Saving Akira

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Akira donned oven mitts and carried the pot of oatmeal to the table of the condo. She elbowed her father awake again. He lifted his head from his crossed arms on the table. “Dad, come on. Breakfast. You’ll feel better.”

“Ahhhh, why do you punish me?”

She bent, pecked his cheek, and moaned, half joking. “It’s my job to torment you. You have to be on time for the new job.” She wondered how he kept a full head of shiny, black hair and young complexion despite his refusal to care for his body.

He croaked, “It’s just for the week.”

“And it can lead to more work. We need the money.”

“Didn’t the b***h send the child support and alimony?”

She sighed in disgust for having the same conversation again. “She’s my mother; don’t disrespect her, and you know it’s not enough for us to live on. We have to work.” She didn’t bother to remind him she routinely made more money than he did. After plopping a healthy serving into his bowl, she served herself, making notes on her laptop.

“You’re obsessed with oatmeal.”

She shook her head and logged onto the Internet for the definition. “I’m not obsessed. The definition is to be the only or primary issue a person is occupied by. I have multiple interests and involvements. On the other hand, you might be obsessed with destroying my life. Finish your breakfast, take a shower, and go to work. I want you there ten minutes early. It’ll display honor and dedication.” She tasted her latest concoction and made more notes in the file on her laptop. Then she added she hoped her paternal parent could keep his temp job and not screw it up and stay sober.

She typed, why do I have to be the adult?

“I’m doing the best I can. What is in this?” He sniffed and stirred his oatmeal.

“Teriyaki style. Sake, low-salt soy sauce, ginger, garlic, sugar.”

“Stop trying to be Japanese.”

“We are Japanese.”

“Not for a few generations. No one in the family speaks it.” He headed to the cabinet. “Needs more sake.”

“No! Sit and eat. You’re not going to work with booze in your system again.”

“I’m not an alcoholic.”

“If you’re not, you sure as hell flirt with it.”

She typed, Mediocre. Do not repeat recipe. Dad hung over again. Don’t know how much more of this I can take. I shouldn’t have to be the parent. I’m still a kid. This all is so f***ing depressing.

After breakfast, she showered, wiped the full-length mirror with a towel, and dried her hair, admiring her lithe, short figure and long black hair in the mirror. “Not bad looking. I’d date me. Don’t worry, you’ll find a girlfriend who’s not afraid to be out.” She put her hair up into a conservative bun and headed out, dressed in the vintage Victorian pink dress she found at an antique shop.

In the parking lot of Gunderson High, her cell chirped with the ringtone of ancient Japanese music. She checked the screen, and her face torqued into a huge smile. “Mom! How are you?”

“Hi, Akira. How’s my little girl?”

She rested back in the seat, filled with happiness at the call. “I’m good. Dad’s the same. Only have a few minutes. School starts soon.”

“I called to wish you happy seventeenth birthday. I love you.”

Akira stared at the dashboard. Not enough to let me live with you or be here for me. “Thanks, Mom. You know it was last week.”

“I know, but I was on a mission and locked out of communication.”

“Where are you assigned?”

“Aw, sorry, can’t say. Super secret again.”

“What can be so secret about a Navy doctor’s assignment?”

“I’ll explain it later. There’s a true need.”

In the limited time, they covered an array of subjects. They were both efficient at conversation.

Mom ended with, “I did an electronic transfer to your account. The money’s for you, not your dad. He gets alimony. Are you using the child support wisely?”

“Sure. For the property taxes, insurance, and car repair.”

“That’s supposed to be for just you.”

“Mom, no time for this discussion again. What am I supposed to do, kick him out so he can live under an overpass? Why can’t I come live with you? Then you won’t have to pay Dad child support.” Damn, she wasn’t going to bring it up again. She’d have to suffer through her last year of high school, and it just started, being the second week of September.

“You wouldn’t like Alaska. Gotta go, baby. Call anytime.”

Except when you’re busy or on communication blackout or I’m asking pointed questions.

Akira rushed to the main building for her first class, her long old-style dress flying in the breeze she created. All the other kids wore jeans, except for the Gunderson High Goth Girl who Akira fell in behind to check out. Taller than the average male, with a long, sweeping dress over her ankles and an exposed back down almost to her waist. A black bra strap showed under the shiny black hair down to her tight ass. She strolled with others of the Goth attire, including a fem boy who also sported a cute ass. If he were a girl, she’d boff him.

