Read Online Three Scenarios in Which Hana Sasaki Grows a Tail by Kelly Luce - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kelly Luce
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little objects she fashioned by moonlight—cups, saucers, vases—she left out to bake in the next day’s sun.
She threw up on Friday night. It came upon her while she was adding water to a batch of gyoza dough, and she barely managed to step over to the sink in time. When she stood back up from the basin, excitement burst through her chest and set her body tingling. She was not one to vomit for nothing. Other than one night of heavy drinking, the last time she’d thrown up was when she was pregnant.
She washed her face with dish soap, rinsed out the sink, and sank to the floor. She breathed deeply, wondering what to do. There was a convenience store nearby where she could buy a pregnancy test. But Lou was due back any minute and would wonder about the half-made dumplings. He’d be sure to ask where she’d gone, and she didn’t want to raise his hopes in case it was a false alarm. She had disappointed him enough.
As she rose to continue mixing the dough, she heard him coming up the stairs. A moment later, he opened the door a sliver and spoke through the crack.
“Yumi, come up in five minutes. I have a little surprise for you.”
“OK,” she replied. The last time he’d said that, he’d asked her to marry him.
She retrieved her makeup kit from the bathroom, which was still crowded with tools and pieces of pipe. The new toilet, complete with heated seat ring and button-activated bidet, sat in the shower, waiting.
In the kitchen, she applied blush, checking her reflection in the toaster. She brushed her hair and drank some water. They both wanted a baby girl. She hurried outside to the ladder, leaving the dough behind.
She had so masterfully avoided discussing the evening’s plans that she’d forgotten to think about them herself. Friday, of course, was the final day of Obon, when the spirits returned home, the day of the riverside festival when candlelit paper lanterns crowded the water. Once, as a child, she had seen one of the floating lanterns catch fire. The paper was so thin that the entire lantern seemed to disappear in a single flash. Her father had called it a bad omen. Secretly, though, she had found the sight pleasing, surrounded as it was by such uniformity.
She climbed up the ladder more carefully than she had in previous days. She hoped his surprise wouldn’t interfere with a trip down to the river, where they could piece together a meal from the food booths, drink some beer— no, no beer for her—and watch the fireworks.
But when she reached the top, she gasped. Lou sat surrounded by candles, cross-legged, among dishes of food and two bottles of red wine. His head and face were completely shaved.
She took a deep breath, and let her gaze fall on the candles behind him. The flames looked hardened; the air was so still she imagined there was no wind left on the planet; it had blown its last gust and given up.
“The fireworks are starting soon,” he said, reaching for her. “We’ll have the best view in the city.”
“Your hair,” she said.
“It got to be too much. So I ducked over to work and plugged in the shaver.” He rubbed his shiny head and grinned. “What do you think?”
“It’s... clean.”
He made a face.
“I think we could go down to the river. You know, for the lanterns.”
“But we’re having such a good time up here in our little settlement.”
She looked at all his preparations, tenderness rising in her, but when she thought of the river, she held her ground. “Can we please do the thing I want to do? Isn’t it enough that we didn’t see my parents?”
“Fuck, Yumi.” He took a single soft white mochi ball and hurled it off the roof. He threw another, and another. A tiny splash came from below: one must have landed in Kobayashi-san’s koi pond.
“Ehh? What was that?”
Yumiko rushed past Lou, stopping a few feet back from the edge of the roof. Nausea turned her stomach, and she swallowed hard. “It’s just us, Kobayashi-san. It was a mistake.
She threw up on Friday night. It came upon her while she was adding water to a batch of gyoza dough, and she barely managed to step over to the sink in time. When she stood back up from the basin, excitement burst through her chest and set her body tingling. She was not one to vomit for nothing. Other than one night of heavy drinking, the last time she’d thrown up was when she was pregnant.
She washed her face with dish soap, rinsed out the sink, and sank to the floor. She breathed deeply, wondering what to do. There was a convenience store nearby where she could buy a pregnancy test. But Lou was due back any minute and would wonder about the half-made dumplings. He’d be sure to ask where she’d gone, and she didn’t want to raise his hopes in case it was a false alarm. She had disappointed him enough.
As she rose to continue mixing the dough, she heard him coming up the stairs. A moment later, he opened the door a sliver and spoke through the crack.
“Yumi, come up in five minutes. I have a little surprise for you.”
“OK,” she replied. The last time he’d said that, he’d asked her to marry him.
She retrieved her makeup kit from the bathroom, which was still crowded with tools and pieces of pipe. The new toilet, complete with heated seat ring and button-activated bidet, sat in the shower, waiting.
In the kitchen, she applied blush, checking her reflection in the toaster. She brushed her hair and drank some water. They both wanted a baby girl. She hurried outside to the ladder, leaving the dough behind.
She had so masterfully avoided discussing the evening’s plans that she’d forgotten to think about them herself. Friday, of course, was the final day of Obon, when the spirits returned home, the day of the riverside festival when candlelit paper lanterns crowded the water. Once, as a child, she had seen one of the floating lanterns catch fire. The paper was so thin that the entire lantern seemed to disappear in a single flash. Her father had called it a bad omen. Secretly, though, she had found the sight pleasing, surrounded as it was by such uniformity.
She climbed up the ladder more carefully than she had in previous days. She hoped his surprise wouldn’t interfere with a trip down to the river, where they could piece together a meal from the food booths, drink some beer— no, no beer for her—and watch the fireworks.
But when she reached the top, she gasped. Lou sat surrounded by candles, cross-legged, among dishes of food and two bottles of red wine. His head and face were completely shaved.
She took a deep breath, and let her gaze fall on the candles behind him. The flames looked hardened; the air was so still she imagined there was no wind left on the planet; it had blown its last gust and given up.
“The fireworks are starting soon,” he said, reaching for her. “We’ll have the best view in the city.”
“Your hair,” she said.
“It got to be too much. So I ducked over to work and plugged in the shaver.” He rubbed his shiny head and grinned. “What do you think?”
“It’s... clean.”
He made a face.
“I think we could go down to the river. You know, for the lanterns.”
“But we’re having such a good time up here in our little settlement.”
She looked at all his preparations, tenderness rising in her, but when she thought of the river, she held her ground. “Can we please do the thing I want to do? Isn’t it enough that we didn’t see my parents?”
“Fuck, Yumi.” He took a single soft white mochi ball and hurled it off the roof. He threw another, and another. A tiny splash came from below: one must have landed in Kobayashi-san’s koi pond.
“Ehh? What was that?”
Yumiko rushed past Lou, stopping a few feet back from the edge of the roof. Nausea turned her stomach, and she swallowed hard. “It’s just us, Kobayashi-san. It was a mistake.
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