“She’s only four.”
“She’ll be fine.”
“BaBa, it’s a pool hall.”
“So set her up on a stool and give her some lemonade to sip.”
“You have an answer to everything,” Mill said.
“I make sure that I do, son. That’s how you stay ahead in business. Now go. I have to tend to my workers.”
I saw Mill usher Jas out the door, one large hand steering her. “Where are we going, BaBa?” she asked.
“To Chinatown, sweetie. We can drop by the Japanese bakery and get a manju after I finish.”
“Okay.” Jas placed her little hand inside his big one, probably already dreaming of the baked pastry filled with red bean sweetness.
***
From the front, the pool hall looked like the entrance to a Japanese garden. Tiny potted Bonsai trees adorned the front steps. Inside, the interior held a few tasteful koi sketches, but otherwise, it retained a nondescript look. The walls were wood, the bold unfinished kind, and I could see their natural grains running across the boards. The billiards tables gave off a smell of new velvet, and the balls were lined up on the soft surfaces in a colorful display. A nearby bar counter was a beautiful polished marble piece, where customers could sit around and marvel at players while ordering food and drinks. The real gem of the place was the hostess, though. She stood so regal in her crane kimono that I thought she was a statue until she greeted Mill and Jas.
“Hello, and welcome to Tanoshii Pool Hall.” She gave a slight bow from her waist and spoke with an affected accent, but I could tell she wasn’t Japanese. She had the rare porcelain skin that Stella longed for. She definitely had Asian genes (the telling monolids), but her caramel hair and honey-colored eyes told a different story. She seemed to be all skinny legs, and missed matching Mill’s height of five foot eight by an inch.
Mill gave the woman a nod and walked Jas over to the counter. A bartender, slick in a Western suit, ambled over and gave Jas a lemonade. She looked inside the glass and took a small sip. Delighted, she started taking bigger gulps of the beverage.
“Jasmine,” Mill said, “I’m going to talk to the owner now. You stay here and be a good girl, okay?”
She nodded with the drink still glued to her lips.
Mill disappeared into the back room, and Jas finished up her lemonade. She gave a big burp and pushed the cup over to the bartender. “Fill it up, please?”
“Just a little more,” he said. He poured an inch into her glass, which she finished off with a smile. Then she started sliding the empty cup back and forth along the countertop. Soon, she decided it’d be more fun watching the glass glide on its own momentum. The bartender watched with a pained look on his face, trying to make buffers with his cleaning rags, until the caramel-haired hostess stepped up.
“I’ll help you out, Melvin,” she said.
“Thanks, Willow.”
She turned to Jas and introduced herself. “Are you bored? Want to do something together?”
“Like what?”
“A game.”
Jas clapped her hands and waited for further instructions, her eyes fixed on Willow’s face.
Willow asked Melvin for one of his cleaning rags. “Don’t worry, I’ll wash it later,” she said.
Willow pulled out a little pot with bright red pigment, which had been tucked into the obi sash of her kimono. “I use this for my mouth,” she said, puckering up her lips to show off their raspberry gleam. She brought out a little brush and dipped it into the pot. Using the berry color, she drew several lines on Melvin’s towel. “Here’s a game I learned called ‘Noughts and Crosses.’” She proceeded to show Jas how to draw in the X’s and O’s. They played several times before Jas decided that she’d rather paint her own pictures on the towel instead.
Jas drew some stick figures next to a triangle house. “This is my family.” She explained each person to Willow: YehYeh, MahMah, and BaBa.
“Where’s your mother?” Willow asked.
Jas chewed the handle of the brush and then added more color to it. She painted a figure in the sky.
“Do you miss her?” Willow asked.
“No.”
“Because I’m right here!” I shouted. I saw Jas’ eyes flicker once in my direction.
Willow placed her ivory hand on Jas’ shoulder. “You’re such a brave little girl,” she said. Willow went behind the counter and added just a bit more lemonade to Jas’ cup.