Akira knew the girl’s name was Jade. Jade had an arm over a shorter slender boy’s shoulders, and he wrapped an arm around her waist. Akira drooled internally at the sexy lass. Sadly, they had no classes together. Maybe Akira could go to a second-hand store, buy a magic wand, and get Jade in some classes with her. While she was at it, she’d requisition loving parents who had time and dedication for her.

The school day went as was expected, mundane but beneficial. She enjoyed learning but wondered if the process and delivery might be better. The closest she had to a best friend, Jessica, was home sick with the devil of all menstrual periods, leaving her mostly alone at lunch and after school.

Akira sat at a table in the cafeteria in a mix of boys and girls. No one picked on anyone else, yet there was a lack of any friendships. It was safe. She lost her best friend, Samantha, after their relationship morphed to girlfriends and Sam decided she couldn’t handle being a lesbian and jumped back over the fence to hetero land. She quit associating with Akira, apparently afraid lesbianism was a contagious condition.

Akira had few friends and only several acquaintances; she preferred privacy. She was grateful she wasn’t a bully victim, well, not since ninth grade. There were advantages to studying the ancient martial art Jujitsu. She smiled to herself.

The school day flew by. Akira drove the few miles home and changed into jeans and a conservative T-shirt. Dad was gone, so hopefully that meant he was at work. She reviewed the emancipation paperwork again on her laptop. The court date was coming up. She wasn’t trying to get rid of her father, but she needed legal and financial freedom from him. They suffered role reversal where she was the parent and he the recalcitrant teen.

She allowed the memory of the divorce, when she was ten, to overwhelm her. Mom explained that being in the Navy with long shifts and changes in assignments would be bad for Akira. Like living with a lazy, alcoholic father with the maturity of a teen was better. Sniffling, she allowed exactly three tears to fall before slapping herself forcefully a few times and making her mind change channels to another subject.

She drove to her nearly full-time job at Coleman’s Convenient Center at Pearl and Branham Avenues. Parking around back, she showed up ten minutes early.

Marshall bounced around with his arm braces, winking, and smiling at her. “There’s my best friend and favorite employee.” He had no time for a response. The store was busy.

The other clerk, Vivien, play slapped Marshall’s arm. “What the hell am I, chopped liver?” She scrunched her face at Akira, who came right over.

Marshall bellowed his usual laugh. “Damn, caught between two women again.”

Akira whispered to Vivien, “What’s up?”

“My gut has been upset last night and today. I have to go to the bathroom.”

Akira body-pushed her away. “Then go. I’ll take over.” She logged Vivien off the cash register and put her own employee number in, handling customers with the finesse of a surgeon, remembering several by name.

Vivien returned and side-hugged Akira. “Thank you.”

“Been there. Go home and rest. Your shift is over.”

Marshall seemed confused. “What’s going on?”

Winking and smiling, Akira said, “I’ll tell you when you’re older.” They handled the last of the customers, and a lull passed over them.

“I’ll be fifty tomorrow. That’s old enough. And you’re seventeen. Ah, to be seventeen again.”

She served them soda from the fountain. “So what would you do different?”

He rested on a stool, setting his crutches aside. “I wouldn’t have been such a pain in the ass for my parents. I’d have drowned me if I were them. I wouldn’t have gone in the Marines, so I’d have good legs.”

She gave him a sideways hug. “You loved the Marines. I bet if you knew then what you know now, you’d still sign up.”

“Oh, Akira, you understand me so well. Marry me, please.”

She finished her soda and grabbed the broom. “As soon as your wife says it’s okay. Besides, she’s not my type.”

“I’m proud of you for being open about it. In my day, no one would dare be openly gay.”

“Sure there were. You just didn’t see it.”

The shift went on with peaks and valleys in the customer flow. Akira did all of the stocking of shelves and taking the garbage out to make it easier on Marshall, leaving him to handle customers.

At nine P.M., Marshall headed out for the night, leaving Akira alone. San Jose PD patrol sergeant Garatino strolled in, wearing a haggard look. Her short, bobbed hair wasn’t perfect, and her blue, wool uniform was dirtied.

“Sarge, what’s up?”

“Marlboro Gold and a large Pepsi.” She reached for a forty-four-ounce cup. Akira narrowed her almond, Japanese eyes. “What’s that for?”

“Nothing, it’s none of my business.”

A smile crept to the sergeant’s face. “Don’t take that tone with me. Out with it.”

“You complain about your weight. A twelve-ounce soda has one hundred fifty calories. That’s almost three times the amount. Besides, Pepsi has caffeine, and you complain about poor sleep when you get home.”

Garatino sighed exaggeratedly. “But, Moooooom, I want it.” They laughed, and she retrieved a diet, caffeine-free soda instead. “I swear, you’ll make a great mother someday.”

