The Wishing Trees by John Shors Read Free Book Online Page A

bottle of sake in one hand and Mattie’s fingers in the other.
    “She cooking,” the old woman replied in broken English. “Come. Come here.”
    Ian stepped inside the doorway, pausing to remove his shoes. The woman handed Mattie and him sandals, laughing when she saw that the sandals weren’t nearly big enough for his feet. He bowed and gave her the bottle of sake, for which she thanked him profusely. Beyond the entryway, a narrow hallway was dimly lit, pictures hanging at odd angles from its walls. As she led Ian and Mattie forward, the woman chirped like a sparrow might if it could speak Japanese. She didn’t stop talking for an instant as she entered a relatively large room. The floor was composed of traditional tatami mats made of tightly woven straw. In the center of the room was a low table surrounded by cushions. The only other notable item was a small wooden altar placed below a black-and-white picture of a somber-looking man.
    “Please, you sit, Ian-san,” the woman said, still smiling. “Akiko come soon. She cooking and cooking and cooking.”
    Their hostess bowed and left. A flurry of Japanese ensued from an unseen room. Before a minute had passed, the woman returned, carrying a tray full of refreshments. “Drinking time,” she said, setting a glass of beer before Ian and some pineapple juice in front of Mattie. Lifting up her own beer, she said, “Compai!”
    Ian repeated the word, clicking his glass against their hostess’s, explaining to Mattie that compai meant cheers. The woman emptied most of her glass, set it on the table, and left. Mattie sipped her juice, looking around. Nodding toward the altar, she asked, “What’s that, Daddy?”
    “A shrine.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I reckon the man in the photo,” Ian answered softly, “is Akiko’s father, who must have passed away. And this is how they remember him. And honor him.”
    Mattie nodded, studying the picture, wondering how old Akiko was when her father died. The teacher seemed so happy. Mattie didn’t understand how she could act that way when one of her parents was dead. She was about to ask her father what he thought, when Akiko appeared, carrying a lacquer tray. “I am so sorry for keeping you waiting,” she said, smiling, using tongs to give a steaming white washcloth to each visitor. “Please refresh yourselves after your long day.”
    “Thank you, Akiko-san,” Ian replied, wiping his hands with the cloth. “And don’t be sorry. Your mother is taking good care of us.”
    “She is so excited that you are here. She has been cleaning for hours.”
    Mattie shifted her position on a cushion. “What should we call her?”
    Akiko put her hands to her face. “I am so sorry. I forgot to introduce you. My mother’s name is Chie.” Akiko refilled their glasses to the brim. “Please excuse me for a moment. I am almost finished preparing our dinner.”
    As Akiko left, Chie entered, carrying a large book. Sitting down next to Mattie, she opened the book and gestured toward a map of the world. “Your house?”
    Mattie studied the map, then pointed to New York City. “This is where I was born.”
    “U.S.A.,” Chie stammered, spitting out the letters like a jack-hammer.
    “Yes.”
    “Good. Big sky. Big country.” She traced the borders of America with a bony finger. “You live New York? Near Golden Gate Bridge?”
    “I was born in New York,” Mattie replied, smiling. “I’ve always lived there. In Manhattan.”
    The old woman nodded repeatedly, as if her head were tethered to her neck by an invisible spring. Bringing her hands together in a single clap, she bowed to Ian and topped off everyone’s drinks. “Compai!”
    “Compai,” Ian and Mattie echoed, glasses clinking together.
    Mattie watched as Chie took a large gulp from her beer. Their hostess couldn’t have weighed more than ninety pounds, and Mattie was surprised to see her drink so quickly. Grinning, Chie stood up and vanished once more. A few