Saving Akira

Chapter 1 San Jose, California, 2010 Akira Watanabe served her dad oatmeal, a week after her seventeenth birthday that he forgot. Again. She’d had some poor experiences and stuck with his favorite: cinnamon, nutmeg, a hint of chocolate and vanilla with cashew nuts. He must have slept well since he worked his way through accumulated mail. She recognized the envelope from family court and ate, waiting for the emotional tsunami. “What the hell? Do you know about this? Of course, you do. What are you pulling?” She took a deep breath, forced it out, and sucked a controlled breath in. She held it several seconds and gave a slow, even release as instructed in Jujitsu, the ancient Japanese fighting art of the Samurai. “Answer me, damn it.” He slammed his hand on the table. She couldn’t remember when she stopped being afraid of that, or him. “I’m working with a court-appointed attorney to be legally emancipated from you and Mom. She got a letter, too. All she does is send money. I run the household and pay the bills and keep things in order. I want the legal standing of it.” “I’m your father. What will I do if you leave?” “I’m not leaving. This is just something I need to do for my sanity.” Like the wave of a magic wand, his attitude and tone shifted. He lowered his head and inspected his oatmeal, taking half spoonfuls. “I’m sorry. I’m a bad father. You have a right to do this. Are you going to kick me out?” “You’re my father. I won’t turn my back on you. I need to do this.” “I’ll quit drinking as of now. Never in my life will I consume any alcoholic beverage again.” “That’s nice, Dad. It’ll help a lot of things.” She knew better than to remind him of the hundred other times he’d made the same promise. At least he’s not violent. He mumbled, and she didn’t feel like playing the game where he worked for pity. She needed to change the subject. “I have a date tonight. Not sure when I’ll be home.” “It’s a school night. Be home before nine.” “Dad, it’s Saturday.” “Oh.” He smirked. “I want to meet the boy before you go out.” “I’ll mention it to her. It’s a girl.” “What? You date girls now? Are you a lezzie?” Dad must be accepting the legal issue well since he shifted into humor mode. A glimpse of happier times, so long ago when they were still a family, came to her. She played along. “Didn’t you get the memo? Yeah, I hate being normal, so I chose to be a lesbian.” “Make sure you’re safe. Bad for a high school girl to get pregnant.” She hugged him, took their empty bowls, and said, “I don’t go all the way on the first date.” His face grew serious. “Have you gone all the way?” Gee, is that what a real father-daughter talk is like? “Yeah. Bobby Wilson last September so he could say he wasn’t a virgin anymore. We screwed five times to give him experience. You remember him; we were good buds for a while.” She didn’t say she closed her eyes and thought of women as they had s*x. “What happened to him?” “Aliens took him.” She chuckled. “Moved away.” “What planet?” “Colorado.” “You gone all the way with a girl, whatever that is?” She nodded. “Yeah.” “My baby’s growing up.” The day passed with housework, homework, and a six-hour shift at the convenience store to cover for another clerk who wanted to go to a wedding. Akira texted her date, a hook-up from a teen dating site, to make sure the girl didn’t get cold feet and back out. She assured Akira she’d show up. By 6:22, Akira was on her second coffee at Starbucks, sitting near the front door, rolling the stem of the white carnation between her palms. She loved them and felt they were good luck charms, so she told the girl she’d have one. She drained the coffee and was about to give up when her date rushed in, puffing air. Their gazes met. She was older than the pics she’d sent. “Akira, I’m so sorry. I went to the wrong Starbucks and started late anyway. I’m always late, sorry.” They shook. Her profile said she’s always early. Akira forgot the girl’s name and didn’t care at this point. Nervousness gave way to upset and distrust. As the woman fidgeted with her keys, Akira noted a tan line on the wedding finger. “So, what school do you go to?” “School? Oh, uh, San Jose High.” “What street is it on?” “Twenty-fourth and Julian.” That was correct, Akira went for the kill. “What year did you graduate?” The girl wrinkled her forehead. “Huh, no, I haven’t—” Akira bored into her with a hard gaze. The girl puffed upward blowing her bangs. “You’re smart.” “How