“She’s good,” he says. “She’s with her mom, trying to get a little break.” He chuckles. “They aren’t always this quiet.”
I look down at Leah’s squashed little face. Okay, I can kind of see why people think they’re cute.
“We’d love to have you around more, you know,” Dad says seriously. “Serena really wants you guys to bond with the twins. We both do.”
I nod, but I don’t say anything. I’ve never truly bonded with Serena as a stepmother. Not because she isn’t nice, because she is—she always hand-makes birthday cards, and she even sent me an e-mail when she heard I was applying to Prism to tell me good luck. But it was never going to be easy to bond with the woman who replaced our family with a new one.
I might have ruined Mom and Dad, but she was the one who took him away.
Dad is quiet for a little while. We sway and listen to the twins breathe.
“Serena cares about you. She really does.” Dad’s eyes are glassy. He always gets emotional when he talks about his wife with me. Probably because he feels guilty about what happened, but also because I know he wishes we could be a family.
Mom would disown me if she thought I even remotely took anyone’s side but hers.
“How are you doing, though? Is your mom okay?” he asks.
I look up and see his concern. Because he knows. He knows, and he still left the three of us with her. I know I should probably hate him for leaving, but when I look at Dad, I don’t see someone I’m capable of hating.
Because Dad is like a rabbit too. He’s gentle and kind and he disappears too quickly, but it’s only because he’s scared. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone, but he doesn’t want to get hurt either.
I don’t know if that’s selfish or not, but I don’t hate him for it. Because I know, too.
Mom preys on the weak. He got out alive, which is what I’m trying to do.
I turn my eyes to my sister to keep them from watering. “I’m fine. Mom’s Mom, I guess.”
He nods, and I think he’s trying to think of more words to say, more words to explain himself.
So I try to change the subject, because I don’t want to waste the little time I get with Dad being upset. “Do they look like me when I was little?”
Dad smiles. “I think so. Except you had so much fluffy, dark hair, like a little wolf cub.”
I laugh, watching the twins scrunch their faces in unison. “I wonder if they’ll look less Asian than us.” I look up at Dad. “Remember when Taro, Shoji, and I used to fight about that?”
“I know it was tough for you guys. I wish my family had still been around. You guys missed out on getting to know that side,” he admits, and there’s a quiet sadness in his voice. His parents died before he ever met Mom. For a brief moment in time, Mom was all he had. Sometimes I wonder if she preferred it that way, when it was just the two of them and there were no children or relatives to share his attention with. I might not like spotlights, but Mom definitely does.
Dad’s the only person I know from the Japanese side of the family—the side I feel like I’m supposed to be connected to, even though I don’t know anything about it. Everyone expects me to be Asian, not white, because of the way I look. But I’m only half Japanese—I’m the same amount of Asian as I am white. Why doesn’t anyone ever call me half white? It’s confusing. I wonder if it will always be confusing.
Maybe Dad’s family could’ve helped with that, if they were still alive. Maybe Dad could’ve helped with that too. But maybe there just wasn’t enough time.
Dad shrugs. “But at least the twins will have the three of you to learn from.”
I force a smile. I guess he doesn’t realize I don’t have anything to teach them.
The door opens from downstairs, and we listen for the slow, shuffling footsteps on the stairs. Serena appears in the hallway. She’s wearing yoga pants and a loose shirt, and her auburn hair is twisted up in a high bun. She has lively green eyes and freckles she never tries to hide with makeup. Mom calls her “very average-looking,” but I’ve always thought she was kind of pretty, especially for someone who doesn’t paint her face with layers of cosmetics.
Mom didn’t like me saying that. She always wears makeup.
“Hi, Kiko,” Serena chirps. Her smile is bright. “Looks like the girls are still asleep.”
Dad leans toward her and kisses her cheek. “We’ve got it all under control. Did you have a good time? You didn’t have to rush home so fast.”
She scrunches her nose. “It felt too weird to be away. Thought they might be missing me.” She looks at me. “And I wanted to catch you before you left. Any news on art school?”
God, she’s so nice. I don’t understand how she’d get together with a married man with three kids. It doesn’t make sense. “Not yet,” I tell her. “I’m still waiting to hear back.”
“I’m sure you’ll get in. I don’t know anyone as talented as you,” she gushes.
Yeah, so nice. It makes no sense at all.
“Thanks,” I say sheepishly.
“How about we take these two little bunnies downstairs, and you can tell us all about what you’re working on while we stuff our faces with cake?” Dad offers. “I’m starving, like a bear after winter.”
I try not to laugh too loud into Leah’s little ears.
Serena brings out a plate of carrot cake and banana bread. I eat one slice of each and wash it down with a can of cream soda. When it’s time to go home, I kiss my sisters for the first time and decide that they are the most beautiful little babies in the world. Dad reminds me to come over more often, and Serena reiterates that she wants to see me more.
I tell them I’ll try, even though I know Mom won’t like it.
I like their house. I like their family. I like how they make me feel like I’m a part of it.
I leave feeling happier than I have in a long time.
? ? ?
I draw a flower with eight petals, and each petal is a dancing woman.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The last time I saw Uncle Max was when he had shaved all his hair off and looked like an ex-convict. Now that his hair has grown back, he looks like an ordinary, middle-aged father. Except Uncle Max doesn’t have kids, and thank God for that.
He finishes his can of beer like he’s short on time. Mom passes him another one because she says he’s on “vacation.” He already told us he got fired from his job, but I guess Mom thinks vacation sounds better.
She’s punishing me for going to see Dad and the twins. She has to be. Why else would she invite him to dinner when he was just here?
“So what are you studying at college?” Uncle Max asks, smiling at Taro like they’re old pals. Uncle Max doesn’t look like Mom, except they have the same pointy nose.
“Journalism,” Taro says, stuffing his face with steak.