Mae came out of her office, and we stood on the edge of the mat together and exchanged the usual pleasantries with the parents. Mae was big on positive reinforcement for the kids and the parents. So we made sure to mention both how Hunter was doing so much better at waiting his turn and how nice it was to have him there for the whole class. We praised Caitlin for how bold she’d been and Sasha for paying attention. As the parents and the Little Dragons filed out, Mae’s late afternoon judo class made up of mostly teenagers filed in. They might have spent their days at the junior high pushing and shoving, but here at the dojo, the kids filed in politely, bowing their heads and holding doors. It was like a bizarre church community where half the people could break your arms using only their pinky fingers.
I headed into the back room to change out of my
gi
and into my street clothes. When I came back, there was one person still in the waiting area, a young woman no more than sixteen at the oldest and probably a little younger than that whom I hadn’t seen before at the dojo. “Can I help you?” I asked.
“I’m not sure,” she said. Her straight blonde hair fell over her face as she ducked her head.
“Are you a new student?” I asked.
“No,” she said. “At least, not yet.”
Got it. Prospective student. I watched her for a moment. There was something about her tentative manner. Not that a lot of prospective students weren’t tentative. They were. The dojo could be an intimidating place when you first walked in. There’s a lot of aggression in the air here. It’s contained. It’s controlled, but it’s still aggression. People sense it. They may not know it, but they do.
Something about this young woman struck a chord with me, though. It wasn’t exactly like the feeling I got when I knew Alex was behind me. Or even the shiver I got when I knew something dangerous was around a corner. Still, it felt familiar. I hoped she wasn’t here to learn to defend herself because someone had already hurt her. I hated that. It felt too much like locking the barn door after the horses had already bolted. Which isn’t to say it isn’t worthwhile to make sure the horses never bolt again. I’m just saying that I’d rather keep them from ever bolting. Especially when it was a young girl. It just hit a little too close to home. “Any reason in particular you wanted to study here?”
She brushed her hair off her face and looked up at me. That’s when I saw the scars. They ran from beneath her right ear, down her neck and under the collar of her T-shirt, like white rivers running through sand. “I heard this was a good place to learn.”
So it was too late. Someone had already damaged this girl. I took a deep breath. “From whom?” I asked. We had an incentive program. We’d give someone a break on their monthly tuition if they brought in a new student for us. I also hoped I might be able to get the girl’s story from whomever had referred her to us.
“Oh, no one in particular. I just heard it around.”
I was completely familiar with the sensation I had right now. The girl was lying. I shrugged. There were no rules that said you had to reveal where you’d heard of River City Karate and Judo. Maybe she had a good reason for lying. It didn’t seem like the best way to enter into the dojo, though. I glanced at my watch. I needed to get moving if I was going to visit Grandma Rosie before dinner.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you . . . ” I realized I hadn’t gotten her name.
“Sophie,” she said, taking the hand I offered.
“Melina,” I said and gave her a smile. “Hope I see you around.”
“I think you will,” Sophie said.
GRANDMA ROSIE LIVES IN THE SUNSHINE RETIREMENT CENTER and Assisted Living Facility at Alhambra and J. She moved there about a year after Grandpa Ed moved into the Home of Peace Cemetery over on Stockton. Grandma definitely got the better deal. I parked in one of the visitor’s spots. I eyed the circular drive that was for ten-minute stays only, but decided not to chance it. I didn’t think they’d be chalking my tires, but why tempt fate? Last spring break, one of the residents called the cops on some kids who were “fishing” in the koi pond out front. Some people take the rules very seriously. Some of them have lots of time on their hands when they get old. Some of them have no sense of humor.
I checked my face in the vanity mirror again before I got out of the Buick. My lip was puffy, but the split had almost mended. My chin was a lovely shade of purple with a tinge of green around the edges. Ah, well, Grandma’s eyesight wasn’t what it used to be. Maybe she wouldn’t notice. I snapped the mirror shut, got out of the car and headed toward the building.
