Chapter Twenty-Three
Mika peered at the mound of oranges.
“Am I missing something?” Penny tilted her head, then her mouth formed a little O. “Did you see a giant spider? I saw this news story once about tropical arachnids hitching rides in fruit shipments.”
Mika shook her head, stepping closer to the oranges to avoid a dad with three rowdy kids in his cart. Uwajimaya, the Asian market, was loud, bright, and bustling this Saturday morning. “No. No giant spider.”
Penny pursed her lips. “Shoot.”
Mika picked up an orange to examine it, turning it in her hands. “Did you know your father doesn’t like the navels of oranges?”
“Oh, yeah. He’s a total weirdo.” Penny shifted, setting down the basket filled with Meiji chocolate bars, Pocky sticks, and White Rabbit candy—totally a balanced diet. Then she turned a section of the oranges so they were all navel or butt up.
Mika retrieved her phone from her back pocket and snapped a photo. “Should we text him a picture?”
“For sure,” Penny said with a bit of a grin, picking up the basket.
Mika hit send with a wicked smile. They laughed and shopped some more, Penny marveling at the packages of dried squid, live uni in tanks, and mountains of bok choy. Drinking up the sights and smells like a stalk of bamboo starved for rain. Thomas texted back with a photograph of a beaver, but somehow, he’d colored the eyes neon green. Mika opted not to show Penny. How would she explain? I thought I saw an alligator, and it was really a beaver. I tipped my kayak, and your father had to fish me out. First, the whole thing was embarrassing. Mika felt her cheeks heat even thinking about it. Second, the oranges were something the three of them shared, but the joke about the beaver . . . that was Mika and Thomas’s. The whole scenario might seem off to Penny—weird or, worse, intimate.
As they checked out, Mika insisted they try some takoyaki. “Fried octopus, street food,” she explained to Penny as they slid into chairs at the food court. In Japan, it was rude to walk and eat. Mika placed the ball-shaped snacks in the middle of the table and pointed out some of the ingredients—doughy balls with a chunk of octopus on the inside, tempura scraps, pickled ginger, and green onion. Penny broke apart a pair of wooden hashi and dug in. Mika loved how fearless her daughter was.
Penny chewed slowly, thoughtfully. “This is good. I like it,” she announced. As soon as she was done with the first, she popped a second in her mouth, then announced, cheek full, “I’m thinking of sleeping with Devon.”
Mika choked, coughed, and spluttered, then gulped some water.
Penny watched her with a side-eye. “You okay?”
Mika patted her chest. “Sorry. Sleeping with him?” she said carefully, throat still burning a little. Maybe she’d heard incorrectly. Maybe she’d heard correctly and didn’t understand. Maybe sleeping together didn’t mean the same thing as Mika thought it did. Maybe it was more of a slumber party–type thing now in teen-speak, like wrapping yourselves up in sheets and lying side by side silently in the dark with absolutely no touching.
“You know, sex,” Penny said, her voice dropping.
Mika sipped her water again and tried to muster an encouraging smile. “That’s a big step.” It was the only thing she could think to say in the moment, other than reminding Penny she was sixteen. A baby. My baby.
Penny balled a napkin up and fisted it. “I’m ready. I’m sure I am. Like, I think I love him.”
Devon might not feel the same, but Mika didn’t have the heart to say that, didn’t have the heart to break Penny’s heart. To voice her fear that Penny may not be loved in the way she wanted or should be. So instead, she said, “Love isn’t always a requirement.” She regarded Penny, thought about her daughter, her worldview—how it was small and singular and a little naïve. Is that what Hiromi had thought of Mika when she was a teen? Mika shifted in her seat. How deeply unsettling to think you might be like your own mother.
Penny bit her lower lip, raising her lashes to shyly meet Mika’s eyes. “Can I ask . . . I mean, what was your first time like?”
Mika focused on a tanuki in the home goods section. The dancing raccoon’s eyes were crossed and between his legs hung an enormous set of testicles—you know, for good luck. “My first time?” She blinked and saw the Cheerful Tortoise, a bar on campus. Remembered her hips swinging like a pendulum, smiling at a cute guy through the crowd. His name was Jordan, a political science major. He wore Birkenstocks with socks, shared an apartment with four other guys, and in his room, instead of a lamp was one of those outdoor floodlights. “It wasn’t super memorable or romantic. But it was fun,” Mika answered honestly with a wistful smile. “It hurt a little.” She felt her cheeks burn, felt Penny’s attention intensify. She hadn’t told Jordan she was a virgin until after. He insisted on going slower, trying again. They listened to Wilco while he went down on her. Mika studied the table. “Penny,” she said, going for a calm, nonjudgmental tone. “Are you sure? About Devon? You haven’t known him very long.” A handful of weeks, Mika wanted to add. One thousand percent, she felt like a hypocrite. But god, why have children if you couldn’t save them from your mistakes?
