Chapter 6 I’ll Swallow My Pride and This Cake, Too
I’ll Swallow My Pride and This Cake, Too
Yua leads me across the cobblestone floor.
After an exhausting trek to the booth, she’s seated on one side of the wooden table and I’ve plopped down on the other.
Ropes of flowers hang down the stucco walls.
Violin music drifts over the speakers. Slowly, Cuppa Coffee settles back down into a cozy shop once more.
It’s obnoxiously sweet, cuddly, and pink.
Not enough cobwebs and organ music for my taste. But I can appreciate the ambience.
“Sorry about that whole fiasco,” Yua says, massaging the wad of ice over her palm. “I’ve got to be honest, I wasn’t expecting you to take me up on my offer.”
Ha. That makes two of us.
“I’m glad you came in, though,” Yua continues. “You look beautiful. Even with a drink splatter on your dress.”
Yua’s not looking at me when she says that. Instead, her gaze lingers on the leafy vines trailing down the wall right next to our booth. Why did she feel the need to tell me I look beautiful?
And then it hits me. There’s something about the way Yua said it.
Like, yes, it’s a compliment, but there’s more to it—a tone that I use to gauge if a new classmate has a little rainbow inside her soul.
Except, I’ve never been on this side of that statement.
I’ve only ever been the one who complimented.
The one who received a very friendly and clearly straight Aww shucks, thank you.
Or am I just reading into it because Yua’s got rainbow hair? Because I’m staring at the quirk in her smile for a beat too long? Because she saw the way my gaze zigzagged down her body when we first met? And no, I wasn’t being a creep. Her tats are pretty rock and roll.
I dry my palms against my dress and change the subject. “Thanks. So, how did you land a job here? This place is”—I don’t want to admit it, but I squeeze the word out anyway—“adorable.”
Yua finally looks my way. “My mum knows everyone in Arakawa. A couple of months ago, she was at a fish market and bumped into the owner. Thirty-five minutes later, I was given a part-time job working in the mornings—as long as I cover up my tattoos and hair, of course. But, the moral of the story is—don’t go shopping with my mum unless you want to end up working at a coffee shop that makes you wish you had a bigger stomach. ”
Another snicker escapes me. I clear my throat and straighten my shoulders.
If Aiko were here, getting to the point would be so much easier.
But chatting with Yua is also a breath of fresh air.
Since arriving in Tokyo, this may be the first time I’ve talked about something other than my doomed mentorship.
Just then, another one of Yua’s coworkers appears at our table with a tray full of food. I catch a glimpse of what’s on the plates when Yua says, “Hey, Keiko. This is Lilyn.”
Keiko does a double-take—probably because I look like a mess right now.
Her brown eyes are wide with shock and her round face is framed by a choppy wolf cut.
She may not have Yua’s tats, but she does have a sprinkle of freckles across her cheeks.
When she doesn’t respond, I begin to wonder if she knows me.
“Oh, you’re Lilyn!” Keiko’s Japanese accent is heavy, but I understand her just fine. “Yua’s been talking about you!”
I glance over to Yua. She’s been talking about me?
“I tell my coworkers everything.” Yua waves a hand at me like it’s not a big deal, even though I catch a flash of red on the tips of her ears. Yua clears her throat and turns back to Keiko. “Thanks for the breakfast.”
“Right!” Keiko says like she just remembered she’s at work. One by one, she sets pastries on the table before us. There’s a plate of spongy vanilla cake with sugar crystals dusted on top. Next is a plate of bubble waffles with two scoops of ice cream melting into the eggy crust.
“Whoa,” I breathe as Keiko sets down one more dish—the strawberry shortcake Yua mentioned when we first met.
At least, I think that’s what it is, because whipped cream and strawberry chunks are sandwiched between layers of airy cake.
I haven’t even sunk my teeth into it yet, but I’m salivating like a vampire.
“I didn’t realize the coffee shop had all this. ”
“These are just some of my favorite treats,” Yua says as Keiko sets down extra plates and forks. “My coworkers already knew what I was going to order. I basically rotate between these for breakfast. But is there anything else you want to try? Sorry, I should’ve asked.”
“No.” I grab a fork. That bubble waffle totally has my name on it. “Actually, Aiko mentioned your Japanese coffee was delicious.”