Akira soured as she rang the sarge up. “I’m a mother now.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean it that way. Forgot about your dad for a minute, or do you want to talk about it?”

“What’s to talk about, Rosey? Nothing changes. He drinks, barely works, and I handle everything. I swear I’ll call the cops the next time he drives drunk. He already has one conviction for it. At least he’s not bringing women home.”

“Have you talked to that attorney I set you up with?”

“Yeah, he’s great. Court date is soon. My father s**t when he found out.”

“It’s by his own hand. He shouldn’t be a parent. I’m sorry you have to go through this.”

“It’ll make me stronger. Sir Edmond Burke said, ‘he who wrestles with us strengthens us.’”

“And set you up for psych issues later. Could interfere with a marriage.”

“Girls can’t marry in California.”

“It’ll happen very soon, and you know what I mean.” They giggled. “I bet you’re breaking the hearts of a billion boys.”

Akira took care of two customers, one guy close to her age who gave her a lot of visual attention before slowly leaving.

Rosey, about 5’8” and carrying thirty extra pounds, said, “See? He has the hots for you.”

“But he’s never asked me out.”

“Do you want him to?”

“Only to boost my ego. I’m not interested in boys. Boys got cooties.” She let loose a crooked smile. “So, when are you going to quit smoking?”

“Soon, Mom, soon. You have an old soul.”

“How’s your daughter?”

“Still dressing weird. She’s so pretty and hardly shows it, not that I want her walking around naked, but—” She trailed off, and an uneasy silence ensued.

“You two talking?”

“Sometimes. Casual stuff. She won’t get into personal feelings or anything with depth. I wish she’d trust me. Won’t even let me have access to her f*******: profile.”

“My parents don’t care if I’m on there or who I’m talking to. Funny. You care, and your daughter won’t let you in. My parents don’t care. Don’t feel bad. A lot of kids don’t let their parents into f*******:, or they create a vanilla one to appease the old ones.”

Rosey’s call sign came over the radio. “Seven-X-ten, can you check on a street fight? All other units are tied up.”

“Affirmative.”

The dispatcher droned on. “Fifteen to twenty fighting at the park, Cahalan and Calero. No weapons seen. Anonymous caller passing by.”

“En route.”

It wasn’t Rosey’s job to handle beat calls, but like most patrol sergeants, she filled in as needed on the grossly understaffed police department. The damned city council took it upon themselves to change pay and benefits. The police association and other unions took the city to court. Years and millions of dollars later, the unions won, but the police department was decimated in its ranks.

Akira spoke to the empty store after Rosey left, “But they have a multi-million-dollar, gleaming new city hall for the politicians.”

Customers came and went. Akira cleaned the counter, made fresh coffee for the several pots that were always supposed to be ready, and got some homework done. She considered new oatmeal recipes.

The chime sounded again for three customers, the Goth crew, including who she dubbed Goth Girl of Gunderson High, sexy Jade. Two girls, one short boy between them. Most students looked down on the Goth crowd, but Akira felt, unless someone was being hurt, people were free to do and dress as they pleased. Besides, if she were on the witness stand under oath to tell the truth, she’d admit to a certain attraction to the style.

The group obviously enjoyed a good time. They giggled, laughed, and bounced off of each other. The separated in the store, and Akira watched on the security cameras with no indication they were shoplifting. Goth Girl and the boy met in a corner and kissed, his hand groping her ass. The trio convened at the counter, dropping an array of candy, canned soda, snacks, and treats. Akira totaled and bagged it.

Goth Girl said, “And two packs of Marlboro Gold.”

Akira shook her head and said, “That totals $18.49. You know you have to be legal age for smokes.”

The teen male member deepened his voice, “I’m twenty-seven.” He had black nails with red outlines, black lipstick, and an awesome, ankle-length coat with wide lapels.

They emptied pockets of dollar bills and change on the counter, totaling $17.01, a bit short of the bill.

Akira smiled. “Not enough for smokes anyway.”

The other girl grabbed the bags. “Let’s just go.”

Akira suggested returning an item to lower the bill, but the group seemed embarrassed. Didn’t anyone have a debit card? Goth Girl used one in the past.

Goth Girl hesitated, and the boy was obviously going to follow the lead of girl number two.

Akira got her purse and added the rest of the money. “Have a good night.”

Goth Girl mouthed, Thank You.

Their gazes caught, but Akira couldn’t read what was there. Akira got laser lock on her hot ass in the tight black jeans as they exited.