by Camy Tang
“Oh, no, I couldn’t — ”
“Oh, but I insist — ”
“No, I couldn’t impose — ”
“Oh, it’s no imposition.”
“Oh. Thank you, I’d love some.”
Trish followed her mom into the kitchen, but felt a tug at her back pocket.
“No, Mrs. Choi, you keep it.” She removed the crumpled draft and held it out to her, but the woman clasped her hands in front of her ample stomach, turned her head sideways, and stared at the wall. Trish marched to Mrs. Choi’s handbag, which had been left by the door, and dropped it in.
She wasn’t too worried about losing that money — and boy, did she need it — because she knew the drill. Mrs. Choi, thinking she was so devious, would slip it into Trish’s jacket pocket for her to find later.
Trish found it in her father’s jacket pocket, because three jackets hung on the coat rack near the front door. She sighed as she fingered the thick paper and traced all those lovely zeros. She’d have loved to see George’s face when Mrs. Choi submitted the “bill.”
Thank You, Lord. And please forgive me for earlier when I was hoping the contractor I’ d arranged to come this week would find his joists rotted through.
She had pulled on her jacket to drive back to Venus’s apartment when her cell phone rang. Uh, oh. “Hi Grandma.”
“I heard something rather surprising about your state of health today.”
Oh, no. “I’m actually feeling rather good — ”
“Are you still at your parents’ house?”
“I’m about to leave — ”
“No, you stay right there. I’m ten minutes away.”
Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no.
But she hauled off her jacket. She wasn’t about to disobey a direct matriarchal order. She sank into the sofa, biting her cheek.
“Trish?”
“Grandma’s coming, Dad.”
What would she say? Grandma wasn’t going to be happy with Trish, but then again, they hadn’t exactly parted on the best of terms at Kazuo’s art unveiling at the bank. Would anyone sympathize with her that she didn’t want to get back together with Kazuo? Well, maybe the point was moot. Kazuo wouldn’t want her now.
So why was Grandma coming?
Round and round and round. Mom and Dad chatted in the kitchen, cleaning the dishes, while Trish sat on the couch, jiggling her leg, staring at the clock.
Grandma must have been speeding because she got there in eight minutes.
Trish opened the door before she’d even rung the doorbell. “Hi, Grandm — ”
Kazuo loomed in the doorway.
“Aack!” She jumped, feeling like a kendo stick had beamed her right in the forehead. She heard her parents come out of the kitchen behind her.
Kazuo took a giant step forward over the threshold, grabbed her, and planted a big kiss right on her gaping mouth.
Yuck, yuck, yuck! His mouth was slimy and hard and disgusting. She slapped at his chest and squirmed in his grip until he let go. She gave him a good shove for extra measure. “What are you doing here?”
“I brought him.” Grandma stepped into the house, nose in the air, choosing to ignore the PDA that had happened not three feet from her.
“You brought Kazuo? Have you become his grandmother, too?”
“Trish.” Mom’s voice had that warning in it that usually preceded sending her to her room for a timeout.
Grandma smiled, an evil upturning of scarlet lips that would have made Medusa proud. “I might.”
No. Way.
Kazuo dropped to one knee. “Trish — ”
She backpedaled even as she heard her mother’s sigh of joy. “No. Absolutely not.”
He clasped his hands to his chest and looked up, falling into the throes of artistic vision. Except he looked a little silly since he was still on one knee. “This is the very thing to complete my masterpiece. Marriage with you, my muse. We will forever and truly be one, heart and soul. It will be magnificent. My uncle’s gallery will be known for debuting the most brilliant artist of this century.”
Okay, no delusions of grandeur there. “What about the word no did you not understand?”
His eyes blazed dark with passion as he rose to his feet and moved toward her. “We will be alone again, you and I, in our world of artistic freedom and decadent creativity — ”
“That is not appealing and you are making no sense. As usual.” She planted her heels, rammed a sword down her spine, and stood her ground. He towered over her, his face inches away, but her basilisk glare prevented him from trying to take more liberties.
Grandma’s voice suddenly came from right at her elbow. “Trish.”
She started and turned away from her staring match with the Clueless Wonder. “Grandma, we already talked about this.”
“Kazuo’s parents love you and they will always take care of you.” Translation: When Kazuo divorces you, they’ ll ensure you get a nice alimony package and child support for the baby.
“But I’m not marrying them. I’d be marrying him.” She’d rather eat uni sushi and gag to death.
“This is an ideal alliance with the bank.”
She knew it would eventually come around to that. “Why me? I have plenty of cousins willing to put up with him.”
“Do you really want to cause embarrassment for your family like this?” Grandma gestured toward her parents, who stood frozen a few feet away. “People will shun your mother. She will lose all her friends.” Marian Sakai, mother of an unwed mother. Trish swallowed. There were lots of unwed mothers.
But very few with grandmothers who owned the largest private bank in Japantown.
Trish bit her lip and glanced at Mom. She was blinking rapidly and clinging rather hard to Dad’s arm.
No, Trish wasn’t going to be guilted into this. This was her entire life. This was doing what God wanted her to do, not what Grandma and her family wanted her to do. “If they won’t be Mom’s friends because I choose not to marry this scumbag, then they aren’t true friends, are they?”
