Swimming to Tokyo (20 page)

Not that I expect her to stand up for me anymore than she did for Finn with his own father. He’s told me a little bit more about that in the time we spent together these past few days—how Eloise left and begged him to come with her. Blamed herself when he didn’t but didn’t fight for him either. Finn says she thinks she failed him as a mother, which gives her no right to parent him now. To me, all this means is that he’s down two parents instead of one, but I’ve kept that to myself. Finn’s trying to build some kind of relationship with her. That’s at least part of why he’s here. He doesn’t need me tearing that down, especially when I’m doing such a good job of screwing things up with my own parent.

Because it’s clear, by the time we’re crammed around the
kotatsu
, Dad’s about to blow. The only thing keeping him from doing it is, ironically, Amelia, since he doesn’t want his intern coming in with stories that will make him the talk of the office tomorrow. Still, no one says much of anything during dinner, and it’s the shortest, most uncomfortable meal I’ve ever had. And that’s saying something.

Especially since the now-second-most uncomfortable dinner of my life was the night of mom’s funeral. She was buried at 11 in the morning, and by 4:15 everyone was gone except family—me, Dad, Babci, Aunt Gwen, and Dad’s brother, Gordon. Babci insisted everyone sit at the table and eat, which wasn’t even a good idea in theory. Between Aunt Gwen trying to comfort Dad and him snapping at Uncle Gordon as he got more and more drunk, it was a nightmare from the second the plates hit the table. In the end, Dad escaped to his study, Uncle Gordon and Aunt Gwen retreated to their rooms, and I helped Babci clean up all the untouched food. All the while blaming Dad.

Much like I do now. Amelia and Akihiro thank Dad for dinner while Eloise and Finn pile plates on the counter and I quietly seethe. I know I’m partly to blame, but this didn’t have to be so bad. Not by a long shot.

“Do you want me to stick around?” Finn’s voice is low in my ear over my shoulder as I scrape a plate.

I turn to face him. His eyes are worried. “No. It’s…”

“It’s not
fine
, Zosia.” He says “fine” like it’s the other f-word.

“I know. But, no.” Although even as I say it, I’m second-guessing. It would make it so much worse. But the fact he’s offering…

Eloise corners me while I’m wiping off the
kotatsu
as Dad walks Akihiro and Amelia to the elevator. “Zosia, your father…” I glance up at her and I wonder what kind of expression is on my face because she falters for a second before continuing. “He needs some time to warm up to this.”

“What does that mean?” I sound angry.

“This might not have been the best approach, but at least it’s out there. Just…” She shakes her head slowly. “I’m on your side on this.”

“Um, thanks? I think…” Two hundred and twelve thoughts race through my head. At least one hundred and twelve of them are downright mean. But I have the sense not to say them because even in my confusion I know it would be dumb to piss off the parent who’s actually on my side, even if she’s not
my
parent.

“Finn isn’t…” She stops, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to wonder for a good while how she would’ve finished that sentence. “He’ll come around. Greg. Your dad. He will.”

I’m about to scoff when Dad walks back through the door and Eloise scuttles back toward the kitchen. She murmurs something to Finn, and three minutes later I watch them walk out the door, leaving just Dad and I facing each other across the small living room.

The door has barely clicked shut when he starts, “I thought I made myself clear.”

I shrug, even though I know playing dumb is, well, dumb. “About what?”

“You said you weren’t dating Finn.”

“Last time you asked, I wasn’t dating him.”

“Really?” Dad obviously thinks I’m lying. “So when did that change?”

“Sunday.” Maybe, technically, Saturday night. But he isn’t interested in technicalities.

“I explicitly said I don’t want you dating him.” Dad’s voice inches up half a notch.

“I know.”

“So how does that happen?”

“It just…happened.” My fingernails dig into my skin through my thin shirt.

“Well, I haven’t changed my mind.”

Yeah. He’ll come around when Hell freezes over. “I understand that.”

I don’t say it like I’m agreeing, but Dad takes it that way. “Good. As long as we’re clear.”

“But I am dating him, Dad. As long as we’re clear about that.” My arms hug my stomach so hard I might throw up.

Dad looks like I just slapped him. And I feel a little like I just have. “I don’t want to have to forbid you to see him, Zosia.”

