1 Chapter 1
1
San Jose, California, 2010
Akira Watanabe served her dad oatmeal, a week after her seventeenth birthday that he forgot. Again. She’d had some poor experiences and stuck with his favorite: cinnamon, nutmeg, a hint of chocolate andvanilla with cashew nuts. He must have slept well since he worked his way through accumulated mail. She recognized the envelope from family court and ate, waiting for the emotional tsunami.
“What the hell? Do you know about this? Of course, you do. What are you pulling?”
She took a deep breath, forced it out, and sucked a controlled breath in. She held it several seconds and gave a slow, even release as instructed in Jujitsu, the ancient Japanese fighting art of the Samurai.
“Answer me, damn it.” He slammed his hand on the table.
She couldn’t remember when she stopped being afraid of that, or him. “I’m working with a court-appointed attorney to be legally emancipated from you and Mom. She got a letter, too. All she does is send money. I run the household and pay the bills and keep things in order. I want the legal standing of it.”
“I’m your father. What will I do if you leave?”
“I’m not leaving. This is just something I need to do for my sanity.”
Like the wave of a magic wand, his attitude and tone shifted. He lowered his head and inspected his oatmeal, taking half spoonfuls. “I’m sorry. I’m a bad father. You have a right to do this. Are you going to kick me out?”
“You’re my father. I won’t turn my back on you. I need to do this.”
“I’ll quit drinking as of now. Never in my life will I consume any alcoholic beverage again.”
“That’s nice, Dad. It’ll help a lot of things.” She knew better than to remind him of the hundred other times he’d made the same promise. At least he’s not violent.
He mumbled, and she didn’t feel like playing the game where he worked for pity.
She needed to change the subject. “I have a date tonight. Not sure when I’ll be home.”
“It’s a school night. Be home before nine.”
“Dad, it’s Saturday.”
“Oh.”
He smirked. “I want to meet the boy before you go out.”
“I’ll mention it to her. It’s a girl.”
“What? You date girls now? Are you a lezzie?” Dad must be accepting the legal issue well since he shifted into humor mode. A glimpse of happier times, so long ago when they were still a family, came to her.
She played along. “Didn’t you get the memo? Yeah, I hate being normal, so I chose to be a lesbian.”
“Make sure you’re safe. Bad for a high school girl to get pregnant.”
She hugged him, took their empty bowls, and said, “I don’t go all the way on the first date.”
His face grew serious. “Have you gone all the way?”
Gee, is that what a real father-daughter talk is like?
“Yeah. Bobby Wilson last September so he could say he wasn’t a virgin anymore. We screwed five times to give him experience. You remember him; we were good buds for a while.” She didn’t say she closed her eyes and thought of women as they had sex.
“What happened to him?”
“Aliens took him.” She chuckled. “Moved away.”
“What planet?”
“Colorado.”
“You gone all the way with a girl, whatever that is?”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
“My baby’s growing up.”
The day passed with housework, homework, and a six-hour shift at the convenience store to cover for another clerk who wanted to go to a wedding. Akira texted her date, a hook-up from a teen dating site, tomake sure the girl didn’t get cold feet and back out. She assured Akira she’d show up.
By 6:22, Akira was on her second coffee at Starbucks, sitting near the front door, rolling the stem of the white carnation between her palms. She loved them and felt they were good luck charms, so she told the girl she’d have one. She drained the coffee and was about to give up when her date rushed in, puffing air. Their gazes met. She was older than the pics she’d sent.
“Akira, I’m so sorry. I went to the wrong Starbucks and started late anyway. I’m always late, sorry.” They shook.
Her profile said she’s always early. Akira forgot the girl’s name and didn’t care at this point. Nervousness gave way to upset and distrust. As the woman fidgeted with her keys, Akira noted a tan line on the wedding finger.
“So, what school do you go to?”
“School? Oh, uh, San Jose High.”
“What street is it on?”
“Twenty-fourth and Julian.”
That was correct, Akira went for the kill. “What year did you graduate?”
The girl wrinkled her forehead. “Huh, no, I haven’t—”
Akira bored into her with a hard gaze. The girl puffed upward blowing her bangs.
