Who Do You Think I Am?

I walked into the loud room, searching for a spot. I spotted some of my friends, but they were already heavy into a discussion I overheard. I kept looking and looking. So many students were in my way that I couldn’t see ahead. “Please move!” Some irritably shuffled away. Finally finding somewhere, I set my lunch trey down opposite the new high schooler.            

She wasn’t the best choice to play the main character in our spring production: Japanese, as I got to know her after I introduced myself, was so…different. Mismatching socks, big 90’s glasses, her hair dyed ugly colors, braided pigtails and hatred for Spirit Week (ironic, since she would win Wacky Tacky Day for Weirdest Outfit). “So,” she began, opening her milk carton, “why are you sitting with me?” She shrugged coldly. “I just blend in with the plaid jacket-wearing, boot-stomping girls around here. Don’t see how I can even be good enough to audition!”                                

Her food was getting cold. I jerked my eyes up at the angry young girl. Japanese said some things about her parents. I leaned forward and told her to do something for me: to reason things through with them and come to a reconciliatory response. But Japanese wouldn’t have it. “Do you know why I enjoy cheating on tests, quizzes and homework? Do you know why I pretend to befriend our classmates when I’m really getting the answers from them? It’s because I need to graduate to get into a great college and graduate with a workforce-worthy degree!”      

She continued, saying she just wanted a better life for Chick, Trey and Jessie. “My parents replaced me with their work.” I finished my salad and then dug into my big brownie. Should I be enjoying my brownie while Japanese brooded across the metallic, boringly white table? I guiltily sunk my fork into the delicious treat, Japanese’s stare turning into a blank look. I kept eating, and smiled. “Well, you do have a tendency to jump right into things. How about you sign up for this summer’s theatre program? I thought you enjoyed acting. Isn’t that your gift?”         

“Mallory, I really don’t see the difference in acting and real life. It won’t help. You must realize that nothing will prove my parents wrong when it comes to replacing their children with their work.” She sat up straight after I demanded she stop slouching, and vehemently stabbed her potato salad with a fork. “I don’t get it!”                      

That summer, I checked in with Japanese. She grumbled about summer school, walking two blocks to buy groceries and calling her mother to tell her a million bills had to be paid. I ordered Japanese to stop, but she slammed down the phone without a decent goodbye. I jumped, and clenched my hand on the receiver, punching the red button on my iPhone. Gritting my teeth, I jammed it into my jean pocket and hiked to that girl’s house three blocks away. Before I even showed up at her door, a knock on a window interrupted my mental rehearsal.       

Toddler Chick was banging on the window. The sound of her scurrying little feet made me dash up to the front door and swing it wide open.

“Chickadee!”    

“Mally!”

She jumped right into my arms, kicking her little feet as she described school today. I laughed, saying it was the summer. She squirmed to get down and raced to the staircase, yelling to Japanese to hurry up and get down here. “It’s Mally!”

“Tell her I’ll be right down.”

Rock band music blared from inside a room with a door covered with pictures of red and chocolate brown electric guitars. Stop! and Stay away from me decorated the wood. I looked over. Chick ran into the kitchen, reappearing with a sippy cup.

“Want more water.” 

“What do you say, Chick?”

“What?” I hollered.

“What?” Japanese called. 

“What?” I yelled.

The music stopped and Japanese emerged in her pajamas and headphones, sauntering down the stairs like she hated mornings. I bit my lip—couldn’t she show a little respect for her littlest sibling? I mean, the kid was just two years old. What could she do beside ask for more apple juice and everything else they trained preschoolers?

“Yeah?”

I wanted to tell her to show some decent manners. “I just wanted to see how everything was going. I don’t mean to intrude, but I hope summer school’s—“

“Fine!” She jammed her hands in her oversized sweatshirt’s front pockets. “What’s there to remember? All I do is saunter in, drop into a boring, ugly chair, do stupid math problems for seven hours and science stuff and then drive the bus home. I don’t see what’s so amazing about the dumb school.”

“Right. You hate school during the time you have off.”

“Don’t get a break, do I? I don’t really see the point in going to summer school if I have school to go to during the year! All I do is homework and material memorization until my brain goes dead from the numbers and calculations and then I have to sit back down in that desk to do more tests and quizzes—”      

“Stop yelling.” I bent down and picked up Chick, who clung to my shirt and shoved her face away. She told me she wanted her mother. I said I understood, and rubbed her back. She lay her small head down on my shoulder, and I glared at Japanese.      

“You can’t just go around bossing people around, Japanese. You can be kind. Maybe you will once you reunite with your parents, but, even now, you should at least listen.”   

