The Book of the Pearl

by Carrie Asai

  I missed Ohiko. I missed my father.

  By the time I got home, the late afternoon sunlight was casting long shadows over the front yards and gardens of Dawson Street. The house was exactly as I had left it—the half-eaten bowl of Corn Pops on the coffee table, the cushion lying at the base of the TV where I had hurled it—and still no Cheryl. I turned on some lights and began to clean up.

  I needed to forget. And the only place I could think of to do it was Vibe. But first I’d need a nap.

  Dancing was hard work, too—but least it was the kind of work I couldn’t screw up.

  Things aren’t how they used to be with Karen. Since the kidnapping she’s become more needy—not exactly the strong, independent woman I became close to, the woman who was so composed and patient—my lotus flower. Part of that is normal, I know—it’s just the healing process at work. She has anger and fear that must be channeled into a new strength. That takes time.

  What worries me is not her dependence, exactly, but the bitterness she seems to feel toward Heaven. And her sudden inability to accept the choices I make in my life. When Karen came over after Heaven and I fought the last time, I told her that I needed to be by myself to meditate, and for the first time she didn’t understand. She cried. Begged me not to see Heaven again. “It’s tearing you apart,” she said, “and I need you right now.”

  I knew when I became involved with Karen that the relationship might distract me from my path—at the time I did not care. Karen seemed like a stable presence, a blessing in a life that Heaven’s arrival turned upside down. She was a link to the present, to the life that I’d built here in Los Angeles. And I needed that link when Heaven, who seemed a reminder of my past, came to claim my attention. I needed Karen when Heaven’s predicament threatened to topple my carefully constructed new life. But the bushido says that a samurai must be single-minded in the pursuit of his duty. Romantic relationships fulfill only the needs of the body—and the fleeting desires of the present. And perhaps I have been unwise in thinking that Karen could save me.

  Perhaps being with her has only been an escape.

  As I meditate, it occurs to me that no matter what I do now, I will hurt her. And this gives me great pain. What is worse, when I picture a life without Karen in it, I have to admit to myself that I do not picture myself alone.

  It is not the solitude of the samurai my heart yearns for.

  It is another path, with another woman.

  Hiro

  10

  Thump,thump ,thump …the bass laid down a smooth, consistent line—a shining path for my body to follow when the melody or the wild vocals veered off track—my very own trail of bread crumbs through the song.Now thisis music, I thought. The crowd of dancers pressed tightly around me, and in the warm grip of the groove it didn’t matter that I was alone. I was part of something larger and more pure than anything I could imagine.

  The song ended, and when the DJ put on a slower groove, I tied my sweaty hair up into a bun and walked to the bar. Being in the zone on the dance floor reminded me of the mission Hiro had given me before our “breakup.” Although I’d had plenty of time to meditate—what with Cheryl giving me the silent treatment—I just hadn’t been able to get up the energy to do it, and I hadway too much to think about to “clear my head.” Training seemed so far away…and was I evensupposed to continue with my mission now that I’d lost my trainer? I pressed my worries away. Tonight was for fun—and dancing would just have to be my Zen koan for now.

  “Having a good time, Miss Heaven?” A. J. called out to me as I squeezed between a couple of girls who were trying to get his attention. I ignored their dirty looks. I was going to forget about my problemsand everyone else’s.

  “Great!” I yelled, laughing. “But I’m thirsty.”

  “One vodka cranberry, coming right up!” A. J. tossed the bottle of vodka in the air behind his back, took a step, and caught it.

  “Gotta keep in practice, you know?” A. J. said, setting the drink in front of me. “And what can I do for you ladies?” he asked the girls next to me with a little bow. I picked up my drink and turned around to watch the action on the dance floor. Vibe was packed tonight, and part of me wished that I was working so I could make even more money. But I also needed a break—and I could tell the dancing was doing me good. My body was used to a lot of physical activity, and since I’d stopped training, I’d started to feel sort of sluggish. I reminded myself again that tonight was for doing, not thinking. And one of the things I was doing was working on my dance moves.