Jas slurped it up. I hoped she wouldn’t have a stomach ache tonight. At the moment, though, she seemed fine, beaming away at her new friend, Willow. That’s how Mill found them when he returned, all giggles and smiles.
“Thank you for watching my daughter, Ms…”
“Call me Willow,” she said. “And it was no problem. You’re daughter’s a cutie.” She gave Jas a little pinch on her cheek. With the sweet lemonade running its course through her body, Jas didn’t even mind—though she usually hated when people fussed over her like a doll.
***
The week after the pool hall meeting was a flurry of activity. Catching the energy, Jas kept bouncing around the house. The door slammed open and shut all the time, letting Fillmore and Mill march in and out of the place. Stella baked never-ending trays of goodies to take over to their potential ‘new partner.’ Fillmore kept taking breaks from the stables to check on Mill, giving him pointers and straightening his tie.
Jas kept being passed off from caregiver to caregiver, since everyone was alight in motion. One day, I spotted her all alone with only fluttering dust motes in the air for company. Fillmore, Stella, and Mill had forgotten all about my poor little daughter.
She patted at a floating particle. “He’s happier now,” she said.
I looked around for a listener, but nobody was around.
“You’re here, right, MaMa?” Jas asked.
“Of course.” I knew she couldn’t hear my voice. Her ears hadn’t been accustomed to listening to me for quite some time. I felt the power in my arms, though, and pushed the air around, swirling the dust into a circle shape.
Jas blew on the ring and watched the motes scatter. “BaBa smells like fresh chopped wood. Not like horse anymore.” She wrinkled her nose.
I was in the middle of making a pony, shaping a curve of a tail when I saw the glimmer. A glint of gold unfurled itself in front of me. The tiny worm shimmered in the air and then approached my left ear. “Why would Mill smell nicer now?” it asked. “Don’t you want to go see what all this recent fuss has been about?” I let the gold slither through my ear canal. A gentle buzz vibrated in my head, and I felt a warm soft pillow beneath me. “Go ahead and rest. I’ll take you there.” In an instant, I was transported to the pool hall.
***
I spotted them right away. They sat cozied up next to each other, their faces leaning toward one another, their heads a triangle blockade against any outsiders. The signed document, giving Mill’s dad official partnership in the pool hall, lay forgotten on the counter between them.
“Friends? Don’t really have any,” Mill said. “I guess my brother, Andy, would be the closest thing. There’s nothing quite like a sibling. He’ll be around forever, whether I like it or not.”
Willow sighed, a drawn out dramatic affair. “Don’t know what you mean. I’m the only child in my family.”
“What did that feel like?”
Willow shrugged. “I dealt with it. Sometimes I wished I had somebody my age to back me up against the school taunting… Other times, I’m glad there was no sibling for others to tease.”
“They made fun of you?”
She twisted a lock of caramel hair with her forefinger. “My coloring. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”
Her honey eyes challenged Mill, and he had the decency to glance down.
“I know,” she said. “I look strange. That’s what you get when you mix white and yellow skin. At least, I still landed this job.” She took a sip from the glass before her, her pinkie
tip raised in the air.
“You like it here?” Mill’s fingers pulled the contract close to his chest as he asked.
“I’ll be staying put for a while,” Willow said. “My family just moved into the area to start over in Fresno.”
“What happened?”
“They got tired of the stares and explaining my heritage. People couldn’t accept that a man and woman of mixed races could be in love with one another.” She twirled her glass in her hand and watched the remaining liquid swirl around. “I hated it there.”
“The childhood teasing never stopped?” Mill asked.
“It got worse. My peers didn’t move away. It’s really a small territory north of here. I’m not even sure I could locate it on a map if I tried. Anyway, as they grew older, they got more set in their opinions. They’d see me in the grocery store and refuse to ring up my items. Or spit in my food at the restaurant. They talked behind my back until none of the businesses wanted to employ me. I’m nineteen. I need a job.”
“That’s rough.” Mill scratched the back of his head. He’d never known tough times, as the fortunate son of a businessman. The stagecoach sector had always been a strong security net for him.
