When You Were Here

of my shorts, feeling for the letter but keeping it safe. “I’m going to Tokyo.”
    Kate takes a minute to digest my news, probably debating whether to weigh in or not. She seems to know her role right now isn’t to approve or disapprove. “You are?”
    “Yes.” It’s real. It’s happening.
    “Why?”
    “Why not?” I counter.
    But before she can respond, her cell phone rings, that grating sound of her ringtone, a James Taylor song. “I’m so sorry, Danny. This will take just one second. It’s a client who’s been having a problem. And I promised I would sort it out today.” In one swift, smooth move, she inserts a headset into her ear and says hello. There’s a pause, then she says, “The rugs arrived yesterday. They’re fabulous. They’re the best. They have this interlocking pattern….”
    I tune out the rest as she romances a client. I finish my soda and look around the kitchen and peer down the hall. Even though Holland isn’t here, I can’t help where my eyes go. That’s the hall where her room is.
    The call ends, and Kate looks at me again. “Are you okay?”
    I nod. “Yeah, totally.”
    “Come with me. I have to go see this client for literally ten seconds. It’s not that far and we’ll talk in the car. You and I—we like cars, don’t we?” She gives me a smile, trying to get me to laugh. “And I’ve got the big, comfy Audi with the leather seats. And we’ll chat about your trip. And I’ll tell you about all the plastic sushi I need you to find for my plastic-sushi collection, okay?”
    “I’m fine. You go ahead.”
    “Then please stay here. Will you? Let’s have dinner. I’m ordering Chinese. I’ll get your favorite. Pepper steak andsizzling rice soup. I’ll be back in thirty minutes. I just have to take care of this. But stay here. Watch TV. Play the Xbox, okay?”
    “I have to water the yard,” I say, though I haven’t turned on the hose in ages. We have a sprinkler system. “I’ll just come back in thirty minutes.”
    Then we’re both off, but I don’t return in thirty minutes, and I don’t water the yard. I buy a one-way plane ticket, since I don’t know how long I’ll be there. I call Dr. Takahashi’s office, and I don’t understand a word on his voice mail, but I leave a message asking to see him. Then I e-mail Kana Miyoshi, thanking her for her letter and letting her know I’ll be arriving at the end of the week, and I would be so very grateful if she could meet me at the apartment to let me in, since I don’t have a key.

Chapter Eight
    Two hours later, Holland’s at my door. She’s holding cartons of Chinese food and her black canvas purse on her shoulder. “I don’t think the rice is sizzling anymore, but the pepper steak will taste good if you heat it up.”
    “Thanks,” I say.
    “Can I come in?”
    I nod, and she walks straight to my kitchen and takes out a ceramic bowl, pours the soup in, and pops it into the microwave. She knows my house as well as I know hers. It’s scary sometimes, how much we know about each other. She knows what foods I like, what books I read, what movies I’ll watch all the way through and which ones I’ve walked out on.
    I sit down at the counter and let her wait on me becauseshe seems to want to. She places the soup bowl in front of me, then roots around in the utensil drawer for a spoon. She hands one to me. Next she warms up the pepper steak, then divides it onto two plates. She finds forks and napkins and parks herself across from me, sliding a plate of Chinese food to me and keeping the other for herself.
    “I know how much you like Captain Wong’s,” she says, with a smile that reminds me of all the times we ordered from there.
    “I do. But that name kills me every time. Wong ,” I say with a drawl. Then a sci-fi voice. “Hello. I am Captain Wong.”
    “I have come to take over your planet,” she adds. I laugh, and she does too, and then her laughter fades. We eat in silence for a minute, then Holland breaks it. “So you’re going to Tokyo?”
    “Your mom told you?”
    “Yes.”
    “Did your mom send you to get info out of me or something?”
    “No. She mentioned it, and now I’m mentioning it. Why? Is there info to get? Are you going with a girl?”
    I scoff. “Yeah, right. I was supposed to go with someone, but it didn’t work out,” I say, my eyes locked on her the whole time.
    “Well, I wanted to go, okay?”
    “So did I,” I say, so low it’s a whisper. But she hears me,