Chapter 3 Okay, Let’s Try This Again #2
Mrs. Matsumoto eyes me with a perplexed expression.
Okay, time to double down. I’ll stay like this until something happens.
She can tell me to straighten up. She can tell me to get out of her store.
Honestly, at this point, she could tell me to jump into the river and I would oblige to spare further embarrassment.
But she doesn’t. I’m a statue, and the great Hana Matsumoto assesses my outfit in silence.
She steps around me with her eye zeroed in on my gown. I take that as my cue to straighten my spine. She’s a lioness, and I’m a gazelle. I’ll stand here hoping she doesn’t pounce.
“How long did it take you to sew this dress?” Mrs. Matsumoto’s voice is as sharp as her gaze. She sounds exactly the way I thought her voice would when I read those emails. Cold. Punctual. And very unforgiving.
I give her my no-nonsense response. “Two weeks.”
If I wanted to elaborate, I would’ve said that I only worked on it for about four hours a day because I had school.
And the hours I poured into sewing this gown don’t include shopping for material, learning new stitching techniques, and rewatching the Neck Lace music video a trillion times for inspiration.
“Hmm.” Mrs. Matsumoto strokes her chin.
Is that a good thing? A bad thing? I try to read her expression. Oh no. Is there a loose thread? Did I put my corset on backward? Maybe I’m not as great a seamstress as I thought I was, and I’ve been faking everything this entire time.
“Is this gown the best representation of your current skill set?” Mrs. Matsumoto’s eyes have lifted to mine and pierce through me like laser beams.
“I, uh…well…” How do I answer this? One gown can’t possibly represent my full talent. Has she seen my social media? Maybe I should show her that. I reach for my pocket, only to remember…
This dress doesn’t have pockets.
I wanted to make them, but with the gloves reaching around me in this design, there wasn’t enough room. And if I don’t have pockets, that means…
I left my phone at Aiko’s place.
I want to face-palm, but I’m still too petrified to move.
Mrs. Matsumoto raises a brow. If I can’t show her my work, then how do I save this moment? I need a miracle. I need—
Bing!
Mrs. Matsumoto turns to the front door. A client has walked in. She’s in a sleek cream pantsuit. Judging by the shoulder pads in her blazer, the Dior tote on her shoulder, and the shine to her hair, this customer has money. Lots of it.
Mrs. Matsumoto’s entire demeanor shifts. Her lips pull into a smile. Her stiff posture inflates with air as she glides across the store. Her cold voice warms to a laugh as she switches from English to Japanese.
I’m left by the mannequins, thankful that I was saved by the bell. Literally.
Mrs. Matsumoto has a quick conversation with the client before gesturing to the side of the store. The client moves that way, but before Mrs. Matsumoto follows her, she looks back at me.
I’m a statue again.
“Lilyn, go to the back and find Yua.” Then she’s gone. It’s just me and these mannequins all over again.
I’m torn. I don’t know who Yua is. Besides, wasn’t Aiko supposed to talk to Mrs. Matsumoto? Where the heck did she go? Whatever the case, I can’t just stand here. Especially not after Mrs. Matsumoto gave me an order to find whoever Yua is.
I weave through all the shelves of fabric to the back of the store. Eventually, I reach a wooden wall with a sliding paper screen door. There’s a tiny crack in the door. Behind it, I recognize the sound of a sewing machine hard at work.
“Hello?” I call through the crack. “Yua?”
No response.
I glance around, but there’s no one in sight. Feeling out of place, I follow Mrs. Matsumoto’s instructions and go to the back. I slide the shoji screen open and poke my head inside.
It’s a workshop. A large round table sits in the middle of the room with multiple chairs pulled up to it as if this is where Mrs. Matsumoto does most of her alterations.
Various rolls of fabric line the walls in company with racks of garments hanging from plastic-wrapped cases.
Along the wall are more tables with sewing machines set up as if each slot is its own work station.
There’s only one person back here, and she’s sitting at one of those benches, feeding a sheet of green-and-gold silk through the machine.
I blink. Twice. Because—is this Yua? I’m not sure who I was expecting to see, but it certainly wasn’t a girl who appears to be a little older than me wearing a crop top and jean shorts.
There’s a koi fish tattooed on her thigh.
There’s a woman wearing a mask inked into her arm.
There’s a branch of cherry blossoms stained against her collarbone.
I don’t even know what this girl’s face looks like because I can’t stop staring at her body art.
Wait. Tattoos. As in the kind people here associate with criminals? And yet this Japanese girl with short rainbow hair is wearing them like a showcase.
Whoa.
I’m pretty sure I say that in my head, but suddenly, the girl glances up like she’s a baby deer and I’ve just snapped a twig. Maybe I wasn’t as quiet as I thought.
The girl’s eyes go wide. She lifts her foot off the pedal and the sewing machine dies immediately. She scrambles for a cardigan tossed over the back of her seat and slips her arms through the material. Just like that, her tattoos are gone. Well, her koi fish is still showing.
She says something to me in Japanese, but there’s an accent to it—one that sounds different than Aiko’s. As she speaks, she pulls a blanket up to cover the koi fish on her thigh. Okay, now her tattoos are gone.