Grandma’s eyes started to glitter in a very unpleasant way. “They’ll boycott Grandma’s bank and bankrupt the family.”
“Now you’re being melodramatic.” As soon as the words flew out of her mouth, Trish’s heart stopped beating for a second or two, then resumed.
She’d smart-mouthed Grandma. She sounded like Lex or Venus. Her, Trish. She never talked back to Grandma, especially when her grandparent had become so agitated that she was speaking of herself in the third person.
Grandma had turned an interesting red-orange color, rather like those Chinese octopus appetizers at wedding banquets.
“I’m having this baby and I’m not marrying him.”
Kazuo’s brow furrowed as if he were just catching on. “Baby?”
The world stopped. She stared at him. He stared back, completely ignorant.
She rounded on Grandma in amazement. “You mean you didn’t tell him?”
“Ah . . .” Grandma’s mouth worked open and closed. Trish couldn’t believe it. Grandma was speechless.
And Trish had her trump card. She turned on him for the attack. “Yes, Kazuo, I’m carrying your baby. ”
He visibly flinched at the word.
“Do you really want a baby around your studio? Playing with your paints? Ruining your artwork? Chewing on your brushes? Your apartment isn’t exactly baby-proof. And there’s no way I’m letting you get out of changing the baby’s dirty diapers — do you know how much they smell? — and burping the baby so she upchucks all over your shirts, and did you know that babies always start screaming and wailing right when you want to watch TV, like, oh, Korean soap operas?”
He’d turned pale as she pressed him with mutilated brushes, dirty diapers, and slobbery burping, but when she threatened his K-drama watching, he balked. “No K-dramas? I cannot miss my K-dramas.”
“Trish, stop scaring him. I’m sure his apartment is fine and he’d make a wonderful father.” But e
ven Grandma didn’t sound so sure.
Kazuo was even less sure. In fact, he’d turned the color of Elmer’s glue and was inching backward toward the door. She’d been right — no way would he want a baby.
Now she only had Grandma to deal with. Trish crossed her arms. “Grandma, this is my decision to make.”
“Not if it influences the rest of your family.”
“Well, my family supports me.” Trish gestured to her parents. They gave her bewildered looks. Her chest tightened.
She gestured at them again, widening her eyes at them. They finally nodded in response, and she loosed a breath.
Grandma’s eyes narrowed, but she couldn’t really fire her own son, especially when he was so popular with the bank’s wealthier clients. “If you do not marry Kazuo, Grandma will not support you.” She hmphed and crossed her arms.
Trish stared her down. “I’ll have this baby on my own, with or without you. I don’t need your permission to do anything in my life, Grandma.”
She deepened her fierce frown.
“What’ll you say when your friends ask you how Trish’s baby is, and you can’t answer them?”
Grandma visibly faltered.
“I’m sure it’ll look so good when people notice my own grandmother, a pillar in the Japanese community, won’t visit her great-grandchild.”
Grandma shifted into hasty retreat. “No, no. You misunderstood. As if Grandma would abandon you.” She whirled toward the door so fast, Trish blinked, and Grandma was already turning the knob.
Trish’s chest swelled. So this was how Mel Gibson — er, William Wallace felt when the English were vanquished. Victor. Conqueror. Master and commander —
Grandma wasn’t finished. She looked back at Trish, her lips pulled into a highly miffed line. “At the very least, you could be a good grand daughter for a change and find some nice boy who’ll marry you, baby or not.” It sounded more peevish than threatening. Grandma exited with a flourish.
Kazuo was right on her heels. “Good-bye.”
The door closed with a solid thunk. Trish stared at it for a moment. The silence seemed out of place for a moment.
She took a deep breath and clutched her hands around her midsection, waiting for her heart rate to climb back down. She’d really done it. All by herself.
She’d defeated a dragon.
At least they weren’t carrying rotten tomatoes.
As Ed finished the last song before he could dismiss the congregation, Trish’s heart thudded like someone taking a mallet to her breastbone. She almost rubbed her palms against her slacks, until she remembered these were new and she didn’t want sweat stains on them.
She’d been pretty cavalier with Grandma about people shunning her mother, but visions of people snubbing her on the street had kept her awake last night. She didn’t like it when people didn’t like her. She knew in her head that not everyone would be her friend, but she didn’t want people who previously thought she was a nice Christian girl to suddenly treat her like a leper.
She didn’t need to do this. She could do this later. Or she could go privately to the pastor and tell him first, and maybe he could make the announcement to the congregation. It wouldn’t be as bad, coming from him, right? Or maybe he’d tell her to leave the church and the congregation would never need to know why.
Except that for the past few days during her Bible-reading and prayer time, she’d felt like she needed to do this. In front of everybody, not hiding behind the pastor. Funny, it seemed like she heard God a lot clearer these days.
“Let’s pray.” Ed bowed his head.
She sighed. “I don’t want to do this.”
Her words resonated clearly through the speakers and out over the hushed congregation.
