PRAISE FOR JULIE SHIGEKUNI
“Artfully evocative... The lesson one takes from [Shigekuni’s book] is time-honored in every culture.”
—THE NEW YORK TIMES
“This is an intense and introspective book... Shigekuni’s well-crafted first novel succeeds in engaging the reader in its exploration of a universal theme.”
—SAN FRANCISCO CHRONICLE
“A family saga on an intimate scale... Shigekuni evokes with skill and sensitivity the many colorations of unhappiness that tinge these interwoven lives.”
—BOSTON GLOBE
“An accomplished novelist, Shigekuni tells a powerful story of the strength of family and the creation of identity... A first novel that betokens a promising career indeed.”
—ATLANTA JOURNAL-CONSTITUTION
“Julie Shigekuni explores both the stories that connect us and the silences that keep us apart. This graceful and compassionate novel reminds us how we can never fully know the people in our lives, including (and maybe even especially) ourselves.”
—GAYLE BRANDEIS, AUTHOR OF DELTA GIRLS
“With delicate detail and cold-blooded precision, Julie Shigekuni tells this story of shattered family emotions that is at once disturbing and beautiful.”
—DAVID WONG LOUIE, AUTHOR OF THE BARBARIANS ARE COMING
The Unnamed Press
P.O. Box 411272
Los Angeles, CA 90041
Published in North America by The Unnamed Press.
1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2
Copyright © 2016 by Julie Shigekuni
ISBN: 978-1-944700-28-7
Library of Congress Control Number: 2016917169
This book is distributed by Publishers Group West
Cover design & typeset by Jaya Nicely
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are wholly fictional or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. Permissions inquiries may be directed to [email protected].
FOR VALERIE ROMEO & NAUGHTY CHULA
I don’t understand how a woman can leave the house without fixing herself up a little—if only out of politeness. And then, you never know, maybe that’s the day she has a date with destiny. And it’s best to be as pretty as possible for destiny.
—COCO CHANEL
CONTENTS
Prologue: In Plain View
Part One: A Death in Los Angeles
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Part Two: The Grandeur of his Life in Mito
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Part Three: The Aftermath
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Part Four: Installations
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Part Five: Hard Evidence
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Part Six: Too Late to Look Back
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Epilogue: Think of Me
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Early that morning she woke to the sound of her father’s stockinged feet brushing against the tatami mats as he hurried down the hall that led away from her mother’s room next door to where she slept. With her eyes closed she’d listened, visualizing his large hands as they collected his even larger-sized shoes from the cabinet. The streetlamp outside her window was the only source of light when the sliding door opened, then shut, indicating his departure. Later, with the sun cresting the sky and the familiar sound of the television announcing the return of her happy life, she joined her mother for breakfast. As usual, her mother served tea with the morning meal, which she sipped while her mother tended to her futon. From the other side of the wall, she could hear the thump the dusting stick made, which she knew meant Tuesday, the day the futon needed to air. Once the futon had been stored, her mother smiled at her from the doorframe, and she followed her to the main sitting room to pray.
The small shrine held a beautiful and perfect miniature world, its black lacquered doors opening to a shining gold Buddha who sat peacefully against the back wall. As her mother prayed, she watched the steam rising off the bowl of rice placed before the Buddha. She’d eaten the same rice with fish for dinner the night before, and again for breakfast with egg and pickled vegetables.
Nothing out of the ordinary had happened, nothing to signal danger. Her mother had lifted the gate latch, then turned back to secure it before taking her hand. She’d worn her winter gloves, which her mother had brought out again after having stored them away, because the cold weather had returned. A frost covered parts of the footpath, creating patterns of ice for them to sidestep. Her mother had used the word “disgrace” to describe the fallen petals that dotted the walkway, making it slippery. The plum blossoms had been ruined, but in their