“I have,” Penny said, resolve in her eyes. Eyes that hadn’t seen nearly enough. “We spend a lot of time together, almost all day, every day. Plus, you know, I’ve done tons of other stuff.”
Mika stiffened. “I don’t need to know.” The fewer details, the better.
“I’m ready. I know I am,” Penny insisted.
“Okay.” At Mika’s capitulation, her softening, Penny did too.
“Devon is a good guy. We’ve talked a lot about it. He hasn’t been pressuring me or anything.”
“Okay,” Mika said again. She inhaled, accepting the inevitability. This was going to happen. There was something timeless about kids not listening to their parents. And Mika felt very much part of that infinite loop. “What about protection? Have you discussed that?”
Two bright splotches appeared on Penny’s cheeks. Maybe she was thinking about Mika, how she’d gotten pregnant so young. How she didn’t want to be the same as her birth mother—a teen with limited choices. “He said he’ll wear a condom, and I’ve been on birth control for a couple years . . . bad periods.”
“Sounds like you’ve got it covered, then.” Mika moved to stand and clear the table. Hiromi had never spoken to Mika about sex. And what she had learned in high school revolved around saying no, pregnancy, and STDs. Nobody told her how fun it could be. How complicated too.
“We do. I promise,” Penny assured, staying seated. “Hey, but you think you could keep this quiet? Between us?”
Mika paused, the paper plate and used hashi in her hand. “You mean not tell your dad?”
Penny waved a hand. “It’s not a big deal. Look, there are just some things he doesn’t need to know.”
Mika sat back down in her seat. Penny wanted Mika to lie to Thomas. I can’t. The thought struck Mika like a lightning bolt. “I’m not super comfortable with that, Penny. You don’t have to have the virginity conversation with him, but you need to tell him about Devon, that you’re dating someone at least. I mean, I know from experience the truth has a way of revealing itself,” she tried to joke.
Penny’s face hardened. She looked everywhere but at Mika. “I should probably be getting back to the dorm.”
“What?” Mika flinched. Penny had the weekend free. She was going to spend the night.
“Yeah, I just remembered I promised Olive we’d work on some of our times together.”
“Seriously?” Mika quirked a brow.
“Seriously.” Penny stood and grabbed her shopping bag, white-knuckling it. “Ready?”
They walked to the car, the shadow of Penny’s anger trailing behind them. Mika was at a loss for words. What just happened? The ride itself was worse. Silent and pulsating with Penny’s discontent. Mika swore she heard a ripping sound, a tear in the fabric of her and Penny’s relationship. How would she stitch it back together? Mika parked her car at the dorm and turned to her daughter, speaking to her over the console. “I—”
Too late. Penny slammed the door.
* * *
Hours later, Mika was no longer confused. Able to replay the conversation multiple times in her head in the quiet of her house, Mika vacillated between being deeply hurt by Penny and angry at her.
“She’s mad at me?” Mika huffed out to herself, feeling unspeakable things about Penny. Things like how stubborn and petulant her daughter could be. But then . . . “She’s mad at me,” she said more quietly. She thought about calling Thomas. Conferring with him on how to best approach Penny. But it was Penny she really wanted, needed to speak to. So, just as the sun was going down, Mika dialed her daughter. She didn’t want to go to bed with this unresolved. Wasn’t there a saying about never going to sleep angry? Anyway, Mika didn’t want to hide, to cower under Penny’s changing weather patterns.
The phone rang a few times, and Mika braced herself, steadied her nerves.
“Hi,” Penny said. That was all.
“I don’t want you to be mad at me,” Mika blurted. She winced and waited. I gave birth to her. I should be a natural at parenting.
“I don’t want to be mad at you either,” Penny admitted.
