1001 Cranes (15 page)

M
ICHI’S
1001-C
RANES
F
OLDING
T
IP
N
O
. 6: When you make the head, first fold it down on one side. Then open it back up and press down in the center, and you should have a perfect head.

Grounded

I’ve never been grounded before. Emilie’s been grounded a couple of times. I’ve read about it in books and seen angry parents in movies yelling “You’re grounded!” But that’s not my parents. I get punished by their being disappointed in me. I usually get the full-name treatment from Mom: “Angela Michiko Kato…I want you to think about what you’ve done.” “This is not like you,” is what Dad says. They don’t scream or yell. It’s like they are each throwing a rock down a long, dry well: the rocks then just bounce back and forth against the sides, making lonely sounds.

When they started not getting along, I thought maybe my bad grades or back talk would somehow fuse them back together, but instead I felt their lonely disappointment two times over.

But now Grandma Michi says it: “You’re grounded. You can’t go anywhere by yourself, and when you leave the house, it can only be work-related. And no seeing, no talking, no anything with that boy again.”

Gramps says nothing. He can’t even look me straight in the face. Disappointment. Gramps’s disappointment is ten times worse than being grounded.

Like my grandmother said, my mother will be back in town. It really has nothing to do with me and Tony, because she was planning to come down anyway. But now I have to be prepared to feel her disappointment in me, too.

The next day, when Gramps drives me to the shop, the expression on his face is the same. His eyes don’t turn up in a smile like they normally do. I wish that I could tell him how Tony has helped me. How he saved me from Kawaguchi’s wrath. How he made me feel special when my parents seemed to be abandoning me.

But it’s too late for any of that. I’ve lost something with Gramps, my only lifeline in Gardena besides Tony. I just remember his smile when he left me in charge with the Carrillo flower arrangements. “An-jay, you’re a good girl,” he said.

Gramps leaves me in the back room of the shop, where I’m supposed to be gluing cranes for Kawaguchi’s wedding. They don’t trust me in the house alone anymore.

I look at the stack of dry oasis bricks and feel like crying. Only yesterday Gramps felt that I was responsible enough to make real floral arrangements on my own.

I hear the bell on the door ring and then hard, definitive footsteps against the linoleum. A female voice and then Gramps’s reply. More hard footsteps, and then a figure is standing in the doorway. Kawaguchi, in a pantsuit this time, but with the same pearls. “I was in the neighborhood, so I wanted to check on the display.”

I move my hands away from the black velvet so Kawaguchi can get a good look. My fingers are sticky from the glue, and I rub my thumbs against my second and third fingers.

“This row doesn’t look even,” Kawaguchi says after a few minutes of studying the display.

It’s fine, I’m thinking, but I tell her that I can make some adjustments, because the glue is still wet.

I hear the bell on the door jingle again, and figure it’s another customer. But it turns out to be someone completely different: the Buddhist minister, who Gramps directs to the back room.

“What are you doing here?” Kawaguchi asks.

“You said that you’d be stopping by here before the rehearsal. I need to talk to you alone.”

I try to shrink into the corner. The minister doesn’t even care that I’m in the room. Kawaguchi’s eyes follow me for a second but focus back on the minister. She doesn’t seem to care, either.

“Are you sure about this? I mean absolutely sure. I’m not talking about us and what happened. But you and Kevin. Are you sure about him?”

“Of course I’m sure about him. We’re getting married in two days. All the arrangements have been made.”

“Forget about the arrangements. The hall. The reception. The flowers and this one-thousand-and-one-cranes display. I’m talking about your life, Lisa. Is this where you want to be?”

“This is so not right. What are you trying to do to me?”

“You tell me that this is it, Kevin’s the guy for you, and I won’t say anything more. I’ll support you through everything. I’ll make it the best ceremony I’ve ever officiated.”

Kawaguchi’s chin trembles a little. I notice it but I’m not sure the minister does. Then Kawaguchi’s face becomes as still as stone.

“Yes, I’m sure about this. A hundred percent sure.” Her voice is steely.

“Okay,” says the minister. “Then I’ll see you at the rehearsal.” He walks out, and a few seconds later, we hear the bell ring.

Kawaguchi’s chin is trembling again, and her eyes seem shiny, but not a good shiny.

“Okay,” she echoes, but to me. “The cranes look fine.”

Small Talk

I am looking forward to doing nothing when I get home, but when Gramps pulls into the driveway, we both notice one of those new versions of old-fashioned cars parked along the curb. It’s the color of gourmet mustard, kind of light, not like the regular mustard you put on hot dogs.

Gramps and Grandma have hardly any visitors come over, I’ve noticed. Maybe it’s because they’re so busy at the shop and at the weddings of strangers.