What? She thought her microphone was off. When had Spenser turned it on? Why hadn’t he told her before she made a complete idiot of herself in front of the church again?
Her gaze spat sparks as she found Spenser way at the back in the balcony with the sound board. He gave a What do you expect me to do now? gesture.
Ed cleared his throat and started the prayer.
Her legs jiggled as she stood there, waiting for the prayer to end. Could she really do this? Did God really want her to do this? Well, if He wanted her to do this, maybe He’d make it turn out okay and the congregation wouldn’t turn their collective backs on the Fallen Woman.
“Amen.”
Oh man, oh man, oh man. Maybe Ed would forget she’d asked to say something after the prayer . . .
“Before we’re dismissed, we have an announcement from one of our newest worship team members, Trish.”
Rats.
She reached for Olivia’s mic before remembering hers was hot. How could she have forgotten to easily? She must really be losing it.
“Um . . . hi. I’m Trish Sakai.”
Now what? The pretty speech she’d memorized had dribbled out of her ear.
“Uh . . . okay. Before I came to this church, I was really bad.” Oh, that was eloquent. “Really, really bad.” You’re making it worse. “I did things I’m not proud of.” Okay, maybe now you’re getting somewhere.
“Then I repented.” Good word. “And I joined this church, and I really like it here. A lot.” You’re back to idiot-speak.
“Now . . .” She took a few heavy breaths. Courage. “I’m forgiven, but I still have to face the consequences of what I did. I’m pregnant, about two months.”
All she heard was a baby squeal faintly from the nursery. Ironic.
“The baby’s father isn’t a Christian, and he doesn’t want to have kids.” At least not until he stops watching K-dramas. “So I’m going to keep the baby and raise it alone. I wanted to let you know before I started to show so you wouldn’t wonder about it.” Or gossip, or snub me, or anything depressing like that.
There was a rustle from the side of the sanctuary. Oh, no. People were going to leave their seats and walk out in protest that she was a member of the church and on the worship team and . . .
No, it was the pastor coming back on stage. That was even worse. He’d denounce her in front of the entire congregation and tell them to never speak to her because they wouldn’t want the stain of her sin to rub off on any of their pure singles or teens.
“You’re very brave to tell us, Trish.”
Yeah, but . . . ?
“I’m very proud of you.”
Really?
“I want to pray for you now. Let’s pray.
“Dear heavenly Father, thank you that Trish is now part of our family.”
Oh man, she was going to start bawling up here in front of everybody.
“Thank you for the precious life growing inside her. We pray for good health for both of them. She has a difficult season ahead of her, raising a child alone. Give us wisdom to know how we can each help her and support her.”
Trish didn’t hear the rest because her heart kept repeating “help her and support her.” She wasn’t being kicked out. Some people might feel she should be, but if the pastor supported her, she wouldn’t hear about it, and really, that was fine with her. She was such a coward.
“Amen.”
Olivia embraced her before the pastor had even finished speaking. “You did good, girl.”
She nodded into her shoulder.
The pastor dismissed the congregation, and as they were breaking down equipment, Griselle came running up the steps to the stage. She barreled into Trish and nearly cut off her air supply with her hug. “You’re so brave.”
“Urk.”
She noticed a few women following Griselle up the stage. “Um, Trish?”
She extricated herself from Griselle and approached them warily. “Hi.”
The shorter of the two girls burst into tears.
Oh, no. This was not looking good. “Uh . . . Are you okay?”
“You’re so fearless,” she sobbed.
“Huh?”
“You worship with such abandon.” The other girl gestured t
o the rest of the worship team. “The worship sets have been so great. And now you’re going to have a baby on your own, and you announced it in front of the entire congregation.”
Put like that, it made Trish wonder what she’d been smoking to even contemplate doing what she’d just done. Whew. Good thing it was over with.
“You’re such an inspiration.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Trish held up her hands. “This isn’t a virgin birth, you know.”
“We know.” She giggled.
“And I’m not condoning sex before marriage.” She pinned the two girls with a fierce gaze.
Their faces fell. “Oh. Really?”
Dingbats.
THIRTY-SIX
One month later
Spenser bullied her into running with him on Monday.
Trish dug her heels in as he pulled her toward the door. “I’m pregnant.”
“You ran last week.”
Rats, he remembered. “It’s a hundred degrees outside. Wait until it cools down.”
“It’s only eighty, I checked. Perfect for running.”
“It’s lunchtime. It’ll be crowded with everyone else jogging.”
“So? You can’t breathe enough to talk to anyone anyway.”
“Grrrr . . .” But in pausing to growl, she loosened her hold on the doorframe and Spenser yanked her outside.
He even let her set the pace. She dragged herself along in the humidity, stifling after the recent rain and like sloshing through hot soup. The direct sunlight stung her skin, but the temperature didn’t seem much cooler even under the dappled shade. They headed down the concrete path, with sprinkler-fed green grass on the side closest to the research buildings and the early spring wildflowers on the side next to the street.
Trish panted like a dog, so Spenser did most of the talking. “How’re things at your new place?”
“Okay.”
“Got everything unpacked?”
Trish nodded. “Thanks . . . helping . . . move.”