Ink and Ashes

by Valynne E. Maetani

  Why couldn’t I remember? “Did I at least give you a license plate number?”

  “No, but you said the car was white, and you couldn’t see the driver.”

  I stared at the ceiling. Someone had tried to kill me. If they had wanted to kill me, they had failed. What was going to happen to me now? I looked around the empty room. “Where is everyone?”

  He stroked the side of my head. “Getting lunch. I’m going to let the nurse know you’re awake.” He pressed a call button on a remote near the top of my bed.

  I ventured to move a little more, figuring out what exactly had happened to me. The stitches along my left temple felt bristly under the pads of my fingers. Another row of stitches ran down my left arm. Everything on the left side hurt. I peeked under my hospital gown, and though the light was limited, I could make out purplish bruises the size of a small country. Another bruise ran along my neck and chest where my seat belt had been. I couldn’t see my neck, but the mark on my chest led me to believe the rest of the bruise would be just as ugly. I didn’t see a cast anywhere, so I assumed no bones had been broken, yet it felt like every single bone in my body was shattered. If I even thought about moving, stinging flashes of pain ignited through my body.

  Who would want to do this to me? Why was it so important for them to see me suffer?

  The light flipped on and overwhelmed all of my senses. I squinted until my one open eye could adjust, wishing my arm worked well enough to throw it over my face.

  “You had to wake up on his shift, didn’t ya?” Nicholas burst through the door, hands flung in the air. “We’ve all been taking turns by your bedside waiting for you to wake up.” He came over, kissed the top of my head and moved closer to the TV on the wall farthest from me.

  “The waiting area totally looks like Camp Maboroshi,” Fed said. He wiped his greasy hands on his wrinkled shorts as he came closer, the fresh-off-the-farm scent suggesting he had yet to take a shower.

  I had no idea what Fed was referring to with his Camp whatever, but I got the idea. I wondered what people must have thought when the elevator doors opened to that circus. The idea of everybody holding vigil for me made me all warm inside.

  Mom and my brothers piled into the room. Mom held my hand and told me how happy she was to see me awake before she assaulted me with questions. Did I feel nauseous? Was I sensitive to light or noise? Did I feel numbness in my extremities? Was my mind foggy? Did I feel irritable?

  Yes, I felt very irritable. “Mom, I’m sure the doctors will know what to do.”

  She squeezed my hand, then sat in a small powder-blue vinyl loveseat against the wall. Parker hugged me, then headed straight for the TV. Avery only waved his hand and said, “Hey,” before walking to the TV and stealing the remote from Nicholas.

  Dad was the last to enter. “You’ve been unconscious for over a day, princess.” His voice sounded relieved, but ache and fear found their way into his forehead and frown lines. He wore a T-shirt and black sweatpants, looking ready for training. Dad never dressed down like that, even at home, unless we were working out. Fed slid to the end of the bed to make room for him.

  Forrest leaned across me from the other side of the bed. “She doesn’t remember anything about the accident,” he whispered to my dad.

  Dad nodded, and Forrest sat back down.

  I don’t know why Forrest felt the need to whisper. Everyone else in the room would end up knowing anyway.

  “Based on the CT, the doctor said you have a concussion,” my dad explained. “You’ll need a lot of rest.” He went to the loveseat, putting an arm around Mom as he sat next to her. He placed his other hand on top of hers.

  A white car was the reason I didn’t remember anything. Had I seen the driver? If I had, I’m sure I would have told Forrest, but maybe I didn’t have the chance to. Mom remained silent, but her tortured face said all I needed to know. Maybe I shouldn’t have snapped at her. Without any makeup, her face looked wrinkled and pale.

  A doctor entered the room with a nurse behind him. The doctor pulled over a rolling stool and sat at my bedside. He began to ask me a lot of questions similar to the ones Mom had asked while the nurse poked and prodded me. They finished and said they would let everyone talk to me for a few more minutes, but after that I had to rest. The nurse injected something into my IV, and I assumed I would have no choice but to rest.