When we go through the back door, it’s no stranger sitting at the worktable of the 1001-cranes room. It’s Dad—only his hair is cut all choppy and he has some gel in it. Dad never puts stuff in his hair. He doesn’t even use conditioner.

I’m happy to see him, but something stops me from running up and hugging him. “Hi, Dad,” I say instead. I feel shy around him, like I’m meeting someone I used to be close to but I’m not anymore.

“Angie.” Dad gets up and presses my head into his shirt, a new one that’s deep blue. “I’ve missed you.”

I’ve missed him, too, but I think I’ve missed what we used to be more. He has his cell phone hanging from his belt, and I wonder why he hasn’t called me if his phone is right there.

Dad then greets Gramps. “Nick,” he says, extending his hand.

Gramps doesn’t take a hold of it, spreading out his palms. “Dirty from flowers,” he says, but that doesn’t seem like a good excuse. That never kept Gramps from shaking another person’s hand. He takes off his work boots and leaves them on a towel where our other shoes are stacked.

“Janet let me in. She went to buy some groceries.”

Gramps just grunts and then says he has to get cleaned up. He leaves me alone with Dad.

“So I’ve heard that you’ve been busy,” he says. I know he means Tony.

“Is that why you came?”

“I’m just here for the day on business. But I knew that we had to talk.”

We sit at the 1001-cranes table. The stacks of photo albums have been moved to one side. In their place are three piles of golden cranes. The B pile is the biggest, but the A pile is slowly catching up.

“You did all these?”

I nod.

“You have been busy.”

I know that Dad is just making small talk. “He’s not my boyfriend or anything like that,” I then announce, although in my heart I hope Tony is. “Just a new friend I met skateboarding.”

“I know we’ve never talked about dating and boys. But twelve is way too young to be alone with a boy, Angie.”

One part of me wants to argue, but another part is relieved. The relieved part wins out, I guess, because I nod, knowing that I’ll still find a way to see Tony.

Dad clears his throat. “There’s actually something else I wanted to talk about with you….”

I wait. My heart is pounding. I know what he’s going to say.
We’re getting a divorce.

“I know it’ll be hard for you to understand, but I want you to know that this isn’t about you. It’s not your fault.”

Just say it, I think. I want to blurt it out myself so this talk won’t be so long, but I’m not going to give my dad an easy out.

“You might hear that I’ve made a new friend myself.”

Friend? That’s my word for Tony, although he is anything but just a friend.

“She’s actually the mother of one of your classmates. Joanne Papadakis.”

I feel like my stomach has been punched in. Mrs. Papadakis? She was my room mother when I was in third grade. She has hair the color of sand and a long nose with lima bean nostrils. I can see Nicole Papadakis, her curly long hair and invisible plastic braces. “Is Mrs. Papadakis your new girlfriend?” My voice is so soft I can barely hear it myself.

Dad doesn’t say anything. I think back, and it slowly starts to come to me: how Mrs. Papadakis seemed always to be sitting next to Dad at school plays. How he seemed always to have a last-minute meeting on Fridays, when he was supposed to be off. How Nicole Papadakis never seemed to like to talk to me.

“How long has Mom known?”

“Let’s not talk about your mother and me,” he says. “What I really care about is you and me.”

But I start thinking about Mom. Why didn’t she give me at least a clue to what was going on? Why didn’t she warn me? I feel like this is all coming out of nowhere, and I’m not prepared.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen, Angie. I just need some time to think. But since Nicole’s one of your classmates…”

I wince. I don’t want to think about it, but the images creep in: the girls at school talking about me and my dad behind my back. Dad and Mrs. Papadakis, in a white dress, underneath a white gazebo, getting married. Nicole, smiling up at my father with her braces, saying “Dad.”

The 1001-cranes room begins to spin. All the shimmering gold and silver seems harsh to me. I can feel the points of the tips of the origami cranes. I need to get out of here.

“Is there anything else?” I ask.

“What?” My father looks confused.

“Do you need to tell me anything else?”

“Just that I love you, Angie. And I always will.”

I get up from the folding chair and escape to the bedroom.

I lie on the bed for a while and then check outside. The new old mustard-colored car is still there. I can’t help creeping through the living room to see what Dad’s doing now.

I hear Gramps’s voice from the 1001-cranes room. “I don’t know what’s happening, and I don’t know if I even want to. But An-jay has to be your number one priority,” he says. He sounds serious, possibly even angry. Maybe Gramps can be the one to get my parents back together.

Dad then says that he needs to make his flight. The bottom of his folding chair scrapes the linoleum floor.

I run back into my bedroom and watch through the window as he drives away.