“I don’t understand,” I say. “None of you are mad?”
“What?!” Belle says, looking at me like I’ve grown another head. “Why would anyone be mad?”
“B-because,” I splutter. “The scandal, the Secret Love Child! All the stuff that’s been simmering underneath the surface for all these years, the scandal centered around me, has finally blown all the way up. I . . .” Tears fill my eyes again, and my voice shakes. I don’t want to cry, but I’m just so overwhelmed. I can’t seem to control anything my body’s doing, not even a little bit. “I’ve never belonged here,” I manage, my voice breaking. “I’ve never belonged to anyone. Not really. I’ve always been a mistake, and this just proves it. That is what I am. What I’ll always be. I can’t deny it, no matter how much it hurts. I can’t deny the truth . . .” My tears spill over and turn into sobs, and now I can’t talk anymore.
In a way, it’s a relief to say all of that. Finally.
“Rika-chan.” Auntie Och’s formidable eyebrows draw together, her piercing black eyes taking me in. “What you saying? That sounds like some kind of garbage. You are family. Of course you belong to us.”
“Hai, yes,” Uncle Hikaru says, crossing his arms over his chest. “And all of Little Tokyo is family in some way. We take care of each other.”
That only makes me cry harder. Auntie Suzy steps forward—and for the first time ever, she doesn’t look tired. She looks like something has awoken inside of her, just enough for her heart to break.
“Oh, Rika—my Rika-chan.” She pulls me against her, wrapping me in the tightest hug she’s ever given me. “I’m so sorry. This is my fault. I never . . .” She strokes my hair, and I can hear the tears in her voice. She keeps doing that until my sobs quiet, my tears start to dry. Then she pulls back and puts her hands on my shoulders, her eyes glinting with something I’ve never seen before. A certain kind of resolve. I am struck with an eerie feeling, like I’ve gone back in time and am seeing the Auntie Suzy I’ve heard so much about—the one who stood up to her father all those years ago and married Auntie Och. “It’s time to tell you the truth,” she says. “All of it.”
NINETEEN
We all pile into Katsu That—yes, the whole crowd. As people situate themselves in booths and at tables, I spot a familiar face I didn’t notice before.
“Joanna?” I say, surprised. “What are you doing here?”
“I told you, I’m your fairy godmother,” she says with a wink. “I saw the gossip this morning, obviously, and tried texting you. But you didn’t answer, so I came down here to see if I could find you. And then happened upon all these other people trying to find you.” She smiles. “So many people care about you, Sweet Rika.”
I don’t quite know what to do with that, so I smile back and then cram myself into a booth next to Belle and Rory, my nure-onna T-shirt clutched in my fists.
“Well,” Auntie Suzy says, surveying the assembled crowd. “I was picturing this as a more, mmm, intimate discussion where I only shared this story with Rika—”
“It’s all right,” I manage to say. “You can tell it in front of everyone.”
I’m not sure why, but it feels like the whole community needs to hear this story, some of their shared secrets finally emerging from the shadows.
“All right, then,” Auntie Suzy says. She draws herself up tall, that defiant glint returning to her eyes. “I guess it’s time we all talked about this properly.”
She trains her gaze on me, so many emotions passing over her face. “Rika-chan. I know you hate a lot of fairy tales. But maybe you’ll like this one—because the ending is so bittersweet.”
She stays standing and turns to gaze out the window, a faraway look overtaking her expression.
“Once upon a time, my sister, Grace Kimura . . . no. Grace Rakuyama.” She smiles slightly to herself. “She and I were as close as two people can be. Our father was strict and often cruel. Our mother was scared of him and rarely said anything—she faded into the background so much, eventually she faded away to nothing. She died of some kind of heart condition—my father would never tell us exactly what—when I was ten and Grace was only three.”
My heart is beating so fast and so loudly, I’m convinced everyone in the restaurant can hear it. A hush has fallen over the crowd as Auntie Suzy tells her tale, her voice clear and strong.
“I remember loving Grace from the moment she was born—I thought that’s what everyone meant when they talked about love at first sight. This sudden full-body pull toward another person. The first time I got to hold her, she looked up at me with the biggest smile, like she somehow knew to trust me completely—and I was gone. When our mother passed, my first urge was to take care of her. To protect her with everything I had.”
Auntie Suzy pauses, her eyes going a little glassy. She’s still looking out the window. Like she can’t quite look at me.
“We were so tightly bonded together—as we got older, sometimes I didn’t know where I ended and she began. Did we both love this certain kind of curry because one of us had first? Or had we developed a taste for it simultaneously, being so in sync? My father never wanted to have girls. He had very little use for us—except when we were fulfilling some kind of outdated notion of what femininity should be. I don’t think Grace ever truly thought that he loved her. So I made sure she knew she was loved by someone. Every day. I was determined that she would never lose
