Saturday mornings were busy times in the McGowan home. Matilda had ballet practice while Tammy played shortstop for the Sting Rays in the Huntington Beach peewee baseball league. Tyler and Marie Ann usually separated their errands in order to make Saturdays work. Today would be different. Marie Ann had a meeting with her niece, Star Mathews, to talk through the Gardena Cherry Blossom Beauty Pageant situation; Tyler had Tammy; and Mama Sakamoto would go to ballet class with Matilda.
The McGowan girls were five and seven years old, and Matilda was the youngest. Tammy took after her mother with black hair and almond eyes and a slight build while her sister’s sandy hair and fair skin looked more like her dad’s, her build sturdy and athletic. They often were not taken for sisters.
As Marie Ann drove from Huntington Beach, she thought of growing up as a teenager in Gardena, getting straight A’s, and being a math and science scholar. Her SAT’s had been in the top two percent of her graduating class, and she’d wanted to be a criminal behavioral scientist working for the FBI at Quantico. Marie Ann had been the captain of her basketball team, despite all her accomplishments, being “Queen of the Gardena Beauty Pageant” was what gave her family the most pride and recognition. She wanted Star to continue the tradition and didn’t care how she got her there.
Marie Ann played with her car FM radio, looking for the local public radio station. The news was full of the crisis in public schools: inner-city teachers and administrators cheating on student test scores.
“The problem here,” a commentator was saying as she tuned in, “is that these teachers are more interested in covering up their own mistakes than they are in helping our kids.”
“You idiot!” Marie Ann snapped at the radio. “The problem isn’t the teachers. Take the pressure off us so we can teach the children, not just test them.” Her long, slender fingers clenched the steering wheel as if it were the speaker’s neck. She hunched over the wheel, her right foot pressing firmly on the accelerator.
“No jail time. Fix the system.” She took the Torrance Avenue exit and headed west toward Gardena. At Starbucks she found a space in the rear of the parking lot. She shut off her engine, closed her eyes, and let her hands rest in her lap.
She pulled the air in through her nose and pushed it out over her ruby-red lipstick.
Ohooooooooooooooo……………………Wheeeeeeww………………Ohooooooooo…………………Wheeeeeeew
Ten times was enough for her shoulders to fall and the muscles of her upper back to relax. Marie Ann saw muted lights flash and circle across the backs of her eyelids. She imagined being in a green pasture with Jersey cows wandering about, munching mouthfuls of grass as the morning sun warmed them. Apple trees appeared with playful squirrels jumping from limb to limb.
“Kenzo marami. Kenzo marami,” Marie Ann recited in low, steady tones that made the meaningless words sound like a prayer.
“Kenzo marami. Kenzo marami.”
She thought of the idiot radio commentator before going back to the pasture. Her thoughts drifted from images of the past to current concerns like completing her grocery list, sending her lesson plans to Principal Jefferson, and wondering if anyone was watching her meditate in her Chevy Impala.
“Kenzo marami. Kenzo marami.”
The chatter of her mind slowed as she allowed her mantra to fill her soul, and let the thoughts pass through her like the air she breathed in and out.
Ohooooooooooooooooo………… Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeew. Ohoooooooooooooooo……………………Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeew.
Feeling calm and centered, Marie Ann opened her eyes and focused on the leaves of the sago palm tree in front of her car. The glossy dark-green fronds feathered from the center of the plant, and their majestic fan shape glistened in the sunshine. She watched a pair of hummingbirds hover and dance around the foliage before darting upward out of sight.
The coffee shop smelled of burnt beans with whiffs of cinnamon and vanilla and the sweetness of baked goods. The line was neat and singular as Marie Ann moved toward the counter to buy a nonfat caramel latte from the listless attendant, who shouted orders to a barista, who moved like a mime doing a routine for an adoring crowd. Budding screenwriters working on future film favorites, students hiding from their parents, and retirees getting the caffeine they craved to finish their morning walk, occupied the tables.
Star—she would always be Star to Marie Ann—was sitting at a table by the window. Like Marie Ann, she was five-feet-four-inches tall, with a little-boy figure and long black hair. Their differences were subtle; Marie Ann’s skin was pale, which the family had always blamed on her father’s blood, while Star’s nose was slightly broader and her skin more the color of coffee with plenty of half-and-half.
Marie Ann spoke to Star in English as she sat down. They shared little Japanese between them.
“How are you?” Marie Ann said.
Star had a Grande Cappuccino fresh from the way-too-cool barista, who was now doing a land-office business. She sipped at it and eyed Marie Ann’s cup.
“I hope they got your drink right. I know how much you love a perfect latte.”
Marie Ann took a small sip of her own. “I’ve killed a few dozen baristas who didn’t have a clue how to make my drink. But this one made a lovely one.”
Star nodded and then bit her lip and set her cup down. “Auntie Marie,” she began, “I appreciate you standing up for me with the pageant, but it was hardly necessary. I’ve decided not to participate this year.”
“Why not?” Marie Ann asked, folding her arms in front of her.
“Mom says the judges don’t want women who look like me in the competition. And it’s almost impossible for a non-Japanese-speaker to get past the first round.”
Marie Ann studied her niece thoughtfully. “Tell me, honey, the car loan I gave you last month is due. Can you pay me something on it?”
Star’s shoulders slumped and her voice went up an octave. She loved her new BMW.
“No, Auntie, I’m tight right now. Maybe next month.”
“What if you work the debt off by babysitting the girls?”
Star took another sip and then glanced around the coffee shop, clearly seeking a distraction. She jumped up and purposefully walked over to two young men in fatigues at a nearby table, bowed deeply from the waist, and thanked them for their service. The soldiers blinked at her, frozen with their hands locked around coffee cups. Star saluted, smiled politely, and returned to her seat. Marie Ann saw the men cringe when Star stepped away. The salute was too much, but Star returned to her seat grinning.
“Sorry about that, but we have the Army account and my boss wants us to thank soldiers we see for their service. It’s a good thing.” Star peeled the paper off her blueberry muffin, picked off pieces, and nibbled them like a polite rabbit.
“No problem,” Marie Ann said coolly, not losing track. “I’ll deduct a hundred dollars a session. In ten jobs, your debt will be paid.”
“That would be great. You would do that for me?”
“Sure, Star. Let’s win this thing.”
“What if you could become the Queen?” she asked.
“I would consider it an honor,” Star said, loud enough to have two patrons at different tables turn their heads her way curiously.
“Being a Japanese girl with a black father in the pageant would fight racism for all of us,” Marie Ann pointed out.
“I care more about the family than fighting for a good cause,” Star said, and coughed politely.
“What else would you like to get from the experience?”
“To express that in my heart I am Japanese and not just mixed.” Tears welled up in Star’s eyes, and she wiped them into a napkin.
Marie Ann pushed for resolution. “This is the way for you to honor your family and your father. I promise to be there for you all the way. You can do this.”
Star finished wiping and blew her nose into the well-worn napkin.
“Bring it on. I’ll do it.”
Marie Ann shrieked and jumped from her seat, spilling her perfect drink. Star rose to her feet, and the women hugged excitedly while the other patrons looked on.
A Starbucks attendant rushed to clean up the spill while the ladies left the store, talking enthusiastically about Star’s chances.