  The doctor and nurse left after giving Mom some advice on how much rest I needed, and I couldn’t help but think about how long I’d been unconscious. The blinds were drawn shut, but light peeked through the only window—it was day outside, though I couldn’t tell if it was morning or afternoon.

  Nicholas came to the side of my bed, sweeping his hand to point from one side of the room to the other. “So? How do you like it?”

  “Who brought all the plants?” I asked.

  Nicholas directed my attention to a plant by the window with flat lobes at the end of the stems. “That ugly one is from Forrest.” His finger shifted to the flowering plant next to my bed. “And that awesome one is from me and Fed. You always say bouquets of flowers are a waste of money.” Plastered on the opposite wall was a banner of yellow butcher paper with “Get Well Soon!” written in blue poster paint.

  Someone had tried to kill me. As much as I tried to be attentive to what he was saying, my mind drifted back to why I was there in the first place. Parts of my memory were black holes, and the accident itself was completely gone. I remembered Fed asking something about who would have something to gain if I were dead. Why me? What did I have that my brothers and parents didn’t?

  Forrest punched Nicholas in the arm. “Actually, my plant is way cooler because it’s a Venus flytrap.”

  The mention of a Venus flytrap snapped me back to attention because I’d always wanted one. “Thanks, guys. I love them both.” But I especially liked Forrest’s and couldn’t wait to see the carnivorous plant in action.

  Parker pointed to the wall. “What do you think about that work of art? Avery and I made it.”

  “Wow. I feel so loved.” I pulled the blanket to my shoulders, shivering. I wasn’t sure if it was the coolness of the room, or the reminder that there was a strong chance the driver of that car intended me not to have this moment—that the driver intended for me to never wake up.

  “We didn’t say we loved you.” Avery exposed a half smile. “It’s just kind of cool, I guess, that you didn’t die or anything.” He fiddled with a wallet, connected to his belt loop by a long silver chain.

  “Close enough.” I motioned for them to gather in so I could give them all a hug, but I couldn’t move far without an explosion of pain. In the end, they were the ones to reach over and give me individual hugs, even Avery.

  The room contained all the people I loved most, but it was too small to hold this many. My chest grew tight, and my breathing became more rapid. As grateful as I was to have them by my side, the room felt too crowded. I glanced at Forrest.

  Forrest stood and came closer to my side. “Maybe we should give Claire some space. She’s just woken up, and I’m sure she could use some rest.”

  Mom gathered my brothers and the Russo boys. They said good-bye from the other side of the room, as Mom herded them through the door.

  Before he left, Dad came back to my side. “You’re very lucky.” He laid a warm hand on my shoulder. “We’ll have to see how the head injury plays out, but no broken bones or anything. We’ll get through this.” His dark eyes had a tired glaze. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop this.”

  “I never expected you to,” I said. “What could you have done?”

  But lucky? Had I survived only to be subjected to the next thing?

  “I don’t know, but something more,” Dad said. Something about his black T-shirt reminded me of a training session together. I didn’t remember everything, but I knew I had wondered whether he was somehow involved with these events. That seemed ridiculous now. Dad patted my arm and left the room.

  Now that I was less ov
erwhelmed with people, I realized how much I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts. With everything that had happened, and everything that could potentially happen, my mind would go into overdrive. I’d never wanted to be one of those people who overly depended on someone like a best friend or boyfriend, and I hoped I wasn’t turning into one of them. But when I checked my gut, I knew I didn’t need to have Forrest stay. I wanted him there.

  Forrest got to his feet slowly. He gave me a hug and was about to leave, but I grabbed his hand. “Will you stay with me for a little longer?” I asked.

  “Of course.” His face lit up, reminding me of the first time he brought his dog Flirt home. “You’re not going to push me away like you usually do when you need space?” He gave me a playful smile.

  “I don’t push. I nudge,” I said. “And I do need space, but right now it would be nice if you filled it.”

