The Book of the Pearl

by Carrie Asai

  I flashed back to the image of my father hurling himself at the ninja who’d interrupted our meeting in Little Tokyo. Konishi was injured trying to save me—I’d lost my katana, my long sword, and only my father’s intervention had saved my life. I saw my father lying on the floor in a pool of blood all over again. If only I had refused to meet him that night at the restaurant in Little Tokyo! If only I had been a better fighter and not a scared little brat with only a couple of months of training under my belt! Maybe I owed it to my father to go back to Tokyo—or maybe it would only make matters worse. I leaned my head against the metal of the phone booth. Why was I always confronted by two bad choices? If I went back, I might lead another ninja straight to his bedside. If I stayed in the States, I might never see my father again—and there was no guarantee that I’d figure out who was trying to destroy us. Nothing was ever clear, nothing was ever easy. All I wanted to do was what was right—which was hard when all paths seemed equally wrong.

  “Tell me where you are,” Mieko continued. “I’ll send you a ticket and money for the trip. You’ll be home by the end of the week.”

  “I need to think about it,” I said. What was I supposed to do? What was the loyal, dutiful thing to do? “It may not be safe for me or for you,” I repeated, not knowing how else to respond.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Mieko snapped, a sudden edge in her voice. I pictured her standing ramrod straight next to the phone table, perfectly coiffed as always—Chanel suit, tasteful jewelry, hair freshly arranged by her private stylist. “You know your father’s men can protect you better than this Hiro character, whoever he is. You have nothing to fear once you arrive in Tokyo. I’ll see to that.”

  “They didn’t protect Ohiko, did they?” I regretted the words almost as soon as they left my mouth. The one thing I knew for sure was that Ohiko’s death was as devastating to her as it was to me. He was herreal son, after all. Mieko sucked in her breath, and when she spoke again, her voice was strained.

  “That was different.” She paused. I waited for an explanation, but all she said was, “Please don’t put yourself at risk, Heaven. Tell me where to send the money.”

  I looked down at my watch. One minute left.Think, think, I told myself. The prospect of flying back to Tokyo and potentially escaping this American nightmare was tempting. I’d see my father, maybe even help him to get better. On the other hand, if I left now, I’d never resolve things with Hiro—I’d be leaving Cheryl in the lurch with the rent. I’d be sheltered and protected just like I always had been. I’d be the old Heaven.

  And the new Heaven still had a lot to figure out. Like who was responsible for Ohiko’s death. And how Konishi’s being a member of the yakuza fit into the puzzle.

  “No, Mieko. I’m sorry. I’ll call you again as soon as I can. But there are things I need to do here.”

  “Heaven, you’re not thinking clearly. You must understand—”

  “I understand. And I’m sorry. Please give my love to Konishi. I would come back if I could, but I can’t.”

  “At least let me send you some money, then—you can decide later if you want to buy a ticket. Just give me your address,” Mieko wheedled, starting to sound almost desperate. Why was she suddenly so eager to have me around? Just because it would win her points with Konishi when he woke up? It occurred to me suddenly that I’d never thought about what she stood to gain from all that had happened. It was too much to think about right now. But I had to trust my instincts. And they were screaming at me not to give myself over to the supposed security she offered.

  “Not now—I have to go. I’m sorry, my time is running out.” I gripped the phone tightly, leaning into the booth and closing my eyes. “I’m sorry, Mieko,” I whispered.

  “Heaven—don’t be silly. You must tell me—”

  Click.

  The call ended. I slowly hung up the phone. For a million reasons that weren’t entirely clear to me, I couldn’t go home—but staying in L.A. seemed like a dead end. Vegas? That was a dream. I’d have to find Katie first.

  I sighed. The truth of the matter was, I was hopelessly stuck.

  I was also drunk. And alone. Another wave of nausea overcame me, and I leaned over the bushes again but could only manage a few dry heaves. When I stood up, some guy pumping gas into his SUV stared at me, then looked away in disgust. Great. If only Hiro could see me now.

