Dim Sum Asylum(90)
I found her standing near Bob the Traitor, who apparently instantly fell in love with everyone but me. After scratching between the ears of the cream-and-orange furry monster I’d brought in out of the cold to live in relative comfort and ease, my grandmother turned, tucked her hands into the sleeves of her kimono, then smiled at me.
“Can I offer you something to drink? I’ve got tea, coffee, and some sketchy milk.” I nodded at the carton I’d pulled out of the fridge. “It’s soy. Can’t do regular cow juice.”
Barely coming up to my chest, she peered at me, an odd quixotic expression on her face. She had a heart-shaped face, plump cheeks blushed pink, and black hair she held back from her face with a simple strip of white fabric. There was a sense of serene grace about her, but the set of her jaw and the frank way she assessed me and the loft assured me this tiny woman was no pushover.
“No, no, I am fine. I can’t stay long. I asked Tufa to stop here for a moment so I could speak with you. I’m on my way to the hospital,” Yukiko said, gliding toward me, a tiny juggernaut of a woman. “Let me look at you.”
It was odd staring down at a woman who wore bits of my own face. She didn’t look old enough to be my grandmother, and we, oddly enough, had the same mouth. When she smiled, her cheek dimpled like mine did. I could see why my grandfather fell in love with her. She was a picture-perfect embodiment of a traditional Japanese woman, an antique of a person wrapped around a devilish twinkle. Her kimono was ankle-length and informal, an ombré of light spring green running down to a dark cherry red. Embroidered cherry blossoms ran thick around its bottom hem and cuffs, thinning out to a few sporadic clusters near her waist, and her hunter-green obi was tied in a loop. A pair of simple black sneakers peeked out from under the kimono when she walked. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see tabi on her feet, and there was something endearing about her small fashion rebellion.
“You look like him. The Takahashi.” The disgust must have shown on my face, because she tsked at me. “Not… you have the look of him when he’s asleep. When he isn’t fighting the world. When he used to believe people were sometimes good.” Her fingers lifted, making a slow journey across my mouth, then down my chin. “This part is me. Your father looks more like my father. It’s funny how that is.”
“I can’t tell you what he looks like… my father,” I confessed. “It’s mostly been the Takahashi. And well, my mother before she died.”
“I should have been there as well.” Her crestfallen face was heartbreaking, and if I’d been older and not related to her, I might have fallen in love with her right then and there. “I left you to him. You were… always his.”
“You didn’t come here to compare our faces.” I gently took her hand away from my cheek. “But I’m glad you came. No matter the reason.”
It might have been stupid to let her through the door. After all, this was a woman who’d survived decades as my grandfather’s mistress. For all I knew, she was deadlier than the assassin who’d made it his dying wish to kill me. No one would suspect a damned thing if Trent found me stiff from the effects of a fast-acting poison or if I’d somehow pitched myself out the window and over the balcony.
But a part of me hurt at being alone. It wasn’t in my nature, and I’d been distancing myself from everyone… from everything… because I couldn’t trust my own family not to kill the people I loved. Now I hurt because I wasn’t used to someone’s touch or their laughter in the silence I’d wrapped around me. Trent, for all his oddness and disjointed understanding of the world, was a damned sight healthier inside than I was, and it took him, someone who had no one, to make me realize what I’d been missing.
I wanted her there. I wanted to be there for her. I wanted to drive up to that damned house of hers on a Saturday afternoon and take her down for sushi boats and crepes or out on a skiff to haul crabs up from the Bay with Trent. I wanted to do all the stupid familial domestic things I’d grumbled about doing in the past. I wanted—needed—my life back. Needed to live beyond the badge. So if letting Yukiko through the door without thinking about it was going to get me killed, I was ready for that too, because up until a couple of days ago, I hadn’t truly been living.
“There wasn’t time to say thank you that day.” Another rueful expression, this time laced with mock horror. “I can’t believe you shot him.”
“He was going to kill my suspect. I worked hard to bring that assh—assassin down. How would it look if I let Sofu kill him?” Bob came to investigate my empty cereal bowl, nudging it across the counter in the hopes of getting it filled with tuna. “I saw your face when you saw who’d kidnapped Jie… who’d thrown you in there with her. You were… shocked. You recognized him. Am I right?”
“No, you are right. I did… I know him.” She reached over to pet Bob, who pathetically took the affection as her due and promptly flopped over onto her back for a belly rub. “Your grandfather knows him as well. His name is Sato—well, you’re aware of that now. He used to kill for Akemi’s family… specifically, he used to kill Takahashi for Akemi’s family.”
“So she married Takahashi and Sato was out of a job?” I asked, ashamed by my cat’s begging. “Like any of the families run out of people they want murdered?”