So I walked up the stairs. When he pushed open the door, he took his shoes off and I did, too, and put them right next to two pairs of Hello Kitty tennis shoes and a pair of cool orange sneakers I knew had to be Aiko’s.
“Welcome to Tokyo!” I heard and when I looked up another level of stairs, standing there were the twins who already looked to be about three feet, with long black hair, and their mother who was even prettier in person. By the time I got to the top step I realized the twins looked just like Aiko. I felt bad for thinking they weren’t that cute, but we all grow into our looks. I was nothing to scream about when I was their age.
“Hello, Nana!” they said simultaneously and in perfect English.
When I got to the top landing I was crushed by hugs around my hips and upper arms and I just said, “Hello, daughter and granddaughters!”
“Finally, I get to meet my other mother in person!”
“Maybe you and Jackson should get married again while I’m here and I’ll give him away!”
She laughed. And I hugged her while the girls took me by the hands and led me up more stairs.
What a crib, as the young folks say. It looked like an ad for a magazine, except I couldn’t help but notice that every piece of furniture was low, which was why when I went to sit down I got a catch in my back. And over the next few days I would wonder if Jackson got tired of ducking under the doorways or if he ever missed. When they took me down the hall to my room, the bed was on the floor. Everything was low. But I liked it.
“Ma,” Jackson said, ducking his head in the doorway. “Do you need to lie down for a bit? If so, I can close the door so the girls won’t bother you.”
But it was too late, they had run around him, hopped on my bed, patted it, and said “sweep,” which was exactly what we did. For an hour. When I opened my eyes they were staring at me. “Heyyo, Nana,” they said at the same time, and then pulled me out of bed.
“Wait!” I said, and they stopped dead in their tracks.
“Nana brought something for you.”
“Legos?”
“Nikes?”
I just shook my head while laughing because for some stupid reason I wasn’t expecting them to even know what these things were! I know they’re bilingual, but Lord have mercy!
I walked over and got the bag with all of the things I’d bought and took the girls out into whatever room this was, which was when I heard Jackson say something to Aiko in Japanese. She said something back to him in Japanese, then turned to me.
“Jackson wondered if it would be okay to take you out for dinner, but I said I would much prefer to prepare a traditional Japanese meal on your first night. How does that sound, Ma?”
She just called me Ma. I loved it.
“I would love to taste your cooking, sweetie.”
“Sweetie!” the girls said simultaneously. “Sweetie!”
“I can help.”
“You can’t because I won’t let you. Would you like some hot tea or sake?”
“Tea,” Jackson said.
“How long have you been speaking Japanese, Jackson?”
“I had to learn when I got my first job here. I took a crash course, but when everybody else is speaking it, you catch on faster. I love this language.”
I gave him a thumbs-up, and the girls did the same.
They had already opened the luggage and started pulling out all the stuff I shouldn’t have bought them and squealing. They ran over and hugged me like they might not ever see me again and then grabbed me by the hand and pulled me upstairs where the kitchen and dining room were. Things are different in Japan.
And while the girls played, Aiko told me about her family and I told her about mine.
She told me why she fell in love with my son.
And he told me why he fell in love with her.
She prepared something amazing that I’d never tasted in a Japanese restaurant in America before.
“So, you have your tourist list then?” Jackson asked.
“I do.”
“Throw it away. We know the best spots for tourists.”
“What about black people?”
“We aw bwack!” the girls said at the same time.
“And Japanese,” they said.
I was tired again, and after I was given a tutorial on how to turn on the shower, I realized I should’ve asked how to flush the toilet, which looked like a rectangular computer screen on top of the tank. I just pressed a few controls and was surprised when the seat started heating up. In fact, I actually jumped up and started laughing because I remembered growing up when Ma used to accuse me of being hot in the ass. I thought I had gotten it back!
* * *
—
In the morning, Aiko took the girls to what I assumed was pre-school. Jackson said, “Since we don’t have you for long, I would first like to take you to Shinjuku Gy-oen, because there we can talk and we may not have this kind of peace for the rest of your short visit, okay?”
And so we did.
I thought I was in an enchanted Japanese forest full of lush beautiful trees and flowers and ponds.