  Hiro had been right. I had to commit to my training—or tosomething. I couldn’t go on living like this, without purpose, without peace. I shouldered my messenger bag and trudged toward home.

  Limbo was a difficult place to be.

  Dammit.

  I think I miscalculated.

  When I hung up the phone, I immediately called my brother, Masato, who thankfully remained in the United States after the wedding. He is seeing to things on that end, while I remain dutifully by my husband’s side. He assured me that I had done my best, that there was really no pressing need for Heaven to set out for Tokyo right now.

  “Heaven will return before long,” my baby brother said. “That is certain.”

  Poor Masato. For so long he has been in exile, breaking his back to uphold the Kogo interests in South America—the Kogo empire is vast and has been built on the backs of those like my brother, who shed their sweat for it day in and day out. For Masato, this day has been long in arriving. But now he has a chance to finally help the family, and it is my duty as his sister, and as the wife of Konishi Kogo, to assist him in his leadership at this moment. In this time of difficulty we must help each other. And with my husband in his coma, who else can I trust? To whom should I turn?

  I fear the Yukemuras, even if Masato believes they are a bunch of bumbling fools. They have wreaked havoc at every step. I pleaded with Masato to have them driven from Los Angeles—there are ways. I am silent but not ignorant. I know how these matters are taken care of. But Masato refused because he is brave. When his day of reckoning comes, he wants to enjoy it fully.

  I hope he is right. I hope there is no danger.

  Masato must be safe. I cannot afford to lose him.

  The servants are in bed now, and only I remain awake, smoking one of the French cigarettes (which Konishi so disapproves of) in my darkened bedroom. Sometimes I smoke one even as I sit at his bedside. I wonder if he knows?

  The smoke circles up into the darkness and fades away. A small part of me hopes that Heaven has found the freedom she craved when she lived here on the compound. Perhaps the American lifestyle suits her. I wouldn’t be surprised. She was always a vivacious girl.

  So unlike me.

  I stub out my cigarette, watching the last embers burn themselves to ash.

  Fate will bring what it will. It always does.

  Mieko

  11

  I sat down at the coffee table with a cup of green tea and decided to make a list of all the things I should be doing. I had to take action. I’d hit my nadir—my lowest point, my wall. Things couldn’t get much worse. So it was my job to make them better.

  Number one was easy:

  No more drinking! Clouds judgment. Not safe. Not even really fun. Embarrassing. (Remember: jellyfish.) Ends in puke.

  Eat healthy.

  Continue training on my own. Daily workout. Meditation. Get back in focus.

  Work hard. Stop watching TV. Get on schedule.

  Save money for own place.

  Make things right with Cheryl.

  Forget about Hiro. Move ON.

  Make it right with Karen?

  I looked over my list, thinking of specific things I could do to make each goal happen. Since I had the next few days off from Vibe, I knew I’d be able to get a jump start on my new “total lifestyle.”

  Some of the stuff was easy. The first thing I did was head out to the health food store and stock up on fruit and vegetables, brown rice, and lots of tofu. I needed protein and energy. I came home and set to work making a huge egg white omelette with tons of vegetables and wheat toast. Just as I sat down at th
e dining-room table with my plate (I didn’t want to be tempted to flip on the television), Cheryl walked in the door.

  “Hi,” I said brightly, hoping yet again to break the ice. “I just made some breakfast. Want some?”

  “It’s a little late for breakfast, isn’t it?” Cheryl said, without looking at me.

  “Brunch, then.” I tried to keep my voice even. I wanted to be back on good terms with Cheryl, but there was a limit to how many cutting remarks I could take. The fact of the matter was, Marcuswas a jerk. And the way he’d acted last night (with meand Nina) proved it.

  “No, thanks.” Cheryl glided into her room and shut the door without another word. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. I refused to let the Cheryl situation cloud my purpose.This is day one, day one, I repeated to myself. But number six on my list was going to be hard to achieve.