I hadn’t taken two steps when an unearthly wailing lifted the hair on the back of my neck. I stopped and looked up. Perched on the windowsill of one of the upper apartments, a beautiful, pale young woman in a floating white dress opened her mouth and let out a mournful keen. I squinted. A banshee. She moaned again.
This was one of the downsides for me of visiting Grandma at the Sunshine Assisted Living Facility. The turnover in the clientele was high, and I more often than not ran into things I’d rather keep away from my family. A banshee on a windowsill? Well, sure as shooting, one of Grandma Rosie’s friends was about to depart for that big bridge tournament up in the sky. Most likely, one of her friends with an
O
or a
Mac
at the beginning of their names.
As I walked below the banshee, I noticed a comb lying on the ground. It wasn’t just any comb either. It was crusted with jewels and looked as delicate as a seashell. I looked up at the banshee again. She smiled. “Would you take that comb to someone for me?” she asked.
“What kind of someone?” She was just trying to get me to pick up the comb. I knew it. She knew it. I decided to play along anyway.
“Oh, almost anyone will do.” She shrugged.
I kicked some loose leaves over the comb. Woe to the person who picked up that little piece of bling. She’d be back for them in no time at all.
The banshee gave me one last howl for good measure as I walked through the sliding doors into the facility. Inside, I signed in at the front desk—someone had meticulously taped plastic flowers around the pens so that the penholder looked like a pot of flowers—and headed down the hallway.
The Sunshine Retirement Center and Assisted Living Facility was a classy place. The halls never smelled like pee. There were two movie nights a week, one for new movies and one for classics. There were art classes, book clubs, exercise programs and a speaker series.
Grandma Rosie lived on the second floor. I took the stairs since I had never seen an elevator whose doors opened and closed more slowly than the one at Sunshine. The timing was set to accommodate people with walkers. I’m sure I’ll be grateful for the extra time when it’s my turn to cruise up and down the hallways with tennis balls on the legs of my aluminum walking contraption, but right now it made me nuts. I checked my watch. It was five fifteen already. I’d only barely catch Grandma before dinnertime. They eat early at Sunshine.
“Who is it?” Grandma called when I knocked.
For a moment I considered saying it was Little Red Riding Hood, but there are limits to what Grandma thinks is funny. “It’s me, Grandma. Melina.”
“Come in. Come in.”
Grandma was ensconced in the recliner chair with the remote-control lift that we’d bought her for Chanukah. CNN blared from the TV. She grabbed the remote and clicked the mute button. I leaned in and gave her a kiss.
“Hi, Grandma,” I said.
“Hello, sweetheart. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
I’d love to say that I visit my grandma all the time for no reason, but that wouldn’t be precisely the truth. I do visit. Sometimes I don’t have a reason. It just doesn’t happen that way a lot. Yes. I suck. I drive her car every day but only manage to stop by when I need something. She deserves better. “I was hoping you could tell me about the tai chi instructor you guys have here,” I said.
“Frank Liu?” Grandma asked, struggling up straighter in the recliner. “Why? Have you heard something?”
“Heard something? What would I have heard?”
“I thought maybe you might have heard where he’s disappeared to,” Grandma said. “We’re all worried.”
3
“YOUR TAI CHI INSTRUCTOR IS MISSING?” I SAT DOWN IN THE rocking chair across from Grandma’s recliner.
“For three days now,” she said, her eyes flickering to the TV for a second. No one, and I mean no one, is as up-to-date on current events as my Grandma Rosie. I think she has CNN on while she sleeps. “He hasn’t shown up for two classes. He was always so reliable, too. The Asians are like that, you know. Reliable and polite.”
I cringed. At least my grandmother’s racism ran toward positive stereotypes, but it still drove me a little crazy. I’m positive there are lots of rude, good-for-nothing Asians out there. They deserve to be recognized and not painted with the polite and reliable brush for no reason. “He didn’t call or anything?”