“You think you can forbid me to see him?” I keep the sneer mostly out of my voice, but he hears it anyway.

“You’re living in my house.” His retort is quick. Which means he’s already thought of that. Before this conversation we’re having right now.

“My house, my rules? Is that your argument?” I ask, incredulous. “I could’ve lied to you. I probably would’ve. But he made me promise I’d tell you.”

“And that promise means more than the one you made when you said you wouldn’t date him?”

His smug, hard tone is what makes me raise my voice. “I never said that. I know he has a shit past, and he’s made some bad choices. But I like him, Dad. A lot.”

“I’m sure you’ll like someone else just as much.”

“Really? Do you think so?”

He doesn’t let me finish. “I do.”

“Is that why you’ve had such a full dance card since Mom died? And what
does
Eloise think about the way you feel about her son?”

“She has no illusions about Finn.”

“She knows, Dad. She knows we like each other and she doesn’t mind.” It occurs to me for a split second I’ve just ratted out Eloise so she might mind now.

“Why would she mind? You’re a good kid!” Dad shouts.

So do I. “He is, too! You said it yourself.”

“I said that when I thought you were going to be just friends with him.”

“And now that we’re more than friends, he’s not? He’s become awful because I like him?” I feel the tears prick behind my eyes and will myself not to cry. I would only be crying because I’m so mad, which is the worst reason.

“I’m trying to protect you. Why can’t you understand that?”

“Protect me from what?”

“What are you going to do when he breaks your heart? Do you want to go through that again, Zosia? Do you?” He shouts it like it’s inevitable.

For three seconds, I think he’s talking about Kevin Morgan from high school.

Then I realize he’s not.

“Zo…” Dad’s eyes soften, and he shakes his head.

I don’t hear the rest. I grab my bag on the chair as I yank the door open, scoop up my shoes, and race down the stairs. I know I should stand there and face it. Confront him about the low blow he just dealt. But I can’t. Two minutes of Dad turning those sad gray eyes on me and I’d either be agreeing with him or crying like a baby. Running is better than that. Barely. But it feels better.

I join the people on the darkened sidewalk streaming toward the station. I have no idea where I’m going to go but it’s like swimming with the tide, and I follow blindly until we reach the bottom of the stairs and then veer right. I don’t even realize I’m heading toward the gym until I reach the big glass double doors.

I haven’t been swimming all weekend, but suddenly the only thing I want is to be in the water. As I walk through the lobby, I dig in the bottom of my bag, looking for a suit. The good and bad thing about carrying a backpack around is that I end up carting around a lot more than I normally would. A brush, hairbands, an umbrella, a packet of wasabi peas. I feel a plastic bag and lift it out. Sure enough, there’s a damp swimsuit and swim cap inside, probably left over from Friday night.

They’ll be gross, but nothing a quick rinse with hot water and some chlorine can’t cure. I have to convince myself again when I rip open the bag and the dank smell hits me in the face, but I throw the suit and cap in the sink and turn the hot water on full blast. Water splashes over the edge of the basin, but I leave it on the floor, which earns me a frown from the
obasan
in front of the other mirror.

Normally I’d clean up after myself, but let her think I’m the ugly American today. I don’t care. By the time I dive into the pool, I feel like I could swim right out of my skin with agitation. When the cool water streams down my bare back, it feels like a bomb being diffused.

I do ten hard laps without stopping before I pause and look around. There are only a few other people in the pool, and they’re in the zone. The girl in the lane nearest to me is here a lot. Sometimes I pretend I’m racing her, although I’m pretty sure she has no idea. I think about asking her if she wants to have a real race but dismiss it. It wouldn’t be fair to her. She has no idea how motivated I am tonight.

I push off the wall into the breast stroke, letting myself think about my argument with Dad for the first time since I left the house. It’s not that we had an argument. It’s his certainty. That Finn will crush me the same way Mom’s cancer did.

The thing is…he might. Today I saw a glimpse of how deep Finn’s scars go. They’re jagged, through to the bone. His rough past isn’t the thing Dad should be worried about. It’s his belief that he deserved the things that happened to him.

