Weddings and Wasabi (12 page)

“Wait for what?” She didn’t want to play games, not when Trish was in her ultra-spiritual mode.

“You tell me.” And Trish shut her mouth and stared at the trees.

This was stupid. Jenn fiddled with a loose thread on her jeans. She’d already said it all to God while in the car with Edward. God was probably tired of listening to her.

But have you listened to Me?

The words welled up in her, bubbling up from a deep, secret place inside her.

She had nothing to say in reply.

The bench faced an empty playground, and beyond that, a line of redwood trees. A faint breeze fingered through her hair.

It was quiet here. Despite the breeze, there was a strong stillness over everything. Even the birdsong was muted.

Be still and know that I am God.

And so she did.

She emptied her racing thoughts. She listened to the hushed gossip of the tree branches high overhead.

And then Trish started to sing.

Jenn knew the song. “Every Time I Breathe” by Big Daddy Weave.

She breathed deep, smelling the faint musk of the redwoods, the tang of freshly mowed grass.

And as Trish sang, suddenly Jenn felt the presence of God.

Not a physical presence. But she knew they weren’t alone. And it felt like a hand cupped her aching, throbbing heart with coolness. Stillness.

Trish’s song grew louder. She was completely unashamed. She was opening herself up, baring herself to Jesus, who was somehow right there with them—a soft presence, and yet a powerful presence. A presence that made Jenn feel small.

But loved.

Small and loved. And suddenly that didn’t seem so small.

The God who grew the redwoods above them, whose breath stirred the light breeze, loved her. And if He loved her, He’d take care of her.

Life was hard. But God would take care of her.

It seemed such a simple realization. Almost trite. But in light of Trish’s gusty singing—her vulnerability that seemed to reflect the light of Jesus’ face—it was a natural thing for Jenn to understand after all that had happened today. Over the past several weeks, actually.

She started singing along with Trish, softly at first. But that seemed rude, when Jesus was baring his heart to her.

So she sang louder. She sang from her heart. And when they sang the last line of the chorus, the words vibrated through her bones: “And I am so in love with You.”

Jesus, please help me figure out what to do now.

A soft answer:
It’ll be okay.

Before, Jenn had always needed to down a chocolate truffle or two before calling Grandma. It was her version of liquid courage.

She wasn’t sure if it was her recent rebellious phase, or if she was still in shock over Mom’s sickness, but her heartbeat didn’t even blip above normal resting rate as she dialed Grandma’s phone number.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Grandma, it’s Jenn.”

“Hello, Jenn, how are you doing?”

How strange that after the irritated reception she’d received from her other relatives, Grandma actually seemed a bit friendlier than normal.

Not that Jenn had ever had a bad relationship with Grandma. Unlike Lex or Venus, she and Trish tended to strive to please Grandma Sakai rather than antagonize her. Jenn usually went to extremes in order to avoid becoming an object of Grandma’s wrath, so she rarely heard Grandma scold or nag her for anything.

Still, Grandma’s almost
friendly
tone put her more on edge than if she’d barked, “What do you want?” into the phone.

Jenn swallowed. “I’m okay but I have some bad news about Mom.”

A beat of silence. “The cancer is back?”

“Yes.” Jenn took a long, slow breath. “Can you please tell the aunties and uncles? Trish and Venus were with me when I got the news.”

“I’m so sorry, Jenn.” There was a rich compassion in Grandma’s voice that made tears rush into Jenn’s eyes. “I’ll come over in a few minutes.”

“Thanks, Grandma.” She hung up the phone just as Mom walked into the kitchen. “How are you feeling?”

Mom’s face crumpled and she just shook her head.

“Grandma’s coming over.” Jenn fumbled for what to say. “Um … are you hungry?”

Mom came up to her and put her hands on Jenn’s cheeks. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”

“Mom! This isn’t your fault.”

“No, I’m sorry for not telling you about Max. I’m sorry for being so unsupportive about your catering business. I’m sorry for letting Aunty Aikiko push you around. And now you have to give up your dreams again to take care of me.”

“Mom, I love you. I would do anything for you.” It had been just the two of them for so long. What would Jenn do without her?

“You always do anything anybody asks of you.” Mom’s voice rose in pitch and strength. “Always. No one ever does anything for
you.”

She wasn’t sure if Mom was getting mad at herself, or Jenn, or someone else. “Mom, you do plenty for me.”

“I’m tying you down. I’m keeping you from what you want to do.”

“No, Mom, I’m tying you down.” The pain in her mother’s voice strummed the pain in her chest. “About Max—I didn’t want things to change, but I wasn’t thinking about your needs, just mine.”

“Why shouldn’t you care about your own needs for once?” Mom said on a sigh.

“It’s one thing to be more independent. It’s another to be completely selfish.”

A beat of silence, then both of them said at the same time, “I’m sorry.”

Identical chuckles from daughter and mother, then a gentle hug.

“You won’t be alone, Mom. You have me, and Max …” Would he stick around once the treatments started? Would it take a toll on the relationship?

Apparently Mom had her doubts, too, because she shrugged. “Who knows how that will turn out?”

“Let me make you some tea.” Jenn got up to get the green tea from the cabinet.

They sat in silence while the water boiled, and then the doorbell rang. Jenn opened it to Grandma, who surprised her by giving her an awkward hug. “Are you okay?” she asked Jenn.

“Yes,” she said automatically.

Grandma paused, an unusually hesitant catch of her breath.

Jenn had never seen her this way. She was always so confident.

“Are you really?” Grandma asked.

Jenn avoided her gaze. “Mom’s health is the most important thing right now.”

Grandma let that pass. She headed toward the kitchen. “I told your mother’s siblings, and I asked them not to call you right now.”

“Thanks, Grandma.”