  “So, Heaven, what’d you think about the Funkitout song?” A. J. leaned toward me as he pulled a couple of bottles of beer out from the cooler under the bar. I choked a little on my drink. I’d been hoping he’d forget about the CD.

  “I loved it!” I said, overcompensating.

  “Wow. Really? Hold on—” A. J. delivered the beers, then came back over. “It’s pretty catchy, huh?”

  “Mmm…definitely.” I nodded vaguely. “And I love how the crowd voices kind of come in on the refrain—it’s not very original, but it’s a good hook.”

  “So what’s the song about? Slavo’s been after me to ask you. Be right back.” A customer at the other end of the bar was waving a twenty in the air. I chewed on a piece of ice—this shouldn’t be that hard. All A. J. knew was that the song was about a girl named Heaven, so…

  “Here.” A. J. appeared with another vodka cranberry.

  “You trying to get me drunk?” I joked.

  “Why not? It’s your night off.”

  “Good point.” I exchanged my empty glass for the full one and set to work on Vodka Cranberry: The Sequel.

  “So? The song?”

  “Oh. Yeah. Well, it’s about this girl named Heaven who falls in love with this boy. Nothing that exciting. She does him wrong, then he breaks up with her, and she comes back to him when he proves to her that he’s better than all the other guys. Just the standard stuff.”

  “But don’t you think it’s weird that it would be about a girl named Heaven? I mean, that’s a pretty uncommon name.”

  “Actually, in Japan it isn’t,” I lied, apologizing to A. J. in my head. Some goodwill ambassador I was. Disseminating false information about my native country.

  “Really? I didn’t know that.”

  “Yep.” I nodded, warming up. “In fact, it’s a name that brings good luck, some say. So when you take that, combined with the subject matter of the lyrics, it’s kind of a perfect fit. There are a bunch of folk songs written about a girl named Heaven, even. We used to sing them in school.” I didn’t know if it was the drink or what, but suddenly I was lying like a champ. Without even a blush. Normally when I tried to evade the truth I turned into a bumbling idiot.

  “Interesting…,” A. J. said, “It’s funny that even someplace like Japan, hip-hop incorporates older genres—same as here.”

  “Excuse me!”shouted a girl wearing a dashiki at the end of the bar. A. J. rolled his eyes.

  “Duty calls.” He poured vodka into a shot glass. “On the house, of course,” he said before moving off.What the hell, I thought, and drank it down.

  I stood at the bar for a while watching A. J. pouring drinks. He was so quick on his feet—He’d be good at karate,I thought. Nice hand-eye coordination. It occurred to me that A. J. was pretty cute, really, and definitely easy to talk to. Whycouldn’t I have a crush on someone like that? Maybe Cheryl was right—aside from him being my boss, he’d be a perfect boyfriend. I allowed myself to picture a world in which A. J. and I went on dates just like every other couple in L.A. We could go have dinner and walk the Santa Monica pier, take a ride on the roller coaster, hold hands. We could go for day trips to Big Sur and hike along the coast—do all the happy, carefree things I’d read about in guidebooks before coming to L.A. Things my life right now wouldn’t allow.

  “Well, if it isn’t Heaven—Johnson, is it?” A hand slid around my waist. Marcus. I instinctively jerked back, but Marcus’s hand stayed
firmly planted on my hip, his arm clasping me too close for comfort.

  “Is Cheryl here?” I asked, trying to subtly wriggle out of his grip. It was the first question that popped into my head.

  “Funny. I was about to ask you the same thing.” Up close, I could see that Marcus had a thin scar running from the outer corner of his left eye all the way down to his jawbone. I couldn’t help staring at it.

  “All the ladies wanna know where I got this from,” Marcus said in his deadly, deep voice. “Do you?”

  “Not really,” I said, blushing and pushing his arm off me. He frightened me. I wanted to be back on the dance floor, back where Marcus didn’t exist.

  “Aw, come on. You know you do.” Marcus traced the scar with his index finger as he moved closer. I saw A. J. shoot us a look, and I prayed that he would come and rescue me.

