Page 46 of Semi Sweet
“So busy you can’t let your mother know you are alive?”
The guilt was laid on thick. It made me miss the interaction I had with my parents before things took a turn. My mother had been a worrier, too.
“I’m alive, and I know I’m due to come home for a visit,” Sean apologized. “I’m actually calling because I have a friend over and I’m trying to prove a point. She doesn’t think I know Japanese.”
“She?” I noticed the tone changed completely. This time we both had red faces.
“Mama….” he grumbled.
“Watashi no musuko wa nihongo o shitte imasu,” Sean’s mother replied. “But don’t let him fool you, it’s not his first language. He has lived in Colorado all his life.”
Sean clicked the button to stop speaker phone and brought the phone to his ear. “Thank you, that was all I was looking for. She’s a friend, Mama. Yes, a friend. From work.” I watched him run a hand through his short brown hair. “I can talk in more detail later, okay? Say hello to Papa for me.”
When he hung up and looked proud that he had proven his point, I shook my head at him. “You are not a real person.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“If it wasn’t enough that you are a good-looking, talented pastry chef, you are from Russia and were adopted by Japanese Americans. You are fluent in both languages and have a loyal dog sidekick,” I said as I counted on my fingers. “You are about two traits away from being in a manga or a comic book. Are you a world champion figure skater or a trained assassin?”
Sean smiled broadly. “You think I’m good looking?”
Chapter Twenty-Two: Survivor
“Mymotherwasfifteenwhen she got pregnant with me. My grandmother had four other children and could barely afford to feed them.”
Sean and I were at a shopping mall close to his apartment. We’d gone to change my phone number and get me off of Evan’s plan, as he’d begun calling me as soon as he must have been home from work for the day. I had a new modest phone, a completely different number, and a plan I prayed I could afford with my bonus hours and internship money. Now we sat at a table in the food court. I was eating sweet and sour chicken with lo mein while Sean had a sad looking piece of chocolate cake and a tuna melt from an imposter New York style deli. Initially, I’d been worried about being seen out in the real world, but it became apparent that a Quittero would never be caught dead in such a place, so I relaxed a bit. There were not enough top tier stores to pique the family’s interest.
“What about your real dad?” I asked.
“No idea who he is,” he replied. “A schoolmate, perhaps. He was never mentioned, even when I went there five years ago. I must look like him, though. My birth mother is blonde and blue-eyed.”
At first, I couldn’t imagine not knowing who my parents were, but with how estranged things had become with mine over the years, I guessed it wasn’t that different. “So how do your adopted parents come into the picture?”
Sean laughed. “My parents are...unique. My dad is actually from Japan. He decided to stay here after college and he has dual citizenship. He’s a cardiologist. My mom’s parents are from Japan, but she grew up in Aspen. She is a therapist specializing in EMDR, among other things. They couldn’t have kids of their own, so they knew they were going to adopt.” Sean took a bite of the sorry-looking cake, whipped out his little notebook, and started taking notes as he continued to explain. “They figured adopting a Chinese or Korean baby would make things confusing and they didn’t want an open adoption like they typically do here, so they started looking in Moscow.”
I continued to eat my lo mein as I watched him crinkle his brow when he took another bite of the cake. I was interested in what his little notebook used as a rating system, but I didn’t want to get him off topic.
“What are orphanages like?”
“Can’t tell you. I was fifteen months old when I left the one I was brought to,” Sean replied, pushing the piece of cake away and going back to the tuna melt. “Akira and Momoko Mizuno adopted me and the rest is history.”
“How did you end up named Sean?”
“Imagine my life if I looked like this and was named Kenzo,” he replied. “They thought Sean sounded good with Mizuno and was close enough to my birth name.”
“I saw on your diploma that your middle name isn’t Japanese, either.”
“That’s a Russian thing, too. Typically they have middle names after their father. Since no one knows who my father is, my parents used my birth name for it.”
“Sergeevich,” I repeated what I’d seen on the wall in the bakery.
We finished our food and started to walk around the mall. I needed a few more outfits to replace the ones Evan had shredded. Sean assured me he could occupy himself for hours in the fancy kitchen supply store.
“They stack things to the ceiling. Take all the time you need.” I turned to leave when Sean called back to me. “Maybe look for a gift for Beth, too. Her birthday karaoke thing is on Friday.”
In all the confusion and craziness, I’d forgotten I’d said I would go. Part of me wanted to hide out in Sean’s apartment for the rest of my life, but I told myself a little socialization besides my former boss and his dog would probably be a good thing.
I picked a couple pairs of jeans and several of my go to oversized sweaters before I decided everyone could use a nice traditional black leather clutch. Beth would appreciate the gesture, if nothing else. I quickly scanned the surrounding area for any angry guys resembling Evan. When it appeared safe, I made my way back to the kitchen store and laughed when it looked like Sean hadn’t made it more than halfway around the shop.
