“Yes, but it took her the normal amount of time to earn it. And she didn’t even get into Harvard—she had to make do with Stanford.”
Jilly opened her mouth to protest, then shut it again. She just didn’t have the energy.
“I’ll make an appointment with Dr. Medellin,” Lianne said. “And with my nutritionist, and my astrologer and my aesthetician.”
Jilly stayed silent. Lianne was like a wave washing over her—all she had to do was keep her footing and she’d ebb away soon enough.
But Lianne hadn’t moved. She was looking at Jilly more closely than she usually did. “Your sister tells me you fell in love.”
“Summer’s crazy. It’s pregnancy hormones.”
Lianne shuddered. “Don’t remind me. I refuse to be a grandmother. I’m much too young.”
At another time Jilly would have easily distracted her—Lianne was always much more interested in discussing her own issues than anyone else’s, but even in the interest of self-preservation she couldn’t rouse herself. All she could do was run.
“I’m going out,” she said, pushing off the chaise.
Lianne brightened. “Well, that’s a good thing. Maybe you’ll stop moping. Are you going shopping?”
“Yes.”
“Where? I could come with you.”
“Little Tokyo.”
Lianne made a face. “I swear to God the Japanese have been nothing but trouble in my life. First there was Summer’s nanny, who turned her against me, then there was that crazy cult leader, then your sister marries someone who has all the warmth of Dracula, and now you come back from Tokyo looking like someone ate your dog. They eat dogs over there, you know.”
“No, they don’t, Lianne.”
“I think we should go to Paris. We could get you some new clothes.”
“No, Lianne.”
“Then why are you going to Little Tokyo? Why drive into the heart of downtown L.A. when you’re depressed? It’s not going to cheer you up. What’s there that you can’t find just as easily in Beverly Hills?”
There must be some way to shut her mother up. “A Hello Kitty vibrator?” she suggested.
Lianne shrieked—Jilly wouldn’t be surprised if she put her hands over her ears and began singing loudly to drown out the sound of her voice. Typical Lianne—for all her lack of modesty with her own knockout body, she was ridiculously prudish then it came to her daughter’s sexuality. Then again, it might have been something as simple as not wanting to be old enough to have daughters who were sexually active. Or inactive, as Jilly intended to be for the rest of her life.
“I’m kidding, Lianne. I’m just going to the grocery store.”
“For heaven’s sake, why? We have a cook.”
“I want octopus.”
It was enough to silence her. Jilly could feel her mother’s eyes on her as she headed for the ten-car garage, but she didn’t look back. Despite the bright Southern California sun she felt like ice, and she wasn’t going to let anything break through her cool, unearthly calm.
Driving in L.A. traffic was enough to keep her mind off other problems, but the moment she parked she realized she’d made a huge mistake. No one had flame-red hair and red teardrop tattoos. There were no tall, leather-clad bad boys lurking around every corner. There was nothing for her here.
There was, however, food. She found her sister’s favorite restaurant, not much more than a diner, and ordered miso soup and oyakudon. Her mother was right about one thing, she had to get it together. The longer she stayed inside and moped the worse things got. And even Ben & Jerry’s wasn’t doing it for her.
She wandered through the neighborhood, past the Otani Hotel, through the Zen garden. It didn’t feel like Tokyo—there wasn’t the buzz, the energy. There wasn’t Reno.
And God knows what she was looking for. She needed to look forward, not into the past. She needed to get over it, get back to school, start a new life.
She glanced up at the replica of the old Japanese fire tower. She’d spent a fair amount of time in Little Tokyo with Summer when she was growing up, but everything looked and felt different now. Later, after a lot of time had passed, she was going to have to go back to Japan, get outside the city, see things. She’d come back with the impression of noise and light and blood. And sex.
There had to be a lot more to it. There had to be some kind of Zen serenity if she looked for it.