Tokyo Ever After: A Novel (Tokyo Ever After #1)(70)

“I wasn’t expecting you.” Now is the time I notice my plaid pajamas are buttoned unevenly. I don’t think my father has ever seen me dressed down. What do I look like? Good question. The only answer is garbage, slightly warmed … So, trash. Basic trash.

“You weren’t?” He’s perplexed, pretending nothing has happened. Like I haven’t embarrassed him with my alleged torrid affair, then left without saying goodbye. “I guess I am a bit early for your graduation. Either way, here I am.”

I have nothing. Words fail me.

Noora nudges me, saying through the corner of her mouth, “Here he is.”

“You shouldn’t, you can’t—” My speech is rushed. What am I trying to say? “I didn’t actually think you’d come—your schedule. You can’t just take days off. You don’t belong here.” It feels just as bad to say it as it sounds, but I’ve compartmentalized my lives. There is a line down the center; one half is Japan, and the other, America. Never the two shall meet.

“Of course I belong here. You are here,” he says, like it makes all the sense in the world. “I brought a gift.” In his hand is a small, yellow box of Tokyo Bananas. The cream-filled cakes are all over the airport. He offers them to me with both hands.

Bringing an omiyage is tradition. I can’t refuse. I accept the box with both hands and say, “Thank you.” Then I step back, toss the box on the table, and close my fist around the doorknob. I might shut it in his face. He must sense this, because he places a foot on the threshold. “Izumi. You left without saying goodbye.”

My chin dips down. “It was for the best. I thought…”

“What? That I’d be angry, that I’d turn my back on you?”

“Yes.” To all of it. I feel Noora place her hand on my shoulder. “You said that, as a member of the imperial family, I was expected to be beyond reproach.”

His brow scrunches. “I did say that, but it was in context of the tabloids. The media holds the imperial family to such a high standard, an impossible standard. But nobody is without faults. I’d never blame you for making mistakes. Is that what you thought?”

“You were furious at the potential of a scandal.” I cross my arms and uncross them.

“No,” he says slowly. “I was furious on your behalf that the tabloids might hurt you with their vicious reporting. I was trying to protect you.” His foot is still in the door. “This whole thing is my fault. I wanted you to come to Japan so you could know me and your family, but I didn’t spend enough time with you. I didn’t fully appreciate the gift I’d been given, what it meant to have you there. I’ve been too formal about keeping scheduled appointments. Our time together shouldn’t have been so rigid.” He splays his hands, smiling. “So, here I am. You spent weeks in Japan learning where I am from. Now, I will learn where you are from.”

I stand, frozen, the weight on my heart lifting. My head spinning—he was trying to protect me … was angry for me …

Noora elbows me again. “What are you waiting for? Let the man in, Zoom Zoom. She’s surprised.” Noora addresses my father. Her default is covering for me. Years of parent shenanigans and it’s what we automatically do. “She just needs a few minutes to adjust. You and I could go for a walk. I’d be happy to show you around Mount Shasta. You know, take you to all the local haunts. If you’re interested in goat farming…”

Mom comes into the room. “Zoom Zoom, you overloaded the washer again—”

“Hanako,” my father says and, wow, does his face light up. It’s the force of one thousand happy suns.

Mom stops short, grips the back of a chair. Her face drains of color. “Makoto.”

He tries to move forward, but Noora and I are blocking him. He speaks over us. “I’m sorry to intrude like this…” He pauses, shakes his head as if in a daze. “Forgive me. You haven’t changed.”

As one, Noora and I swivel to assess my mom. She shuffles her feet, fluttering a hand over her hair. “Oh … I … um … I haven’t even gotten dressed yet.” She looks quite nice to me. She’s wearing her usual weekend gear—jeans, bare feet, and one of her signature feminist T-shirts. Today’s reads Believe Women. “I’ve been cleaning.”

My father pushes through us. “You look lovely.”

Noora squeezes my hand. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing? They are totally eye-boning each other.”

“Shut it,” I whisper back. “Adults are in the room.”

My father stands in front of my mother. I can’t see her. His tall form dwarfs hers. “What are you doing here?” she asks, the same as me.

“I’m here to make things right,” is all he says.

A siren wails outside. The sound comes closer and closer, multiplying. Red and blue lights flash against our windowpanes. Mount Shasta Police, along with some dark cars, careen into the driveway and stop with a spray of gravel. My father pulls away from Mom. “Ah. I should probably inform you. I didn’t tell anyone I was coming here. It appears the police have arrived. Guess I’ve been caught.” He doesn’t seem sorry. Not sorry at all. Then, he does something I’ve never seen him do, ever.

He laughs.