Chapter 21 A Silver Lining on a Black Yukata
A Silver Lining on a Black Yukata
The sewing machine hums under my fingers as I feed sheets of silk under the needle.
As much as I want to shove this whole thing through all at once, the material is far too delicate.
Any accidental slip and the needle could catch on the threads and create a run in the silk.
I’d have to throw out the entire piece because the run would just get longer and longer, silk fraying more and more until it became a blemish I couldn’t conceal.
Mrs. Matsumoto would never give me her stamp of approval.
And yet, I can’t escape this weight pressing down on me.
Six weeks.
That’s all the time I’ve got left to complete my collection.
The ticket for my return flight is buried in my email somewhere, but I swear it’s watching me like a ghost. Now I have one week to finish my second yukata.
I know it needs to be my top priority, but I can’t stop thinking about another ticking time bomb.
In four weeks, Yua will be gone. Yes, she’ll be in America, but on the other side of the country.
She’s the muse I’ve been searching for. And now that I’ve found her, she’s going to disappear.
Unless I convince her to come to DC with me.
She’d have a place to stay—at least until I go to college.
And I’m sure she could find a tattoo artist to work for.
But still, I don’t even know if I can bring this up to her.
It’s her dream to go to California, and I can’t be the reason she doesn’t chase that.
Something catches on the machine. The needle bounces up and down as the flat sheet of silk bunches at the seam.
“No!” I cry, lifting my foot off the pedal. The sewing machine dies immediately. “No. No. NO!”
I snip the threads stitching the fabric together and pull the material out from under the foot of the sewing machine. Okay. I can fix this. I can fix this.
My heart is in my throat, but I swallow it back down. No big deal. This kind of thing happens all the time. As long as the silk hasn’t lost its integrity, I can recover.
I force my hands to stop shaking as I reach for my seam ripper.
All I have to do is peel the threads apart and make sure the needle didn’t punch a hole big enough to cause a run in the material.
Because if it did, the fabric will bunch and the measurements will be off.
And worst of all, Mrs. Matsumoto will spot the flaw like a hawk spots a sparrow.
I loosen the thread between the pattern, but it doesn’t take long to find the problem. I was feeding the silk through so quickly that it caught on the sewing needle.
Crap.
My shoulders slump, and I flop back in my chair. My gaze is fixated on the ceiling. Through the walls, I can hear Aiko gaming in her den. She’s talking to someone—probably online, because she’s picked up streaming again. I’m glad she’s bounced back from her sickness. Me, on the other hand…
I look back down at my silk. Yup. The frayed material is still there. It’s just a tiny line—not even a pinkie nail’s length of split silk. But that’s all it takes to ruin a yukata of this quality.
Tears of frustration well in my eyes. I reach for my phone and take a picture of the frayed silk. Then I find Yua’s name and thumb away.
Lilyn: UUUUUGHHHH. LOOK AT THIS
I’m about to hit send, but my thumb hovers in the air. My gaze shifts to the string of messages I’ve already sent Yua.
Lilyn: Morning, Hot Mama. How did you sleep?
OMG Aiko is streaming again. I think I can hear her cursing at someone online LOL
I’m getting hungry. What should I have for lunch?
None of my messages have been answered today. Earlier this week, our communication was pretty consistent. Despite Yua letting me know when she’s going to be away from her phone for a while, she always finds time to video call me at night. But she hasn’t even said good morning.
She’s probably just busy. After all, she’s still saving up for LA.
And on days when she works at Cuppa Coffee, she has to wake up extra early.
I don’t bother Yua with another text. Instead, I back out of my message chain with her and go to my group chat with Whitney and Archi.
Sometime during the day, they replied to my good news.
Whitney: Can’t believe my baby girl has a girlfriend!
Archi: I’m still waiting for that photo. What does she look like? Let me see those tats!
Whitney: Look at you, all grown up!
Archi: Ummm I’m still waiting?!?!
Whitney: Archi, didn’t your mom ever tell you patience is a virtue?
Archi: Lol yeah, one I don’t have
I’m happy to see that my friends are giddy about my news. Still, I can’t deny that my chest wilts with Yua’s absence. The urge to text her again rises. But when I glance back up at my work-in-progress, another thought crosses my mind.
Actually, there is a silver lining in this, after all.
The bell tings above my head when I step into Matsumoto Alturations. The store looks empty, but my mentor said I could swing by whenever I needed to pick up materials for my project. I can’t take anything off the shelves, obviously. But she’s got her own supply of extra silk in the back.
I snake through the shelves and racks of fabric until I’m sliding open the door to the workshop.
Her office is just to the left, but everything to the right is a wide-open space perfect for working on independent projects.
I hoped to see Yua, but all that’s left is an echo of her presence.
There’s a basket of trimmed silks at the worktable right in front of me.
I recognize the patterns and shapes—evidence of a time when she made a blanket for me.
“Lilyn, is that you?” Mrs. Matsumoto calls from behind me.
“I’m over here,” I holler back. Maybe I should’ve texted her so that she’d know I was coming in. But a part of me wanted it to be a surprise for Yua, in case she really is just that busy.
