Chapter 5
Jo
It happens so fast.
One moment, I’m skating toward Hiroki. The next, I’m flat on the ground and my ears are ringing. Pain radiates from the back of my head, pulsating like dance music inside my skull.
Hiroki kneels next to me and helps me sit up. He holds my hand and studies my face, concern giving him a stern and ridiculously handsome expression. I’m loopy. I have the sudden urge to apologize to him, so I do.
“Sorry, Daddy.”
His eyebrows fly up, and I laugh a little, because laughter is how I cope with everything.
“That was a big fall. Are you okay?” he asks.
“I don’t know. I think so?”
He unlaces my skates and pulls them off, falling awkwardly on his butt. I know I just hit my head, but he’s adorable. I touch the back of my skull with my fingertips. The spot is tender, but nothing feels broken. But what do I expect to find? Crushed cookies? Jell-O?
Hiroki places the roller skates on their sides and gently slides off my socks, one by one. “Do you think you can walk to the couch?” he asks.
“Yes.”
He helps me up. With one hand on the small of my back and one hand holding mine, he guides me back to the seating area. He gives me a fresh bottle of water to drink and holds another one, cold as ice, against the back of my head. We sit together quietly as he watches me.
“When I trained as an EMT,” I say, “there was a test we gave people to see if they had a concussion. I can tell you what to ask me, and then I can try to answer the questions.”
Hiroki looks incredulous. “Don’t you think you’re all right if you remember how to administer the test?”
“Let’s just be sure.”
“Um, okay.” A crease forms between his eyebrows. He’s worried.
“Ask me what month this is.”
“What month is this?”
“It’s August. Ask me what day of the month today is.”
“What day of the month is today?”
“It’s August twenty-ninth. I think. Ask me what day of the week today is.”
“What day of the week…today is? What is the day of the week, today?” He smiles to himself. “This reminds me of learning English. This is hard for me, actually. I didn’t even hit my head.”
“You know what?” I squeeze his hand. “I think I would date you.”
“Then you definitely have a concussion. What day of the week is today?”
“It’s Friday. And tomorrow is my nieces’ thirteenth birthday party at Moonlight Rollerway in Glendale. The theme is disco.” I sigh. “I think I’m fine.”
“Let me get your sister. We should take you to urgent care, just to be sure.”
I shake my head. “No, to both things.”
“What? Why?”
“I don’t want to make a fuss,” I say.
“A fuss?”
“My sister has this party to throw. My nieces are excited about tomorrow, and I don’t want to be a distraction from that. My brother-in-law will find a way to turn this into a whole drama—he’ll say I’m trying to get attention. That I’m chaotic and a bad example to his kids. Which I suppose I am.”
“Jo—”
“I just don’t want you to tell them. Please. Don’t bring them into this.”
He doesn’t look happy. “Urgent care, then. I’ll take you.”
“What time is it?”
“Nine.”
“Urgent care is closed. We’d have to go to the emergency room. That’s not a good idea.” I think about my minuscule savings account and my barebones medical insurance. There’s no way I can withstand a medical bill right now. “I’m okay, Hiroki. I don’t need to see a doctor.”
“I don’t like this.”
“That’s okay. You don’t have to like it.”
He growls. Ugh. Sexy. I suppress the urge to apologize again.
“Is there anyone at your place who can take care of you?” he asks.
“No, I live alone.” I hear a door shut at the main house. I don’t want my sister or nieces to see me like this. “Can you…maybe…can you take me for a drive? Just for a little bit?”
“A drive?”
“Sure. You can give me a piggyback ride to your truck. We can take the back steps to the street. Then we can drive around. It will be fun.”
He looks utterly confused. Another door slam. I can hear my sister and brother-in-law talking in their backyard. A little panic grips me, and I shout out the first thing that pops into my head. “A milkshake!”
“A what?”
“I want a milkshake.”
“A milkshake.” He narrows his eyes. “I’m not convinced you’re okay.”
“Please, Hiroki. I’m sure of it. A milkshake will make me feel better.”
We are sitting on the tailgate of Hiroki’s truck.
I’m wearing a semi-clean pair of his coveralls and drinking a vanilla malt.
In our rush to sneak me out of the house, we didn’t grab my muumuu or my slippers.
I’m still barefoot, which is why we’re outside in the parking lot and not inside the burger joint like civilized human beings.
I’m also holding a plastic bag full of ice against the newborn bump on the back of my head.
Freezing drops of water are running down my back, but Hiroki won’t let me put the bag down.
“So,” I say. “Wild night.”
He’s sitting close to me, drinking a strawberry shake. “Wild night.” He smirks. “Did you text your sister like I asked?”
I roll my eyes. “I told her we went out for a nightcap and not to wait up. She texted me back like, six winky faces, a chili pepper and a fire emoji. So embarrassing.” I look around at the bed of his truck.
There are some sealed buckets of some kind of epoxy, a broom, a dustpan and a box of old putty knives.
“Tell me. How did you get into this?” I ask, tipping my head toward his tools.
“The story is not exciting,” he replies.
“My dad got me into painting. In art school, I took an introductory mosaic class. I realized I enjoyed working with the materials. After grad school, I worked for different architects and designers in Northern California. Then I came back home and started my own thing. That was almost twenty-five years ago.”
“That’s a long time. Do you still enjoy it?”
He takes another drink. “This work? I love it. It’s like solving a puzzle every day.
” He shakes the ice cubes in his cup. “All these little pieces. It’s my job to create order from chaos.
Something beautiful from something broken.
” He studies my face. “How about you? Do you feel good about your work?”
I purse my lips and think for a minute. “I do, but I still can’t seem to put some of the pieces together. Financially, I mean.”
“Do you have a bookkeeper?”
“I hired a service when I started. But they turned out to be swindlers, and since then I’ve tried to do everything myself.”
He frowns. “To be honest, I wouldn’t try to run my business without a bookkeeper. Billing? Payroll? That’s not my strength. I can calculate square footage and the cost of materials in my sleep, but accounting? No. No way.”
I wince. “Should I get Thomas to look at my books?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying. And I don’t want to give you unsolicited advice like your brother-in-law does.” He grunts a little as if he’s annoyed at himself. “I like having a bookkeeper, that’s all. It frees me up to do other things.”
“Other things?” I ask. “Like what?”
“Like drinking milkshakes. With you.”
I put down my shake and my fucking leaky bag of ice. I lean toward him. He doesn’t break eye contact until my eyes drop down to his mouth. His lips look full and soft. I imagine the flavor of strawberry ice cream on my tongue.
An alarm on his phone goes off. It’s loud.
He curses softly and pulls it out of his pocket. “I’m so sorry, Jo,” he says, glancing at the screen. “We have to go.”