Chapter Thirty
Mika jumped into action. “Where are my keys?” she said, searching the living room, behind the couch cushions. Lifting up magazines. Knocking over the oil paint set. “I’m going after her. Shit.” The remote control fell on her foot, and she hopped around.
“Here.” Thomas lifted her keys from the coffee table. When Mika reached out to take them, he pulled back.
“Thomas, give me my keys.” Mika thrust her hand out.
“Stop. Take a deep breath,” Thomas said steadily. “Think about it for a moment. You’re going to chase her, and then what?”
“I’m going to talk to her, I’m going to . . .” Mika trailed off. Really, she had no idea. Her first instinct was to chase. She’d figure out what to do when she caught Penny. Shake some sense into her, maybe. Get down on her knees and beg for forgiveness, more likely.
Thomas watched her. “Give her some space. Some time to cool down. Nobody is thinking clearly right now.”
Mika shook her head. It went against her natural instinct. “I don’t know—”
Thomas put down the keys. “Trust me. We’ll wait her out.”
Mika considered his advice for a moment. Penny would come home. Kids always came home. Didn’t they? “Yeah. Okay.”
Thomas pulled Mika against him, wrapping her in a hug, and kissed the top of her head. They tried watching television, some sitcom, but neither of them was in the mood to laugh. Thomas left messages for Penny. At 9:00 p.m.: Hey kiddo, let me know if you’re home safe. At 10:00 p.m.: I know this is probably a lot to process. Give me a call when you’re ready. At 10:45 p.m.: Last time I’ll call, I promise. I won’t hassle you anymore. At 11:00 p.m.: Just shoot me a text and let me know you’re okay.
Thomas put down his phone. “Penny turned off the app on her phone, so I can’t see where she is. But Uber dropped her off at the dorms.”
“She’s probably sleeping,” said Mika with a wan smile, injecting all the confidence she didn’t feel into her voice, trying to keep the bite of worry out of it. “She’s going to wake up refreshed, and the joke will be on us because we stayed up all night.”
“Come here.” Thomas held an arm aloft, and Mika lay her head against his chest. They did their best to stay awake but eventually dozed on the couch, porch light and living room lights still blazing, just in case Penny came back. At 2:00 a.m., they jolted awake to Thomas’s phone ringing. “Hello,” he answered groggily.
“Hello, is this the parent or guardian of Penelope Calvin?” a disembodied voice said on the other end.
Thomas straightened. “This is her father.”
“My name is Dr. Nguyen, and I’m a physician here at the emergency room at St. Vincent’s hospital.” Mika doubled over, a knife twisting in her belly. Not Penny. Her baby. No. “We have Penelope here with a suspected case of alcohol poisoning.”
“Sorry? What?” Thomas said.
“Alcohol poisoning,” he repeated. “We’d like permission to treat her with IV fluids, oxygen, and possibly a nasogastric tube. Do we have your consent?”
“Yes, yes, of course, you have my consent.”
The doctor went on to give Thomas more information. The hospital name again. Where to find Penny. “She’s okay, though?” he asked, desperation in his voice.
“Her friends did the right thing calling the paramedics.”
By the time Thomas hung up, Mika had already slipped on a sweatshirt and was reaching for her keys. “I’ll drive.”
“Do you know where the hospital is?” Thomas buzzed around, putting on shoes, grabbing his bag.
“Yeah, you’ve been there before. It’s where Penny was born.” Mika ignored the skip in her pulse. She hadn’t been back to the hospital since then.
In the car, Thomas was unnaturally quiet. His hands closed into fists, then opened again. “Penny was drinking? Who would give a sixteen-year-old girl booze?”
A lot of people, Mika thought. She’d spent a fair amount of time shoulder tapping—hanging outside of convenience stores and asking older patrons to buy beer for her and Hana—age fifteen on. Mika gripped the steering wheel. Traffic was light, and they were flying down the freeway. She didn’t answer Thomas. She couldn’t. She was trapped in a cyclone of prayers. Talking to Penny again, like she had done all those years ago after Penny was born and Mika had placed her for adoption. Please be okay. Are you there? Wake up, Penny. We still need you.