  “Well?” I looked him in the eye. Might as well get it over with.

  “You see? Everyone wants to know.” Marcus took a sip of his drink. “When I was twelve, I was playing out in the street with some of my neighborhood homies. Stickball or some shit like that. And this one kid, his name was Vincent, he started giving me lots of mouth, you know? Like, ‘Marcus, you gotta pitch that ball harder,’ and, ‘Marcus, why you messin’ up our team with your sorry-ass playin’? So when it was my turn to bat and when Vincent started in again…” Marcus stirred his drink with his finger and licked it slowly. I had a feeling I didn’t want to hear the rest of the story.

  “…I beat the crap out of him.” Marcus looked pleased with himself. Suddenly I felt like I was going to throw up. I couldn’t believe Cheryl had actually made out (and whatever else) with this loser. She was worth twelve of him.

  “That doesn’t really explain how you got the scar,” I said, trying to keep my voice sounding strong and unintimidated.

  “Oh—that was from when they pulled me off him. I tripped and hit a rusty old car fender. It could have been much worse.” Marcus fingered the scar.Could he be any grosser? I wondered.

  “Marcus, whatsup.” A. J. came over, saving me from having to comment on Marcus’s grotesque little reminiscence. They shook hands.

  “Not much, dog. Why don’t you get Heaven and me a drink?” A. J. looked at me, and I nodded. I needed something to stop the anxiety that was washing through me in waves.

  “So, that brings us back to your little friend Cheryl,” Marcus said. “Is she going to be here tonight?”

  “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I haven’t seen her since last night.”

  “Oh, no?” Marcus said, raising his eyebrows. “And why is that?”

  I shrugged. A. J. appeared with our drinks and ran off again. He was too busy to rescue me completely.

  “Wanna dance?” Marcus asked, his hot breath filling my ear.

  “Um…no, thanks,” I said.

  “Why not?” Marcus whispered. “I’ve seen your moves, and they’re pretty fly.”

  “Why, if it isn’t my old friend Marcus!” Nina leaned across the bar and planted a kiss on Marcus’s lips, which he returned. What a jerk.

  “Hello, sweetheart. How’s the night treating you?” Marcus loosened his hold on me, and I took the opportunity to scoot as far away from him as I could.

  “Not bad,” Nina said, glancing at me. “Better for some people who don’t have to work.” She had a lot of nerve for someone who was late practically every night. I was getting fed up with her attitude.

  “Everyone needs a night off,” I said.

  “Ain’t that the truth,” Marcus said. “So what have you been up to?” he asked Nina.

  “I really have to go to the bathroom. See you guys later!” I grabbed my drink and practically sprinted away from the bar before Marcus could say anything else. I wished Cheryl would show up and take a look at the way Marcus and Nina were acting together. Maybethat would convince her he was a slimebag. I decided that Marcus reallywas just a garden-variety creep. And while I didn’t like him and he freaked me out, and while I thought Cheryl shouldn’t be dating him, I doubted he was really dangerous. He kind of reminded me of Teddy, in a way. All bark and very little bite. Why were guys so evil like that? They all tried to be so tough—so badass. Hiro could have had Marcus on the floor in no longer than it took for him to blink an eye, yet—

  No. I couldn’t go around comparing every man to Hiro. And, as far as Marcus was concerned, there was no comparison. Besides, my problems were starting to feel very far away. Almost like I was floating…

  “Hey, are you okay?”

  “Huh?” I opened my eyes and a blond girl with cornrows was peering at me.So Christina Aguilera, I thought. Except the blond chick was wearing considerably more clothing, which wasn’t saying much—she was, like, two degrees away from naked instead of one.

  “It’s just—you looked like you were going to be sick or something. And it’s your turn.”

  What was she talking about? I felt fine. Maybe a little woozy, but that was because I was still catching up on sleep. I hadn’t managed to nap that afternoon when I got home because I was still too wound up from my conversation with Karen—if you could call it a conversation. In fact, I felt great. I looked in the mirror while I washed my hands, then ran my fingers through my hair to get out some of the snarls.

