A Step from Heaven by An Na Read Free Book Online Page B

put her arm around my shoulders and led me out of the car. She closed the door quietly so as not to wake Joon and locked up the car.
    Uhmma whispered, The manager went up front for a break. You can come inside for a little while.
    When I stepped into the kitchen, steamy fingers of steak andgarlic drew me farther inside. Faces from the stove and sink turned to smile, but then moved so fast their words trailed like smoke from a train.
    â€œSuna-san, you girl amai,” said the woman who flipped the steaks on the grill.
    â€œPretty girl you got, Suna,” sang a waitress with curly sunray hair. She picked up her orders, placing them three plates across on one arm, and headed for the door.
    â€œHow old you?” asked the old cook with crescent-shaped eyes and night spreading his two front teeth. Uhmma had told me about this Chinese cook before. He knew how to take away a headache just by pushing a certain place on your palm. “Ten,” I said. And then because he giggled, I held up both hands and showed him all of my fingers. He gave my fingers a tug.
    â€œYou wanee somu soupu?” he asked, pretending to slurp from a bowl. I nodded my happiness and waited for my reward of a small, warm bowl.
    I carried my bowl to a table tucked in the back of the kitchen. Uhmma sat drinking tea with the woman who worked at the grill. Grill Woman’s hair was wrapped tight on top of her head, pulling her eyes up at the corners. Uhmma patted the seat next to her and continued talking to her friend. I sat down and sipped quietly at my soup.
    Uhmma and Grill Woman spoke in a language of mixed and chopped Korean and Japanese, glued together with pieces of English.
    â€œSuna, kinoo that ahjimma scratch car,” Grill Woman said, her eyes small and bright, the size of new pennies.
    â€œAigoo. Fix takai?”
    â€œNo, scratch chiisai.” Grill Woman picked up her cup of tea with her pinkie sticking straight out. I watched her pinkie dance in the air. Uhmma held her cup with both hands, blowing into the steam before each sip. I looked at my hands holding the bowl of soup. Just like Uhmma’s. I blew into my bowl and took a sip.
    Uhmma was quick to laugh at all of her friend’s words. Her squeaky-shoes laugh was back and her face shone bright as a full moon on cold, clear nights. Sometimes when she was speaking fast, she put her cup down and her hands waved and danced in the steamy air. This was a different Uhmma. Not a sad, tired Uhmma who cooked and cleaned and sometimes yelled, but a stranger who had a friend and a secret language all her own. Not my Uhmma. A Suna.
    All around me the pots clanked, knives stomped, and the sound of sizzling steak swirled through the air. The waitress with the sunray hair came back through the swinging doors. She held out two bubbly pink drinks, each with a cherry, red as candy, floating in the ice.
    â€œHere, Suna, I brought you and your daughter your favorite drink. A Shirley Temple.” The waitress winked at Uhmma as she set down the drinks.
    â€œOh, tank you, Kim-bru-rie,” Uhmma said. Uhmma pushed one drink toward me and picked up the other, raising it high in the air. She waited for me to copy.
    We clinked glasses just like people in the movies. Uhmma took a sip of the magic drink, then smacked her lips. I took a sip and felt the familiar sting of fizz but with the sweetness of cherries and sunshine all mixed together. I smacked my lips and looked up at Uhmma.
    Good? she asked.
    Good, I said.
    Outside the rain kept falling. A few of the waitresses complained it was miserable weather. Everyone in the kitchen agreed. I bowed my head, watched the cherry float around in my glass. If I could have had one wish, right then, a genie ready for an order, I would have asked that the rain fall forever.
    Now Joon wakes up and kicks the back of the driver’s seat. “I hate rainy days. Where is Uhmma? I want to go home.” Joon kicks the seat a few more times and