Light From Uncommon Stars(11)

This was very different from Tokyo, where there was almost a desperation to either be at the forefront of change or to guard against it at all costs. Be it Harajuku, Meiji Jingu, Akihabara, each was defined by a strict relationship to, and profound respect for, change.

Here, change had continued with so little fanfare or notice that change had become, well, mundane.

Of course, some places remained curiously resistant to change. Fong’s Burger was busily serving its delicious pork buns from its greasy side window. Amy’s Pastries still displayed the same dusty wedding cake with the lopsided pillars and three dead flies. And there were the greasy, glistening, impossibly fragrant ducks, pigs, and cuttlefish dripping in the window of Sam Woo BBQ.

Yet none of these places appeared to be doing any resisting. Changing with the times? Fong’s didn’t even wipe their countertops with the times. And, as far as preserving tradition, Sam Woo BBQ was now happily promoting its new deep-fried fish skins.

There they were. And there, most likely, they would always be.

Yet another of Shizuka’s landmarks was now just ahead.

Shizuka did not visit her childhood home very often, but the pond at El Molino Park had always been one of her favorite places, one of the few that held happy memories of her parents. Over time, the park had added softball and baseball diamonds, resurfaced the outdoor basketball courts with a nonslip coating. The city had added tables with chessboards, a fitness par course, expanded the tennis courts. Even a lawn bowling club had come and gone.

And yet there was always that bench by the same old pond.

For much of her life, it had been a place she could come to think, to contemplate, to be alone.

And now, with nowhere else to go, it seemed as good a place as any to be.

Today, Shizuka had with her the half donut from Starrgate and some water, and a bag of hot dog buns from the corner drugstore. She strolled to the pond, just as she had done for years.

Someone in the distance had just plinked a ground ball and run out a base hit. The snack bar served another order of nachos. Circling them were mothers and fathers pushing baby carts around the rubberized jogging path. Behind her, basketball, so much basketball … so many voices speaking different Vietnamese, Toisanese, Cantonese.

And in front of her? The wind on the lake. The almost-natural rush of the artificial waterfall. Pigeons cooing nearby. The flapping, quacking. A child splashing a rock.

And on her favorite bench was a peacefully snoring girl.

At first, Shizuka assumed she was a neighborhood kid taking a study break, but then Shizuka noticed her bags. A runaway? How sad. Well, better to let her rest.

Shizuka was about to find another bench when the girl turned over.

She was holding a violin case.

“W-what?!”

Katrina opened her eyes to an apparition … The woman standing over her looked just like the girl from The Ring.

Except she was wearing sunglasses, and was older, and in red instead of white, and wore a wide-brimmed hat and …

“Nice day, isn’t it?” the apparition said pleasantly.

“Uh … yes?” Katrina looked around. She was not dreaming, and yes, she was still in … Was it El Molino Park?

“Want some donut?”

Wasn’t the usual phrase “a donut,” not “some donut”? Then Katrina saw the size of what the woman was holding.

Maybe she was dreaming after all.

“It’s an Alaska Donut. Well, half of one.”

The woman handed her the whole piece, and a bottle of water.

Katrina hesitated. Who was this person? People dressed like that didn’t just feed homeless kids asleep on park benches.

“Just take it.” The woman gestured at her violin case. “It’s not like I’ve never seen a hungry musician before.”

Katrina took a small bite. So sweet! So soft! She took another, larger this time. And another. The sugary, chewy goodness cleared her head, and suddenly her world regained color and sound.

“You like it?” the woman asked.

“Yes, very much so. Thank you.”

“If only I’d listened to Astrid and brought tangerines.”

Again, she pointed at Katrina’s violin case.

“Your baby?”

“Yes.”

Katrina finished the last of the donut and licked her fingers. She rinsed her hands with some of the water, and the woman gave her a dry napkin.

“Anytime. Go ahead,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Go ahead?”

“Practice.”

“H-huh?”

Katrina felt more than a little self-conscious; it seemed like ages since she’d felt free to play.

“Don’t worry, I’m just here to feed the ducks.”

Katrina hesitated. But the sunlight was becoming golden, the first blackbirds were leaving the trees.

With sweetness of donut lingering in her mouth, Katrina opened her case.

Meanwhile, Shizuka reached into the bag of hot dog buns, tore off a big piece, and tossed it into the lake. To be truthful, the girl was likely a beginner. Scratchy bowing … nonexistent intonation … the usual beginner headaches.

Still, there was something refreshing about listening to someone who had nothing to do with brilliance or souls.

But then the girl opened her violin case.

The girl … the girl beamed, absolutely shone. Her expression was completely different from the nervous, cultivated expressions she had seen in Arcadia. Shizuka thought of Mr. Grossmueller, who had been through Hitler and everything before and after. When he beheld his violin, a wise and warm Jakob Stainer, he’d kiss it and say in such times, his violin was the only thing to live for.