Faking Reality Page 14

  “Well, I’m no Lindsay.”

  “That’s okay. We’ll have a Kitsune Mask marathon or something to make the night fun.”

  “Sure,” I say.

  “Ja mata ne,” Leo says when we get to the front door.

  “Later.”

  I close the front door behind Leo and rest my forehead against the cool wood.

  “Honey?” Mom says from behind me.

  I wrap my arms around Mom and say into her shoulder, “Please tell me this stage of life gets easier?”

  “It will.” Mom squeezes me in a bear hug. “Leo’s right though. You do things on your terms, okay? If you need a little longer than average to build up a level of trust with someone, that’s okay.”

  “I second that,” Stephanie says on her way from the downstairs bathroom to Mom’s office. “One step at a time.”

  I think about the tiny spark that I felt with Alex. Can we fan it into a flame? Will it ever burn out the deep-rooted feelings I have for Leo?

  “One step at a time,” I say.

  Chapter

  16

  New Year’s Day is the one day a year that Matsuda is officially closed. While most other restaurants in Phoenix are hopping, Ojiichan insists that the Matsudas honor their family’s roots and traditions, whether his grandkids are on board with it or not. And this year, they’re not. Early New Year’s morning, Leo sends me a gif of himself wearing a coat and tie. A black cloud gif rains on his head.

  LEO

  Kill me now.

  “Akemashite omedetō gozaimasu!” I greet Ojiichan with a Happy New Year when he opens the door later that afternoon.

  Ojiichan pats the top of my head and says a lot of things back to me, but all my Japanese II brain can understand is Happy New Year. Though Mom and Mrs. Matsuda hug each other all the time, Mom gives Ojiichan a deep bow and the greeting her grandmother taught her when her mixed family used to go to the Akagi grandparents’ home for O-Shōgatsu. Dad greets Ojiichan with his usual enthusiastic handshake.

  After we all swap our shoes for guest slippers, we follow Ojiichan into the Matsudas’ immaculate house, festively decorated for the holidays with bamboo, pine, and kagami mochi—two white rice cakes stacked on top of each other with a mandarin orange on top. I started calling it “Leo’s Snowman” somewhere around first grade and it stuck.

  During Season 11, Episode 12: “A Very Koty Christmas,” seven-year-old me begged the department store Santa on camera not to forget Leo’s house again. I told him that Leo was always good and that it was my idea to use “Mommy’s special markers”—aka Sharpies—to draw designs on ourselves. We didn’t know that those kinds of markers take a long time to wash off your skin. Mom—and a good portion of our viewers based on the emails—burst into tears and then gave me a quick lesson off camera about how not everybody celebrates the same. And also a reminder not to give Leo any more Sharpie mustaches in the future. Santa still didn’t visit the Matsudas on Christmas Eve, but he did start delivering extra presents to my house that were never on my list. I had a complete meltdown years later when I found out that not only did Leo know about the “Santa Game” my family played, but he was Head Elf in Charge to Dad’s Santa by shopping for some of those presents. I also learned that Leo’s ability to both act and keep a secret are light-years ahead of mine.

  As we come into their kitchen, Mrs. Matsuda pushes mute on the annual Kōhaku TV show from Japan that they record, since Matsuda is open all day New Year’s Eve. Things must be bad. Leo’s phone is more interesting to him than all the cute idol-group girls singing on TV. Ojiichan says something in Japanese that is hard and loud. In a synchronization that would make AKB48—still dancing away on TV—proud, the three Matsuda siblings sigh, put their phones on the coffee table, and say an unenthusiastic “Akemashite omedetō gozaimasu.”

  “You’re not wearing your kimono this year, Jen.” Mom hugs Mrs. Matsuda.

  “We decided … not to this year.” Mrs. Matsuda gives Mom an exasperated look that is half eye roll, half lip curl.

  “Well, you all looked lovely at the temple this morning in your mom’s Facebook post,” Mom says.

  “Smoke and mirrors,” Aurora grumbles from the couch.

  Aurora wears a University of New Hampshire sweatshirt over her black yoga pants, and her hair is pulled into a sloppy bun. Leo has his own passive-aggressive fashion going on. He still has on khaki pants, but has untucked and unbuttoned his dress shirt until his Kitsune Mask T-shirt underneath shows. Only Sasha has on her original Buddhist temple outfit, a fashionable polka-dotted dress, with her hair in a bun.

