Southern Fried Sushi, page 15
“I can’t believe you!”
“Ah.” She grunted. “Nora’s fine. She didn’t lose anything major. Her story on public transportation stank anyway—what she’d written of it. I don’t know how she even works at AP. Her parents must have paid Dave off.”
“Did you … um … do anything to Carlos’s Azuki page?”
Kyoko’s response horrified and intrigued me. “See for yourself. Oh, and he’d blocked you, but I took the liberty of adding you back to his friend list.” She snickered. “Hope he doesn’t mind.”
I grabbed my laptop, and thanks to wireless Internet—which was finally working—click-click-clicked to Carlos’s page.
Kyoko, in her infinite sneaky wisdom, had changed his nationality from Argentina to Brazil.
My jaw dropped. Not only had she plastered his page with iconic samba and grinning Brazilian soccer star photos, but every post, as far as I could see, was absolutely scandalous—especially for an Argentinian nationalist: “I LOVE BRAZIL!” and, “Osbrasileiros são os melhores!“ (“Brazilians are the best!”) and, “I’m thinking of changing my citizenship to a real country.”
Kyoko had even managed to Photoshop a little green, yellow, and blue flag into his profile picture.
“How did you write in Portuguese like a Brazilian?” I tried to get air back in my lungs, still scrolling.
He hasn’t seen it yet. I stopped short at a huge photo of the triumphant Brazilian soccer team hoisting a World Cup trophy. Blue-and-white-clad Argentinians weeping in the background. Ooo, Kyoko! You’ve outdone yourself.
“Easy. Internet translator. I signed him up for some mailing lists and groups and stuff, too.”
I kept my mouth shut. If I got on her bad side, no telling what she’d do to me.
I could hardly speak, still gawking at that trophy shot. Trying to imagine Carlos’s furious reaction. “You’re really good at this payback stuff.”
“Yeah. You should see Mia’s page.” She preened and then put the compliment aside. “So you decided not to pawn your scarves and stay at Ye Olde Redneck Hotel indefinitely?”
“I guess not.” I closed Azuki. “It’s temporary of course—just until I find somewhere else to live.”
Kyoko was surprisingly understanding. “Why not? Free rent. Just don’t put a giant satellite dish out back and start buying TV dinners.”
“I’ll have you know I have fond memories of TV dinners. Especially the Salisbury steak with mashed potatoes. They were so wonderfully rectangular.”
“I heard if you leave them out of the refrigerator for weeks they won’t spoil. Too many preservatives. Sounds like embalming, if you ask me.”
I turned green. “Thanks, Kyoko. I’ll keep that in mind next time I buy pickled pig’s feet.”
“Pickled what?! Send me a picture.”
“I promise, Kyoko, you don’t want to see it wobbling around in the jar.”
“I’ve seen worse here at the fish market, and now I’m curious. Send it!”
“Ugh. And you say I’m weird.” Kyoko seriously needed help. “Just wait until I upload the photos from my cell phone.” “Like … belt buckles? Gun racks?”
“Confederate flags. Jacked-up trucks. Corn soaked in lye. The works.”
Kyoko hmm-ed. “Hey, what’s that sport where people watch cars drive around a track?” “NASCAR?”
“Do you know any of the drivers?”
“Well, there’s Jeff Gordon, and Tim said something about this guy named Vic—”
“Okay, Ro-chan, that was a TEST!” she roared, startling me. “You were supposed to say, ‘No, what’s that?’ You’re scaring me now. GET OUT OF VIRGINIA, Ro! You’ve been there too long already!”
I glanced up miserably. “There’s Faye.” “Any last words?”
“Funny. How about, ‘Forgive me, Dave?’“ “Do you want me to repeat his response?” “Forget it.” I closed my laptop. “I’ll call you.” “Good. If they know what phones are out in the sticks.”
Chapter 21
How ya doin’? I’m here already! Brought reinforcements.”
I heard Becky’s cheery voice on my cell phone as we turned into Crawford Manor. “Huh?”
“What, ya thought we was gonna jest dump ya here all by yerself?”
Faye parked in Mom’s driveway, and sure enough, Becky’s green sedan grinned back at me. I blinked. And Adam’s dark blue pickup? The conspirators sat on the deck, boxes on the steps.
