Chapter Twenty-Seven
Wednesday, Mika left work at five o’clock on the dot. She picked Penny up at the dorm and waved to Devon as Penny climbed into the car. They ordered takeout, and, munching on spring rolls, Mika gave Penny the lowdown on Bon-Odori. How the movements were passed down from generation to generation. How many believed you danced with your ancestors on that sacred day. Could Penny picture it? The ghosts of ages past at her elbow? Tracing her hands as she raised them to the sky?
“Hold on,” Mika said, stopping as her phone chimed with an incoming text. It was from Thomas. A picture of one of the note cards, which said, “Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die?”
You took them home? Mika replied. Stealing from the bus is one thing, but this is next-level depravity. She glanced at Penny practicing the movements, watched as she twirled, her hair spreading out in a dark fan. I’m sure it will be something humiliating like accidental drowning in a toilet, she tapped out. You?
He must have had his response at the ready. Bear attack, definitely.
Mika laughed out loud. I didn’t know there were so many bears in Ohio, she responded.
You have no idea, Thomas said.
Penny paused, a quizzical smile on her face. She had caught the look in Mika’s eyes, the coy smile.
“Hana,” Mika lied, putting her phone down. “Sorry,” she said, throat thickening with conflicting emotions. She shouldn’t have lied about that. Felt guilty but wasn’t prepared to explain her relationship with Thomas to Penny. “Try that step again. This time keep your eyes on the horizon instead of looking down.” Penny nodded and resumed practicing.
On Friday evening, Mika and Penny rehearsed again. “Want to hang out tomorrow?” Penny asked as she got out of the car.
“Yeah,” Mika said. “Give me a jingle. I’ll be around.”
“Cool,” Penny said, slamming the door. Mika’s phone rang, and Thomas’s name flashed on the screen. She watched as Penny disappeared through the swinging door, then answered.
“Hi,” she said finally.
“Hi,” Thomas answered back.
“I just dropped Penny off at the dorm. Um, if that’s why you’re calling and couldn’t get ahold of her.” Mika kept the car parked. The last ray of sunlight dipped below the horizon. With the dark came quiet, a stillness Mika always loved.
“I talked to Penny earlier today.” There was a clinking sound. Ice cubes hitting the inside of a glass.
“You did?”
“I did. I wanted to talk to you.” Thomas paused. “Is that okay?”
A faint smile appeared at the corner of Mika’s mouth. “That’s okay.”
“Good.”
“How was your day?” Mika asked. She lay back in her seat, content to stay awhile.
Thomas sighed. “My day hasn’t ended. I’m still at the office. I might sleep here tonight.”
“You sound tired,” Mika said.
“I am. This case I’m working on is taking more time than I thought. I’m representing a design company that’s suing a larger big-box store for the use of one of their prints. It was supposed to be cut-and-dried. Usually, big companies settle rather than go to litigation, but apparently, this corporation has decided this is the hill they’re going to die on,” he answered. “Anyway, you ready for another card?”
“I’m ready,” Mika said. The streetlights blinked on, one after the other.
“‘Share with your partner an embarrassing moment in your life,’” he said.
Mika groaned. “Pass.”
“You can’t pass,” he stated. “But I’ll go first if that makes you feel better.”
“I’m all ears.”
“I lost a bet in college and now have a small tattoo on my hip.”
“Of what?”
“A Tyrannosaurus rex trying to tie his shoes.” He paused. “My friends thought it was hilarious . . . because, you know, T. rexes have short arms.”
A laugh bubbled from Mika. “Oh. I get it.”
“Now you,” he said.
“Well.” She stalled for a moment, running a hand over her steering wheel. “My father took us camping when I was ten.” Hiromi hated it. “I think he was trying to assimilate. You know, do things Americans do. I had to go to the bathroom really bad, but the campground was pretty rustic. There weren’t any toilets.” She stopped, cheeks blazing. “Do I have to do this?”
“Oh, yeah,” Thomas said warmly. “I can’t go back to work until I hear the rest.”
“Ugh, fine. I slipped on my father’s shoes and headed out into the woods, popped a squat, only . . . I didn’t account for the length of his shoes and ended up going all over them.” Mika closed her eyes, letting the heat of embarrassment wash over her.
A laugh rattled out of Thomas. “What did your parents do?”
“Nothing,” Mika said. “I buried the shoes and pretended not to know anything when they searched for them in the morning.” Somewhere in the Mt. Hood National Forest, a pair of Adidas slides had found a permanent home in a shallow grave.
After that, there were no more texts. Mika called Thomas or Thomas called Mika. He left messages for Mika during the workdays. Hey. Thinking about you. The funniest thing just happened . . . I wanted to tell you . . . They ate dinner together on the phone and talked late into the night, the note cards a pathway they walked down together.
“Is there something you’ve dreamed of doing for a long time?” he asked late one night.
Mika curled on her side. She lay in the dark of her room. Outside her window, the moon was a hangnail in the sky. “Once upon a time, I wanted to travel. I’d go to Paris first. To see the Louvre, the Musée d’Orsay.”
“Why haven’t you done it?” There was rustling on the other end of the line. Was Thomas in bed too?
“I don’t know,” she said, sticking a hand under her pillow. She wondered what it might be like if Thomas was in bed beside her. How it might feel to rest her head on his shoulder. How his warm breath might stir her hair. It would be nice to have someone to lean on.
