Light From Uncommon Stars(18)
“Good morning. Can I try one of those?”
And her voice, it was prettier still …
“Um … please?”
“What? Oh, donut hole?” Lan speared one with her tongs.
Shizuka sampled it and nodded. “I would like a half Alaska Donut and regular coffee. And may I have a big bag of donut holes?”
“Throwing party?” Lan congratulated herself on maintaining a proper donut shop accent.
“In a way.”
She was probably throwing a party for her children. Shizuka would be married, of course. She must have a family. Lan felt an unexpected little ache in her heart, but she kept her smile and motioned to Shirley, who came out with a paper grocery bag.
“Wait. I give you something better. These donut are two day old, so we can’t sell them as one day old. They still good, though. Just don’t tell. Then people ask around and Health Department show up.”
“Mother!” Shirley scolded.
“I’ll keep it secret.” Shizuka smiled. “Besides, who knows what else you donut people keep back there?”
“No, no.” Lan waved her hands. “Nothing special back there. Nothing special at all. Just donut stuff.”
“Excuse me,” Shirley apologized. She pulled Lan away, and the two started arguing in what must have been Vietnamese.
They were peculiar, but in a very non-musician way. In fact, watching them made Shizuka feel refreshed. So Shirley was Lan’s daughter? Of course she was. Shizuka had never seen any sign of the father. Not that it was her business …
Ah, but enough with the daydreams. She had somewhere to be.
“Well, I should be getting to the ducks.”
“Ducks?”
“I am off to feed the ducks—not to imply your donuts are duck food, but…”
“Ducks?” Lan asked again.
The way she asked it was peculiar, as if … No, surely Lan knew what a duck was. Did they not have ducks in her country?
“If you want, I can show you.”
“Oh! Um, no. You see, I have to work.”
Shirley tapped Lan on the shoulder. “Mother, take a break. You worked a triple shift yesterday. We can handle the shop while you’re gone.”
“Yes, but—”
“Mother, let’s get your coat.”
No matter how much she tried to deny it, her mother was in a very organic body. And that meant she needed time to relax.
Shirley nodded to Shizuka. “She’ll be right out, ma’am.”
Shizuka heard more muffled speech. Then Lan came out with her coat and the bag of two-day-old donuts.
When they arrived at El Molino Park, the members of the senior tennis club were packing up their equipment. As usual, a couple of the old Chinese women waved.
Shizuka frowned. Again, no sign of the violin player. But it was a beautiful day, and she was with Lan.
Lan. That’s right. I’m with Donut Lady, and her name is Lan.
The two of them sat on Shizuka’s favorite bench by the pond. Ducks lazily floated past. Mallards, wood ducks, mandarins. And that was not a duck, but a coot. And that was a cormorant.
Lan could identify these from her data. But here, they glided like ships through space. Some were large and stately, others, small, quick and loud. They filled the pond with different shapes and colors, as if in a bustling, healthy spaceport.
Shizuka pulled out a red velvet donut with rainbow sprinkles.
“Do you just toss it in?”
Shizuka nodded as the two-day-old donut bounced into the lake. Lan tossed one in as well.
The ducks scrambled as usual for their meal. But suddenly, the water boiled with scores of carp and goldfish. Some were dark, or silver, but many were orange and golden and speckled. Shizuka thought of all the children who had won goldfish at summer church carnivals.
“Hmm … that never happens with bread,” Shizuka thought out loud. “Maybe the fish have a sweet tooth?”
“Why would they eat sweets if their teeth were already sweet?”
What? Lan didn’t seem to be joking. And the accent that came and went—where was that from?
Meanwhile, Lan Tran was ecstatic. She had never done anything like this before.
She threw in a lime green donut. Shizuka tossed a bright yellow one. The water frothed and bubbled in vivid rainbow surges.
Her home planet had wildlife, but they were kept strictly isolated from civilization.
She tossed another, and another. Donut sprinkles frothed about like fireworks.
Lan watched the ducks battle the goldfish.
This would never happen at home. On her home planet, wildlife was protected from war.
Ducks vs. ducks. Fish vs. fish …
Greed. More feeding.
Frenzy. Explosions.
“Lan?”
Another donut.
Violence. Fire. Blood. War.
“Lan?”
Another donut.
Violence. Fire. Blood. War.
Shizuka grabbed Lan’s arm. Gently, she pulled the bag from Lan’s hand.
“Lan.”
Finally, Lan looked up. In Lan’s eyes lay a field of broken stars.
Judging by her age, Lan was most likely a refugee.
Shizuka remembered when the first Vietnamese refugees came to the San Gabriel Valley. Teachers would ask them not to open their lunches because they stank. Neighbors would call the police when they dried cuttlefish in their backyards. Even bridal shops had been raided by local police with Asian prostitution fantasies who did not know that a Vietnamese bride needed at least three gowns for a proper wedding ceremony—a formal western dress, a traditional white gown, and an áo dài.