Earthbound, DM Arnold [free children's ebooks pdf TXT] 📗

fixed his gaze on the sidewalk as he walked.

She giggled. “I'm passionate about Indian food. That's east Indian, not Native American. I don't have it too often. There isn't a good Indian restaurant in this town, so I have to make it myself. I rarely do that these days because it's no fun going through all that work just for me.”

“It's getting cold,” Nyk said.

“It'll get even colder. Is this your first winter here?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Mine too, although it certainly gets cold in New York.” He opened the door to the union, held it for her and gestured for her to precede him. “Thanks ... I'll find a table while you get the coffee.” She pointed toward the coffee bar. “Mocha latte double-tall.”

Nyk stepped to the counter. “Do you have ... makka-loty?”

“Do you mean mocha latte?” the attendant asked.

“Yes -- that's it.”

“What size?”

“...Double-tall ... two of those, please.” He turned and watched the woman work her way toward a vacant table and remove her coat. She was wearing a knit top and scarf, wrap skirt and black tights. She smiled and waved at him.

She took a brush from her bag, removed her headband and held it in her teeth as she brushed shiny black hair extending halfway down her back. Then, she examined herself in a mirror, returned her implements to her bag and snapped it shut.

“That'll be six thirty-six.” Nyk whirled around, dug a crumpled ten- dollar bill from his pocket and handed it to the attendant. He picked up the coffees and headed toward the table. “Your change, sir.” Nyk turned and retrieved three singles and some coins.

“I didn't know what to order so I'm having what you're having,” he said as he handed her a cup.

“Before we start, I want you to answer a question of mine,” she said.

“All right...”

“What is your name?”

“...Nick Kane...”

She extended her hand. “I'm Sukiko. I'm pleased to meet you, Nick. Please forgive my behavior toward you earlier. It was my defenses acting up.”

“I'm pleased to meet you, too, Sukiko. That's a pretty name.”

“My mother wanted me to have a Japanese name. I wanted an American one, something like ... Jessica.” She sipped her coffee. “Now, Nick, what did you want to ask me?”

He took a sip and his eyes popped. “What do they put into one of these?” he asked, looking at the cup.

“Coffee, milk, cocoa ... a little sugar, maybe a touch of cinnamon. Don't you like it?”

“It's different.” He took another sip. “A curious blend of sweet and bitter...”

“Okay, we've addressed the topic of mocha latte.” She sipped from hers. “You said you had Japanese questions.”

Nyk looked at her for a long moment. “I can't remember. I had a list but I can't recall a single one.” He gazed at her face and she returned the eye contact.

She glanced down. “I'd rather you not stare at me like that. It makes me uncomfortable.”

He looked down at his cup. “I'm so sorry.” He swirled his coffee. “You have such beautiful eyes, Sukiko. I didn't intend to upset you. Please forgive me.”

“It's just ... I felt on display, as if...” She giggled. “... as if you've never seen an Asian before ... or something.” She shook her head. “It's all right, Nick. It must be my defenses again.”

Nyk stared at his cup until he noticed she was crouching toward the table and looking up to intercept his sightline. He glanced into her eyes and she smiled. “My friends call me Suki.” He returned her smile and followed her eyes with his as she sat up again. She took another sip.

“Suki, you said you teach a class. Are you a professor? What do you teach?”

“I'm not a professor. I'm a lecturer, which means I'm below an assistant prof and above the guy that sweeps the floor. I teach undergraduate comparative religion and a senior-level course on Babylonian and Sumerian mythology. Do you teach?”

“No, I'm not even on the faculty. My company rents lab space from the university. I'm a botanist doing field work for FloranCo. I find plant specimens, make cultures and send them to the home ... lab. Our lease grants me use of the union. I'm new here and still feeling my way around. My assignment will run for at least nine months, maybe longer.”

“So, that explains what you're doing in that awful old building. Are you alone, or do you have family with you?”

“I'm here by myself.”

“Then you're like me. We're both strangers in a strange land.”

Nyk sipped his coffee. He gazed at her eyes, glancing down whenever she looked up at him. “Why do you like Indian food?”

“I stumbled onto it, almost by accident,” she replied. “I fell in love with it right away.”

“Is it really so different?”

“Oh, yes -- the complexity of the spices...” She closed her eyes. “Just thinking about it puts me into the mood for a hot dahl...” She sipped her coffee. “What sort of food do you like?”

“I subsist on beans and rice for the most part.”

“There are lots of ways to fix beans and rice. It is a big world, Nick.”

“I wish I could experience it all,” he replied. “... the diversity of life and people and culture on this world -- all the different forms of humanity. I have such little time here.”

“Don't we all. I wish everyone shared your view. I know from personal experience many don't.”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you ever been judged by your physical appearance?”

“...No, I don't think so.”

“I have. There are many, right here in this town, who'll see my color and my eyes and conclude I'm something less than human. I've had to develop a thick skin...” She pinched the back of her hand. “... a thick yellow skin.”

“Do you wish you weren't Japanese?”

She took a sip of her coffee. “No, I don't wish that. It doesn't make sense to wish for what you can't change.”

“Might-haves don't count,” Nyk replied.

