We both needed each other so badly, without even knowing it.
I reach out across the space between us—the space that is not just this garden but the span of the seventeen years we’ve been apart.
“Why don’t you just talk to me,” I say. “About anything at all.”
She takes a deep breath and gives me a grateful smile.
“Let me tell you my side of the story from this past week,” she says, her voice halting. “After the parade . . .” She shakes her head, the memories rising up. “I tried to go into hiding. But no matter what, I knew I had to find you. So I tried to get back in touch with my sister—with Suzy. I left a message behind that loose tile in the library. That’s where we used to leave secret messages for each other, after I faked my death and was exiled from Little Tokyo. I thought . . . after everything that happened at the parade, she’d know I needed to talk to her. But then you and Henry found it instead.” She meets my eyes and gives me a hesitant smile. “And I knew you had, because everyone posted those photos of the two of you on social media.”
“Then why didn’t you show up?” I can’t help but ask. “At the old zoo. I . . . I wanted to meet you so badly.”
“I was scared,” she says, squeezing my hand. “I was ready to talk to Suzy, but oh, Rika-chan—I couldn’t face you. Not yet. I couldn’t imagine how you could possibly ever forgive me for being gone all those years. Just thinking about seeing you brought back all those things I felt when I was fifteen—how scared and ashamed I was, how alone.” Her voice catches, her eyes going glossy with tears. “I went deeper into hiding. I didn’t go to the zoo or to the Asian Hollywood meetup. And I pushed off finishing my movie again. I’ve never felt so mixed-up—not since I was that terrified girl. I’ve spent so many years building up my walls, trying to give myself armor so I couldn’t be hurt again.”
I feel that ping of connection soaring through me again. I squeeze her hand back.
“When I saw your message today, I knew I had to come,” she continues. “I had to see you, even if you hated me. And I would not blame you for hating me.”
“I could never,” I whisper.
“But once I got there, I realized I hadn’t actually figured out what I was going to do,” she says. “I had this image of a perfect, happy fairy-tale ending—like one of my movies. And then I just couldn’t imagine it actually happening.”
“I get that,” I say. “You . . . you can’t know how much I get that.” I look down at our clasped hands, so many feelings surging through me. And I try to find the right words. “Wishing for a happy ending is terrifying,” I say slowly. “It means tearing down those walls and putting your heart at risk. It means letting in hope. And hope always has the potential to let us down, to leave us crushed and broken and . . . and hurting.” My voice cracks, and I try to breathe evenly. “You’ve gone through so much to get here. So have I. I used to never hope at all. But this past week . . .” I shake my head, my eyes filling with tears. “I’ve learned that you can make your own happy ending. And it doesn’t have to look like the ones in rom-coms or fairy tales or . . . or . . . sad Japanese folklore stories about fierce monster women. It can look like none of those things—or all of them at once. It can look however you want it to look. It’s yours.”
“Rika-chan,” she murmurs, her voice thick with emotion. “You are . . . you’re so incredible. I can’t believe I missed so much . . .”
“You did,” I say, my voice very soft. “And I can’t lie, I’m angry about that. I never knew that you wanted me. And I think I really, really needed to know that.”
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I fought for you so hard—but I should have fought harder. I made so many mistakes, and then I wouldn’t listen to Suzy, even when she knew how bad it would be for you to suddenly be brought into the public eye with me . . .”
“Auntie Suzy made her fair share of mistakes, too. And I’m happy you’re here now,” I say, squeezing her hand again. “I would like to . . . to have something with you. Whatever that ends up being. I’m not sure yet. But I’ve heard so much about you now, from Henry and Auntie Suzy, and you sound pretty amazing.”
“I want that,” she says fervently. “More than anything.”
“Then as a first step—come with me back to the gala.” I meet her gaze and give her a hopeful smile. “There are so many people who want to see you. One in particular.”
Grace hesitates and looks off into the distance. For a moment, she looks just like the lost teenager she was in that photo I found of her sitting under this tree. My heart twists.
After what seems like forever, she turns back to me and gives me that brilliant smile—the one I’ve heard about all my life. The one everyone—from her fans to the Little Tokyo denizens who remember her as a sweet, hopeful girl—loves so much.
“Yes, Rika-chan,” she says, finally pulling me in for an embrace. “Let’s go.”
I can tell Grace is nervous. Her grip on my hand tightens as we get closer and closer to the courtyard, her palm slick with sweat. When we reach the courtyard entrance, I give her an encouraging