* * *
“Penelope Calvin,” Thomas said at the check-in desk, Mika behind him. Exhausted and disheveled, Thomas looked as if he’d aged twenty years in the last twenty minutes. “She was brought in an hour ago.” They’d parked and come straight to the ER waiting room. To Mika’s right was a man with a nasty bloody nose and a woman holding her arm and moaning.
“And what is your relationship to the patient?” the tired woman asked. The slowness of her movements agitated Mika further. Penny could be dying right now. Penny could be sick. Penny could be asking for Mika. After Mika had given birth, she’d thought about Hiromi constantly. Had wanted her mother to swoop in. Heal her or, at the very least, hold her.
“I’m her father,” Thomas said at the same time Mika said, “I’m her mother.” She’d never said it aloud before. I am her mother. It felt as momentous as reaching the peak of a mountain. Even more so when Thomas gave her hand a squeeze. The woman asked for identification, and Thomas pulled his wallet from his back pocket and flashed her his license. Mika did the same, fishing hers from her purse.
The woman appraised their licenses and said, “Room five.” She pressed a button, and the automated double doors opened. Thomas shoved his wallet into his back pocket, and they were through the doors in seconds, counting the numbered plaques above the rooms—each little cubicle holding a life at its tipping point. Mika stopped short between rooms four and five, where a familiar figure sat hunched in a plastic chair—Devon.
“Hey, Mr. Calvin, Ms. Suzuki.” Devon stood, blocking Mika and Thomas from Penny’s room. His eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed. “She’s okay. The doc just came out and said she’s fine. They didn’t have to do that tube thingy. She’s in the bathroom cleaning up.” He held a baseball hat in his hands and twisted the bill between his fingers. “I’m so sorry. Penny came back to the dorms, and she was so upset. She wanted to go to this party, and I was like, cool, okay. College party, you know?” He rubbed a hand down his face. “I’m sorry,” he said again. The faintest smell of alcohol clung to his breath. Her stomach lurched. She pictured Penny at a party, red Solo cup in hand. She shook the image away, struggled to remain calm. Penny’s experience tonight wasn’t the same as Mika’s had been all those years ago at Peter’s apartment. “I didn’t even see how much she was drinking, then she passed out, and I couldn’t get her to open her eyes.” Of course Devon had been involved. Because isn’t there always a boy?
“You took my sixteen-year-old daughter out drinking?” Thomas asked pointedly.
Devon paled, and Mika softened. Most of the boys she knew in high school ran at the first sight of trouble, but Devon seemed like a good kid. He’d stayed, and that was something. “I’m sorry. Penny . . . she . . . when she wants her way . . .” He hung his head.
Mika stepped forward and said gently, “You can probably go home now, Devon. It’s already been a late night for you.” She looked up at him. “I’m sure Penny will call you. Do you have a way back to the dorm?”
“Um yeah, okay. I can call an Uber.” Devon placed his hat back on his head. “Penny knows I was here. I really . . . I really care about her.”
“I can tell,” Mika said. She wanted to pat his arm. Tell him he’d been dumb but that she was glad Penny had him. He’d done the right thing in the end. “Have a good night.”
Devon left, and Thomas shook his head. “What was he thinking? What was she thinking?”
Mika rubbed her hands together. “I don’t know.” Kids did stupid stuff all the time. It’s inevitable, Mika thought, remembering herself as a teen, how she’d thought herself invincible. Why did some lessons have to be learned the hard way? “Come on, let’s go see her.”
She followed Thomas as he lightly rapped on the door to room five. “Kiddo, it’s me.” He slipped inside, and Mika silently followed.
Penny was in bed, a tray of uneaten food in front of her, white hospital blanket pulled up to her waist, and gown on. Jesus, it was the same pattern as the one Mika had worn years ago. Mika saw herself at nineteen in the hospital bed. Touching Penny’s baby cheek, rubbing her nose against hers.
“What are you doing here?” Penny’s voice came out gravelly. Dark circles hung under her eyes. Her skin was waxy and pale.
Thomas closed the door with a click. He put his hands on his hips. “What kind of question is that? We came to check on you.”
