Two months earlier:
(Sable)
The strong summer sun beat down upon me, perspiration causing small sweat marks on my black sweater jacket. The little black jacket hung off my small shoulders, coming right above my waist. It hid the spaghetti straps on my black, cotton dress. I wanted to take of the low healed Mary Jane shoes, but stood firmly planted on my little patch of grass.
Mi Sang stood beside me, face clothed in black. She wore her Japanese good luck charms, and recited her chants for the dead. I stared deftly at the small trees, covering small, flat gravestones. They dotted the ground in the small cemetery, shining in the sunlight. A new hole opened into the ground today. Over it stood one of the only Catholic priest in the city. Being a Christian man, my father got a Christian burial.
"In the Name of the Father . . ." the priest began, but I faded out. I stared obstinately at one of the cherry trees, which had been in bloom at the beginning of the summer. " . . .And of the Holy Spirit . . ."
The blue sky became a perfect, one toned background for this black day. No clouds flitted across it, empty and desolate, but such a lovely color. The blue matched nothing else, unable to be compared to anything on earth.
The sky was false. "We consecrate
this body to the earth. From ashes to ashes . . ."
The sky was
false. I stared into the dark hole, watching them lower in my
father's coffin. I didn't move, gazing unemotionally at the
grave. I wished that something would stir the thick air, cause the
birds to chirp, or remove the false peace. False peace, that's
what the sky, green grass, and gorgeous trees gave me today.
"Sable-chan" Mi Sang whispered hoarsely. I held her hand tightly, squeezing onto it for dear life. She appeared more upset and deeply moved. She'd lost her husband of eight years. I'd lost my father of sixteen.
The service ended. It was over, and they began to fill in the grave. Six feet of dirt piled over my father. They'd plant grass on it, maybe a flower. The grass would grow under gorgeous blue skies until it withered and died, too.
Mi Sang walked forward to stand at the grave alone. I stood rooted to my spot, wishing I'd had shorter hair so I wouldn't be so warm, but unable to move. I turned my head slowly, hearing a slight sound behind me. It wasn't that it was just a sound, but it sounded false, like the sky.
"Sable," I turned completely, seeing the smiling Caucasian face. The layers of blush, foundation, and power made her look like a representative of Mary Kay. She looked youthful, energetic, and happily false. She smiled at me, brushing a lock of dyed, hair-sprayed, and curled blond hair out of her face. "Why, dear, it's been so long. You're looking like a young lady."
"You got breast implants. And a facelift," I replied blandly. "Kathleen, go away."
"I wish you'd call me Mom," she frowned her cherry red lips, smothered with lipstick.
"Lypo suction, too," I looked at her waist, then back up into her perfectly groomed, all so false, face. "What are you doing here? We don't hear anything from you, and you show up now, of all days."
"He was my husband for twelve years," she sighed, gazing at her manicured nails. I scowled, wanting to walk away, unable to move. I wanted to find Mi Sang and beg her to go. "I did love him."
"You never did," I sighed, feeling even more disgusted. She frowned at me.
"That's not true. He was my husband, and you're my daughter." She went to take my hand, but I found the power to pull back.
"I'm not your daughter now." I fixed my gaze into her blue eyes. "You got colored contacts. You had hazel eyes."
"Hazel eyes are so bland, sweetie, you really should get contacts, too," she frowned sympathetically at me.
"Go away. You're not changing me. You can't affect my world any more. You lost that power when Dad won custody." She sighed, clutching her snake skin designer purse to her side, a sickeningly pathetic look playing over her features. She pitied me.
"Honey, I just wish you hadn't spent so many years in this foreign country. You can come back to America with me, if you want, and grow up like a normal girl."
"I'm almost seventeen. Dad didn't move me halfway around the world for you to follow him."
"Oh, really? I thought you were turning fifteen." She sighed, giving a small, apologetic smile.
"You've seemed to have gotten more money since your waitress and secretary days. Finally decide to go to college?" I gave her a sarcastic smile, as fake as hers. She opened her mouth to say something, frowned, and replied in a more upset tone.
"I've moved up to a private secretary for Bill, and he and I are getting along," she pursed her lips together, knowing what I was getting at.
"So, is he your twelfth boy friend?" I raised my eyes, giving a fake look of interest. She almost made a fist, but replied in a high, irritated voice instead.
"No, my fifth, and we've had a great relationship for three years." As if on cue a lean, but not muscular, well groomed, but not especially attractive, but intelligent middle aged man walked up. Kathleen beamed.
"Sweetie," she turned, giving him a kiss. He grinned, kissing her again. She returned the favor, using her tongue. I felt ill and the world spun upside down, right side up, and seemed to fade into the growing pit in my stomach.
"We have dinner reservations,"
Bill whispered in her ear. Then she smiled, and he playfully smacked
her butt. "It's the best sushi restaurant in Japan."
"Sable,
honey, this is Bill. Would you like to go to dinner with us?" She
asked politely, about to introduce us. I shook my head, turned
around, and practically ran to Mi Sang. "Sable! Come back here!"