“No!” Japanese dashed around through the kitchen, into the foyer and out the front door. She barreled past traffic and cut across seemingly endless miles of construction. I kept my eyes on her until the black sweater disappeared. Chick pulled her head off my shoulder and looked at me, whimpering. “I don’t want Japanese to go away. Mommy isn’t here. I don’t want Japanese to go away, either!” She hugged my neck, and I barely held her up. My lip trembled and I started holding back tears. This precious, innocent child—such a victim of her parents’ workaholic lives! 

I didn’t know where Japanese went, but I tried calling her after work that Friday. Her cellphone just kept ringing. I finally ended all attempts and threw my phone onto the plush sofa calling my name. I threw myself into it, snuggling with my wild, happy-go-lucky dog, Evergreen. Stroking his head as he curled up and lay his wiry head on my knobby knee, I whispered that he was the best friend I could ever ask for. Hopefully, Japanese would find some comfort in such a friend. Even if he or she were an animal. The next few weeks, I strived to connect with Japanese. However, she cut me off in every conversation, told me she quit summer school for good after sending an impromptu email to her teacher and avoided the outside world for as long as she could by hiding out (more like hanging out) in an abandoned garage. Maybe being by herself would help calm her nerves. I sighed, saying her family needed her. She didn’t have to abandon just because her parents did so with her. She could always talk with them. She was their daughter.

Before hanging up, she’d tell me to leave her alone.

“Hey!”

Japanese stretched and woke up, rubbing her eyes. She got up, wiping the dust from her jeans. “Yes?” 

“You homeless?”

The bright light blinded Japanese as she tried looking at the person towering over her. She jumped up, glared at the person and defended herself. “Who are you?” She warned through clenched teeth.    

“Someone to get you out of here. This place is abandoned. I don’t want any trouble. Just—”

Japanese feigned innocence and then verbally threatened the woman. Then she attacked her until she shoved her away, Japanese hitting the floor. The woman, horrified, studied her. Japanese lay still on the ground. The woman widened her eyes, panicking. I didn’t kill her! I was only defending myself. She’ll be okay, right?    

After calming down, the woman knelt down on the ground and checked Japanese’s pulse. Geez—I knocked her cold! I guess I don’t know my own strength. Suddenly, something crunched on gravel road, and the woman shot up. Some girl got out, took a toddler out of the car and then slammed both doors. When she turned to the woman, she smiled self-consciously but then braced herself when she noticed Japanese on the floor. The girl shielded the toddler’s face. Another car approached. She quickly gave the girl to one of these people, and he drove away while both girls approached.                

“What happened? That’s my sister!” She ran over, dropped to her knees and started doing CPR. The woman strived to tell her part of the story, but the other wouldn’t have it. “You hurt Japanese! How dare you?”   

“It was an accident!”

I tried reassuring the frustrated woman, and she seemed grateful, but when this girl had the cops on the phone, no one could be the savior now. Soon, the woman strived to explain to the police, gesticulating about everything, but I reassured her nothing was wrong. The police believed her and the woman seemed relieved. When a groan emitted from Japanese, she opened her eyes and then hurled herself from the ground.

“Jessie! Where’s Trey?”

“He’s back with Chick. They went to the park. Everything’s fine.”

Japanese whirled on me. “How dare you bring everything on my siblings? First you show up and then my siblings and the police…” She clutched her head. “Now I have to explain to the law court why I missed class yesterday!”

I trotted over to her, and threw a hand on her shoulder. “Japanese, I understand your parents don’t care about you or anyone in your family. But please understand I’m only trying to help. I have a life, too. I have things to think about and things to do and places to be. I’m not just twiddling my thumbs, waiting for that call. But I need you to help, too.” Jessie nodded her head.

She flicked the bang out of her eyes and glared at me. “All I’ve done is do the right thing. I used to do summer school, work at McDonald’s, buy my siblings gifts, take care of Chick, send letters to my parents to even invite them home and slave in the kitchen. But where does that get me?”

I sighed, looking at Jessie for a second. “Japanese, I really think you should…” I took a deep breath, saying this as carefully as I could with hand motions. “do the best you can. I’m sorry that things are piling up, but your parents aren’t going to change. Maybe you can talk to your parents personally.”

“I just ran away. Don’t you think I would reject such an idea?” I threw out that she could do whatever—I was going to go with Jessie to her parents’ jobs. Maybe we’d get answers. If Japanese wanted to come, I’d be her savior. If not, she could brood. I was only trying to help.

I offered her a ride in my car while Jessie got in on the passenger side. She hesitated, and then nodded.

While I drove, Japanese said things like “If we go, can I talk first?” and “Please know that they’re my parents, so I need to talk to them first.” I rolled my eyes, but I dealt with it until we got to the parking lot. Jessie got out silently, and shut her door. I, on the other hand, hated confrontation at all costs. When she slammed the door with all her might, she raged that her parents should step up to the plate by being her parents and come out here to plead guilty!          