“You’ve seen me. I’m alive,” Penny said and then turned to face the wall. In the ensuing silence, Mika and Thomas looked at each other, unsure what to do. A trash can was in the corner of the room, the kimono crumpled in it like a doe shot down.
Thomas stepped forward. “That was stupid what you did, Penny.”
Penny turned back to them and rolled her eyes. One time, Hiromi nearly slapped Mika for doing the same, flew at her like a Valkyrie from the sky.
Mika sighed. She placed a hand on Thomas’s arm and stepped in front of him. Mika knew better than to lead with anger now. She knew teenagers. How stubborn their beautiful hearts could be.
“You scared us,” Mika said quietly. “Devon was pretty freaked out too.” At that, Penny winced. Mika had hit a nerve. “You could have killed yourself.” Mika drew a little closer. “You’re upset. And you probably feel like shit,” she added, injecting some lightness into her tone. “Look, you’re angry, that’s clear. I’m sorry about what you saw. It wasn’t ever our intention for you to find out that way. We wanted to make sure it was serious before we told you. Please, Penny.” Mika sat in a chair next to the hospital bed and placed her hand on top of Penny’s.
Penny eyed Mika’s hand and disentangled herself. The lines of her body drew tense. “What did you think?” she asked, with a hiss, with menace. “Did you think you could sleep with my dad and become my mom? That you could replace her? News flash, I had a mother. She died,” she said.
Mika blinked.
“Penny,” she heard Thomas say.
Mika slowly stood. She brought her hand to her chest and rubbed where a sudden burning sensation blazed. “Oh, um . . .” She staggered back to the door, her hand reaching for the knob. A glance at Thomas showed his mouth moving, but Mika couldn’t make out the words. It was as if she were underwater, everything muted, blurry. “I’m just going to . . .” she said. She tilted her chin up and found herself in the corridor outside Penny’s room. Sound returned with the velocity of a scream. Machines beeped. Nurses chattered about patients. A code gray called over the intercom. The arrow of Penny’s words pierced deeper. She’d called Mika an understudy. Not good enough. In one blinding moment, all of Mika’s fears were realized. It only took seconds to obliterate someone, and Penny had done so with the air of a seasoned professional.
The air around her smelled like stale coffee and antiseptic. She hated the scent of hospitals. Had ever since Penny was born. Her hands clenched, the air thinned, and Mika struggled to breathe. She was dizzy, ill. She started walking. Hurried outside. Where she needed to be.
Footsteps thundered behind her. “Mika,” Thomas called.
She broke through the double doors. Then another set, until finally, she was in the fresh air. Nights were cold during the summer in Portland. Even colder in the predawn hours. The sky was that early morning color blue, a bruise caught between night and day.
“Mika, stop,” Thomas demanded. His hand wrapped around her arm, and she whirled to face him. Above them, a streetlamp swarmed with moths. He released her and rubbed his head. “Shit. That was rough. She’s really angry. Angrier than I thought she’d be . . . I’m so sorry, Mika. She didn’t mean that.”
“I think maybe she did. All of this”—she gestured at the space between them, blood rushing to her cheeks—“You, me, Penny is a lot.”
Thomas stared at his feet and nodded. “I get that, but we can figure it out.”
Penny’s words echoed in Mika’s ears. I had a mother. She died. Mika may have wanted Penny, but that didn’t mean Penny wanted Mika. That she was good enough for her. She’d fucked up Penny like Hiromi had fucked her up. Mika folded her arms, shielding her stomach—an act of protection. “I don’t know if we can,” Mika said, her voice wavering. She couldn’t look at Thomas. At what she was about to lose. “She’s right, you know. She did have a mother, one who loved her and cared for her for eleven years. I’m not . . . I can’t . . . I can’t replace Caroline. We can’t just become some kind of insta-family. It doesn’t work like that.”
Mika felt small, a teenager again. A foolish girl with foolish dreams. What had she thought? That she could be Penny’s mother, Thomas’s lover—that together they might heal each other? She saw it clearly now. Penny and Thomas were looking for something, someone to guide them from the darkness of their grief. It could have been anyone. By a random twist of fate, it had been Mika—they’d collided at pivotal points in their lives. She didn’t belong with them. They didn’t belong to her. Thomas and Penny were a world unto themselves, and Mika had just been a tourist.