“Is it a money thing?” Thomas asked.
“No, more like a circumstances thing.” Peter had taught her the world was a cruel and unfriendly place. There were too many shadows where people hid. Too many sharp ledges to fall from.
“Care to elaborate?”
“Not really. What about you?”
“Travel sounds good. Lately, I’ve been thinking about closing the practice. It was the right thing for a family, but now I’m finding I have more time for myself, and I’m in a financial position to pursue something else. Though I’m not sure what.”
“Professional kayaker?” Mika asked with a grin.
“Maybe. I haven’t given up on elvish either,” he said. There was a shuffling. The sound of paper. “‘Would you like to be famous? In what way?’” Another card. Thomas answered first. “I don’t think so. I’m pretty content right here, right now, where I’m at. You?”
Mika’s hands curled, remembering the feel of a brush in them. “I don’t know about famous, but successful, well known at least. I used . . . I used to paint.” You have the most raw talent I’ve ever seen, Marcus had said. She sighed. “It was just a hobby.”
“Doesn’t sound like it.” Thomas’s voice deepened. “Paris makes more sense now. I could see you and me there,” he added.
Mika’s heart lodged in her throat. “You already have the beret,” she said, though it made her wonder. Dared her to dream. She’d always pictured herself alone on the cobblestone streets. But maybe someone else was there. Holding her hand. Sipping coffee with her under a red striped umbrella. Kissing her outside the Louvre.
“It’s a date, then. You, me, and Paris.”
Thomas’s words beckoned Mika, luring her in like a siren’s call. She breathed in and out. “Alright, Thomas,” she agreed, drowsy and happy. “You and me. Paris, here we come.” She fell asleep with a smile on her face.
* * *
Time tumbled on. Mika and Penny had an old lady day. They completed a one-thousand-piece puzzle, snoozed on the couch, played bingo at a local hall, and ate dinner at five p.m. Penny perfected the Bon-Odori, and they celebrated with a sleepover. Eating hot tamales and Red Vines while watching an infomercial couple they were obsessed with.
“They look like brother and sister,” Mika said, transfixed.
“And what are they selling? Powdered supplements? So people don’t have to eat vegetables?” Penny remarked.
“I can’t stop watching them.”
“I know, right? It’s like I’m hypnotized.”
Forty-eight hours before Obon, Thomas called Mika. “Hi,” she answered. “What are you doing?” She was sitting on the couch, legs curled underneath her. A single lamp on, and the sun setting outside.
“I just got home, actually,” he said. “And I’m going through a pile of mail I’ve neglected all week.”
“Want to call me back?”
“No. I—” He stopped short.
“Everything okay?”
“Fine,” he said after a long, long pause. “There’s a letter from Adoption Across America.”
“Oh?” Mika sat forward. What a strange and kind of beautiful reality she was in.
“It’s probably the reminder that my annual report is due to you.”
“I can’t wait. I’ll be watching my mailbox for your next five lines about Penny.” It came out sharper than she’d expected, a decibel higher too. Thomas’s succinct letters had been in such stark contrast to Caroline’s. Between the lines, Mika could almost hear Caroline whispering to her, addressing Mika’s heartache. Do not worry. I am taking care of our daughter. Be easy now. I love her as you love her.
Thomas sucked in an uneasy breath. “I’m sensing a tone. You didn’t like my letters?” he asked. There was a frown in his voice. Confusion.
She played with her toes. “Caroline’s letters . . . they were longer. They made me feel more a part of Penny’s life.”
“And mine didn’t?”
Mika exhaled. “No, they didn’t.” She resisted the urge to apologize. To make excuses for Thomas. To say, It’s okay. I’m sure you were going through a lot. Six months ago, she would have placed the issue to the side, but Thomas and Penny, this whole thing that had happened and was happening between them, made Mika feel bigger. Braver. More willing to demand things. To want things.
The line grew quiet, and Mika knew he was choosing his words carefully. “Shit. I’m sorry.” He paused, voice unsteady, a mix of regret and angst. “That kind of stuff doesn’t come naturally to me. I’m used to contracts and brevity. Why use six words when two will do?” He paused, huffed out a laugh. “But that was thoughtless of me. I’ve been an asshole.”
“I wouldn’t call you an asshole.” Not now anyway.
“Forgive me?”
Mika breathed in slowly. It didn’t necessarily heal the hurt. There would always be a gaping wound at missing her daughter’s life. And Thomas had contributed to it by withholding. But still . . . the wind in Mika’s angry sails deflated. “It’s already forgotten.”
“Okay,” Thomas said evenly, although it sounded like he didn’t believe her. “You ready for another note card then? It’s the last question.”
Mika sat back on her couch, hooking her toes on the coffee table. “I’m ready.”
“‘Finish this sentence: I wish I had someone with whom I could share . . .’” He trailed off.
Mika answered immediately. “The small things. Like bad days, good days, favorite television shows, embarrassing stories.” She stopped on a blush. Because the truth was, the truth was, Mika had been sharing those things with Thomas. There was no denying it now. Thomas was taking up space in Mika’s life. She was in deep. Her hand flexed, feeling a phantom heat. Icarus approaching the sun. Touching it. How good it felt. The light. The warmth. How could she not want to bask in it forever?
Thomas replied, and she felt the weight of his words as heavy as a hug. “Me too.”