“That period of my life is over,” Willow said. “I’m starting fresh like my parents, and it’ll be grand.”
“I’ll toast to that.” They clinked glasses and smiled at each other.
At their intimate gesture, I curled myself into a ball to protect my heart from breaking. All at once, thousands of little golden strands surrounded me. They formed themselves into a slithering golden cage, and I was trapped watching Mill gaze at another woman with longing in his eyes. The hissing sound of those glittering worms seemed to morph into a strong clanging, the tolling of wedding bells. My body crashed, and my mind wiped itself blank as I tried to avoid the clamor.
CHAPTER 15
The Wedding
I WOKE UP STILL LOCKED in the cage made of slithering golden snakes. Somehow, the worm body shapes had extended while I’d been unconscious. My view was of Mill and Willow’s wedding in progress. It wasn’t a typical affair. She wasn’t dressed in a flowing white gown, but she looked pretty enough in her sundress. Mill hadn’t chosen any fancy clothing either, but he had switched out his usual boots for nicer shoes. Mill didn’t care about elegant customs—even our own wedding had been low-key.
Well, we couldn’t make a big deal when we had gotten married. Technically, we had been underage and needed parental consent, but the government didn’t bother with following rules for ‘outsiders.’ My parents would have been okay with the union, but we knew his would have disapproved of the uneven yoking. We went ahead by ourselves and told our parents about it afterward.
Mill’s new marriage, though plain in the eyes of the world, seemed much more extravagant than our old one. Willow and Mill had friends and family witnessing the event. And the tiniest gestures spoke of their love for one another: the way her fingers brushed his before he picked up the pen to add his signature; how their hands intertwined as they reached to grasp the legal document together.
Trapped by the serpentine spirits, I had to follow the happy couple to their beautiful reception. It seemed more lavish than Jas’ red egg and ginger party, even though it was held at the same restaurant with the same guests (minus my parents). Everyone had dressed up in their fanciest clothes, and the addition of wine added an aura of elegance to the affair. There was one table of newcomers that particularly caught my eye. It was a table of Japanese guests, dressed in traditional style. They ranged in age from the youngest, a tiny boy of seven years, to the oldest, a man of indiscernible but ancient age. The old man wore a simple black robe, and his eyes, instead of seeing the bride and groom, were fixed on Fillmore. His slender, almost girlish fingers, played with a placard in his hands. It read, “Mr. Tanoshii.” Of course, the owner of the pool hall had been invited.
The extravagant dinner spanned ten courses. Sumptuous dishes rested against the bright red tablecloths, the smell of sea fresh on the lobsters and crabs. Servers scurried in and out, carrying dirty dishes and furnishing guests with sparkling plates. Even Jas ate everything set before her and gave her tiny stomach a satisfied pat. Despite the heavy eating from all around, more food still languished on the tables. While the guests were digesting, Mill and Willow took center stage on a raised platform in front of the diners. Willow’s parents sat to the side: her Caucasian mother, a porcelain white woman with amber hair; her Chinese father, a slim man with almond skin and jet black hair. They were waiting their turn to be served, but the groom’s parents would be the first on stage for the tea ceremony.
Fillmore and Stella sat in two chairs facing the captive audience. They whispered to each other, as they watched Willow lift a porcelain pot embellished with phoenixes and pour tea into two dainty cups.
“Look how graceful she is. You wouldn’t think there was a drop of lo fan in her at all,” my mother-in-law said. “She acts Chinese.”
“So proper,” Fillmore said. How could he say that? The man who had forsaken his Chinese name and entered the American way of business? He hated all of the old traditions.
“I’m glad Willow thought of this,” Stella said.
“She even seems more traditional today.” Indeed, Willow had dyed her hair a glossy black, probably courtesy of walnut shells and black tea. She looked Chinese from the side or back, but her honey irises gave her away. “A hint of the modern around her eyes,” Fillmore said. “Yes, she’s new Chinese. Sure to be a bridge between our new money and the old money.” Western wealth, he meant, and the more riches Fillmore could acquire, the happier he would be.