Jackson said, “Can you sit on the grass okay, Ma?”
I just looked at him.
“Do I look handicapped?”
“No. In fact, you look quite healthy.”
And then he reached inside his backpack and took out a kind of black tarp like I’d seen other people doing. He spread it out on the grass and we sat down and just looked at the pond and the trees. High above the trees I saw the Empire State Building again.
“So,” he said. “I have some good news.”
“I’m all ears.”
“I’m coming home.”
“What do you mean you’re coming home? I thought you were happily married, Jackson.”
“I am. We are. And Aiko’s mom is coming, too. Can’t leave her here or she’d be all alone.”
I could not wipe the smile off my face.
“Are you serious? You mean you’re coming home to live?”
He smiled.
“I love Japan. But I have been away from my family long enough. I want the girls to grow up in America. Pasadena. I miss you and I want to get to know Jalecia and see Grandma and all of my pretend aunties again. I just want to live in a more diverse country. By the look on your face I know I’ve shocked you.”
I nodded yes.
“And this is definitely for sure?”
He nodded yes.
Then I started clapping.
“How soon?”
“Spring. So we’ll have to miss this Thanksgiving but I hope you won’t be too disappointed since we’ll be back for good.”
“I was not expecting you to tell me anything like this, Jackson. But gobble gobble!”
And instead of a hug, I gave him a hard high five!
* * *
—
For the next four days we did #1, #2, #6, #7, and #9, and thank God we did not have to do Disneyland.
On my last day, I met Aiko’s mother, who spoke very little English. She is sixty-five but looks fifty. Her skin looks like gold satin. Maybe she should bring some of this water with her when she moves to Pasadena.
With all this good news, as much as I enjoyed seeing my son and my daughter-in-law and my grandchildren, I was ready to go home.
Not because I was bored. I was exhausted. And one thing had become clear: I’m too old to jet set.
I also want to sleep in my big bed with the thick mattress and my fluffy duvet.
I want to eat American food.
I want to be able to read the signs.
I want to see some black people. Some Mexican people. Some Chinese people. Some white people.
I want to see some tall people.
And there are too many p
eople in Tokyo.
Too many cars.
And again: Tokyo is beautiful. But so is Pasadena.
And knowing that my son and his family will soon be living in America, next time I’ll play tour guide. And I’ll even take Akina and Akari to the real Disneyland.
Everybody who could drive offered to pick me up. But I didn’t want to talk since it was two o’clock in the morning, so, of course, I Ubered home. At the rate I’m going, I may never drive again.
At first B. B. King and Billie Holiday pretended like they didn’t recognize me when I walked in the front door. But then they decided it wasn’t worth being nasty just because I went on vacation and realized it would be in everybody’s best interest if they had an attitude adjustment, which was why B.B. almost knocked poor Billie against the oven to get over to me first. I couldn’t tell if the sound he was making was joy or “where the hell have you been and you could’ve told us you were going on vacation,” but apparently they decided they were grateful I was back and licked both of my hands.
When I heard Kwame come out of Jalecia’s room, he looked a year older. “Mama-Lo,” he said, and wrapped his long arms around me. “Welcome home! But I wish you would’ve let me pick you up! Jackson said you had a great time, but you didn’t get a chance to do as much as you wanted to.”
“I did plenty. Even went on a train that did two hundred miles an hour.”
“Get out. That is so unnecessary. This is just one reason why I’m afraid of foreign countries,” he said.
I did not say another word.
I was just glad to be home.
* * *
—
I forgot to buy souvenirs.
When Jalecia asked, “Ma, you didn’t bring back one thing to prove you even went to Tokyo?”
“Well, yes,” I said.
“Then where is it?”
“Well, Jackson is bringing his adorable little girls and wife and his mother-in-law back home next spring for good. And I’m sure he’ll bring a few souvenirs. How’s that?”
“Seriously, Ma? Jackson is really coming back home?”
“Yes, he is. Just like the rest of us.”
* * *
—
When I walked into Korynthia’s hip-hop class, I thought I was seeing things. First of all, Henry was here. So were Lucky and Joe. I knew none of them had an ounce of rhythm, but I gave them credit for coming. There were a lot of new bodies and I looked around but didn’t see my dancing buddy James, who usually beat me here. I was not only disappointed, but also a little worried.