“They certainly don't. I do wonder though... What's it like, Nick? What's it like being blond and blue-eyed and having an all-American name like Nick Kane?” Nyk shrugged. “I'd like to live just one day of my life as Nikki Kane ... oh well, the grass is always greener...”

“I'm sorry -- I'm not following. What grass is greener?”

“You know, on the other side of the fence.”

Nyk made a silent oh. “Where one can't reach it.” He smiled. “I understand the metaphor.”

“I guess I made the mistake of picking the wrong parents,” Suki said and took another sip. “My mom's okay, but there've been plenty of times I wish I could've picked a different father.”

“I cherish your Japanese heritage, Suki. When I took this assignment, I was hoping to meet someone just like you.”

She smiled. “I'm getting a bit light-headed from being up on the pedestal where you're putting me, Nick. Don't you have Asians where you come from?”

“Not very many.”

“I do feel your sincerity,” she said. “I was guilty of pre-judging you. I don't know why my shields went up. New Yorkers are a suspicious bunch and I guess I'm suspicious for a New Yorker.” She looked into his eyes. “I feel a bit foolish, now.” She picked up her empty cup and examined it. “You know -- that was one of your better coffees...”

“Would you like another?”

“Lord, no, I'll be floating home from this one as is. I have a huge pile of test papers to grade, so I'd better be going. Thank you, Nick, for the coffee.”

“You're welcome. It was my pleasure.”

“Maybe I'll see you around campus.” She stood and started to adjust her scarf. Unhappy with the struggle it gave her, she removed it and started to put it on. Nyk spied a pin that was concealed beneath it. He thought it looked like the family crest hanging on the wall of his apartment, though smaller and in silver.

He took a step back and nearly fell over his chair. She slipped into her coat and walked toward the door. Nyk followed her, but became caught in the traffic of a group of students entering the union. By the time he reached the door she was gone, and he hadn't seen in which direction.

He sat at the table to think. The pin! He must ask her about the pin. Nyk walked to the lab where his laptop computer was jacked into the university network, another privilege granted by the lease. He brought up the school's web site, accessed the faculty directory, entered “suki” and pressed search. The results were displayed.

 

Kyhana, Sukiko, PhD. Comparative Religion

-- Corliss Hall 234. Extension 7133

Myasuki, Tanaka, PhD. Chemical Engineering

-- Drake Hall 101. Extension 7354

Otsuki, Michael. Admissions Assistant

-- Old Main 132. Extension 7278

He looked at the first entry. Sukiko Kyhana! A quiver ran down his spine. He selected the map and located Corliss Hall. It was on the opposite side of the campus.

Nyk dashed from the lab and headed across the quadrangle. Corliss Hall was one of the older buildings on campus, dating from the 1930s. His footsteps on the terrazzo floor made empty echoes as he walked through the building and climbed the stairs to the second floor. Here, small classrooms had been converted into offices for junior faculty and graduate students. He found room 234. The door was shut and locked. A sign listed Sukiko Kyhana and three other faculty members and gave her office hours as Tuesday and Thursday, eight to eleven.

Nykkyo climbed to the second floor of Corliss Hall and approached Suki's office. The door was open and he saw her sitting at a battleship-grey steel desk consulting with a student. He paced outside the door. Once he thought she glimpsed him. She was taking her time with the student. The hands on the clock in the corridor crept: 8:30 ... 9:00. The student left.

Nyk knocked on the doorjamb and stuck his head in. She looked up. “Hi, stranger. You found me! It's my fault for giving out my name. I thought you promised not to bother me any more.”

“I'm terribly sorry to interrupt your office hours. I looked for you Friday and Monday but I didn't see you.”

“Did you remember your questions?” she asked.

“No. When you left the union the other day, I thought I spotted a pin on your ... blouse. I was hoping you'd show it to me.”

“This?” she asked, lifting her chin. She was wearing a thick turtleneck and had the object pinned at her throat. She removed it and handed it to him.

Nyk studied it. The pin was the size of a large coin, with a pink stone set in the center.

“It's sterling silver,” Suki said. “The stone is rose quartz.” He was trying to keep his hands from shaking. The design was identical to the ancient Kyhana crest pendant he inherited from his father. He traced the three characters with his fingertip. “Those are katakana characters that spell my family name.”

“Katakana?”

“One of the three Japanese alphabets -- kanji, katakana and hiragana.” She pointed to the pin. “This is katakana.” She moved her finger clockwise around the disk. “Ky-Ha-Na. The name's been anglicized from the original Japanese.”

“What is the original name?”

“I can't even pronounce it. When my great-great-grandfather stepped off the boat, the immigration officer couldn't pronounce it either, so it became Kyhana. Why are you interested in that pin?”

“I ... I thought I saw one like it, once.”

“That's not likely -- it's the only one in the world. The only other thing at all like it is hanging on the wall at my parents' house.”

“Where did you get this?”

“My grandfather made it. He was a goldsmith, a jeweler. He became obsessed with the old country. He wore traditional clothing and called everyone so-and-so-san, even though he didn't speak the language.” She giggled. “Ojiisan -- that's what I had to call him -- Ojiisan had a crazy idea our family should have a crest, like the old Japanese nobility, so he invented this. My father has the original. It's gold, about this big.” She made a circle with the thumbs and