Light From Uncommon Stars(10)

Katrina tried not to seem shocked. He was thinner than before. His hair was longer, tied up a bun, and he smelled like body odor, cat fur, and sage.

“I sent you an email? And you wrote back. You said to come over. And I sent you texts while I was on the way.”

“Oh. Wait for a sec.” He disappeared inside.

Katrina waited by the doorway. She noticed an old Chinese man across the street eyeing her suspiciously. She gave her best smile as the door opened once more.

“You should have said you were coming for real.” Evan scratched his head. “Could you come back later tonight? I’ve got someone here now.”

“I’m sorry,” Katrina mumbled.

He glared at the man across the street, then yelled back into the room.

“The old man is looking at us again. He looks hungry. Hide the cat!”

“Haha! That’s so fucked up.” The voice inside giggled.

Evan closed the door.

Katrina stood there. He had not even offered to take her bags.

Why did she just apologize? She had told him for real.

Katrina walked blankly to the corner, just as a bus whooshed away. No worries—she didn’t know the bus routes, and an unexpected bus fare was not in her budget anyway.

Katrina kept walking. In his email, Evan had written that this place was like a foreign country. Yet here were dentist offices and banks and businesses and cafés with clean glass windows, and streets with new Japanese and European SUVs.

For a while, she lost herself in the novelty of being in this new town. But eventually, her feet started to hurt, her rib was throbbing, and she was low on ibuprofen. And besides, she needed to use the bathroom.

So Katrina decided to buy a boba.

The boba would cost money, but she would also have a place to rest and think. Luckily, this street offered a boba shop every couple blocks or so. Soon, Katrina found a perfect spot to have a clean table, sip a kiwi boba, and watch the world go by.

But first, the bathroom.

The women’s room was locked. Eventually, a girl came out and gave her a disapproving look, but she didn’t block her way.

Katrina entered and began to fix her hair in the mirror. But then remembered the look from that girl.

The hair could wait. She needed to use the bathroom right now.

The seat was cool and clean. There was air freshener, a flower in a vase. She smelled lavender.

Rest. Breathe.

She had just finished when there was a knock on the door.

“Excuse me. Excuse me,” a male voice said.

She flushed, washed up, and exited the bathroom. She grabbed her things and left without stopping or looking up.

“Sorry, sorry,” she mumbled. “The men’s room was taken.”

Well, at least I didn’t have to buy anything, right?

Katrina told herself she should be thankful. Thanks to the part-time work, the cam shows, the blowjobs, she had escaped home and made it here. She had her violin. She had her laptop and a fresh supply of hormones. She was alive.

Still, was it so difficult to find a place to sit down?

Then Katrina saw a sign for El Molino Park.

Katrina did not know what El Molino Park was, but if it was a nice park, there would be places to rest. She pushed forward, past a 7-Eleven, past a Chinese herb store, a Mexican hardware store, a Vietnamese nail salon, a Taiwanese dance studio, more boba places, a dozen noodle shops …

And finally, after twenty more minutes, she came to El Molino Park’s parking lot, and then to the park itself.

There was fresh grass. Fresh dirt. Soda machines. People were playing basketball. Couples sat together on blankets. She heard the plink of someone hitting a softball. The snack bar was selling hot dogs and nachos.

How was this like a foreign country?

Katrina found a bench by a large artificial pond. It was cool, quiet, and undisturbed.

Yes! She hadn’t merely stumbled on a place to rest—she might even be able to practice her violin. But first, she would rest, just a little, for her feet, and her side. Thank goodness she was Asian and still relatively clean—there would be a couple of curious glances, but no one was likely to call the police.

She placed her laptop next to her, put her escape bag under her head, and held her violin. She listened to the sounds of the basketball. She felt a little sunlight, and a gentle wind through the trees.

There was a fake waterfall. A fountain … and ducks …



* * *



Shizuka left the Starrgate Donut with no desire to revisit the freeway. Instead, she decided to drive the surface streets home. The car was from an admirer, given long ago. When she was younger, the Jaguar had seemed overpowered and loud. But with each passing year, she could better appreciate how timelessly it navigated the everyday chaos around her, yet never lost its singular, insatiable thirst for gasoline.

How many years had it been since she had last driven these streets?

So much had changed. If anything, change was the one constant here. Shizuka’s childhood sheet music store had gone first. Then Foodland, with its cute baggers and wobbly shopping carts, became Diho Grocery, and finally a Hong Kong bank, anonymous behind darkened windows and marble fa?ade.

And now the elementary school had yielded to a Mediterranean-casual apartment complex, complete with mixed-use shopping and underground parking. Tonight, young people would be crowding these sidewalks, perhaps lining up for Japanese crêpes and Taiwanese shaved ice.