Yua beams. “It’s definitely something you won’t regret. I promise.” She turns and says something to Keiko in Japanese. I imagine she’s ordering us drinks, because Keiko nods and hurries back behind the counter.
“That’s basically how Aiko described it,” I say when Yua’s attention returns to me. I slice into the waffle and scoop up the melting vanilla bean ice cream before setting it down on my own plate.
Yua takes her fork and cuts the strawberry shortcake in half.
“Japanese coffee is bloomed over ice, making it the perfect summer drink. When the freshly brewed coffee hits the ice, it locks in the sweetness so that the bitter coffee taste doesn’t come through.
But I like mine topped with cold foam and a brown sugar glaze. I hope you do, too.”
“I love cold foam in coffee!” I say, sinking my teeth into the bubble waffle. The crust has a light crunch, but the inside contains all the flavor. The creaminess in the egg batter mingles with the sweet, earthy tones of vanilla bean. Why can’t American food taste this fresh?
“Good. And this Japanese coffee pairs really well with the vanilla sponge cake,” Yua says, jabbing her fork at the untouched dessert.
“I’ll save it for when the drinks come out, then.” I smile before taking another bite.
“So,” Yua says after swallowing her pastry. “What brings you into Cuppa Coffee? Did you want to talk about your project?”
Right. Time for business. I clear my throat. “Yeah. But before we get to that…I have a confession to make.”
Yua stops mid-bite of her own strawberry shortcake. “Oh?”
My spine crumples, and I stare down at the waffle crumbs lingering on my plate. I need to rip off this Band-Aid. If I don’t tell the truth and get Yua’s help now, my situation will be even worse by next Monday.
“Remember how I said I would bring my designs over to Matsumoto Alturations for my first lesson with your mom?” I sigh. “Well…I don’t have any designs ready.”
Yua’s gaze burns against my skin. Her lips are pinched, but I can hear her thoughts as clearly as if she had a bullhorn. She’s probably recalling how uneasy I was when she told me about students coming here without designs. I keep my attention on the dark grains of the wooden table.
“I got caught up in the excitement of your mom wanting to mentor me, but I should’ve told you that I don’t have any designs because…” My voice trails, and I swallow the lump rising in my throat. “I’m stuck. Creatively.”
Once I start, I can’t stop. “This whole time, I’ve been faking everything.
I’m pretending I’m ready to spend a summer away from my ma.
I’m also trying to convince myself that I’m ready for college.
Since landing in Tokyo, I haven’t even posted on social media because I don’t want to read all the ‘good luck’ and ‘you’ll be great’ comments from my followers.
Because what if I’m not great? What if I’m okay, at best, even with your mom’s help?
“I mean, I worked so hard to get here,” I continue, drawing invisible figure eights with the prongs of my fork.
“I submitted my request to go abroad before my school’s deadline.
I booked the flights. I planned everything.
I did my best…and in the end, I still messed up.
I got the dates wrong. I had to fight to keep your mom as my mentor—thank God she took me back.
But what if I put everything into my college application and it’s still not enough? ”
It feels so good to exhale not just the breath in my lungs but the rest of my worries with it. I’m in a flowery café surrounded by sweets, but I’m as quiet as a mouse at midnight. I don’t regret speaking my truth. If anything, I should’ve said it immediately.
“I can relate,” Yua says so softly I’m not sure I hear her over the music. “You’re not just carrying the weight of expectations. You’re carrying your family’s weight.”
I hold her gaze—we’re two girls in on the same secret. “Yeah, basically. How did you know?”
Yua leans her elbows on the table like she’s trying to place herself closer to me. “Because I’m kind of going through the same thing myself.”
Another silence stretches between us. This time, I know I’m not the one who’s supposed to fill it.
“Matsumoto Alturations has been owned by my family for centuries,” Yua says slowly, as if she’s testing the words out.
“Mum wants to keep it in our bloodline, which means I’m next to inherit the shop.
I’m the last member of the Matsumoto family.
But the thing is…I don’t want to be the next owner of our shop. ”
I’m not tempted to eat my bubble waffle anymore. “What?”
Yua is suddenly fixated on the flowers lining the wall, but something tells me she’s not really thinking about the blossoms. “I have the weight of my ancestors on my back. All their hard work. All the challenges they faced to keep our shop alive. Its history. It’s boiled down to me.
But sewing and fabric and the business…that’s not my passion. ”