  Don’t let Marcus ruin your night,I lectured myself.This is your time to let go.

  When I reached out to grab my drink, which I’d balanced on top of the hand dryer, I knocked it into the garbage can.

  “Oops.” I giggled. “Bye-bye, Mr. Vodka!” The whole thing struck me as very amusing. I fished the glass out and set it gently against the wall under the sink. “Shhh…,” I said to it, holding my finger against my lips. “Don’t tell anyone you’re here.” I laughed again and stood up. I was ready for more dancing.

  Back outside, I stood for a moment in the shadows of the hallway that led down to the washrooms and the coat-room. Where was Marcus? I wanted to get back on the dance floor without having to deal with him again. I searched the club, sashaying a little to the beat of the music. My vision seemed kinda blurry.Great, I thought,all those years at home and now, when I’m on my own, my vision starts to go. I didn’t have the slightest idea how a person went about getting a pair of glasses, but I was pretty sure it would be expensive. I squinted at the crowd.

  “Excuse me,” I said, tapping a girl with glasses on the shoulder. She turned around. “Can I borrow your specs for a minute?”

  “What?” She stared at me like I’d asked her for some money or something.

  “Your glasses, your glasses. Can’t I just see them for a second?” She looked confused. “My vision seems to be blurred.”

  “You don’t say?” she said, and turned away.

  I stood up straight. Way to be so rude. I scanned the crowd again.

  Marcus was coming toward me. First I spun around and headed back down to the bathroom, but that seemed stupid. I wanted to be out in the crowd, Ineeded to dance. I turned and headed straight for the dance floor. Mean old Marcus wasn’t going to keep this girl down! Glasses or no, no sirree.

  “Would you like to dance?” I flung my arm around the first cute guy I passed. I could see Marcus out of the corner of my eye. He was staring at me.Eat your cheatin’ little heart out, Marky Marcus!

  “With you?” the guy asked. He was a little short for me, maybe, but built.

  “Yes, I do. I think. You remind me of a boy that I—once knew…,” I crooned, grabbing his hand and pulling him out of the shadows.

  “You got it.” He put his drink down on a nearby table.

  “You mean yes?” I asked stupidly, stopping in my tracks. If he meant yes, then why couldn’t he just say so? Why did people in L.A. have to be soweird about everything? Couldn’t anyone justrelax? He looked at his two friends, and they cracked up.

  “Yes.” He looked back at his friends. One of them gave him the thumbs-up. I dragged him toward the dance floor, ignoring Marcus completely, who I sensed was still staring at me. At us.
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br />   “What’s your name?” I asked as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

  “Keith. You?”

  “Heaven.”

  “Really?”

  I nodded. “Yes, it’s my real name. It sounds different in Japanese.”

  Keith half smiled and wrapped his arms around my waist. “Well, you do look heavenly, that’s for sure.”

  I secretly rolled my eyes. “You know, when I came to L.A., I resolved that I’d only date guys who didn’t make stupid cracks about my name,” I whispered to Keith.

  “Who’s talking about dating? I thought we were just having some fun.”

  “Bingo,” I said, pulling him closer. Keith was kind of a cheeseball—he didn’t really fit in at Vibe with his long dark hair and Guido clothes, but he was a good dancer. “Fun times for everyone!” I threw my arms up in the air.

  “Now you’re talking!”

  So we danced. Songs came and went, and Keith and I just kept on going. He put his hand on my butt, and I left it there. His body was warm against mine. I closed my eyes, and the whole world seemed to spin away from me. I could have been out on the dance floor with anybody. It was wonderful to be able to forget like that.

  “How about a break, Heavenly?”

  I opened my eyes and nodded reluctantly. I never wanted to stop dancing. He led me back to the booth where his friends were sitting and sent one of them off to get drinks. I ordered two vodka cranberries. His friends ignored me—they were having some boring conversation about sports. I sighed, drumming my fingers against the table. Time was a wasting!