  As I ate my eggs, I contemplated how best to manage the rest of my time. I had two days off, and I had to get back on track before returning to Vibe. I didn’t want to be tempted into any sort of partying. I threw my dishes in the sink and pulled on my gym shoes. Time for number 3—workout. And maybe I could think of a way to deal with number 8—Karen—while I was at it.

  After a brief stretch on the front lawn I jogged down Dawson Street, being extra careful of my breathing and my stride. I ran through a mental checklist of my body, which felt stiff at first but loosened up after a couple of blocks. My side was all but healed—it was still a little green where the bruise had been, but it wasn’t tender anymore. I stretched my arms above my head, concentrating on the soothing in and out of my breath as I fell into the rhythm of the run.

  I stayed on the side streets, zigzagging my way through the neighborhood. Soon I found myself headed for Barnsdall Park, where Hiro and I used to have our morning aikido workouts. I hadn’t really planned on going that way; it just sort of happened. As I ran, I remembered the very first day of my training: how Hiro had woken me up at some horrific early hour and how surreal it had been to be standing there training with him—watching the mothers run by with their little three-wheeled jogging strollers, the yuppies walking their dogs. I’d dreamed of America for so long and seen so many images of it in the movies that I felt like I had stepped into one myself that day. Gradually, though, my surroundings began to feel real. I’d become even more American myself—my English was nearly flawless. I understood, for the most part, how the city worked.

  Maybe I’d becometoo American. The more enmeshed I became in my L.A. life, the farther away I felt from Tokyo. Would I ever make it back to Japan? Would the American Heaven and the Japanese Heaven ever be able to coexist? I knew I had to find some sort of peace here, with or without Hiro.

  I picked up my pace as the park came in view and collapsed on the nearest expanse of green to give myself a good stretch. My body protested at the long run, and my lungs felt a little raw. I’d have to get my endurance back up. I closed my eyes and lay on my back, pulling my knee up to my chest in a long stretch. The sun was warm but not hot—it was one of those beautiful California days that make you wonder why the whole world hadn’t moved here. Seventy-six degrees. Zero humidity. A cool breeze.

  Once upon a time in my life “before,” Ohiko and I spent long days next to the gigantic swimming pool on my father’s compound. My favorite month was April, when the temperatures were often warm but the thick humidity of the summer hadn’t yet set in. The cherry trees that surrounded the lower end of the pool were covered in thick, white blossoms. We would always wait for the morning that the blossoms began to fall, and Yoshi, the pool man, knew to let them float in the water until they created a thick white blanket over the deep end of the pool. Then, one day, just before the last flowers tumbled to the ground, Ohiko and I would race to the pool and jump in. It was like swimming in perfume. I’d always put on my goggles and dive down to the very bottom of the pool, right next to the drain, then stare up at the surface, entranced by the way the sun cut through the blossoms. When we were very young, Ohiko and I would even pretend to be ships sometimes, fighting our way through the ice floes of the Arctic.

  One day each year. After that, although we begged him to leave the flowers alone for a little longer, Yoshi would worry that Konishi would see them and be upset. My father had no time for such foolishness. He liked everything on the compound to be in perfect order, and he was not the type of man to understand the magic of a pool covered in blossoms or the excitement of a dive into that strange, shadowy world filled with beams of sunlight.

  But Ohiko understood. He wasn’t like the brothers in the movies I had seen—too bossy or overprotective or irritated by his little sister. When he learned something, he shared it with me, and when I was happy, he was happy. We grew up like two halves of the same person, and I never understood how it was that we didn’t actually share the same blood. He felt like an extension of myself. Another limb that I’d come to rely on as much as if it had been a real, physical part of me.

  Sadness welled up in my heart. My life had become so bizarre, so filled with anxiety and strange events, that I hadn’t engaged in my usual daydreaming over the past few weeks. Even my dreams were empty.

  I missed him. I missed my brother.

  “Well, if it isn’t Heaven Kogo.”

  My eyes snapped open. Karen’s face loomed over me. Speak of the devil. I sat up quickly.