old are you?” A tiny grin began. “I’m nineteen.” Akira crushed the empty, paper coffee cup. She barked, “How old are you?” “Twenty-one.” Akira grabbed the woman’s purse and searched for a wallet. She grabbed for it. “Give that back, you have no right.” “I’m really working for San Jose PD to entrap adults who lure innocent teens. Sit down and shut up.” The woman miraculously believed her and obeyed. Her face went white. Finding a driver’s license, Akira confirmed the woman’s age at twenty-six. She didn’t look it. She spoke the woman’s name and birthdate, saying DOB, like she’d heard Sgt. Garatino do, into the button of her blouse. Gosh, was this woman stupid enough to believe she was a police informant? “The supervisor said they’ll check out your background and get an arrest warrant for you. He said for you not to leave town.” Akira contained her need to laugh. It was a line from old movies. “Go home to your husband.” She drove around for a while all over San Jose and even into the rural road up the east foothills to spy down on the lit-up valley. She parked at a lovers’ lookout but couldn’t stand being alone when everyone else around had a partner. She texted school-bud Jessica. Hey, how u doing? UR period over? The response came back. No. Still going thru hell. Thx. Can’t chat now. Sorry. Busy. She texted Dusty, an old friend, but he didn’t answer. He was a cool guy she liked and was always accepting of her lesbian-ness. She drove and found herself at work. Marshall’s car was there. She waltzed in. The duty clerk handled the normal flow of traffic. Marshall greeted Akira with a wave and wink. She got a frozen treat. Marshall stood from the stool and grabbed his two arm canes. “Akira, bad enough I come here when off duty. Why are you here on a Saturday?” “Date ended early.” “Okay, since you’re here, let’s go in the office; something I want to talk to you about. We’ll consider you on the clock for it.” He walked slow but steady. It had to be hell to have your legs broken from war. She followed him, appreciating he gave her all the time he could to help her financially, hoping it didn’t cut too deep into profits. He had a family, too, but sometimes paid her for time she didn’t work. Marshall closed and locked the door behind her. He sat in a stiff wooden chair and patted his lap. Akira held back. “Come on.” He patted his lap again. She sat on it, and he slowly wrapped his arms around her, pulling her head into his chest. “Tell me.” She sighed. This was a job a parent should do, but with no relatives in the area, Marshall was the closest she had to an uncle. Or father. “The girl was late to meet even though I texted her to be sure she’d be there. The pic she sent was old. She’s twenty-six and married. I even had a lucky carnation with me. Didn’t work.” A few tears leaked. He patted her back with one hand while cradling her head in the other. “I know you want to say something, Marshall.” “My wife says I give out too much unsolicited advice.” “But you’re usually right.” Feeling better with the love he emitted, she said, “I’m hereby soliciting your advice.” “That was just another bump in the road. Keep looking but not too hard. A nice girl will come your way, maybe waltz into the store, pick you up, and carry you off to a better life.” “That would be so cool.” “It’s okay to feel bad at disappointments. It’s a form of mourning, which isn’t just for death. I mourned my legs a long time before accepting they’re hurt bad.” She pecked his cheek and stood. “Proper grammar is badly.” He smirked. “If you can correct grammar, you’re feeling better.” She did. Her internal spark rekindled. “Thanks, Marshall. You always know what to do and say.” He shoved off the desk with his muscled hands and arms, standing straight. “Remember we talked once about pick-up lines?” She nodded while straightening her cream-colored dress. “How about this? You see a girl you want to ask out, you do some basic chat and then say Do you every date girls. I think it’s not dorky and might work well.” As an octopus pulling prey in, she tightened her arms around him. “You’re so good to me.” “I want you to be happy.” “Were there any work issues you wanted to cover?” “Just did. I want my employees to be happy; makes better employees.” “Don’t put this time on the books. You’re not going to pay to soothe my hurt feelings.” “Don’t tell me what to do. I’m the boss. I own this store.” He gave a fatherly smile, warming her. “Thanks, Marshall.”