My breath catches in my throat, and I flip over to my back on the turnaround, easing into a slow backstroke. I can’t fix that. More to the point, I don’t want to and not only because I don’t know how. I could cut my losses now. Save my relationship with Dad and my heart all in one fell swoop.

But then why is the thought of not seeing Finn the one thing that makes me feel like I’m going to cry?

Instead of turning for another lap, I hoist myself up onto the edge of the pool, letting my feet dangle in the water. My fingers automatically find Mom’s necklace, as though there are answers hidden there.

If you were me, Mom, would you risk it?

Who am I kidding? Mom was the epitome of fearless, even with the cancer. Hell, especially with the cancer. She wouldn’t be any less daring with her heart.

Babci used to hate Dad. She told me that herself. And Mom didn’t let that stop her. She married him.

I practically jump up from the side of the pool and half-jog into the locker room. I don’t even bother to take off my wet swimsuit, just throw my clothes on over the top, which earns me a few puzzled looks, but I don’t care. I cram my bra and underwear into the bottom of my bag and race from the locker room.

I have no idea what to expect when I ring the buzzer of the apartment ten minutes later. Dad answers in less than a second and buzzes me up with just a hello. When I get to the top of the stairs, the door is ajar and I walk through it with my stomach and my heart competing for space at the back of my throat. Everything I thought I would say when I walked in the door is stuck there, too.

Dad stands by the big glass doors to the balcony looking out over the alley. He doesn’t turn to look at me, but he speaks before I have a chance.

“I know I can’t forbid you to see him, Zosia.”

I try to swallow, but I can’t. “Dad…”

“I thought about sending you home to spend the rest of the summer with Babci.” He turns then, and his face is slack and tired-looking. The opposite of how his voice sounds. “Your mother would tell me to let you make your own mistakes. I can almost hear her say it.”

My heart settles back in my chest for just a second as my hopes soar. “I…”

“I know you think I’m being unreasonable and unfair.” He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. “But I’m right to be concerned. And your mother’s not here to talk you through this.”

“Mom would tell me to go for it.” I say it quietly so he can’t take it as antagonistic.

“What?” His voice is sharp.

I speak quickly. I’ll only have one chance. “She took a chance. On you. Even though Babci didn’t approve. And, I mean, it was the right thing. For both of you. But if she’d listened to Babci, you wouldn’t have had everything you did. You wouldn’t have had anything. And maybe I need to take a chance, too. Even though you don’t approve. Because I’m not saying this thing between me and Finn—whatever it is—is going to be even half of what you and Mom had, but Dad, it’s something. It is.”

Dad’s expression softens, and the wrinkles ease out of his forehead for a minute before coming back. Deeper. “It’s different, Zosia. Babci didn’t like me because I was American and she was worried I wouldn’t respect your mother’s traditions. And it’s not that I dislike Finn. It’s just…you don’t just get over that kind of childhood, Zo. No matter how fine he says he is now.”

“He doesn’t say he’s fine. Ever.” In fact, he’s only ever said the opposite. “But he doesn’t have to be.”

I turn to the kitchen before Dad can say anything else. Between the pots and the dishes, the whole counter is covered, and I stack things on the stove in order to give myself enough room to even start washing. I purposely keep my back to Dad, who I’m pretty sure is still standing by the window in the living room.

I’ve washed three dishes when Dad starts drying. On the sixth one, he takes a deep breath and says, “I know I can’t forbid you to see him, Zosia. But I wish I could.”

I hand him another wet plate and nod. That’s not a vote of confidence, but it’s a victory.

Whether Dad intends it to be or not.

“S
hit, they’re downstairs already. Can’t you teach that boyfriend of yours to be late?” Amelia spritzes her hair in front of the mirror as the bell rings from the front desk.

I pick up my phone to text Finn just as it buzzes with an incoming text from him.
Waiting. Tell A to pick up the pace
. “He wouldn’t have to be late if you didn’t change thirty times.”

“I couldn’t decide what to wear. Sue me,” Amelia says, laughing.

“Number one, you look amazing no matter what you wear. And, number two, no one is going to notice what you’re wearing with that hair. They’ll be all over you,” I say.

Amelia gives me a look. “We’re going to Roppongi, don’t forget. I’ll be lucky if anyone even buys me a drink.”