“Okay, everybody, let’s warm these bodies up!” Ko said and pressed Play. I wasn’t sure who this singer was, but my arms started swaying the way they were supposed to. Lucky, who had on black leggings with a flared skirt over them, waved to me, but Joe, who was in sweats and a baggy sweatshirt, was totally engrossed, like he meant business.
I waved back to Lucky and gave her a thumbs-up.
“Do I get a thumbs-up, too, Miss Loretha?” I heard James ask, and when I turned to my left he looked a tad more handsome today than I remembered in the week I’d been gone.
I gave him a thumbs-up.
“We missed you,” he said.
“We?”
“Me.”
“Really?”
“Really,” he said. “Heard you went to Tokyo.”
And when we heard what everybody knew were the first few beats to “My Prerogative” by Bobby Brown, James and I started rocking our hips back and forth.
“I did.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, was it for business or pleasure?”
“Why?” I asked, but not snarky, as Korynthia would say.
“Curious minds would just like to know.”
“Pleasure.”
“Did you have fun?”
“James and Loretha, if you would prefer to have a tête-à-tête instead of making your hips go around the world, would you mind taking it out into the hallway?”
We tried not to laugh and moved a little farther apart so we would not be tempted to have another tête-à-tête, and after swaying and swirling and reaching and rocking to the beat of “Get Ur Freak On” by Miss Missy Elliott, Korynthia finally said, “Okay, let’s cool it down.” And when we saw her slowly swaying her hips back and forth and then heard her singing into the microphone along with Tina: “Left a good job in the city, working for the man every night and day, and I never lost one minute of sleepin’,” James and I were already oscillating because everybody in here knew this was Korynthia’s favorite mix. Then she said, “Okay everybody, let’s take it nice and easy now. Tina’s gonna finish cooling you off, and all you fellas in here don’t take these lyrics personally because it’s the beat that’s important, so here we go now: ‘All the men come in these places, and the men are all the same….’ ”
“Great class, everybody!” Korynthia yelled and ruined the entire mood. “Have a great day! Live life like you mean it!”
I looked over at James.
And he was looking at me.
I smiled at him.
And he smiled back.
I picked my towel up and he picked his up, too.
I wiped my face.
And he wiped his, too.
“Have you cooled down already?” I asked.
And he said, “No.”
“So, James. Can I ask you something?”
“Anything, as long as it’s personal.”
“Would you like to have a cup of coffee with me?”
He smiled at me again.
“Absolutely. You must’ve been reading my mind.”
For my mama, again and again
and
In memory of my sister, Rosalyn McMillan
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Although you write alone, there are people whose support, confidence, and faith in the story you’re telling are always floating in the room. They are my always and forever smart and intuitive agents, Molly Friedrich and Lucy Carson, and my patient, thoughtful, and brilliant editor, Hilary Teeman, who helped me navigate my way in the telling of this story. I am also grateful to my BFFs since forever, Valari and Gilda, for my not having to explain why I “couldn’t talk” or “couldn’t go”, and last but not least, my son, Solomon, who continues to make me proud and feel even more blessed, for his unwavering support, love, and pride in his Mama (but especially for his purple sweet potato, almond milk, and ginger smoothies).
And we rock on.
BY TERRY MCMILLAN
Mama
Waiting to Exhale
A Day Late and a Dollar Short
How Stella Got Her Groove Back
The Interruption of Everything
Getting to Happy
Disappearing Acts
Who Asked You?
I Almost Forgot About You
It’s Not All Downhill From Here
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
TERRY MCMILLAN is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of Waiting to Exhale, How Stella Got Her Groove Back, A Day Late and a Dollar Short, and The Interruption of Everything, and the editor of Breaking Ice: An Anthology of Contemporary African-American Fiction. Each of McMillan’s nine previous novels was a New York Times bestseller, and four have been made into movies: Waiting to Exhale, How Stella Got Her Groove Back, Disappearing Acts, and A Day Late and a Dollar Short. She lives in California.
TERRYMCMILLAN.COM
TWITTER: @MSTERRYMCMILLAN
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It's Not All Downhill From Here Page 33