Mrs. Matsumoto’s head pokes around the door. Her dark brows are pinched together as if she isn’t sure she heard my voice at all. When she finally spots me rummaging through the rolls of silk, she straightens and enters the room. “Has your project run into an unexpected hiccup?”
“Yes…well…um, and I was wondering—is Yua here?”
Mrs. Matsumoto blinks.
“I…uh…” Why does she always have to look at me like that? “I was going to see if she could help, or, um, ask how her mural was going? Any updates?”
Mrs. Matsumoto’s eyelids droop, and she gestures to one of the stools around the worktable. “Have a seat.”
My spine goes rigid. Oh no. What did I do this time? Or maybe this conversation won’t be about me. Maybe it’s about Yua and why she still hasn’t replied to my texts. At this point, I don’t even know if she’s looked at her phone.
I sit on the stool opposite Mrs. Matsumoto.
For someone as uptight as her, I’m surprised she’s okay with such a casual setting.
We aren’t in her office. We aren’t kneeling at a table with tea between us.
We’re sharing a used workspace as if we’re both equals at the shop. And then I catch the look in her eyes.
She’s tired, to say the least. The glow in her face has dimmed, and the lines carved out along her cheeks sink deeper into her skin. They draw a permanent frown, and all I can do is fold my fingers on my lap and wait for her to speak.
“How long have you been dating my daughter?”
I recoil like her words slapped me in the face. “Me—? I—?” My tongue won’t cooperate. How does she know? Unless…did Yua tell her after all? Is that why she’s been avoiding me—because she thinks this would upset me?
Mrs. Matsumoto gives me a reassuring smile. Either that, or she likes to see me flabbergasted like this. “Yua mentioned you’re a couple now, but she didn’t say how long you’d been dating before you made it official.”
My thoughts are spinning.
“We’ve been on two dates,” I say. What is it about Mrs. Matsumoto’s cool gaze that makes me spill my guts every time? I clench my jaw. That’s all she’s getting from me. “Three if you count our first meetup at Cuppa Coffee.”
Dammit.
I wince, expecting Mrs. Matsumoto to snap at me. I can hear it now. Me—her apprentice. Dating her daughter. My audacity and lack of professionalism. There goes my recommendation letter. And on top of it all, I’ve only got one and a half yukatas to show for it.
But instead of Mrs. Matsumoto’s usual sharpness, she sighs.
“Yua and I had a long talk last night,” Mrs. Matsumoto finally says. “She’s been acting different lately, and she finally told me why. Apparently, you know all about her plans to move to California in August?”
There doesn’t seem to be a way out of this conversation. Especially since it seems like Yua told her mom about everything. “Yeah. She’s going there to work for a tattoo master.”
Mrs. Matsumoto nods so slowly, I’m not sure if she even moves. I give her a moment to respond, but she doesn’t. All she does is stare off in the distance like she’s watching a memory unfold in her mind.
“How do you feel about it?” I pry.
That gets her attention. Mrs. Matsumoto snaps her head in my direction as if I’ve insulted her entire lineage. A lump sinks in my stomach. Too soon, Lilyn. Too soon.
But then the fire behind her gaze simmers to ashes.
“Well, I’m not pleased. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, though.
Yua’s never wanted to own this shop. Even when she was a child, she would beg me not to come down to work.
She wanted to be up in her room, drawing pictures of dragons and spirits.
Her head was always in the clouds. I thought she’d grow out of it—prayed she would, actually.
But Yua’s not the girl I wanted her to be.
She’s the girl she wanted herself to become.
And I think…I think I’ve been holding her back for years. ”
I’m picking at my nails, even though there’s nothing there. Wow. My mentor admitting she may have been wrong? How is that even possible? She’s Hana Matsumoto, for crying out loud. Then again, if there was going to be someone who proved a master wrong, it would be her daughter.
“You…” She meets my gaze again. “You’re in love with Yua, aren’t you?”
Suddenly my throat is dry. I can’t say I’m in love. But I can’t not say it, either.
“I know you are,” Mrs. Matsumoto says. “I’ve seen it in your art.
In your designs. When you first showed me your work, it looked so familiar, though I couldn’t put a finger on why.
And then I saw that painting you did of my daughter.
It’s hanging up in her bedroom. And that’s when it clicked.
Your four seasons collection is no longer going to be your most acclaimed work because this entire experience has brought out the vibrancy in you. ”
My lips tug at the memory.
“And, frankly…” Mrs. Matsumoto leans in a little closer to me. She lowers her voice as she says, “Between you and me, I think Tokyo looks good on you.”
I flatten my skirt with my sweaty palm. “I think so, too. And I plan to continue exploring it more while staying true to my roots.”
“I’d expect nothing less.” Mrs. Matsumoto nods in agreement. “Listen, Lilyn. When Yua goes to America, will you promise to keep an eye on her for me? Will you take care of her?”
I open my mouth but I don’t have the heart to remind Mrs. Matsumoto that California isn’t going to be a high-speed train ride away.
Before I can say something else, a shadow moves in the doorway behind Mrs. Matsumoto. She must notice my gaze shift because she, too, spins around. Our eyes land on Yua as she steps into the room.