  He motioned for me to scoot over, and he climbed on the bed and sat next me.

  I don’t know what I had ever done to deserve a best friend like Forrest, but Dad was right. I was lucky.

  I COULD TELL the days were growing shorter because it was dark outside even though it was still early evening. Once Forrest and the Russo boys had gone home, Dad called the family together and had my brothers form a half circle with the loveseat and chairs at my hospital bedside. If there was ever anything my parents felt was important enough to say to the whole family, Dad called a meeting.

  Sometimes I could get Dad to give up information if I cornered him, but only rarely did my parents volunteer anything unless it was in this setting. I wouldn’t have been surprised if that’s where Parker and Nicholas had gotten the inspiration for the Axis Powers Meetings. I was anxious to hear what they would say and worried about what they wouldn’t say.

  Mom and Dad sat on the loveseat, and my brothers sat in the chairs. I adjusted the bed so I was more upright.

  “Those potted plants have to go,” Mom said in a quiet voice. “They’re bad luck.”

  I could tell from my brothers’ expressions that none of us had any idea what she was talking about.

  Dad released a soft sigh. “Netsuku means to take root, but it’s also a homophone for the verb meaning to be laid up, like with an illness. Some people believe if you bring a potted plant to someone in the hospital, he might take root and stay for a long time.”

  “Now that you’ve seen them, we can get them out of here,” Mom said to me.

  Parker rolled his eyes. “I’ll take them home when we leave.”

  “Thank you, Parker.” Dad clasped his hands together and bent forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “I’ve talked to your mom, and we think it’s time you knew some things. So far, the recent events have seemingly targeted Claire, but that doesn’t mean the rest of us won’t be next.” He furrowed his brows. “I’ve reviewed these occurrences many times, and while I’d hoped it wasn’t the case, I’m concerned all of this might be connected to your father’s past.”

  He glanced in my direction. “Claire, I don’t know why this happened to you, and I’m not saying for sure the yakuza is behind this, but we do need to consider the possibility. I promise I will do everything in my power to protect you. All of you.” He looked at my brothers. “You’ve known for a while your father was in the yakuza, and given that, I think it’s only fair to him that you understand what brought him there in the first place and also why he left.”

  He patted Mom’s knee, and she took a deep breath, closing her eyes before speaking. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions. But I hope you understand why I wouldn’t want you to know your father was involved in some very terrible things before I met him. His father was very abusive and left your grandmother when your father was only eight.”

  She must have thought about this explanation a million times, but the sentences refused to flow easily. “Times were very hard in Japan for single mothers, and your grandmother worked tirelessly to take care of your father. When your father was sixteen, she died unexpectedly of a brain aneurysm, and he had nowhere to turn. A local businessman took him under his wing, but in doing so, introduced him to a life of crime.”

  She danced around the word that hadn’t left my mind since I saw the autopsy report: yakuza.

  “At first it was everything he had dreamed of,” she said in a soft tone. “He’d heard rumors the businessman was the oyabun of a large clan, but all that mattered to him at the time was he finally had a father figure in his life. As an orphan and having come from poverty, he was easily lured into the idea of family, and having more money at his fingertips than he had ever imagined possible. There were many things he did that he was not proud of, but acceptance into the lifestyle meant a promise of unquestioning loyalty and obedience to the oyabun.”

  The idea of unquestioning obedience and why someone would voluntarily commit to that was something I’d never been able to wrap my head around. But he was my age when his mother died, and he was left with nothing. Excluding recent events, my life seemed pretty easy in comparison, and I had no idea what I would have done if I were in his position.

  Avery leaned back in his chair and put his hands on the armrests. “So what kinds of things did he do?”

  My brothers and I had seen enough yakuza movies to know the kinds of things my father must have done, but Avery couldn’t seem to help himself when it came to pushing buttons. Parker and I glared at him.

  “What?” he asked, feigning innocence.

