A few hours later,
Baby Cake comes with her mom and dad.
She toddles into the house, and says,
“omedeto,” in her baby way.
Mama hands her an omochi ball
and then a money envelope,
which Dr. Haseda puts in her pocketbook right
away
so Kate won’t eat it.
Then Timothy comes back.
“It’s boring over there,” he says,
and soon Stacey comes with her parents.
The adults go into the living room
to watch the Rose Parade,
and the rest of us sit at the table
and play Go Fish and Old Maid and Crazy Eights
because we can’t play any card games in our house
that use money or have names like liquor.
“It’s too bad there aren’t any boys here,”
Sharon says, “or we could play Truth or Dare.”
“Excuse me,” Timothy says, sweeping his cards into his hand.
“You’re different—you’re Mimi’s friend,” she says, and we all laugh.
Baby Cake is sitting in my lap.
She keeps grabbing my cards,
but I’d rather play Pat-a-Cake with her
and name her toes—
Piggy Wiggy
Penny Rudy
Rudy Whistle
Mary Hossle
I grasp her big toe
aaaannd
—Kate wiggles and squeals—
Big Tom Bumble!
Then I notice the TV sound is soft,
and Papa is talking very low.
All of us in the kitchen
whisper our game.
“Got a queen?” “Go fish.”
“I might be heading up a new program
in the fall,” Papa says. “African American studies.”
“That would be a great opportunity for you,”
Dr. Haseda says.
“Yes,” Papa says, and sighs. “And a lot of work.
But the administration sees a new decade ahead
with changes.”
“Congratulations, man,” Rick says,
to the clink of many glasses,
and Papa says, “So, we’ll be staying here for a while.”
And I hear more clinks.
In the kitchen Shelley says, “A toast
to your dad,” and we all lift our glasses
of ginger ale and Tab and root beer.
She clinks my glass
and says, “omedeto gozaimasu . . .
y’all!”