I got out to thank them, but the sight of Mom’s empty house stopped me. Her white Honda. The brown-shingled roof. Bright and cheery roses blooming in the flower bed, as if Mom stood just in the other room like Mrs. Rowe, watering can in hand.
Fortunately Becky’s smile warmed everything as she appeared at my car door. “Ya ready for this?” She grinned, arms full of stuff. “Welcome to yer new pad! We’re gonna have a reg’lar housewarmin’ party!”
Adam clipped his hedge trimmers in anticipation.
I dug in my purse for the keys, trying to keep my voice light. “Come on in! Make yourselves at home.”
Becky turned on the radio and opened the windows, and we set to work putting the house in order. She and Faye cleaned andshined and washed, making the small house smell of crisp pine cleaner and laundry detergent while I tried not to look at Mom’s pictures.
Tina showed up with pound cake and some cute new teacups, and she spritzed water on all the houseplants. Stripped Mom’s bed and put on clean sheets. The washing machine swished and swirled to life, giving me energy I didn’t have.
“Which bedroom do ya want, honey? Yer mom’s or the spare one?”
“The spare one,” I answered quickly. “I like blue.”
“I reckoned so. The bed looks real comfortable.” She threw on fresh linens and pillowcases, dusting from top to bottom and vacuuming the pale blue-gray carpet. Got Adam to move in a chest of drawers from Mom’s room.
After boxing up Mom’s pictures and medicines and things, Faye set to work cleaning out the refrigerator and polishing the furniture with lemon cleaner. Tina drove to IGA and bought me some fresh stuff: a loaf of white bread, grits, and so on. No hominy, thankfully, or pig’s feet.
By the time Tim arrived in the evening with Jeanette, they’d all made the whole place shine. Becky found one of Mom’s funny old Statler Brothers CDs and put it on so we could all hear and laugh. Or occasionally dance, as Becky tried to do with Jeanette.
I wondered if Mom ever had friends over, ever laughed, ever danced. The smiley pictures now packed in a box suggested she
had. I was just too late to see it.
“Yer turn, wild woman!” hollered Tim, slapping down another card as we played UNO and ate surprisingly good delivery pizza. A welcome change from potato and tuna pizza back in Tokyo, or the spicy fermented kimchee cabbage version Kyoko liked. Japanese pizza was certainly nothing to write home about.
“I’m goin’! I’m goin’!” Becky threw down a Skip card, high-fiving Tim as Adam grumpily missed another turn.
I’d always thought games like UNO were stuff for third-grade slumber parties. But the lamplight and music made me feel warm, blooming, innocent in a way I hadn’t experienced in years.
“Go, Shah-loh!” Tim grabbed another slice of pizza. Outside, evening fell softly, turning sapphire over a pale sunset, all lit up with stars and the sound of crickets and cicadas. The house glowed with laughter.
Mom’s house. My house. Talk about surreal.
“Well, I gotta hit the sack,” said Jeanette, putting down her cards and kissing me on the cheek. “I’ll bring ya some ‘tater bread next week.”
“We’ll be prayin’ for ya, sugar.” Faye hugged me tight. “If ya feel like comin’ ta church on Sunday, give me a ring. Night or day, if ya need anything.”
Tim, Becky, Adam, and I lingered, watching part of a funny movie and sopping up the famous garlic-butter sauce and breadsticks that came with the pizza. I didn’t want them to leave.
“I gotta get some shut-eye,” said Becky finally, yawning and leaning against Tim. “I’m volunteerin’ at the nursery t’morrow for the church’s couple’s retreat. Too bad yer Carlos is such a knot head. He coulda come with ya.”
His name drove a painful dagger through me, but I played it off, flipping through the UNO deck. “Carlos thinks Protestants are on par with McDonald’s and Nikes. You know. Invading the beloved country.” I made a face. “Although I think he wore diapers last time he went to mass.”
“Jesus ain’t no McDonald’s,” retorted Becky, arching an eyebrow. “He ain’t no Happy Meal neither.”
“Apparently not, with all the bad things that happen in life. But I thought He’s supposed to answer prayers.” And He sure hasn’t answered mine. And I did pray as a child, years and yearsago. Before I grew hard. Cynical. Like Kyoko. “Why pray then?” I played with a stray UNO card.
