Jamie shifts so he’s in my line of sight. “Don’t think about everyone else. Don’t even think about you. Just relax. Pretend it’s just you and me.”
His hand locks around mine. I don’t know why I was ever wondering about him and Rei—he doesn’t hold Rei’s hand; he holds mine.
We spend the rest of the night in our own little world. Other people occasionally visit, but they don’t stay forever, because we are the creators. We make the rules. We are a team.
I honestly don’t know what I’d do without Jamie. I need him.
But as much as I like Jamie, as much as I might even love him, needing him is something else entirely. Needing him is scary.
Because needing him means losing him will hurt so much more.
? ? ?
I draw a girl in love with a snowman at the beginning of spring.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
When Hiroshi gets a call about one of his paintings, I slip away to give him some privacy and find an empty chair in the back corner of the café. Akane sees me and brings a vanilla latte over without me asking.
“It’s on the house,” she says, falling into the chair across from me. “So my dad isn’t getting on your nerves yet?” She smiles. “He can be a little intense sometimes when he’s talking about art.”
“Not at all,” I say. “He’s awesome. I can’t believe he’s letting me hang out with him.”
She laughs. “Trust me, I think you’re the one doing him the favor. You’re like the adopted daughter he always wanted.”
I look away, embarrassed.
She doesn’t seem to notice. “It’s good for him, having people around. I don’t know how he’ll cope once Rei and I are both in school again.” She plays with the tips of her hair like she’s checking them for split ends. She’s comfortable around me, and even though I’ve known her only a little while, I’m comfortable around her, too.
Maybe it’s because I don’t feel so different when I’m around her. When I look at her, I don’t see someone living in a different world. I see someone living in my world—our world. Maybe it’s because she looks like she could be my family, and that makes her feel like family.
Is that why Mom and I don’t understand each other? Because we don’t look like each other? Maybe when Mom looks at me, she sees someone from a different world too.
I wish she had made room for me. I wish she had tried to fit me in, even if I didn’t match the rest of her house.
Isn’t that what parents are supposed to do? Try? Or is it supposed to come naturally? And if it doesn’t, what does that mean?
I don’t know. Maybe I don’t want to know.
“Do you have any siblings?” Akane asks casually, her words breaking apart my thoughts.
“Two brothers,” I say. “And two half sisters, but they’re only a few months old.”
She nods in the same slow-motion, peaceful way Hiroshi does. “Are you guys close?”
“Yeah.” I pause. “I mean, no.” I pause again. “I mean, we used to be, when we were little. I think. To be honest, I’m not sure anymore.” Is it possible to be really close and still feel like complete strangers?
“Sounds complicated.”
“I guess it is.” I shrug. I don’t think of my brothers in terms of close or not close—we just are. We were raised by the same parents, rejected by the same mother, abandoned by the same father—even if he did have a good reason. Even if it was my fault.
I suppose if I had to think about it, my brothers know more about me than anyone else does. Even more than Emery or Jamie.
But I’m not sure if knowing about feelings and experiences is the same thing as being close.
Being close feels like it requires more effort.
Akane brushes her hair out of her eyes, and I notice a small tattoo on her wrist. She catches me looking at it and waves her hand. “Oh no. It’s not real. Mom would kill me. It’s just pen.”
“What is it?”
She holds her wrist toward me. “It’s the sun goddess, Amaterasu. My dad drew it for me on a napkin years ago. There’s a whole story about her hiding in a cave and turning the world dark. It’s kind of an analogy for depression, I guess.”
I look back at her in surprise. “Sorry,” I say, unsure if I’ve opened a door I’m not supposed to.
She shakes her head, pulling her hand away. “It’s fine. I’m not embarrassed or anything. I mean, why should I be? You wouldn’t be embarrassed if you were diabetic, would you? Or if you had a heart condition?” She smiles and shrugs matter-of-factly.
I wish I could see things the way she does, like it’s okay to be different. Like it’s normal to be weird or nervous or anxious or sad. I wish I could tell people when I’m uncomfortable, and just shrug afterward like it doesn’t matter.
Akane is braver than I am, and maybe it’s because she has Hiroshi. And Mayumi. And Rei. Maybe that’s been the secret ingredient all along—family. Love. Acceptance. Self-confidence. Seeing the beauty in who she is and where she comes from.
Maybe that’s what I’m missing.
“How did the sun goddess overcome it?” I ask.
Akane runs her finger over the fake tattoo. “Well, they trick her into coming out, and when she sees her reflection she’s overcome by how beautiful she is, and then she’s happy again.” She laughs. “But I like to think of her seeing her own beauty as her seeing her own strength. That maybe she needed a little bit of help at first, but the ultimate power lay inside her, you know?”
I nod. “It’s beautiful.”
“Yeah,” she muses. “My dad’s pretty cool, even if he is intense.”
The door opens, and a customer approaches the counter.
Akane stands up and taps at the table. “Gotta get back to work. Let me know if you need anything else, okay?”
But I don’t need anything else. I feel like I have the world, and even though Prism isn’t in it, Hiroshi is. His family is. His art is. He’s filling a void I never knew was there, with his stories and his family and his paintings and the kindness he never seems to run out of.
And somehow, right now, that feels more important than art school.
? ? ?
I draw a girl breaking apart the sun until one star becomes a hundred stars, because she wants to cover the world in beauty.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Jamie makes a playlist of Billie Holiday and The Velvet Underground—one of my favorites and one of his favorites. He sits at his desk, editing his most recent photographs. I sit on his bed, sketching different kinds of dresses.
A few months ago, if someone had told me I’d be sitting on Jamie Merrick’s bed listening to a mash-up of our favorite music together, I would have laughed until my lungs exploded.
As long as nobody was watching, of course.
But things are different now. I’ve since found out dreams really can come true.
Jamie pulls his mouth to the side and his right cheek dimples. “What do you think?”
I look at his computer screen and see a picture of me. He took it when we were at the beach earlier. I was standing at the edge of the water, waiting for the waves to come in so the sand could swallow up my feet. I like how it feels—like I’m not going anywhere, and that’s okay.