NINETEEN

We all pile into Katsu That—yes, the whole crowd. As people situate themselves in booths and at tables, I spot a familiar face I didn’t notice before.

“Joanna?” I say, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“I told you, I’m your fairy godmother,” she says with a wink. “I saw the gossip this morning, obviously, and tried texting you. But you didn’t answer, so I came down here to see if I could find you. And then happened upon all these other people trying to find you.” She smiles. “So many people care about you, Sweet Rika.”

I don’t quite know what to do with that, so I smile back and then cram myself into a booth next to Belle and Rory, my nure-onna T-shirt clutched in my fists.

“Well,” Auntie Suzy says, surveying the assembled crowd. “I was picturing this as a more, mmm, intimate discussion where I only shared this story with Rika—”

“It’s all right,” I manage to say. “You can tell it in front of everyone.”

I’m not sure why, but it feels like the whole community needs to hear this story, some of their shared secrets finally emerging from the shadows.

“All right, then,” Auntie Suzy says. She draws herself up tall, that defiant glint returning to her eyes. “I guess it’s time we all talked about this properly.”

She trains her gaze on me, so many emotions passing over her face. “Rika-chan. I know you hate a lot of fairy tales. But maybe you’ll like this one—because the ending is so bittersweet.”

She stays standing and turns to gaze out the window, a faraway look overtaking her expression.

“Once upon a time, my sister, Grace Kimura . . . no. Grace Rakuyama.” She smiles slightly to herself. “She and I were as close as two people can be. Our father was strict and often cruel. Our mother was scared of him and rarely said anything—she faded into the background so much, eventually she faded away to nothing. She died of some kind of heart condition—my father would never tell us exactly what—when I was ten and Grace was only three.”

My heart is beating so fast and so loudly, I’m convinced everyone in the restaurant can hear it. A hush has fallen over the crowd as Auntie Suzy tells her tale, her voice clear and strong.

“I remember loving Grace from the moment she was born—I thought that’s what everyone meant when they talked about love at first sight. This sudden full-body pull toward another person. The first time I got to hold her, she looked up at me with the biggest smile, like she somehow knew to trust me completely—and I was gone. When our mother passed, my first urge was to take care of her. To protect her with everything I had.”

Auntie Suzy pauses, her eyes going a little glassy. She’s still looking out the window. Like she can’t quite look at me.

“We were so tightly bonded together—as we got older, sometimes I didn’t know where I ended and she began. Did we both love this certain kind of curry because one of us had first? Or had we developed a taste for it simultaneously, being so in sync? My father never wanted to have girls. He had very little use for us—except when we were fulfilling some kind of outdated notion of what femininity should be. I don’t think Grace ever truly thought that he loved her. So I made sure she knew she was loved by someone. Every day. I was determined that she would never lose that big smile she’d given me when she was a baby.”

My eyes have already filled with tears. I feel like I know where this is going, where it will end up. I want to cry for Auntie Suzy, who has been taking care of other people so selflessly since she was just a child herself. And for my mother, who began a hard life with such joy.

It doesn’t feel like I can cry yet, though. So I hold my breath and fight back the tears, waiting for Auntie Suzy to continue.

“Even when our father disapproved of the things we did, we always had each other. When I became Nikkei Week Queen and fell in love with Och, Grace helped me. Covered for me when we went on dates, things like that. She was convinced that one day our father would approve and we’d all live happily ever after, as a family.” Auntie Suzy’s jaw tightens, her smile twisting. “I knew that would never happen. And when Grace started acting, started having these fanciful dreams of pursuing it as a career . . . well, I knew our father wouldn’t like that, either. But I helped her however I could. At that point, Och and I had gotten married and opened our restaurant, so I would give her money for school play costumes and acting classes, things like that. And I always sent her flowers on opening night.”

I picture my mother, only fifteen, her eyes lighting up as she’s handed a dreamy bouquet of pink flowers. Somehow I just know they were pink.

“And then . . .” Auntie Suzy’s gaze darkens. “She got pregnant. Some boy who was in the play with her—and I’m so sorry, Rika-chan, but I don’t know who he was. Rumor has it that he and his family moved away right after, wanting a fresh start. But there was no fresh start for Grace.” Auntie Suzy takes a deep breath, and I feel like I can practically see inside her brain—all the memories she’s tried to forget for so many years.