  “There’s my favorite trio!” As usual, Dad does not read the room correctly and plows forward. He plops down on the sectional between the scowling Matsuda siblings and grabs Sasha and Leo in a double-armed hug. “So proud of you kids. Sasha killing it at pastry school, especially with her manju-making. And Aurora being accepted into UNH and getting ready to start a whole new life this fall. And of course, Leo, our culinary entrepreneur preparing to take over the family empire.”

  Mom and Mrs. Matsuda share an eye-roll-lip-curl look of exasperation. It takes talent to hit everybody’s pain points in one breath. Dad makes things slightly better when he digs in his inner coat pocket and comes out with three small, decorative envelopes. “One for you. One for you. And one for you.

  “It’s not much,” Dad says, though I saw the crisp Benjamins that went into each of those envelopes. “But I hope you do something fun with it.”

  This is one New Year tradition that will never get an argument.

  “Thanks, Mr. Doug. You are always so supportive of what I do,” Sasha says, and the others echo her thanks.

  Ojiichan pulls a decorative envelope out of the inner pocket of his blazer. “And I have something for my—”

  “Currently favorite granddaughter,” Aurora mumbles, and Sasha lets out a snort.

  “Taihen datta ne.” Ojiichan shakes his head, but the tiniest of smiles pulls at the corners of his mouth.

  I accept the envelope decorated with this year’s zodiac symbol on it with two hands, a thanks, and a deep bow.

  My parents used to not let me accept Ojiichan’s otoshidama, the Japanese New Year custom of giving the children in your extended family money in small, decorative envelopes. That is, until Mrs. Matsuda pulled Mom aside one year and begged her to allow me to accept it. She explained that because Ojiichan is estranged from his family back in Japan, and all four of my grandparents are gone, he truly thinks of me as his bonus granddaughter. Dad only agreed if “Uncle Doug”—who loves giving gifts—got to reciprocate, without commentary on the amount. So now Ojiichan is happy, Uncle Doug is happy, and all the Matsuda grandkids are happy. Win-win-win.

  “Can we eat now?” Aurora says, looking at the time on her phone.

  “Somebody’s hangry today.” Leo joins me in the kitchen area. “But I also second the idea.”

  Ojiichan places a tower of large, daintily decorated lacquerware boxes on the counter.

  “Tah dah!” Leo breaks the tower down into three boxes, each layer filled with little bits of this and that—everything from shrimp with their heads still attached to candied sweet potatoes to pickled lotus to rolled, sweet omelets to other stuff I’ve never tried. “After helping make osechi for half of the Japanese community in Phoenix the last two days, I’m glad to finally get to eat one of them.”

  “I can’t make a traditional osechi, because I can’t find all the special foods, but I hope this is okay.” Ojiichan is culturally required to be humble about the culinary masterpiece his family created, and we are culturally required to disagree.

  Dad dips into our bag. “I’m planning on bringing a bunch of these babies back from my trip to Alaska this summer and smoking them myself, but until then—voila.” Dad pulls the plastic wrap off our decorative platter to reveal smoked salmon slices, high-end crackers, a little bowl of caviar, and an assortment of vegetables.

  As the parents continue to gush and thank each
other for their food contributions, the oven timer goes off.

  “Awwww yeah,” Leo says, and my mouth waters at our Matsuda grandkids’ New Year tradition.

  Mrs. Matsuda shakes her head as Leo pulls two large baking trays out of the oven. They are filled with BBQ chicken wings, tater tots, and mozzarella sticks—all pre-made by someone whose last name is probably not Matsuda.

  “You didn’t forget your part of the feast, did you, Dakota?” Leo plates up all the deep-fried goodness onto their designated decorative platters.

  “Bam.” I put the box of chocolate-dipped Oreos next to Leo’s plates. I didn’t make the Oreos. I didn’t make the chocolate dip either. I did, however, dip the Oreos into the chocolate and sprinkle them with fine, white, glittery sprinkles. “You’re welcome.”

  “Life’s short. Eat dessert first.” Leo picks up one of the Oreos and crams the whole thing in his mouth. As he chews, Leo gives me two thumbs up. “You passed the test, Koty. You are allowed to stay and enjoy the Matsuda-McDonald feast.”

