Chapter 20 Hot Mama
Hot Mama
Yua and I are at Venice Beach in LA. I don’t like swimming, but when I’m with her, I open myself up to trying new things.
I don’t mind the sun. It’s warm, but for some reason, I’m cold down to my bones.
Yua’s strolling through the surf in her bikini, kicking at the foamy waves when they crest. And she has a new tattoo.
Mountains and clouds paint half of her back, covering her skin from left shoulder to spine.
She smiles at me with red lips, laugh harmonizing with the call of the gulls overhead.
A coughing fit wakes me up. I’m not at Venice Beach. Yua hasn’t gone to LA to work as a professional tattoo artist, and I’m not taking time out of my freshman year at CIF to visit her. Instead, I’m bundled in a sickly cocoon on my futon as Boba watches me with that worried gaze of his.
“What are you looking at?” I ask him with a voice that sounds like scraping pebbles. Everything hurts, especially my throat. A pounding headache jackhammers between my brows.
There’s a knock on the door, and I’m pretty sure I know who’s on the other side. Mrs. Nakamura is doing her rounds again, checking on Aiko and me to make sure we’re all right.
Earlier this morning, Mrs. Nakamura left me a bottle of medicine, but the instructions are written in Japanese.
She might have told me how many pills to take, but in my haze I couldn’t remember, so I took two.
That could’ve been too much because now I can’t sit up without feeling like I’ll vomit.
Or maybe that’s the sickness and I need to take more pills.
“Come in,” I call to the door. At least, I think I do. What actually escapes me is a whimper.
The door creaks, and the room spins when I lower my gaze from the ceiling to the doorway. Am I dreaming? Because Mrs. Nakamura isn’t there. I spy rainbow hair and catty eyeliner. Yua’s zipped up inside a jogger jacket. She’s also wearing a mask and nylon gloves, and carrying a big tote.
“Oh wow,” I say. I am dreaming. Yua starts walking toward me, and her footsteps patter on the floor beneath my futon. But then the tatami thumps, which means a real foot is walking in this real room right now. Wait a second—if she’s here, then that means— “No! Stop! I don’t want you to get sick.”
Too late. Yua’s kneeling down beside me with worried brows pinched in the middle. She sets a gloved hand on my forehead. Through the rubbery texture, Yua’s fingers feel like icicles.
“You’re burning up.” She sighs.
“You’re burning up,” I chide back. “Hot mama.”
Yua snorts. Ugh, did I really just say that? What the heck is in these meds?
When I shake my head, my vision blurs. “I didn’t mean that.”
“So you’re saying you don’t think I’m a hot mama?” Her lips are covered by the mask, but I can hear the smile in her voice.
“I don’t even know what a hot mama is,” I admit, forcing my own smile. Something tickles my throat and I’m coughing again. “You really shouldn’t be here.”
“Yeah, but then who will take care of you now that Mrs. Nakamura is sick, too?”
My lashes are heavy when my gaze widens. “Noooo.”
Aiko was the first to get sick, and then, six hours later, I was running a fever, too.
Mrs. Nakamura had to take both of us to the hospital, and, sure enough, we both tested positive for the flu.
She was the one who called Ma to let her know I’d be okay and to make sure my travel insurance covered my hospital visit.
Thank goodness health care in Japan is so much more affordable than health care in the US.
Yua sinks back on her heels. “Yeah. The only one who isn’t is Uncle Tomohisa. And trust me, right now, he’s locked inside a hamster ball of disinfecting wipes.”
Looking up at Yua is too exhausting. I sink back into my pillow and shut my eyes. “I’m glad the Nakamuras have you to take care of them. But don’t you have that tattoo to work on?”
“Oh, you mean for my apprenticeship?”
I nod.
Yua grimaces. “Yikes, you’ve been sick for a while now, huh?”
I’d tilt my head if it didn’t hurt to move. “What do you mean?”
Yua twirls a loose strand of pink hair around her ear. “Soo…I’ve actually already done that. The tattoo, I mean.”
My eyes flash open. What? If Yua’s already demoed for her mentor, then that means the first week of July is over.
Suddenly, I’m filled with adrenaline. I sit up this time without feeling like I’m trapped on a carousel and grab my phone, checking the date.
Sure enough, it’s Sunday. I’ve been bedbound for three days. “And?”
“And…” Yua’s face is hidden by her mask, making it harder for me to read her expression. Finally, she says, “It went really well. I’m going to LA this August.”
My breath hitches. For a heartbeat, I forget I’m sick.
“I am so proud of you,” I say, knowing I sound like Ma. But I am proud of her—and inspired. If someone like her thinks I can do the same, then maybe I really can get through the rest of the summer. Right after I recover from this flu.
“So…” Yua cocks her head. “It’s officially unofficial. I still need to talk to Mum about it. And I’m still one thousand US dollars shy of my savings goal. But…it looks like it’s going to happen. Most signs point to yes.”
“Yua” is all I can muster. Despite my thoughts swimming through the syrup in my brain, I’m still able to process what this means for her. A working opportunity: one she’s dreamed of for years. Connections: ones she’d never get in Tokyo. And an experience: like the one I’m having now.
And then another thought finds its way through my haze of fever and medication. If she goes to California, does that mean she’ll have her version of my Tokyo? Will she find her own dream girl there?
Yua meets my eyes. “What’s wrong?”