“She’s coming our way,” Stella said.
Willow took the tray of tea over to her in-laws. They nodded and smiled at her, each taking a tiny sip of tea. Even though I’d lost all appetite in earthly things, I could smell the sweet alluring fragrance of the leaves.
Stella slipped a red envelope onto the platter. “Many wishes for a happy future and healthy children.”
Fillmore followed suit with his envelope. “Blessings to you, my wonderful daughter.” Daughter. What had I been? He never once called me that. I wanted to throw the tea at both of them, scalding their smiling faces. I longed to rip the lucky money into tiny slivers. My anger seemed to melt down the golden bars before me. I broke free of the spirit chains, and the snakes danced away with excited hisses.
I lunged at my in-laws. I hurled my body at them, but I was like a mist. I couldn’t feel them, and they couldn’t sense me. I had stayed too long in my gilded cage, and I had forgotten how to use my muscles in the physical world. I had no strength to carry out my plans.
In my moment of failure, I saw Jas’ guardian angel out of the corner of my eye. The creature smirked at me—at least, that’s what it looked like, although its shifting shadows made it impossible to truly figure out its emotions. I doubled my effort at wreaking havoc on the domestic scene. I tried to channel my rage into a feat of strength. I only managed a soft breeze that sent goosebumps across Willow’s bare shoulders and smooth arms.
Mill noticed her little shiver and put his arms tight around his new bride. I wanted to put my hands tight around his neck and squeeze until all his husbandly protection disappeared. I followed the smooth plane of his arms down to those familiar lined fingers, coarse with holding horses’ reins.
The same ones that had caressed me. I remembered those touches and covered my eyes with my palms. How could I even think that way about Mill? He was my husband. I had pledged lifelong love and loyalty to him. With my hands blocking my vision, I backed away from the newlyweds until I found myself enwrapped in soft fuzz and pure warmth. Sage.
CHAPTER 16
Murder on the Mind, Rule 6
“YOU SHALL NOT MURDER,” Sage said.
“What?” How had Sage known my innermost thoughts about hurting my husband?
“It’s your next commandment,” Sage said. Oh, that’s right. We were talking about Jas and the
rules guiding her development.
“That’s easy,” I said. “Make her careful with all life.”
“It shall be done as you say.”
Sage covered my eyes with her wings. Pure whiteness assaulted my vision, and when Sage removed her feathers, the previous reception scene had shifted to my in-laws’ place.
***
I now stood looking at Jas as she walked out the back door of the house, her hands cupped around something. She stepped over the threshold and started weaving her way across the ground. What was she doing?
“Oops, sorry. Almost stepped on you.” Jas hopped away from a patch of dirt, one knee high in the air. I peered down at the spot where a tiny ant meandered along the ground.
She headed toward the wheat field and released something from her hand. I saw it fall from her palm: a cricket, its shiny head practically bobbing at her in gratitude.
A shrill cry came from inside the house. “Jasmine? Where are you?”
I saw Willow march through the open door. “There you are. What are you doing outside?”
“I let the cricket go.”
Willow placed her hands on her hips. “You can’t save everything. And don’t leave the door open again.” She closed it with a shove, and a sprinkle of dust from the beams fell on top of Willow’s honey hair, which was pulled into an updo. She wiped the grime away and glared at the corner of the overhang that had insulted her. Then she peered closer. “Wait a minute. Come here, Jasmine.”
My daughter skipped over, alert to the excitement in Willow’s voice.
Willow pointed to an insect above Jas’ head. It was a spider on the edge of its lair, with a bulging cocooned object caught in the middle of its web. “This is the way the world works, Jasmine. It’s natural.”
“Yuck. We should unwrap it and save the bug.”
“No, it’s interesting. This is the way the natural world works. Let me make something for us, and I’ll show you.” Willow ran back into the house and reappeared a minute later, a cotton stocking and a pair of chopsticks in her hand. Out of the materials, she fashioned some homemade nets. “We’ll catch butterflies together.”
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