  I flick Leo in the arm hard, but he just laughs. Everyone receives a plate and a pair of chopsticks.

  “Itadakimasu!” we all echo after Ojiichan, who officially starts the race to food coma.

  We settle in around the kitchen and the open living room in duos and trios. I pull out my phone and take a quick picture. My plate is filled with lacy lotus roots, a shrimp with its head still attached, mozzarella sticks, tater tots, smoked salmon on bougie crackers, a rectangle block of non-decorative mochi roasted and covered in shōyu, and two dipped Oreos. And now a pile of kuromame.

  “Hai, hai,” Ojiichan says when Leo refuses his teaspoon of the black soybeans in sweet syrup. “You need them for good health and hard work this year. Our whole family needs good luck this year.”

  “The beans are delicious,” Mrs. Matsuda says loudly. Translation: Eat the sweet beans and make your grandfather happy. Now.

  We all eat the beans.

  * * *

  “Sucka!” Aurora says when the Matsuda siblings finish playing janken—the Japanese version of Rock, Paper, Scissors—and Leo gets stuck washing the dishes. She high-fives Sasha. “Let’s go upstairs, Sash.”

  “Why are you always Cinder-fella?” I nod at the pile of dishes that have to be done before we can start our ever-evolving Top 5 Kitsune Mask episodes marathon.

  Leo lets out an irritated sigh. “I think the game is rigged.”

  “Here, I’ll wash. You dry.” I reach into the Matsuda’s pantry and pull Leo’s full-sized black apron off the back of the door. When I slide it on, it carries the scent of his soap mixed with whatever oily thing he was cooking the last time he wore it. It still makes me smile. “Glad you’re getting a lot of use out of my New Year’s present from what? Seventh grade?”

  “Eighth. Because that’s the fall Kitsune Mask came out.” Leo digs through a drawer and pulls out a clean dish towel.

  “Speaking of gifts.” I dig through my family’s bag and pull out the stained-glass window decoration of a nine-tailed fox I made for Leo.

  “This is so cool!” Leo’s dimpled smile immediately disappears. “I thought we weren’t exchanging Christmas-slash-New-Year gifts this year so that we could put the money toward you-know-what.”

  I deflect. “Yeah, we totally aren’t. I had such a fun time creating stuff with Mr. Tang that I went a little overboard. Like, everybody will be getting one for their birthday, Valentine’s Day, Groundhog Day.…”

  “Thanks. I love it.”

  Leo hugs me. It’s a side hug instead of his usual frontal hug, but I’ll take it. It’s probably better this way.

  “How about a little tuneage while we work?” Leo says.

  “The Leo Mix?” I hold up my phone.

  “Did you add Rayne Lee’s newest song?”

  “Uh, duh,” I say, as my phone finds the Matsudas’ Bluetooth speaker.

  Leo does a goofy shoulder dance to the beginning of “Create Your Spark.” Fueled by the dozen or so Oreos he consumed, Leo soon goes full ham. Mrs. Matsuda comes to investigate the thudding sounds coming from the kitchen—also known as Leo’s attempt at performing the video’s bouncy choreography—but wisely retreats without comment.

  We are three-quarters through The Leo Mix and on the last few dishes when Rayne’s breakout, slow-jam song “One Last Kiss” comes on. Leo bumps my shoulder as he does the single-single-double bounce pattern like Rayne does in the video. Water flies off the tray I’m rinsing and hits me in the eye.

  “Hey!” I flick some suds at Leo in retaliation.

  “Come on. You know you want to dance with me.” Leo travels backward, never missing a beat in the dance pattern, to throw a used napkin in the trash.

  Though I intended to retrieve a forgotten glass off the coffee table, Leo mistakes the drying of my hands as my acceptance of his dance invitation.

  One step forward.

  Since we’re mimicking the choreography, I take Leo’s hand like Rayne does to the guy in her video. A squeal rips out of my chest when Leo spins me around in a ballerina-like turn. We continue to dance hand-in-hand through the second verse and chorus until we get to the song’s bridge. Leo attempts—and epically fails—to do Rayne’s trademark vocal run into the stratosphere.

  I lean into Leo until we are forehead-to-sweaty-forehead. We’re both breathing hard, but when Leo looks directly into my eyes, blood surges to my face. The four slow snaps that go with this part of the song keep us connected, closer than we’ve been in a long time. Leo bites his bottom lip. I close my eyes.