  Mom didn’t bite. “Things that weighed heavily on his conscience and made him struggle with the oath he’d made. The last task he completed finally broke him, and he vowed he would never go back.” She stared at her lap and shook her head. “But because of his high rank, staying in Japan was not an option if he wanted to remain alive. While he had money, it still wasn’t enough to get out safely, so he used everything he had, and his friend made up for the shortage and helped him escape to America. It was possible they would still find him, but it was worth the risk.”

  Scenes from an old movie Mom made us watch, The Sound of Music, popped into my head as I tried to imagine what it would be like to escape a country. Maybe his escape hadn’t been as dramatic, but it had to have been scary.

  She paused to wipe a stray tear. “I met your father when I was only fourteen. He was eighteen and could have easily taken advantage of his friend’s money, but he didn’t want any beyond what was absolutely necessary to get him set up in America. My parents gave him a job at our diner as a dishwasher, which he happily accepted because he said it was his first real step toward the new life he wanted to build.”

  This part of the story rang more familiar. Grandpa had run the little diner in Hawaii until the day he died, and Grandma moved to Japan soon after.

  “I had never known anyone with so much determination and tenacity,” she said. “After his shift, I would work with him on his English, and within a year he was able to get his GED. The local community college was the only school that would accept him, but he was so thrilled at the opportunity.” Her eyes lifted, and her gaze went past me as if she could see the scenes playing on the wall behind me.

  I had heard parts of the story from my grandfather and dad, but Mom had never shared any of this before. A faint grin lit her face. “I couldn’t help but fall in love with his appreciation for life. My love for him grew every day I was with him, and I felt like the luckiest girl in the world when he made it known he felt the same way about me.”

  This description sounded more like the man—the father—I had once known. Avery acted like he was kissing someone. Parker shuddered.

  Mom ignored them and slouched forward, letting her hands wring in her lap. “I still remember the day he got his acceptance letter to law school. He was the first person in his family to go to college, and when he got the letter it was like his every dream had been realized. We got married the summer before he started, he became a US citizen, and we moved to the mainland together. I was only eighteen at the time, and life was an adventure.
” Her head turned to Parker. “We had been married more than ten years before Parker was born, so we had a lot of time by ourselves, getting to know each other.”

  For years, I had wanted to know more about my father, but she would shut me out every time I asked questions. My chest tightened.

  Her voice started to tremble. “Your father did a lot of things he regretted, but he was one of the best men I have ever known. Please remember that. He spent the rest of his life trying to make up for his mistakes. That’s why he wanted to become a judge. He believed upholding justice was one way he could begin to repair everything he had done wrong. I don’t know the man—the boy—your father was before I met him, but I know the man he became, and it was an honor to spend that part of my life with him.” A steady stream of tears trickled down her cheeks.

  “I don’t understand,” I said, fighting to still the tremors in my voice. “Even if I don’t agree with how you guys hid his criminal past from us, I understand why you did it. But I don’t understand why you hid everything else. Do you know how long I’ve wanted to know what he was like when you met? Or what he had to do to become a judge? It’s not like I haven’t asked questions. You didn’t have to keep that from us.” When I stopped speaking, I realized how loud my volume had gotten.

  Parker and Avery stared at me with dropped jaws. Mom was silent. She trained her eyes on her hands in her lap.

  Dad put a hand on my shoulder. “Claire,” Dad said in a hushed voice. “I’m sure you can imagine how painful and difficult it might have been for your mom to talk about this.”

  I whipped my head so my eyes could meet his. “We loved him too. It wasn’t easy for us either. We lost our father, and for ten years we’ve had no one to talk to.”

  For years my questions had been blown off or deflected, and every time that happened, I took whatever pain or hurt I had and pushed it deep inside. I did what I was taught. Gaman. Endure with dignity and grace. Accept the pain and don’t complain. But maybe I hadn’t done it the right way because those pains never disappeared, and the space where I had shoved everything was so full it was about to burst.