I groan inwardly. My thoughts are showing on my face. Apparently, when I’m medicated like this, it’s harder for me to hide them. “Nothing.”
I don’t need to see Yua’s lips to know she’s pursing them. “Lilyn.” Yua’s voice is stern.
I sigh. “Fine.”
Despite my body aches, I’m holding myself up while trying to suppress my emotions. I’ve known this conversation was coming, though I hoped it wouldn’t be while I’m bedridden with the flu.
“What does this mean for…us?” I finally spit the word out, unable to meet Yua’s eyes. Then I’m shaking my head. “No. Sorry. I’m happy for you. Really, I am. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that you’d pass your final demo. It’s just…I really like you, and…I’m going to miss you.”
The weight of my words hovers in the air like a rain cloud.
We haven’t talked about this before. I wasn’t even sure how to bring it up.
I don’t know the protocol for talking about all the great things in this relationship, let alone the not-so-great things, like if she goes to LA, then does that mean we’ll need to end this relationship?
It’s the thought I’ve pushed aside from the moment it hit me that I liked Yua as more than a friend. We’re a wilting rose.
Yua sets her hand on top of mine. “I’m going to miss you, too.”
I sniffle, unsure if it’s from my stuffy nose or from the emotions welling up inside.
Hearing her say that tells me she knows we have an expiration date, too.
We’re in a relationship of convenience. It only feels like we have common ground because her mother is my mentor.
But if she goes to LA, we won’t have that place to meet up anymore.
She doesn’t need to say more for me to understand the words unspoken: We won’t be together.
I flop back down, headache thundering. “You should go.”
Yua’s hand is still on mine. Even though I’ve heard enough, I can’t muster the strength to pull away.
“What are you doing?” Yua asks, lacing our fingers.
“I’m going back to sleep,” I grumble. “Thanks for stopping by to check on me.”
Yua shakes my hand lightly. “Why are you pouty? I said I’m going to miss you. Not that I miss you right now. There’s a difference.”
I peep one eye open and peer up at her. With my head still in a fog, I focus on what she’s saying. Even as I search her face for any clues or context, I’m too medicated to understand. “What’s the difference?”
The mask blocks the smile on her lips, but I can see it in her eyes. In the way the corners scrunch. In the way she holds my gaze. And then she’s giggling my name. “Oh, Lilyn. You’re really going to make me say it, aren’t you?”
I clear my throat. I’m about to ask her to reiterate, because clearly there’s a sock in my ears, but Yua’s response beats me to it.
“I don’t want to end our relationship. I want you to be my girlfriend.”
All I can do is stare as the sunlight pools around her rainbow hair. Yua’s voice echoes in my mind, singing the word over and over again: girlfriend.
This better not be a daydream because when I wake up, I want this moment to still be mine.
I sniffle. “Girlfriend?” This moment would be way cuter if I didn’t sound like a toad.
Yua’s thumb traces circles over my knuckles as she asks, “Is that okay?”
My mouth opens and closes. But what about California?
What happens when I go off to college? What about the limited time we have now?
She said so herself—Yua still needs to make enough money to afford her stay in LA.
She’ll be so busy, and I’ll be here, working on my collection and wanting her in the room with me.
But those questions fade away as I set my other hand on top of hers. “Definitely. I want you to be my girlfriend, too.”
Yua’s gaze lifts from our hands to my face. Her lashes flicker for a moment, and I know what she’s thinking. This would be the perfect time for a kiss. If I weren’t literally dying.
Instead of putting herself at risk of contamination, she squeezes my hand once before pulling away. “It’s officially official, then. I’m changing your name in my phone from Lilyn Goth Girl to Girlfriend Goth Girl.”
I hum to myself with a smile on my lips. “And I’m changing your name from Yua Coffee Girl to Hot Mama.”
Yua laughs and shoves my arm. “Oh, come on. At least make it Hot Mama Girlfriend or something.”
“Your wish is my command,” I say, sitting up and reaching for my phone. But it’s just out of range, and holding myself up like this hurts my abs. I flop back down on my covers. “Eventually.”
Yua’s still giggling as she rocks back on her heels and rummages through the tote bag. “Yes, focus on your well-being first. We can do cute girlfriend stuff later.”
I’d say her comment made me flush, but I’m already flushing.
“What’s in the bag?” I ask, peering down as much as my pillow will let me.
Yua pulls out a to-go bowl of soup. Waves of brown broth slosh around inside the frosted plastic container. My throat aches.
“This is for you to drink,” Yua says, setting it on the tatami mats next to my futon. “And this…”
Yua reaches into the tote one more time.
I’m anticipating some solid food, or even more meds.
Instead, what she pulls out is a blanket.
Various scraps of silk have been stitched together to form a mosaic of material.
One side of the blanket is patterned in rainbow-hued snowflake shapes.
On the other side, it’s nothing but solid black.
Yua’s color on one half, my color on the other.
“…is for you. I’m starting a load of laundry so your germs don’t hover around the room for weeks.”
Yua sets the blanket down on my chest, then tugs the other blanket off.
One minute, I had the weight of a cotton comforter on me.
The next, it’s been replaced with the cooling slip of silk.
I glide my fingers over the material, tracing the seams where one pattern connects with another.
Yua’s hands were here. This blanket wouldn’t exist without her touch.
“Thank you, Yua.” I’m pretty sure I say that before I fall asleep stroking my gift. “You’re totally a green flag…”