I nodded. “Japanese, please. Talk to me. I understand—I almost ditched my job because of a failed marriage. Since I’ve learned manipulation and lying aren’t the answers, we can reconcile. Okay?”

“I merely came with you to set my parents right! They have four children at home, one of whom can barely juggle two things she’s already seeing go down the drain—summer school and real school. So if you don’t mind, Margo, I would like to speak to that woman back at the garage. Maybe if she does it, I won’t have to explode in front of everyone. I mean, what’s the harm? She could just say what I text her. So maybe we can go back and get her.”

“We’re not having a stranger talk to your parents. You can’t abandon your siblings. That won’t bring your parents to see they shouldn’t have abandoned you. You're only avenging them.”

Japanese rooted herself to the spot.     

“Please, Japanese! I don’t want to keep begging you.” I dug into a pocket. “Here. Fifty dollars. Maybe you can tell your parents to go take a hike to the grocery store down the way buy some ice cream and cookies and Oreos. Things you all like. Right?”

Japanese glared at me and then rolled her eyes. “They better buy me what I need. It takes a lot of brain power to do a math problem!” Shaking my head, I walked with her to the door, held it open for Japanese and Jessie and asked the receptionist for Mr. and Mrs.—

“Davies.” 

I jumped. Jessie was so quiet! I nodded, and, soon, a well-dressed woman and a finely suited man approach us three. “Yes?” Mr. Davies was oblivious. Mrs. Davies looked worried.

“Where’s Chick?”       

“Where do you think?” I stated boldly, but Japanese interrupted.              

“Where do you think my sister is? Our sister. The little girl you left to me. Like she’s my daughter. She’s my little sis. Take a little walk down to our neighborhood park and let Trey know you’re Chick’s and his parents, too!” She hurled the money at them. “This fifty dollars will buy both Chick and me fifty dollars’ worth of groceries we deserve! Maybe if you hadn’t just up and left, I wouldn’t have ran away to an abandoned parking garage, leaving my siblings to wonder where I am!”     

 Mr. and Mrs. Davies gawked at it. I crinkled my face. It was like her parents didn’t speak English. I spoke up, but Japanese crossed her arms and glowered at her parents until one of them picked up the money, saying she’d spend it. I said it was mine—I was just doing Japanese a favor. So I expected them to listen.

After we exited the store with a huge load of full bags, I drove Japanese and Jessie home and helped them unpack and stock their house with the food, Mr. and Mrs. Davies having to rent a van to pick up Jessie’s car from the garage. Somehow, they got my number, and told me they met a woman who was attacked by Japanese. My eyes wide, I phoned Japanese. She told me the story, and, after picking her up, we headed for the garage. She explained the matter to her parents, apologizing sincerely to who we learned was Cameron, and then we all departed.           

I called Japanese’s house number and thanked Jessie for coming. She answered quickly. I responded in kind and then talked to Japanese that night. I sighed, my shoulders slumping. Wasn't I just adding yet another big dilemma to her already cracking plate?         

“Yes?” The answer came out okay. Bitter, but okay.  

“Hey. I noticed you were pretty quiet on the way home. I’m sorry you’ve been going through so much, but, Japanese, if there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know. I want to help. I want to—”

“Please, Margo. I don’t want any intruders right now. I want peace. I want people to start caring about me. I don’t want to slave away at McDonald’s. I don’t want to become homeless. I just want someone to know who I am.” 

“I do.”

“I’m sorry Mom and Dad don’t love Chick, Trey or Jessie. They just up and left, never coming home except for their birthdays and Christmas. To drop off presents.” I imagined her slapping her ring-clad and fingernail-painted hand to her chest, shaking her head. “I don’t want to just show up for Chick’s or Trey and Jessie’s birthday parties the way I’ve always done. I work hard to raise a great family because I care about them!” A long silence. “I understand, Margo. You gave my parents fifty dollars. You demanded them pay attention to us. You do a lot. I hope you keep going.” Click.

I pulled the covers over my head as I closed my eyes and slept fitfully until early next morning.

After a slow late afternoon, I received a call during dinner.                   

“Hello?”

“Yes, Margo. I’m on my dinner break. I’ve been talking with my professors, and they said I could continue summer school. I’ve been acing my tests!”    

“Keep going.”  

During senior year, Japanese texted me. I want to thank you for your money. I also want to thank you for helping us. I didn’t want appeasement. I stopped helping her. Japanese said she had visited her parents on weekends and holidays, slowly forgetting her anger at their abandonment. They may not have quit their jobs, but they were phoning and emailing her. She also said they said they loved her, too, after stating she forgave them.          

The following Friday, she invited me over to what she said was a small party. I walked in, shook Mr. and Mrs. Davies’ hands and said hi to Jessie, Trey and Chickadee. Japanese and I hugged, and then she gave a toast later that night at the dinner table.  

“Celebrating me. You. Us.”

I smiled. Grateful.