"Mi Sang, let's go," I grabbed Mi Sang's hand. She turned her head towards me, but I couldn't she her chestnut eyes through the thick veil.
"I hope his soul rests well," she whispered. "My father stayed at my mother's grave for seven days to pray for her soul's journey."
"We can't, Mi Sang, the cemetery closes at dusk," I squeezed her hand harder. She finally nodded, and we walked away from his grave. The fake place seemed a mockery to my father's memory, full of blue skies and Kathleen. Even in death, she'd prove unfaithful. At least, now, she couldn't have the living guilt of my father to carry. Her husband was dead, so she could do whatever she wanted, like she always did.
Mi Sang started the blue Honda. She drove slowly down the street, reaching our little house. She stopped the car, mechanically walking up towards the house. The little house had been remodeled by my father, and it looked like an old Japanese shrine inside and out. He loved the Japanese culture ever since he'd visited Japan while in the army.
Mi Sang collapsed on the silken couch we'd always sat on. She bawled, crying out her woes in undecipherable Japanese. I sat beside her rubbing her back, staring at the wall. It gave me comfort, feeling as if I were in Ancient Japan. I gazed at the ornate room with all the dragonheads carved every where. I wanted to turn around, and see my Dad.
It wouldn't happen. The room echoed his presence, because he had Mi Sang help him find the best items to put in his house. I remembered walking through the antique shops as he found authentic items. We went to auctions, and I sat there, excited, trying to figure out what the people were saying.
"Mi Sang, I'll order in some food," I replied in a whisper, picking up the large telephone, shaped like a dragon's head.
"Mon Wonk's Sushi Palace, how may I help you?" The voice at the other end hurriedly answered.
"Two orders of sweet and sour chicken, with stir fry, and two orders of egg rolls." I gave him our address, and didn't bother to ask the time. Who cared when it came? I went back to the living room, where Mi Sang still sobbed.
"Nani," I whispered, stroking her back again. I didn't find myself able to cry, even around one person. Later that night, though, I'd never sleep.
The doorbell rang after an eternity of trying to massage away Mi Sang's sobs. I answered, gave the man his yen, and walked back towards the couch. "Let's eat." Mi Sang stood up, walking into the kitchen, where I pulled out a chair for her.
We quietly ate, across from one
another, in tall-backed chairs. I picked at my chicken, while she'd
only ate half and egg roll. I sighed, looking up at her. "Are you
going to work tomorrow?"
"Yes, I'll do my job," Mi Sang
replied softly. She and my father had worked as partners in
insurance, managing and selling it all over Japan, Taiwan, and Hong
Kong. "I'll put out help ads, maybe find a couple new people."
"You should rest." I whispered.
"I'll pray everyday at the cemetery for seven days," she replied, looking at me with deep, sad eyes. "Will you come?"
"I don't know," I sighed
quietly. "I don't like that place. I don't like
death."
"Nani, either do I." Her lips turned up slightly,
a bittersweet look on her round face. She gazed at me, studying me
as I finished of a piece of chicken.
"Do you need my help with anything? If you go, I guess I will," I took the route of respect, deciding Mi Sang might need me at the grave. It meant something to her, even if that place disgusted me.
"You are a good daughter," she sighed, her words floating out soft like air. I almost jumped out of my seat. Mi Sang was always more like an older sister, or an aunt to me. She thought of me as family, but we'd never been like a mother and daughter.
"You do everything a good daughter should do." A compliment was rare from the woman who held together a major insurance firm. She always demanded better of me in my studies, more dedication to my priorities, and better cleaning of the house.
"You need to rest," I whispered. I couldn't let her keep this up. I didn't have anything else to say. We walked into the back rooms, where the bedrooms were, one across from the other. I swallowed hard, almost unable to enter my dad's room. Mi Sang started to weep silently and shake. I laid her down, made sure she got undressed, and returned to my own room.
I got ready to sleep, pulling on my pajamas and even tucking myself under the covers.
But I couldn't. I lay, there, unable to close my eyes. I felt empty, cold, and desolate inside, as if violated by Kathleen. Falseness seemed to pervert everything I saw now, and nothing seemed true.
I sat up, a cold chill shooting down my spine. I dug under my bed, pulling out my box of charms, and a spell book. I quickly hung all the good luck charms on the window. I whispered spell after spell to ward off evil spirits.
I shivered, shaking like it was negative five degrees in my room. A sickness, a seeping lie, seemed to permeate my life. I tucked my knees under my chin, rocking quietly where I sat.
"Something is wrong," I whispered, suddenly feeling everything that happened to my life the past couple months was a lie. The summer felt like a lie.
The whole world was living a lie.
A/N: if you're reviewing this story, thank you. Also, if you review, leave your email or sign in. I don't care if I get some anonymous reviews, but I like to know who they're from once and a while, so I can personally keep track of who is reading my stories. Thanks, MorganRay.