Chapter 7
Aya
Aya recognized every part of the path. When she didn’t find Noah, she knew he had gone down to the creek. The view was beautiful, after all. And that meant he must have taken the alternate route, the path that led from the road and formed the border of the Katos’ backyard.
A bridge there always made people think of something very Japanese and traditional.
Aya had never really been sure about it, as her vision of “Japanese” was heavily influenced by her family and the Katos.
As a child, back when phone books were still a useful item, she had gone to San Francisco with her parents.
She remembered the pages full of Japanese names.
You could find a common name, like Kaneda, and simply follow it down the page.
In Love Hollow, Japan was represented by her family, Noah’s family, Emi’s family, and to some extent, by Sheena’s dad before he left. That was it.
But when she arrived at the bridge, she found Noah next to it.
He had gotten to the place on the other path where it spit everyone out in the creek and had apparently decided to go through the creek.
He was standing there, looking a bit out of place.
Clearly, Noah was no longer getting clothes that were loose on his slender frame.
Both his jeans and his plaid shirt looked bespoke, ridiculously fancy for an afternoon in the Idaho wilderness.
“Hi,” she said.
He nodded. “Long time no see.”
They had seen each other that morning. But it must have been all he could come up with.
Aya and Noah both started talking at once, and she found herself deferring to him. “Sorry. You can go first.”
He put a hand on his neck. “So, the festival is about to start. It’s too late to move anything.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Move the festival? Is that what you thought I wanted?”
He crossed his arms, looking a little bit wobbly. “I mean, that would have made sense a year ago. But now it’s too late.”
“Well, you should have asked me a year ago, then.”
He glared at her. “You should have rrraised any objections a year ago.”
The way he drew out the r sound reminded her of the old Noah, and if she hadn’t been so angry about the point he was trying to make, she might have felt a little nostalgic.
In fact, it was a good thing that he was apparently now a jerk.
“Okay,” she said. “If you’re going to blame the victim, fine. First off, I thought it might not actually happen. You know, there are always stories in the news about festivals that don’t work out.”
“I’m sorry. Festivals s-s-spearheaded by me that don’t work out?”
Noah had only stuttered because he was indignant but speaking softly. At some point as a teenager, he had learned that if he yelled in anger, he almost never stuttered. That worked pretty well until he got a reputation as an angry guy who always yelled, and he was forced to tone it down.
“Festivals period,” she said, hoping she sounded calm. “Second, I thought you would at least have the decency to keep the main stage away from the museum during the one week of the year that we actually bring in revenue.”
All the details of the Zion Creek Pilgrimage were already threatening to overwhelm her.
The museum had held the event annually since it opened, and seeing people who were there as internees and their descendants never failed to move her.
For her grandparents, it had been a hugely important event, a chance for them both to reconnect with old friends and to take pride as they showed off a successful farm and a growing extended family.
Noah had once known how central it was, but apparently, holding a festival that would make the whole desert stink of weed was more important to him.
“The museum almost never brings in revenue?” he asked, and she kicked herself mentally.
“We do. I mean, that’s not the point. That’s not what being a nonprofit is about.”
“If revenue is the main thing here… Listen, I can tell you—”
“It’s not,” snapped Aya. “The point is that you cannot allow this festival to go on right in the backyard of the camp. And to call it ‘Love Hollow Lovefest’ without even considering our history?”
She could see him exhaling. “I’m sorry. I’m getting a history lesson from you now?”
“I have a PhD in history!” she shouted at him. “Almost. I’m finishing it next semester.”
The weight of the lie fell between them. Aya wondered, for a moment, if Noah was going to call her out on it. But what he said next was even uglier.
“Sue me,” he said.
Aya’s voice fell by half an octave. “Excuse me?”
“It’s something I learned in the music industry. I’m going to do what I planned to, and if you have a big-enough problem with it, you and the museum will bring a lawsuit. And I’ll deal with that lawsuit.”
They definitely didn’t have the budget for anything legal at all.
Even as Aya thought through the people she could call who might offer something pro bono, it all seemed ridiculous.
There wasn’t time for a lawsuit anyway. The Pilgrimage was about to happen.
So was the festival. Even if they could create some kind of legal trouble, it would never work in time.
In a sense, Noah was right. And that was what infuriated her. She hadn’t dealt with the festival before, mostly because she hadn’t wanted to talk to him, and now it was too late to do anything.
“I’m not going to sue you,” she said. “And I don’t know if I can stop the festival.” She leaned on the side of the bridge. “But fuck you, Noah Kato. I will do every single thing I can, and I will go down trying to stop it.”
She walked away, listening to his plea.
“Aya, please. You can’t just leave.”
“I certainly can,” she said without turning.
“You really can’t. I’m stuck.”