Thomas paced. “Penny’s upset now, but she needs time to adjust to the idea,” he said in a rush. “She’ll get over it. She’s a teenager. They change their minds all the time.”
Mika’s stomach plummeted. “Thomas . . . I don’t think . . . I don’t think this is going to work.”
A shadow crossed his face. “Don’t say that.” His phone chimed, and he ignored it.
Mika inhaled a deep breath and exhaled slowly. You don’t deserve her, a voice whispered in her head. You don’t deserve him. Them. “Look at us. Where we are. We’re at the hospital. Penny could have died tonight. She’s not ready for any of this.” His phone chimed again. “That’s probably Penny,” Mika said with a tilt of her chin. She swallowed past the thickness in her throat. “You should go be with her. She needs you now.”
“Alright,” Thomas said. A muscle ticked along his jaw. He held out his hand. “Let’s go.”
Mika shook her head. “No. Just you. My presence will only upset her more. And on that note.” She paused, peered up at the sky, knowing there was one immutable fact. Penny was better off without Mika in her life. It was time to quietly bow out. “I think . . . I think it’s best if we don’t see each other anymore.”
“Mika,” he said hotly. “Don’t do this. Not after everything we’ve shared. Please.”
“It’s already done,” she said. Now she stared at her feet, afraid to face Thomas, the world. How many times did someone have to be slapped before they stayed down?
His phone chimed again. “Penny’s being discharged,” he said. “I need to go sign some paperwork.”
Mika nodded mutely. “Of course, go,” she said. “Here.” She lifted her hands with her keys. “You can take my car. I don’t think Penny wants to see me. I’ll catch a cab or something back home. Then just let me know where to pick it up.”
Thomas didn’t move. Agonizing seconds passed, then, “I’ll manage transportation,” he said flatly.
“Okay.” She brought her keys back close to her body.
He watched her for a moment. Waited. When she refused to speak, he ground out a curse word and paced away. Thomas gone, Mika stumbled back onto a nearby bench, squeezed her eyes shut, inhaled then exhaled, and opened them.
This area of the hospital was familiar.
She was outside of the maternity ward where she’d given birth, where she had waited with Hana after surrendering Penny, unable to make those final steps to the bus. When she thought she might die from grief without Penny, only to realize that there are some things worse than death. Sixteen years had passed, and she’d wound up here again. Bells chimed. The same ones she’d heard when Penny had been born. Time did move in a circle.
Every sensation in Mika’s body heightened. Something cracked inside of her. Fusion failing. Icarus falling. She heard phantom voices, and memories sucked her down into a whirlpool.
Hiromi screwing up her face at Mika’s drawing. Who is that supposed to be, your friend? You made her face too full. She looks fat.
Her art crumpling in Marcus’s hand. What’s your story?
Peter’s hand over her mouth.
You’re doing so good. Mrs. Pearson, as Mika signed the adoption paperwork.
Do you want to hold her one last time? Hana asking, adjusting the hat on Penny’s head.
Memories surged forward, flooding the architecture of her mind. She was drowning. Gasping for air. Everything converged. Her past, her present. Is this Mika Suzuki? Did you give a baby up for adoption? Penny sweet, then so acidic. I had a mother. She died. Mika should have known better. She should have known things would end like this. What do you know about raising a baby? Hiromi had said.
She buckled over, sobbing into her hands, into the quiet morning, wishing the earth might absorb her. She took out her phone and looked up Pearl Jam’s schedule. She wanted Hana. She wanted to be away from here. There, Pearl Jam was playing in Eugene. She stumbled back to her car, started the engine, and drove. Fight or flight is a natural response, Suzanne, her counselor, had said when Mika explained how she had run from Peter’s apartment. What Peter had done turned Mika into her basest self, she explained. Your mind couldn’t process anything. Your body took over. It’s how you stayed safe, she had said. It’s how Mika stayed alive.