrandt’s self-portrait. Is everything okay? You didn’t find another mentor, did you? Because if you’re taking Painting IV from Collins . . .
Mika dragged her backpack to her lap and wound her arms around it. I’m . . . I’m not . . . she tumbled out. Then she felt it. The phantom press of Peter’s hand against her mouth. The smell of turpentine. She couldn’t speak. Her heart hammered in her chest, threatened to beat right out of it. Penny kicked. She stood, nearly knocking into Marcus, who had drifted closer. I’m not painting anymore, she said, shoving away from him. I’m not good enough . . .
That’s not true. You have the most raw talent I’ve ever seen.
She stared at her feet. At her muddy sneakers. She’d thrown out the outfit she’d worn to the party. Vowed not to wear heels or skirts or makeup again. She didn’t want to be pretty anymore. Was afraid to be. Being pretty was an invitation. No, she corrected. Being a woman was an invitation. Marcus stepped closer.
I have to go, Mika mumbled before taking off in a jog. She ran through the flat blue morning, all the way back to her dorm room. She locked the door and slumped down against it; felt as if the ceiling were sliding down, as if the walls were constricting. Her hands shook, her heart beat fast, her breathing faster. She didn’t know how long the episode went on. Only remembered waking later in bed, groggy and hungry. It was her first panic attack.
Now, Mika sat for a bit longer, letting the hologram fade. Those months after the rape, it had felt as if she was outside of herself. As if her spirit had detached from her body and floated around it. Most of her memories weren’t from her own eyes but as a specter peering from above.
After a while, Mika drove home and applied one of the face masks she’d planned for her and Penny tonight. When it started burning, she removed it and snapped a picture of her red face, sending it to Hana. How bad is it? Mika’s face had begun to cool by the time Hana replied. Have you seen The Man in the Iron Mask? Mika smiled, and her phone rang, Hana’s name flashing on the screen.
“Hey,” she answered. She sat on the couch and brought her knees into her chest, looping an arm around them.
“Isn’t Penny in town?” Hana said. It was quiet where she was. “I thought you two were going to have dinner and hang after. I remember you telling me some big plans for a restaurant that cuts meat in front of you and a spa evening.”
Mika played with her toes. “She ditched me for her golden retriever roommate. She promised we’d catch up later.” Mika wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Months ago, she’d been a star in Penny’s universe.
“Oof,” Hana said. “So, you’ve been usurped?”
“I’m afraid so,” Mika said glumly. Maybe this was how Thomas felt. Pity party, table for one. She’d like to cry, but it might burn her face more.
“I have some news that might cheer you up.”
“I could use some news to cheer me up.”
“Pearl Jam is playing Seattle in two weeks on Thursday, then breaking for the weekend. I’m going to hang with Josephine Friday night, but I’ve reserved Saturday night for my main bitch. Get ready to make some bad decisions.”
Mika unfolded her legs and leaned back into the couch. Mentally she cataloged her schedule. She’d blocked out next weekend for Penny—they were going to dinner at Mika’s parents’. Thomas would be in town the weekend after, so Penny would likely be tied up with him all day Saturday. And when he left on Sunday, Penny was taking a bus with her team to run sand dunes at the coast. Sand dunes. Which sounded as absurd to Mika as someone suggesting Russell Crowe reprise his role in Les Misérables. “That’s actually kind of perfect and sounds so good. Can’t wait. We should invite Hayato and Charlie, maybe hit up some clubs.”
“Definitely.”
They chatted for a while longer. Mostly about how things were going with Josephine. It seemed to be getting serious. After, her phone chimed with a text.
Everything okay with Penny? It was Thomas.
Got her all settled in her dorm and met her roommate, Mika answered.
She texted me, but it was just a thumbs-up, said Thomas. At that, Mika laughed but didn’t respond. She thought about Thomas. About being a parent. How once you and your baby were inseparable. Mika had felt that way when she carried Penny, even though she’d known she wasn’t keeping her. She’d read an infant doesn’t know where it ends and its mother begins. To the baby, the two are one—like the salt and the sea.