Becky didn’t flinch. “If ya reckon yer gonna get a toy in every box, think again. Life ain’t all handouts, and my Jesus ain’t neither.”
Adam cleared his throat. “She means Jesus isn’t Santa Claus, Shiloh. Life throws us all kinds of things—good and bad—and just because we believe in Him doesn’t mean we get a free ride.”
“Yeah. Faye said something like that.” I picked at my cat-patterned Japanese house slippers. “It figures. Life’s just rotten for everybody.”
“The Bible says the rain fawls on the just and the unjust,” stated Tim, crossing his cowboy boots and reaching for some more garlic-butter sauce. “But when ya think about it, we’s all unjust.” He winked at Becky. “‘Specially that’n.”
She tickled his side, and he squawked.
I must have still looked brooding because Adam eyed me. “You really think there’s nothing good in life?”
“No, but … why believe in God if it doesn’t do you any good?”
“I didn’t say it doesn’t do any good. But all our problems don’t magically disappear. Jesus suffered, and so do we. We go through it with Him. Together. We’re not alone anymore. We’re invited up into an adventure … a mystery … a relationship that changes our lives and makes us better people.”
I raised my eyebrow at Adam’s sudden eloquence over an empty pizza box.
“It’s like a romance,” said Tim, putting his arm around Becky’s shoulders. I couldn’t tell if he was joking or serious.
Together. A relationship. A romance. I hugged my knees, wishing it were true, because I longed for it like nothing else in the world. Someone waiting for me like Hachiko, straining to see my face from afar.
But like everyone else, He’d forgotten me, too. My heart feltbitter and empty, the way it had on the long drive from Richmond to Staunton, staring out at the mountains and listening to Bible Today.
Tim drained his Dr. Pepper and ruffled Becky’s hair. “Reckon we gotta skedaddle, rug rat.”
My eyes bugged out. “Sorry? Can you translate?”
“He means we’ve got to go,” said Adam, cracking his occasional smile. “Skedaddle. Scram. Get out of here.”
“How do I use it in a sentence? Is it a verb?” I’m writing that down the minute he leaves!
Adam and Tim exchanged serious glances. “A verb. Definitely.”
I smiled, surveying the littered—but cleaned and vacuumed—living room. “And thanks so much for today. You can’t ever imagine what your help means to me.”
Becky hugged me. “Shucks! Ain’t nothin’! Least we could do. I’ll call ya t’morrow to check on ya.”
Tim looked around blankly. “I don’t know ‘bout y’all, but I came for the pizza. Was there … somethin’ else?”
I grinned, thinking of him vacuuming the living room and watering my front lawn, after he’d worked overtime at the accounting office.
“Be safe.” Adam double-checked my door locks. “We’ll call you.”
And one by one red taillights glimmered down the driveway. Into the streetlights lining dark Crawford Drive. And disappeared into the country night.
I stood at the door a long time, porch light shining and door open, watching the swallows dart in and out of the front-porch eaves. Dark streets and dark houses were illuminated by yellow windows into the distance.
The mountain loomed shadowy under the stars, and the yard slept in dewy coolness, moist, heavy with the scent of grass. Breathtakingly quiet. I could hear the gentle thump of the dryer in the laundry room as it finished the last load. Down the street
wafted a distant strain of country music.
I slowly eased the screen door closed, clicking the lock. Closed the front door tightly and locked it.
The house felt immense. My whole Tokyo apartment could fit in the kitchen.
Tokyo. Shiodome. My toilet sink and mini balcony. I should be in Chicago now, boarding a flight for Narita Airport.
Pain swelled into choking acid before I could stop it, and for an instant I hated Mom’s dumb house. I hated myself.
And the one thing I hated most of all was redneck Staunton, Virginia.
I was still leaning against the closed door, head in my hands, when the house phone startled me with its unfamiliar ring.
“Hey, Shiloh. It’s Adam.”
“Oh, hi, Adam.” I wound the cord around my hand, relieved to cut the silence. “I should give you my cell number because Mom’s landline hasn’t been paid. It’ll probably cut off any time.”