Mika inhaled and stared out the living room window at the dark pavement outside. “Well, now that we’ve established that . . .” She trailed off. “I want you to be able to tell me things. I want to be a sounding board, a safe place for you, but I’m also your—” She stopped short at saying mother. “I’m an adult, and it puts me in a difficult position lying to your dad.”
After a beat, Penny sighed. “I get it, I guess.” Where is she? Mika tried to picture Penny in the hall of her dorm. Nose scrunched, a little red from crying, maybe Devon watching. “I’m going to tell my dad about the coed housing and Devon. Not because you told me to—”
“Of course not,” Mika interjected.
“But because I want him to meet D.” She sighed again. “He’s probably going to do that thing where he says he’s not mad. He’s just disappointed.” Mika’s lips tipped up. It sounded exactly like Thomas. “I don’t think I am going to tell him about the sex part, though,” Penny said, as if drawing a line in the sand.
Even though Penny couldn’t see it, Mika nodded firmly. “Your body, your choice.”
“We really do like each other. I know I’m a teenager, and that’s probably all you see—”
“It’s not all I see,” Mika said. “I believe you’re smart and savvy and know your own heart.”
“Thanks. That means a lot.”
“I recognize this is awkward.” Mika had to swallow against a sudden thickness in her throat. “Promise me you’ll come to me if you need anything. It’s okay to say you want to and then change your mind. Even if it’s in the middle of it, and you think he’ll be angry. A real man won’t be.” Mika curled her empty hand into a fist. Remembered pressing it against Peter’s chest. No. A fierce protectiveness rose inside of her.
“D isn’t like that,” Penny insisted. “I’m sure. I want to.”
“Alright,” Mika said softly. Penny kept her on the phone a little longer, regaling Mika with tales of FaceTiming with Hiromi, how they had a whole conversation with Hiromi’s thumb over the camera. And Mika felt light again, like seeing the first slice of the sun after a great and terrible storm.
* * *
Thomas called Monday afternoon just as Mika had swung her purse over her shoulder to head across Nike’s campus to meet Hayato for lunch. They had big plans to peruse photographs from the latest royal wedding while eating chocolate pie. Big plans.
Thomas didn’t give Mika a chance to even say hi. “Penny has a boyfriend,” he said without preamble.
“She told you.” Mika passed a set of dudes nearly one and a half times her height and smiled at them, pretty sure they were famous basketball players.
“She wants me to meet him next time I’m in town. Have you met him?”
“Not officially. I’ve seen him a few times.” Mika stopped outside the double glass doors leading into the Mia Hamm Building and waved to Hayato, who was already waiting for her. She held up a finger asking for one minute. He mouthed No problem and messed around on his phone.
“Does he appear to have any deviant tendencies?” Thomas asked in a flat voice.
Sometimes Thomas sounded as if he were stuck in a black-and-white movie. He probably wouldn’t like it if Mika called him ”old-timey.” She scrunched her nose. “You mean was he carrying a switchblade and looking for trouble?”
Thomas dragged in a breath. “I wish I could laugh right now.”
“I’m sorry.” Mika folded in her arms. There was a giant water feature nearby, complete with a spraying fountain. Ducks swam and bobbed on the choppy surface. “I’m glad she told you, though. We were eating takoyaki—”
“Takoyaki?”
“Fried octopus balls.”
“Huh?” She pictured Thomas’s glower, the expression on his face when he was confused and slightly angry about it.
“Not actual octopus balls, like their testicles . . .” Mika held the receiver away from her face and stared at the sky for a moment. She was drifting too far off course. “Never mind. We were eating, and Penny was telling me about Devon and how they were getting more serious. When I learned that, I encouraged her to tell you about him.”
Silence then. “So,” he drawled out. “You’ve known a while Penny was seeing someone?” Thomas asked.
Mika let out the faintest sigh. “Only a couple of weeks. She asked me to keep it a secret. I’m sorry. She got so mad at me when I said she should tell you.” Mika remembered Penny’s anger. How she’d worn it like a beat-up pair of leather boots. Used it to stomp all over her. “I wasn’t comfortable with you not knowing anymore.” More silence. “Don’t be angry,” Mika finished.
“I’m not,” Thomas said after a moment. “I’m glad she’s talking to someone I can trust.”
Mika felt it then—the sensation of placing a heavy weight down after carrying it for a very long time. She mumbled a thank-you.
Long after they’d hung up, through lunch with Hayato and the rest of her day, Mika’s head rang with those four precious words: someone I can trust.