  “Out for a little run, are we?” Karen said, propping one hand on her perfect hip. She was wearing a tank top and running shorts that left little to the imagination.Be calm, I said to myself,this is your chance to make things right. I didn’t need any more enemies than I already had.

  “Hi, Karen,” I said, trying to sound as pleasant as possible, although my voice sounded forced even to me. “I’m glad I ran into you.”

  “And why is that?” Karen flipped the sunglasses she wore on top of her head down over her eyes. She wasn’t going to make this easy.

  “I wanted to say I’m sorry for how things turned out the other day at the dojo. I think we’re both just a little stressed.” I stood up, hoping to establish a more even footing for our conversation.

  “That’s an understatement,” Karen said skeptically.

  “So…,” I fished, “how are things going with you?”

  “You mean, how are things going with me and Hiro, right? I mean, that’s what you really want to know, isn’t it?”

  “N-No,” I stammered, blushing. Why couldn’t she take off those stupid sunglasses? “I was just asking…. I mean…”

  “Everything is great, to tell you the truth.” Karen smirked, pulling one leg up behind her in a runner’s stretch. She was in total control of the conversation, and she knew it. “I think your fight actually turned out to be quite therapeutic for him. He’s far more relaxed now.”

  “Good to hear,” I whispered. It felt like a stake was being driven into my heart. I wondered what, if anything, she’d told him about our argument. The thought that he might now hate my guts was appalling. I wanted to run away, but I forced myself to stay and hear her out. It was better to know everything. Then I could move on.

  “We’ve even been talking about moving in together. It’s a little early, but when things are right—you just know.”

  I nodded.Can I just kill myself now? I thought.

  “You understand how it is, right? When you meet that perfect guy…” Karen tossed her head and stared off into the distance as though she was picturing all of Hiro’s considerable assets in her head. “Something just clicks.” She turned back to face me.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, her voice dripping with fake concern, “you’ve never really been with anyone seriously, have you? Well, you’ll get there someday!”

  I nodded again, not trusting myself to say anything. If this was how she was going to play it, then there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t stand there and look at her anymore. It hurt too much. I took a deep breath.

  “Okay. Great. Well, see you around.” I grabbed my sweatshirt off the gra
ss and tied it around my waist.

  “You’ve got to go? I thought we could do a few circuits together, maybe.” Karen grinned. She was truly evil.

  “Maybe next time. See you.” My face was burning as I jogged away, forcing myself not to sprint. The air around her was toxic, and I struggled to keep from crying as I ran out of the park and into a city where Hiro was dead to me forever.

  I forced myself to keep running all the way home, even though my breath came in ragged gasps by the time I made it up the front steps. The house was silent. Cheryl had gone out again—no big surprise. Maybe I was the toxic one. My mind continued to race as I showered and changed into my gi pants and a tank top.

  It was time to meditate. Just because Hiro was going to move in with Karen didn’t make it any less imperative that I clear my mind and stay on the right path. Just because my heart was broken didn’t mean I could give up. I might be alone, but I wasn’t dead yet.

  I spread a blanket on the floor of my bedroom and sat with my legs crossed and my hands on my knees. I breathed slowly in and out through my nose, using the techniques that Hiro had taught me way back in the day. At first, images popped up in my head like some kind of slide show on fast-forward. First the recent memories: Karen’s angry sneer under the trees in the park, A. J. behind the bar at Vibe, flipping bottles and making change. Marcus’s slow smile. Then further back—Hiro in his house the first time I saw him, when I showed up on his doorstep half dead from exhaustion and shock. My father’s pale face when I held him after he’d been cut down by the ninja. Ohiko. Mieko sitting on the bed in my hotel room at the Beverly Wilshire, instructing me on what it meant to be a samurai bride.

  Then the images slowed. I conjured a mental picture of myself in the pool at home and imagined that the scenes that filled my brain were cherry blossoms that I had to push aside in order to make a clear path through the deep blue water.

  I swam and swam. My mind continued to slow.