He paused. “Um … I don’t think that’ll work, unless we all call internationally. You’ve got a Japanese number.”
I smacked my forehead, still sore at the memory of Japan.
“You might be able to buy a chip or something, but I’m not sure.”
“The phone’s Japanese, too,” I reminded him. “The right chip might be hard to find here.” I didn’t want to hang up. Even a little conversation made the empty house seem brighter.
“Listen, I’m sorry to bother you, but I forgot some tools out back. I need them for a job in the morning.”
“You work on Saturdays?”
“Duty calls. That’s running a small business.”
“Sorry.”
“Nah. I’m used to it. Would you mind if I came back and picked them up? I’m just down the road.”
“Of course not.”
“Thanks. I’ll be there in a second.”
I clicked off the phone, grateful at the thought of a visitor in the too-still house.
Within minutes headlights beamed on the living room curtains, and I opened the front door. Moths swirled around the porch light. Mama Bird peeped at me suspiciously, reflections glinting on her tiny eyes.
“Sorry,” said Adam, coming into the warm glow. He stood almost a head taller than me. “I forgot my wallet, too.”
“That’s right. You paid for the pizza, and thanks again. Come on in.” I held the door open for him.
To my surprise, he balked. “I’m sorry. I … uh … can you just get it for me? It’s on the table.”
I stared at him. “Sure. But … why?”
Color rose in Adam’s cheeks, and he shifted his weight uncomfortably. “Well, it’s just … you’re single, and I’m … you know. It wouldn’t be a good idea.”
My jaw fell open. “To get your wallet?”
“Uh … yeah. Sorry. If it’s a problem I can come back another time.” He scratched his head nervously.
Jerusalem Chapel. Becky’s sedan. I narrowed my eyes at him. “Is that why you sent Becky to meet me when my car ran out of gas?”
“Sort of. But for your sake as well.”
“My sake?” Anger burned, although I had no idea why. If Adam wanted to stay on my front porch all night long, I could care less.
“You think a single woman would feel comfortable having some strange guy she just met come find her in the middle of nowhere?” His eyes bored into me. “Ever think of that?”
Actually, I hadn’t. I’d become so accustomed to working with men in super-safe Japan, even having my boyfriend live with another woman, that such a thing never occurred to me. Then again, Mia’s pajamas definitely had an effect on Carlos. I let the screen door bang shut and went looking for Adam’s wallet.
He had paid for dinner. I could at least be civil.
“Here.” I stood partially on the porch. “Does it bother you if I stand here?” My nerves were shot, and I couldn’t resist sarcasm.
“No. It’s fine, Shiloh. Don’t get the wrong idea. I just want to be careful how I live. For you as well.”
“Really.” I said it as a statement. A moth flew in through the crack in the door and began to circle the living-room light. I shut the screen door behind me.
Adam ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, maybe it doesn’t mean anything to you, but it does to me. You obviously have no idea what a small town is like. Do you want your neighbors thinking you’ve just shacked up with some guy the first night you move in? Is that the kind of reception you want?”
“Who cares what they think?” I waved a bug away in annoyance.
“Well, I care. About your reputation and about mine. I intend to practice what I preach, even if it’s weird. To you or anyone else. I’m sorry, Shiloh. I certainly don’t mean to offend you. But this is who I am.”
I sniffed then leaned against the pillar and looked out at the black night. “I’m not offended.” Bunch of stiffs! Religious freaks! Bible Belt! Kyoko warned me about this!
A long silence billowed between us, and I sensed Adam shifting uncomfortably again. “Maybe not. But you seem to be.”
Finally I plopped down on the porch and put my chin in my hands. Adam hesitated then awkwardly sat down next to me. Keeping (I noticed) a safe distance between us. The fragrance of dew and grass swelled up, fresh and sweet like after a rain.
“Sorry.” I sighed. “But I’m not the Big Bad Wolf.”
“Well, neither am I,” said Adam a little more gently. “But what if I was? You should be more careful, Shiloh. The world can be an ugly place.”
I rolled my eyes but said nothing, resting my chin on my
knees. “Yeah. I guess I’ve gotten used to it.”
“I can’t say I blame you. But … well, I do what I can. Most of the world probably thinks I’m weird, but this is the way I want to live.”