“I told her not to tell our father,” Auntie Suzy continues. “I knew that would only end badly. But one of the things about Grace . . . she was always so convinced of people’s inherent goodness. She thought that if he loved her, he’d come around. But of course, he didn’t. Instead of giving her a safe place to land, he threatened to disown us both. He couldn’t believe he’d raised . . .” Her voice catches, but she shakes it off, soldiering on. “Two degenerates,” she spits out. “I wanted to stand up to him, to tell him I was sick of how he’d made both of us feel worthless. To disown him. But Grace . . .” She shakes her head. “She knew that would be catastrophic for me and Och and our little fledgling restaurant. Our father was a powerful elder figure in the Little Tokyo community, and he could very likely get other elders to boycott the restaurant—which would only spread until we had no business at all. He could have gotten all of Little Tokyo to turn their backs on us—something he’d certainly threatened to do before.”

I feel a small hand take mine, forcing me to let go of my shirt. I look over to see Rory, her eyes as big as dinner plates. She’s so invested in where this is going. Belle is sitting on her other side, so she’s kind of sandwiched in between us. I see Belle take Rory’s other hand and look up to catch her eye. We share a small, impulsive smile. I can’t help but feel like we’re cradling Rory, holding her close to us—like Auntie Suzy tried to do with Grace.

“Grace told me she’d give the baby up for adoption,” Auntie Suzy continues. “But I could tell that would break her heart—shatter her beyond fixing.” She turns away from the window and meets my gaze, and there is something so tender lighting her eyes. Something I’ve never really seen before from her. “She always wanted you, Rika-chan. That was never in doubt.”

Something twists in my chest, and I can only nod quickly, my eyes going to the floor.

“So we came up with a plan. Och and I would take the baby in. Grace would disappear. We’d say she died in childbirth. And as outlandish as this sounds, it actually wasn’t that hard to do. At that point, everyone knew she was pregnant, and everyone was talking. But no one showed up to support. As much as we go on around here about family being so important, I guess a pregnant fifteen-year-old was just too much for people to handle.”

A few of the older people in the room hang their heads, shamed. And rightfully so, I think.

“Many people shunned her, just pretended she didn’t exist. I had gotten her set up at a hospital that wasn’t anywhere near Little Tokyo—the same hospital where I had Belle, just months before. My father never came with us. So when I returned from the hospital with a baby and a story about how my little sister had died . . . well. I think he was relieved, to be honest.” Auntie Suzy’s eyes flash with anger. This particular rage has never left her—it’s just been buried very deeply for the past seventeen years. “Grace and I decided that she would set herself up with a new last name and a different life and hide out until either the taint of scandal faded or our father passed away. She lied about her age and got odd jobs waitressing and cleaning houses, and of course I sent her money whenever I could. Strangely, because I had taken in the baby”—she frowns, turning back to the window—“my father decided he could tolerate my other . . . ‘transgressions.’ I guess it was just such a good Japanese-daughter thing to do. Perhaps the only time in my life I was ever a good Japanese daughter, in his estimation.”

Her face twists into a bitter smile.

“Our father did pass away eventually, but the scandal never quite died down. And Grace, after several years of working herself to the bone and going on whatever auditions she could . . . well, she finally landed her first big role. The one that would make her a star.”

“An Asian Hollywood princess,” Belle murmurs.

“Over the years, she kept asking when she could come back,” Auntie Suzy says. “When she could finally be a mother to you. I always said the time wasn’t right.”

Auntie Suzy pauses again, taking deep breaths. Then she forces herself to turn and meet my eyes.

“This is where I went wrong, Rika-chan, but you must understand that it didn’t seem that way at the time. The years stretched on and . . . it was never the right time. I’d finally made a place in the community for myself—for our family. Our restaurant was thriving. I felt like I belonged, at last. And you seemed to be doing so well—you had judo and your sisters, and you were so”—she smiles a little—“so fierce. Your spirit was one of the boldest I’d ever seen. I didn’t want to disrupt any of that—I couldn’t bring myself to rock the boat. We’d fought so hard . . .” She trails off, bowing her head. “And there were other complications as well. The backstory Grace’s Hollywood people invented for her was completely made up, no mention of Little Tokyo or her secret child. She kept talking about how this would have to be done a certain way—there would be some kind of big-deal publicity photo shoot, revealing you. You would suddenly be in the public eye, exposed. Everything about you would be scrutinized, picked apart. You were still so little, I couldn’t imagine . . .” She shakes her head, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. “I could not see how that would be good for you. Grace and I finally had a huge fight when you were five. Twelve years ago. And I told her that she could keep the money she had started to send back, we didn’t need it. We haven’t spoken since.”

