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That hasn’t been my experience.
CHAPTER16
THE SURPRISE GETAWAY
SAZUKI
The lifeI left behind is so far removed from the life I lead here in America that it is shocking to see my mother flitting around my kitchen preparing breakfast.
Sunshine pours through the windows, lighting up the canned pickles andnatto—fermented soybean paste—that she brought along with her.
My mother hears my footsteps and whirls around. Her eyes are bright despite the early hour. She wears her hair short and fluffy and favors using makeup, even if she plans to spend the day at home.
Today, her eyebrows are painted on perfectly and her lips are a purple-red color. Faint wrinkles curve like happy smiles beneath her eyes and bracket her mouth.
She is not the type to fuss too much about sunscreen or wearing hats. My mother believes in aging organically. She visited a clinic only once—and it was to receive double eyelid surgery when she was sixteen.
I cover my mouth to hide a yawn and croak out a ‘good morning’ in Japanese.
My mother stops short. Her eyes narrow on me. “Why do you speak so formally?”
“Why did you bring half of sobo’s cupboard?” I gesture to the cans that are taking over my kitchen. “Did you have room to fit clothes into your suitcase?”
“You are trying to change the subject.” She hefts the pot spoon that had been stirring the miso soup at me. Drops of the soup plop at her feet, but she does not seem to notice. “You leave for America and suddenly, you forget we are family?”
“I have not forgotten.”
My mother whirls around, her colorful blouse fluttering behind her. She lowers the flame and uses chop sticks to flip the fish over. The smell of frying fish skin makes my stomach gurgle.
“Tell Niko to join us. I have already invited Ashanti as well.”
I stop and study her stern face. Not even the lines of age and exhaustion have softened her. “Mother, what are you thinking?”
“Me? I am thinking that Niko must eat a hearty breakfast to do well in school.” She sets the fish on a plate. “These American cereals. So full of sugar. They are not good for her.”
“Why did you bring Ashanti with you?”
“I told you. We met by accident,” she says, stepping past me and moving the plate to the table.
“Why is your story so hard to believe?”
Her eyes sharpen. “Are you calling me a liar?”
“Of course not.” I trail her back to the stove where she slips on gloves and pulls the miso soup from the open flame. “Let me.” I reach for the soup, but she hurls it away. “If you want to be of help, serve the rice.”
I take out three bowls.
Then I hesitate.
Slowly, I take out a fourth bowl for Ashanti.
My mother gives me an approving nod when I return with four bowls. “Sazuki blood runs through Niko’s veins. Because of this, Niko’s mother will forever be joined to our family, whether we want to acknowledge it or not. It would be extremely improper of me to ignore her.”
“The rest of the family had no problem doing so.”
Her mouth tightens. “They have their reasons.”
“The elders barely wish to acknowledge Niko because of her half-American blood. They have not once called or asked about her welfare. She does not even remember her life in Japan.”