  Two steps forward.

  Leo kisses me. Only it’s not on the lips like I’d hoped. Just like Rayne does to the guy in her video, Leo kisses my hand and backs away as he sings along with the final chorus. Though he doesn’t have Rayne’s Lamborghini to peel out and leave me in the dust, it kind of feels the same anyway.

  Instead of ending the song with Rayne’s “One last … kiss,” Leo ends it with “What the…?”

  Caught in the motion-sensor lights, we can see Aurora sitting on top of the six-foot wall in their backyard. Aurora cranes her neck to see what’s going on in the kitchen. That is, until she loses her balance. Her arms windmill before she falls off the wall and into the oleander bush below. She pops back up a moment later, brushing off her yoga pants. Aurora puts an index finger to her lips at us before turning and climbing back up on the wall. Like a tightrope walker, Aurora’s shaky squat turns into a stand, with her arms out for balance. She takes a few steps down the wall before making a sharp left. Now, it’s Leo’s and my turn to crane our necks as Aurora walks like a cat down the communal wall, which divides their neighborhood into two.

  “One of these days, Aurora’s going to break her neck sneaking out her window like that,” Leo says.

  “Where’s she going that she can’t use the front door like a normal person?”

  “Ten bucks says she’s going to Jayden’s house for his family’s annual Snowball and Hot Chocolate Party.” Leo sighs. “Aurora does get points for persistence and ingenuity. Meanwhile, my dating game is limited to texts, selfies, and one phone call each day. Woo.”

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault. Even if you guys hadn’t come over, I’d still be stuck here for New Year’s instead of up in Flagstaff with Lindsay’s family. Ugh! I wish Ojiichan’s archaic traditions would just die.”

  I swoop around Leo to collect the final glass so he can’t see the hurt on my face. He noodles around on his phone as I finish the last of the cleanup.

  “Finally.” I hang the apron back up. “Now we can get our marathon on. Which episode do you want to watch first?”

  “Something from season two?” Leo continues to type away on his phone. With an agitated sigh, he looks at his phone one last time before putting it in his back pocket. “Anything that will help me escape this sucktastic reality for a while.”

  Two steps forward. Forty steps back.

  Chapter

  17

  “How ma
ny Frappuccinos did you have today?” Nevaeh says via FaceTime the next day. “Put your phone on a flat surface please, before I upchuck.”

  “None. But I feel like I had four. How bad are the dark circles under my eyes? I couldn’t sleep last night.” My brain decided to give me the one-two punch of remembering everything going wrong with Leo, plus a heaping helping of anxiety over my date with Alex tonight. “Wait. What did you do to your hair?”

  “Weeeeellll. I attempted an undercut, and it went horribly wrong.” Nevaeh holds up a handful of rainbow-hued hair that used to be attached to their head.

  “It looks like you cut the tail off a My Little Pony.”

  The top of Nevaeh’s hair is still bleached blond with dark roots and turquoise one-inch tips, but when they pull it into a topknot, I see just how ragged the cut is underneath. I wince. It looks like the time Leo and I decided to give each other haircuts when we were six. Yeah, he looked cute with super short hair. Me with a pixie cut, though? Not so much.

  “Tonight of all nights.” Nevaeh lets out a frustrated sigh. “What if I shave it all off and start again?”

  I tip my head from side to side. “That might be a little too Furiosa, especially if you leave your brows natural.”

  Tears well up in Nevaeh’s violet-contacted eyes.

  “Hey, hey, hey. Everything is going to be okay, Nev. Have your stepmom even up the bottom for you a bit, and then leave it alone. If anybody can pull this look off, you can. Remember the whole Sharpie tattoo trend that was popular for a hot second? All thanks to you.”

  This makes Nevaeh crack a smile. “True. People are used to me being provocative.”

  “Once the undercut grows out a little bit on the bottom, how about restyling the top part more like Leo’s? Your skin tone is different, but your face shape is similar. I think you’d look good with it that way.”

  Nevaeh bites their bottom lip. “Yeah. Good call. Thanks for talking me down, Koty.”

  “Anytime, Nev. Now, back to me.” I shuffle back a few paces so Nevaeh can see my whole outfit. I turn around in a slow circle. “What do you think?”