In Plain View. Julie Shigekuni

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СКАЧАТЬ as Gizo lined strips of tape neatly across the table’s edge, the precision of his work seeming to say that the task at hand was connected somehow to his purpose in life. His fingers were square-tipped and callused, with an unhealed gash that ran the length of his index finger to the joint of his thumb, suggesting he knew something she didn’t know.

      “How’d you get that?” she asked, signaling to him with her chin, suddenly cowed by doubt.

      “That?” He flexed his thumb. “It’s nothing.”

      The rice sack repaired, he stuck a strip of leftover tape to Daidai’s forearm in a gesture he found riotously funny. Buckled over with laughter, he playfully ducked under her hand when she attempted to smack his shoulder. In an instant, he’d turned from serious into the annoying boy he’d been as a child. Only he was quicker now.

      “Ouch!” Daidai rubbed at the hairless stripe left behind by the tape.

      “It’s what you get.”

      “What are you talking about?” she demanded, folding her arms across her chest.

      “Heard you left the museum.”

      The pang in her chest moved up to her head, and she met his eyes, wondering how much he knew. “What? I’m not allowed to take some time off?”

      “Everything okay?”

      “Yes.” Trying to smile, she felt her cheeks flush again and figured she may as well just answer him outright. He probably knew anyway, since people were always talking. “Hiroshi and I are trying to have a baby.”

      “Really?” he gasped. “You gonna be a stay-at-home mommy?”

      She shrugged. Why was he mocking her?

      “Thought you were a career woman.”

      “What are you talking about?” Daidai flinched at his use of an anachronism to describe her.

      “Take it easy, Daidai.” He brushed his fingers over the reddened splotch on her forearm in a way that would have made Hiroshi uneasy, and she pulled away. “No one gets to have it all. I understand that.”

      “I never said I had it all.”

      “Really?” He looked surprised. “I thought everything about you said that.”

      Daidai drew a breath in and held it. Was that really how he saw her? Gizo cocked his head, the same gesture Hiroshi sometimes used to ask if she was for real. Slowly, so as to make her intention clear, she reached for him, grabbed a quarter-inch piece of arm flesh between her thumb and forefinger, and twisted, watching his face for signs of pain as she increased the pressure. She held on, waiting for him to pull away, reading the energy between them in the shape of his eyes, before shifting her gaze to the gash that ran the length of his index finger and the room with all its appurtenances and odd angles. Her grip released only when the doorknob turned and the sales clerk they’d passed behind the front counter stuck her head in to ask about an order.

      “Who’s the new help?” Daidai said, acknowledging a different kind of tension in the air when the door shut.

      “That would be the delightful Patty Shinoda, Ralph’s daughter.”

      Gizo examined the darkened mark on his arm as Daidai looked on, wondering who Ralph was. “I’m late to meet Louise for lunch,” she announced, dismissing him.

      “Almost done here,” Gizo said. After standing the scissors in an old coffee tin and hanging the tape roll on a nail, he reached for the shopping bags, having transformed back into his chivalrous, adult self. “Where to?”

      Daidai set the pace, walking a half step ahead to let him know she was still offended by his misguided perception of her, daring him to repeat the error in his judgment of her. Others might think of her as the light-skinned, freckled, unknowable stranger, but he knew better.

      Fortunately, the hot midday air would not hold on to anger, and she could feel his attention at her back as she walked. By the time they arrived at the storefront restaurant, she didn’t know why she’d been so irritable. And as if to show regret for his behavior, he handed the rice sack and groceries over with exaggerated care, emphasizing his devotion with a slight bow.

      “I love you, too,” she said, aching at the distance she felt from this boy she’d grown up with.

      Tilting her chin up to just past where it felt comfortable, he looked her in the eye somberly before letting go, the heat from his fingers still palpable along her cheek when he turned to leave.

      Daidai sat at a four-top with the taped-up rice sack in the chair next to her, startled out of her reverie when Louise tapped her shoulder from behind. Leaning in for a hug, she spoke in a whisper, as if to deliver a secret. “All that white rice isn’t good for you.”

      “It’s for a party,” Daidai whispered back.

      “You look nice.” Louise assessed her outfit the way her doctor had evaluated her health, Louise’s eyes calling Daidai’s attention back into her body.

      “Thank you.” Daidai smiled, having spent more time than usual in front of the mirror that morning hoping Louise would notice. “You look nice, too.”

      Louise looked sharp, cool in a restaurant that felt oppressively close with only fans to blow the air around. Her flawlessly manicured, soft hands and skin tone beamed good health and goodwill, and her eyes reflected back an image of Daidai that felt safe and familiar. Louise had that gift of lighting up whatever object caught her attention. Combined with persistence and intense curiosity, it made her a good lawyer. Still, Daidai wondered how anyone, let alone her best friend, could get to be their age with no personal life to speak of. Who knew what lay beneath her flawless exterior, because everyday questions led to defensiveness, as if threatening to expose what her routine lacked.

      Like Louise, Daidai avoided conversations that focused on her, though on this afternoon she’d come to lunch with an important matter to discuss. Earlier in the year, Hiroshi had been promoted to program director, news that had come as a shock since he’d been a faculty member in the university’s Asian American Studies department for only six years. The appointment would begin that fall, and along with the title came the honor of hosting the beginning-of-the-year graduate student reception. Daidai watched Louise run down the ingredients list with concentration that marked her as an expert. “Fresh, seasonal. Smart nod to the discerning palate. Good!”

      “Do you think so?” Daidai raised a nail to her lip and bit down, needing Louise’s praise.

      “Of course!” Louise reached across the table and squeezed Daidai’s arm, her touch bringing on a wave of feeling.

      “I’ve missed you” was all Daidai could think to say, not wanting to tip Louise off to her forlorn state.

      “Do you want me to come to this party?”

      “Please.”

      “I’ll have to see.” Louise took out her calendar, marked as Daidai’s used to be for months in advance, making no promises except to say that she’d try to be there. “What’s wrong?” she asked, looking concerned.

      “Nothing,” Daidai said, dejected, feeling the obviousness of what was wrong. A year ago, her СКАЧАТЬ