Auntie Suzy pauses for so long, I think maybe that’s the end of the story—appropriately bittersweet. But then her mouth curves into the most wistful of smiles.

“But I could never resist watching her movies. I felt like I was finally seeing her get the happy ending she’d always deserved. And that I was still connected to the person I’d once been closer to than anyone in the world.”

I think of how Auntie Suzy always looks at the end of a Grace Kimura movie—tears in her eyes, that same wistful smile lighting her face. I always thought she was crying because of the cheesy romantic beauty of it all—but she was crying for so much more.

Auntie Suzy meets my eyes again. “I’m so sorry, Rika-chan. I don’t think I can ever make up for what I’ve cost you. You must know that I always did what I thought was best for you. You were your mother’s complete opposite when you came out—red-faced, screaming, always so angry. But I knew you were going to fight hard for everything, just like she did. And I loved you as immediately and fiercely as I loved her.”

Auntie Suzy’s eyes fill with tears again, and she gives me a wavery smile.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

Silence falls over the crowd, enveloping us like a blanket. I just stare at Auntie Suzy. I barely remember anyone else is in the room.

I don’t know what to do next, so I let pure instinct guide me. I give Rory’s hand a squeeze and pass her my nure-onna shirt, then slip out of the booth, gathering my big skirts around me. I slowly cross the room to Auntie Suzy, my eyes never leaving hers. I stand in front of her for a long moment, still not sure exactly what I’m doing. She draws herself up a little taller, like she’s bracing herself. Waiting for a fight. Because she knows I’m always ready for a fight.

I should be angry with her. After hearing that story, my kaiju-temper should be raging to get out. But all I see when I look at her is the girl she used to be, the girl who fought like hell for everything. Who fought like hell for me. And yes, who’s made a bunch of mistakes along the way, but mistakes always tend to happen when you’re fighting so damn hard. I know that better than anyone.

I thought I was waiting for someone to want me. But all this time, someone did.

I take another step forward, closing the distance between us.

And then I collapse against her, throwing my arms around her waist and burying my face in her shoulder. I let out a long, shuddering sob—something that feels like it’s been bottled up inside me for the past seventeen years.

“I love you so much,” I whisper.

“Oh, Rika,” she says, stroking my hair. “Rika-chan.”

“Wait, I have a question!” a little voice yells, puncturing the moment.

Auntie Suzy and I look up from our embrace to see Rory jumping to her feet, planting her hands on her hips in indignation.

“Why didn’t anyone in Little Tokyo recognize Grace when she became a big star?” She narrows her eyes at some of the older people in the room. “I mean, none of you thought it was odd that this supposedly dead outcast girl was suddenly on all your movie screens?”

“Years had passed by then,” Auntie Suzy says. “She looked just different enough that people could pretend like they’d forgotten about tragic little Grace Rakuyama.”

“Hmph,” Auntie Och snorts, getting to her feet. “It was also shame.” She glares at everyone else. “This community was ashamed of that lost girl who got pregnant, ne? They treat her like garbage, then she die. When she shows up again in the movies . . .” Auntie Och shrugs. “Easier to act like they never see her before. Easier to pretend she’s a whole new person.” Her glare intensifies, and some people in the room can’t help but shrink away from it. “We have too many secrets. Too much shame in our secrets.”

“Sounds like the Asian way,” I mutter under my breath. I’m surprised to hear Auntie Suzy snort at that, like she’s on the verge of a laugh.

“What is going on here?”

We all swivel toward the piercing voice that’s broken into our sanctum, a dissonant disruption to all the crying.

And there, standing in the doorway of Katsu That, is the last person I expected to see.

Craig Shimizu. Glowering at the assembled crowd.

And then his gaze lands on me, and that glower turns to pure hate.