“No and he hasn’t answered our phone calls either. It’s so unlike him. I hope he’s not ill or anything. When you asked about him, I thought maybe you’d heard something in one of your karate circles.” She made a little karate-chop motion with the side of her hand. I am often brought face-to-face with how little my grandmother understands my everyday life. It makes me all the more grateful for that unconditional-love thing. And the Buick, too. I’m very grateful for the Buick. Have I mentioned how well its air conditioner works? It’s like driving around in a refrigerated truck all summer. Delicious.
I shook my head. “Nope. I actually wanted to ask him a few questions about tai chi and who uses it.”
Grandma patted my hand. “Always looking for something new to learn, aren’t you? You’re just like your mother that way.” She beamed. My mom is totally Grandma’s favorite. “If you have questions about tai chi, you should ask Lillian. She’s made quite a study of it.”
“Really?” I couldn’t imagine Lillian would have the first clue as to who had dropped out of the live oak trees and opened a can of tai chi whoop ass on me, but I supposed it was worth talking to her. Plus, I doubted I could get out of it without being rude to Grandma about her friends. Lillian was one of her best buddies, a key member of her posse.
“Absolutely. Walk me to dinner. It’s almost time. You can chat with her there. And by the way, what did you do to your face?”
Grandma, I thought, what big eyes you have. So much for counting on her crappy eyesight.
Walking Grandma downstairs and down the hall to dinner takes a surprisingly long time. Everything takes a little longer than it used to, from drawing the keys from the pocket of her elastic-waisted pants to her trembling ET-like finger extending itself toward the elevator buttons. I took deep cleansing breaths and managed not to throw her over my shoulder and run down the hallway, screaming like a banshee. See how that self-control thing comes in handy?
We eventually made it into the dining room. Lillian rolled in a few minutes after us. I mean that literally. She’s using the wheelchair a lot more these days.
“Lillian,” Grandma called out. “Melina wants to know about tai chi.”
Lillian’s cheeks went pink with delight. Lillian is a retired history professor from Sac State. For years, she lectured three times a week on the American Revolution and the War of 1812 and a bunch of stuff in between. Now, nobody wanted to listen to an old lady. To actually have someone ask her to explain something was an unexpected and delightful treat. It might also take three hours. I sighed, put it on my mental list of Things That Took Time I Will Never Get Back and submitted to my fate.
“
Tai chi
is actually Mandarin for ‘supreme ultimate boxing’ or ‘boundless fist.’ It’s a very gentle discipline. The whole idea is to meet an incoming force with softness and to follow its motion. That way, the force of the attack exhausts itself and can be redirected. If you meet force with force, both sides will wind up getting hurt,” Lillian said.
“Really?” My fingers went to my lip. There had been nothing soft about the hand that had connected with it earlier in the day. Maybe Mae was wrong.
“Lao-tzu wrote that the soft and the pliable will defeat the hard and the strong,” she continued.
I nodded my head, but Lillian really didn’t need the encouragement.
“It’s still practiced in Taoist temples. Its whole basis is tied in with Taoist philosophy because it was created by a Taoist monk called Zhang Sanfeng in the twelfth century. He taught it to his disciples in the monasteries at Wu Tang Shan.”
Now that caught my interest. “Is there a Taoist temple in Sacramento?” I asked.
“Right in Old Sacramento,” she said.
Perfect, I thought. I could check out the temple and still maybe manage to have a margarita with normal people my own age. I stood up to leave.
“Would you like to stay for dinner?” Grandma asked.
I looked around at the faces of Grandma’s tablemates. They were sweet, but the thought of sitting through an entire meal with them was enough to make the smallest crumbs of bread stick in my throat. “Thanks, Gram, but I’ve got to run.”
“Are you sure? It’s Friday. There’ll be ice cream sundaes for dessert.” She smiled up at me. Grandma knows my weakness for hot fudge. Still . . .
“Maybe another Friday,” I said.
She patted my hand. “Of course,” she said. “Another Friday.”
The words echoed in my head. I’d heard them before. A few too many times before. I sat back down. “You know, I can’t think of a better Friday than this one after all.”
