Queen of Love

“Obachan is obaachan!” Hisa dragged her empty hands down her face. “It makes sense now!”

“It’s bad enough your kids call me obachan,” Aya said. “Now they’re calling me obaachan, too.”

“It’s a rite of passage for everyone with nieces and nephews.”

“How would you know? You don’t have any.”

“Hng! That’s not true! Kentaro’s sister recently had her first baby. Cutest thing! Way cuter than these two sea monkeys.”

I can’t believe she said I’m like Mom. Sure, there were similarities, but wasn’t that true no matter what? Wasn’t like Mari was absolved from being like Rika Sugiya, either. If they called Genevieve “Queen of Love,” then they call Rika, “Queen of Soft Power.” Nobody crossed Rika Sugiya, a woman who made herself known to everyone, be it at school meetings, city councils, or the local English conversation juku. Sure, to the average newcomer, she seemed like an everyday middle-aged Japanese woman selling shoes in the corner store but, oh, if Rika decided she didn’t like somebody…

Maybe it wasn’t a great idea to introduce her to Genny yet.

“It’ll be fine,” Mari said as if reading Aya’s mind.

“Weren’t you saying that it might be too early?”

“Now I want to meet her. This woman who has stolen your heart has to be analyzed and judged accordingly. By me. And… Mom.”

“The only reason I’ve thought about it is because I think Genevieve could handle her. Maybe. Mom might actually be impressed by her sophistication.”

“I know I will! Oi, maybe she’ll rub off on the gremlins. How about it?” Mari asked her daughter. “You want to meet the fancy Singaporean lady your auntie’s dating?”

“Maybe it’s best if they’re not there.”

“Hm, you’re right. I’m sure Kentaro has a family to visit during Golden Week. He can take them!”

“That’s not what I…”

“It’s been decided. I’ll tell Mom ahead of time to soften the blow. Come on, don’t give me that look. She didn’t kill any of your exes she met!”

“She made one cry.”

“Ah, that was early on, when she was still accepting who you are. You know Mom. She doesn’t like things or people that rock her boat. Or we could call it a yacht now. A superyacht! Ooh, does Jyunebiebu have a yacht?”

Aya sighed. “Before you meet her, we’ve gotta work on how you say her name.”

“So what if I can’t pronounce Italian well?”

“Her name is French.”

“God. Even worse.”

Aya wished she could rewind this whole dinner. She never would have brought Genevieve up at all!

The hallway leading from the elevator to her apartment door was as empty and quiet as usual. Aya rarely came across her neighbors. Hell, she rarely heard them through the thick walls. I hope they don’t hear me, either. One of the reasons she hadn’t brought Genevieve over yet was because that woman could get loud when… inspired.

Yet it also meant Aya had no idea who had dropped a postcard off at her door.

“Hm?” She plucked the card off her door handle. At first, she assumed it was from management. When she saw the Chinese characters in the address field, though, she realized it had come all the way from Singapore.

Aya unlocked her door and stepped inside. She almost forgot to reinforce her lock as she flipped the postcard over and saw a nighttime shot of the Singaporean harbor.

Yet Aya was familiar enough with Genevieve’s penmanship by now to know it didn’t come from her. Whoever wrote the simple English sentences was not as familiar with the Latin alphabet as someone who had been writing and speaking it her whole life.

Once the kitchen and living room lights were on, Aya sat on a kitchen stool and stared at the words on the white side of the postcard.

”Ms. Sugiya,