Mom made an effort to pull herself together as they entered the kitchen.

“Grandma, can I get you some tea?” Jenn pulled out another cup just as the telephone rang.

She considered not answering, but the incessant ringing set her teeth on edge, so she picked up. “Hello?”

“Jenn, it’s Aunty Aikiko.”

Why in the world was she calling? Hadn’t Grandma told her not to?

“I’m sorry, Aunty Aikiko, Mom can’t talk to anyone right now.” She used Aunty’s full name and raised her eyebrows at Mom, just in case Mom wanted to talk to her. She shook her head at Jenn.

Grandma’s brow darkened. She marched over to the phone and stabbed the speaker button, but didn’t say anything.

“I don’t want to talk to your mom, I want to talk to you,” Aunty said.

“What about?” Jenn asked. Maybe Aunty was offering to help them in some way?

“I heard the news. I’m very sorry.” Aunty actually did sound a bit subdued.

“Thank you.”

Aunty’s voice then took on a more businesslike crispness. “I’m assuming you’re finally giving up that silly idea about your catering business? After all, you can’t enter into a risky venture like that when your mother is ill.”

Jenn pressed her lips together and glared at the phone. “Yes.” The word came out strangled. She didn’t want to do this, but she had to do this, for Mom.

“I’m also assuming you’ll get another job to help pay for her medical bills?”

Not an offer of help. An offer of indentured servitude. “Yes.”

“Well, I can offer you a job that’ll start right away,” Aunty said briskly.

Here was the moment. She had known, in the back of her mind, that she had to make this choice. She had to find a regular job with health insurance benefits or they would never be able to afford Mom’s treatments. But this moment seemed to have come too soon. She wasn’t ready to make this sacrifice. She just wasn’t ready.

Well, when would she be ready?

Jenn had to do this. Even if she called a recruiter this moment, there was no guarantee she’d be able to get a job within the next month or two, and it was unlikely they’d be very sympathetic when she said she had to take time off to help her mom. Aunty, on the other hand, would let Jenn have a flexible schedule.

This was the only way to make sure Mom would be able to get the treatments she needed. This was the only way to be able to take time off to take Mom to the doctor’s visits and hospital visits.

And working for Aunty wouldn’t be the death of her dreams. It would be hard to untangle herself from the restaurant later, in a few years, but Jenn had grown a backbone in the past few weeks. Surely she could regrow it later, stand up to Aunty, and quit work at the restaurant—when Mom’s health was better. So while this was a hard decision, it wasn’t hopeless, surely?

So why did she feel like she’d stepped off a cliff to fall into a dark abyss?

Now she was being silly. Aunty’s restaurant wasn’t a dark abyss. Just … an Asian version of Hell’s Kitchen.

A raging headache started beating against the back of her eyeballs. She had to turn away from the phone, biting her knuckles for a moment to calm herself, to gather the courage to do what she had to do.

She took a deep breath. “Thank you, Aunty. Yes, I’ll work for you.”

There was a surprised pause, then, a triumphant, “Wonderful.”

“Yes.” As wonderful as a slug in the middle of a chocolate cake.

“I’m so pleased. I’m just glad you realized you made a mistake in not coming to work for me the first time.”

She almost said yes. The old Jenn would have said yes. But while she was going to work for Aunty after all, she wasn’t the old Jenn, and Aunty better figure that out right away. “No, I didn’t make a mistake. I think God did want me to quit my job and start my own catering company. It’s taught me a lot about myself and my faith.” She’d never had the courage to speak so openly about Christianity with them before. She thought she’d feel more nervous, but she felt a strange calm. “I also love my mother and sometimes God asks us to make sacrifices. We need money to pay for her treatments and the insurance premium. And you were generous enough to offer me a job that starts right away. Thank you, I’m accepting. For Mom’s sake.”

But this time, she wasn’t doing it to please her family. She was doing this because she loved Mom and she wanted to please God. And even though dread slushed around in her stomach like a mountain of worms, she knew this was the right thing to do. She knew this was what God wanted her to do. She knew more certainly than anything else she’d ever known in her entire life.

Suddenly, Grandma reached out and punched the Speaker button again.

“Grandma, you just hung up on her.”

“I know.”

Grandma had a calm face, as usual, but there was something different about her eyes. They were wider, more tense. She looked almost stunned.

Well, Aunty did go against what Grandma told her about calling them today. Flouting orders wasn’t an everyday occurrence in the Sakai family.

Grandma then did a really strange thing. She placed her hand on Jenn’s cheek.

Grandma wasn’t big on affection. As in, she never did it aside from an occasional hug. The touch of her cool hand on Jenn’s skin turned her into a statue. If she moved, Grandma’s hand would fall away.

“You are a
good
girl, Jennifer.” Her grandmother’s voice was strange, too. Emphatic. Low and throbbing. Affirming.

Then her hand dropped away, and it was as if a dream dissipated and real life rushed in.

Mom sat at the island in the middle of the kitchen, an utterly astonished expression on her drawn face, but she didn’t dare say a word to Grandma, didn’t ask why or what. It just wasn’t done.

Grandma eased herself into a chair next to Mom. “How are you feeling?” she asked in a normal voice. It was as if the moment never had happened.

Jenn touched a fingertip to her cheek.

She went about making something for them to eat. It was too early for dinner, but she knew Mom hadn’t eaten lunch, so she pan-fried a few small salmon filets and poured her new goat’s milk sauce over it, garnishing it with ribbons of fresh basil.

A part of her nagged that food didn’t magically make anything better. But Mom’s tired eyes followed her as she prepared and fried the salmon, one of her favorites, and Jenn hoped it might cheer her up a little. After all, wasn’t good food a pleasure? They’d had enough of pain today.