Camy Tang - Sushi for One?

Who would take care of her? She and her dad moved out this weekend. She could no longer handle the stairs for the room in the condo she’d found, so she had called and taken a ground-floor studio in south San Jose, the only thing she could afford, sight unseen because she couldn’t get a hold of Trish to check it out for her. Maybe she had been relying on Trish too much lately.

Had Lex been smothering her? When she usually only saw Trish once or twice a week at church or Bible study? But she tended to call Trish when she needed her for something. Maybe that was smothering.

Lex sighed, but it came out like a sob. Just call her a wet, smothering blanket.

Who would take care of her? Dad? No – Dad had never been comfortable with helping her with personal stuff. He’d always stayed away from it, leaving one of her aunts to help her when she was growing up.

Jennifer? She’d be sympathetic and mothering, but she had to work. Venus? Lex had never been as close to prickly Venus as Trish.

She had no one…

The phone rang. Lex measured the distance between the couch and the cordless, then hauled herself to her feet to pick it up on the fourth ring. “Hello?”

“Lex, it’s Venus. This is going to weird you out, but I suddenly felt like I should call. Maybe it was God trying to talk to me.”

Lex burst into tears.

Venus sighed. “I guess God was right.”

Say good-bye.

Lex memorized the shape of the funny door knocker on the old oak door, the crooked front window, the sagging roofline. Besides that rental house in college with her three cousins, and that very brief time she’d had her own apartment – dark memories there – she’d only known this house. Mom had died here. It felt like leaving her all over again.

Behind her, Venus slammed her trunk. “Is this all?”

“Yeah. Dad bought me a storage unit and dropped off the rest of the boxes yesterday.” Separated from all her things.

Venus got behind the wheel and strapped her seatbelt on while Lex got into the passenger side of the beat-up Honda. “Are you sure we should take my car?”

“With mine, we’d take two trips because the trunk isn’t big enough.”

“I’m just not sure this thing will make it with all the extra weight.”

“It had better.” Venus fired up the engine. It roared to life, then died.

“See?” Lex thrust her hands out, as if saying a mantra to the goddess of old cars.

Venus gave her a mean sidelong look. “Grow up, will you?” She banged her hand against the dashboard, then turned the key.

The Honda came to life.

“How did you do that?”

“Cars respond to bullying more than praying.”

The car whined and complained on the freeway, especially at the speed Venus made it maintain. Once on streets, it rebelled, belching smoke and jerking every time it started up from a red light. They limped into the driveway to her new apartment building, the Honda moaning and sputtering.

Venus slammed her door and stabbed a finger at Lex over the oxidized hood. “How do you stand driving this thing?”

Lex flung her arms wide. “Do you see me with enough money to buy a new one?” She moved on her crutches to the manager’s apartment.

A cheerful Hispanic woman answered the door, patting her gray bun in place and reeking of garlic.

“Hi, I’m Lex Sakai. I’m renting a ground-floor apartment.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah. I’ve been waiting for you. Oh, injured your knee? No wonder you need a ground-floor unit. You’ll like this one.

The last owner who had pets moved out seven years ago, so the smell’s gone away by now. Here’s your key – oh, I guess you can’t carry it and walk with crutches, can you? I’ll carry it and show you to your apartment. Watch the hanging pots – oops, that one nailed you, huh? Be careful about Mrs. Delarosa’s pansies, over there. Sometimes I think if people just breathe on them they die, but she gets so upset. Aw, don’t worry about Mr. Parks’s dog, he can’t get past the security door, and he’s more bark than bite. Mr. Parks walks him twice a day without fail. Here we are. I’ll open the door for you. There. Welcome home!” The woman flung open the door and waggled a few ringed fingers like Vanna White.

Musty smell – it had been unused for a long time. Just enough floor space for her bed and her boxes, although it would be a squeeze to get to the bathroom. The short carpet was stained but clean. Same with the walls. A mini kitchenette took up an entire wall.

“It’s… fine.” Lex managed a polite smile.

“Oh, there’s your friend with your boxes. I’ll let you unpack. Here’s your key, I’ll leave it on the counter. If you need anything, just ask me.” She bustled away.

Man, that woman could talk. But friendly. Probably nosy too.

Venus crossed the threshold and stopped. Stared. Tried not to grimace. “Are you sure about this, Lex?”

“Do I have a choice? I couldn’t afford anything else.”

“This place is a dump.”

“Venus, what happened to ‘speaking the truth in love’?”

“That is love. You’re lucky I don’t dump this box and leave you stranded.”

Lex knew she was kidding, but the dingy surroundings seemed to almost weigh her down.

Venus dropped the box she held into a corner. “I’ll bring in the pieces of your bed.” Lex was glad they were light enough for her to handle by herself.

After she left, a head popped into the open doorway. “Ha-roh?”

“Hi.” Lex smiled in greeting at the wizened round face, the round body, even the gray hair caught up in a bun as round as the ones in the Chinese bakeries.

The eyes disappeared as she smiled, her mouth in the shape of a plump pot sticker. “I Mrs. Chang. Next door.”

She’d picked up at least a few phrases from Venus and Jenn’s Chinese dads. “Ni hao ma? ”

Mrs. Chang exploded into cackles. “You accent terrible.”

Lex laughed.

“Japanee?”

Lex nodded.

“You eat chou dofu?”

What was that? Lex shrugged and shook her head.

“I get you some.” Mrs. Chang disappeared.

Venus appeared with one side of her aluminum bed frame. “Neighbor?”

“I think so. She’s Chinese.”

“Does she speak Cantonese or Mandarin?”

“Dunno. I can’t tell the difference.”

Venus sat a hand on her hip. “Why not? Trish can, and she’s as 100 percent Japanese as you.”

“This coming from a 50 percent Japanese.”

“At least my dad taught me Mandarin, thank you very much.”

“Trish can tell because she sings – she’s got a musical ear. The only note I can tell is if a volleyball is bounced and it makes a flat squish.”

Venus snorted in amusement in spite of herself. “When’s your dad coming by with the box spring and mattress?”

“He said he had something to do until three. So he’ll swing by the house, pick it up, and bring it here around four.”

“Something to do? Like what?”

Lex shrugged. “I never asked. He didn’t want to talk about it.”

Venus propped her hands on her hips. “Your family’s lack of communication is something else. How do you guys get anything done?”

“Hey, hey, hey. I grew up with one brother and a single dad. I’m lucky when they tell me good morning.”

“Ha-roh?” Mrs. Chang peeked her head in again. “I bring you – ”

Venus snapped as straight as a Japanese bow. “Lex – ”

“Thanks, Mrs. Chang.” Lex took the plastic food container filled with brown-beige cubes. Oh, it looked like fried tofu.

Eww, what was that smell?

Venus’s mouth had frozen in a plastic smile. She murmured to Lex, “Don’t open it. Just say thank you to Mrs. Chang.”