“I’m sorry,” I say, holding my hands up just in case she doesn’t speak English. “Am I not supposed to be back here?”
The girl blinks at me. Twice. Just like I did moments ago. “Oh, you’re Lilyn!” she says in English.
My head tilts reflexively. How does she know my name? And why does her accent sound Australian or British? Did Mrs. Matsumoto replace me with another foreign student already? Oh no.
The girl fills in the silence. “Love the dress. It reminds me of this J-rock group called Neck Lace. There’s this scene in one of their music videos where these white gloves reach out of this black muck.”
I’m staring at this stranger when my chest flutters. Holy shit.
“Sorry. I didn’t even introduce myself. I’m Yua. And you must be my mum’s mentee.”
I’m still trying to take all of Yua in when one word lingers.
“Mrs. Matsumoto is your mom?”
Yua smiles with deep red lips. Black liner wings at the corners of her eyes. She’s not wearing much makeup. It’s like she knows a fully painted face would only take away from the art on her skin now covered by material. “She sure is. Believe it or not, she’s been my mother my whole life.”
I can’t stop myself from snort-laughing. Her comment probably wasn’t meant to be funny. But the way it falls on my ears feels like a tickle. “Wait. Did you say I was her mentee?”
Yua raises an eyebrow. “Um, I think so? You are Lilyn Jeong, right? The girl who ghosted my mom and only hit her up once you got to Tokyo?”
I dip my gaze. Mrs. Matsumoto must’ve told her daughter everything. “Yeah…”
Yua presses a hand to her chest with relief.
“Oh, okay. Because this conversation was about to get real awkward if you weren’t.
But yeah, Mum was pretty hurt when you didn’t respond to her emails.
She’s seen your social media, and she’s been so excited to meet you since Odyssey contacted her.
She wanted to scare you a little before she starts her lessons because she’s petty like that.
Don’t let her fool you. She’s probably more eager to work with you than you are to work with her. ”
I gape at Yua. This whole time I’ve been panicking over nothing? A part of me resents Mrs. Matsumoto for the heart attack she almost gave me. But the other part of me gives respect where respect is due. That was a solid diss.
“Mum’s busy this week,” Yua continues. “We just got all this silk from the farm. Her clients will be popping in all week to pick it up. Plus, Mum’s been hired to handmake a bunch of bridesmaids’ gowns, so she’ll be splitting her focus and that wouldn’t be fair to you.
But how do you feel about starting your first lesson with her Monday? ”
“This upcoming Monday?” I swallow the lump in my throat.
Yua shakes her head. “No, the next one. Ten days from now. I know it’s a little ways out, but that’s why Mum was hoping you would’ve come in yesterday, before her orders were ready. She’s very excited to see what outlines you’ve brought with you.”
I freeze. Outlines?
As in sketches of the designs I want to show in my college application?
As in sketches of the designs I very much do not have?
Perfect. Just when I thought I’d dodged a bullet, I’ve got another assignment on my plate.
“Yeah,” I say before I can think twice. “I’ll bring my designs over then.”
Lilyn, you fool! I’m standing in a grave, and I might as well start piling the dirt on top of myself now.
How the heck am I supposed to sketch an entire collection in ten days?
And Mrs. Matsumoto is going to expect me to have backups in case she hates my designs.
But I have too many distractions—Tokyo, this foreign exchange program, all the wicked ink I just saw moments ago…
Focus!
“Awesome!” Yua smiles as she takes a step in the direction she came from.
It’s only then that I notice the measuring tape looped over her shoulders.
She’s probably got so much work to do, and here I am taking up all her time.
“I’ll let her know that you’ll be back next Monday.
But feel free to pop in anytime as a customer.
If you swing by as a student, I don’t think Mum will have the bandwidth to answer your questions.
But I can give it a shot. I’ve helped her dozens of times in the past. Your school loves to work with her, but can you believe they’ll send mentees all the way to Japan without a single outline to sew? ”
I grimace. Even though I can’t see my reflection, I know every muscle on my face is straining. “Ha. Ha. I can.”
Yua tilts her head. Crap. Did I just out myself?
I clear my throat. “Sooo, are you always here or…?”
Yua nods. “For the most part. But if I’m not here, then I’m probably working at Cuppa Coffee. Even if you don’t need help right away, you should stop by the shop for some drinks and strawberry shortcakes. After all, you are in Tokyo.”
For a moment, the idea of a spongy pink cake flashes in my mind. I can practically feel my teeth sinking into the airy texture. But then I stop because I’ve got a little more than a week to draw an entire mini collection. At this rate, I can’t afford any distractions. Not even a coffee break.
“There you are!” Aiko’s voice rises from behind me. Her footsteps thud as she draws closer. “I’ve been looking all over for you! So, Auntie Hana says to find Yua and—”
When Aiko joins me in the doorway, her gaze slides over to Yua sitting at the sewing machine. “Oh, never mind.”
“Thanks, Aiko. We got everything worked out.” I turn my attention back to Yua. “I guess I’ll see you in ten days?”
“Or sooner.” Yua shrugs. “I’m serious. Stop by anytime if you need help with anything. Ever.”
I smile and thank her before Aiko and I head out the shop door. Even though Yua seems friendly enough, I don’t have the heart to tell her that I’m planning on finding my muse myself.