I took a big sip. "And listen," I said. "I love my daughter enough to know she needs you in her life, but it has nothing to do with the two of us. So get over yourself, okay?"

He just looked at me. I took another sip, trying to taste the wine, but even my taste buds were numb, and it might as well have been punch. I turned my full attention to the Huli Huli Chicken.

When the door creaked open, we both turned around. A Senegalese pocket doll appeared, followed by most of Anastasia's arm.

The doll danced back and forth like a puppet.

"Aloha," it said in Anastasia's voice.

15.

DREW'S FAMOUS HAWAIIAN LUAU PARTY MUSICWAS cranked all the way up on the cheap plastic CD player in the community center kitchen. My Lunch Around the World cla.s.s had spontaneously formed a conga line and was dancing around the kitchen in their crinkly plastic leis.

Conga lines originated in Cuba and later became popular as Latin American carnaval marches. It wasn't until the 1930s that they made their way into the United States. It was a stretch to connect them culturally to Hawaii in any way. It was even more of a stretch to make the one-two-three-kick pattern of the steps work with the beat of "Wipeout." But if it didn't bother the cla.s.s, I certainly wasn't going to worry about it. I yawned and stretched discreetly, then went back to threading the now extremely well-marinated Huli Huli Chicken onto bamboo skewers.

After Seth left last night, it was hard to know just what to say to Anastasia. Especially since she went right to her room and shut the door. I tiptoed up and down the little hallway a few times, pausing to listen casually outside her bedroom door. On one trip by, I thought I heard her talking to her stuffed animals, or maybe to the Senegalese pocket dolls.

I walked into the kitchen. I opened the jar of shea b.u.t.ter, a soothing cream made from a nut that grows wild in West Africa, and rubbed some on my hands. Just because it came from Seth didn't mean I couldn't use it.

Eventually, I walked back to Anastasia's room and knocked. "Time to brush your teeth and go to beh-ed," I called, sounding like a bad imitation of somebody trying to be a good mother.

Anastasia opened her door, carrying her pink nightgown. She walked by me as if I were invisible.

I knocked on the bathroom door. "Make sure you give me the tights so I can get those gra.s.s stains out," I said.

The door opened a second later, and Anastasia's tights landed at my feet.

"Thanks," I said to the closed door.

When Anastasia came out, I was still standing there holding her tights.

"What?" she said.

"Nothing," I said. "I was just going to come into your room and talk to you for a minute."

She walked by me without a word.

I followed her into her room. I pictured her climbing into bed, and me tucking her in and smoothing out the covers. Then I'd sit on the edge of her bed. We'd go over every detail of Seth's visit, sharing her highest hopes and my deepest fears.

She stopped just inside the door and crossed her arms over her chest.

"What?" she said.

I leaned back against the doorframe casually.

"So," I said. "How did it go with your dad?"

She squinted up at me. "You were there," she said.

"Good point," I said. "Well, I think it went great. You two really seemed to hit it off."

"Can I go to bed now?" she said.

"Sure, honey. You must be tired after all that." I took a moment to fake a yawn. "Wow, me, too." I leaned over to give her a kiss. "Okay, good night, Anastasia."

She looked me right in the eyes. "It's Asia," she said. "From now on it's Asia."

Okay, so from now on it would be Asia, and maybe in another seven years I'd be able to call her that without triggering a flashback to our early years as a family. I plunged a skewer into a piece of chicken and pretended it was Seth.

By the time I finished threading the chicken onto the skewers, Seth was riddled with holes and I was feeling a bit more chipper. I arranged them on the community center's well-used cookie sheets, which Ethel and her friends had wrapped in foil while T-shirt Tom preheated the oven. I'd planned on bringing my little Weber grill with me today and setting it out on the gra.s.s next to the building, but this morning when I got up, it just seemed like way too much work.

After Anastasia went to bed, I sat on the couch. Then I got up and poured another half gla.s.s of red wine. I sat on the couch some more while I drank the wine. I knew everything would be different after to night. Even if Seth was already running away-back to Africa or toward some new horizon-the balance of our lives had changed and nothing would ever be the same for Anastasia or me.

Finally I cried. I cried hard. I cried for a family that had once been whole and never would be again. I cried for my daughter and all those missed years with her dad she could never get back. I cried for myself and my dashed dream of a perfect little family in a house full of joy. And somewhere along the line I realized I was also crying for the little girl I'd once been, whose mother ignored her and who never knew her father. The sad and lonely child who'd always believed in her heart that better days were up ahead.

When I was sure she'd been asleep long enough, I tiptoed back into Anastasia's room. She was curled up on her side, hugging an armful of Senegalese pocket dolls. Her face was flushed. One leg poked out of a tangle of covers.

I thought about trying to unravel the covers, but I didn't want to risk it. Instead, I reached under her mattress and carefully wriggled out her diary.

I held my breath until I was back in the hallway. I knew I hould have waited until she was safely at school. I knew I shouldn't be doing this at all. But I was like a diary junkie who couldn't wait until morning for her next fix. I leaned back against the wall and angled the pages under the ceiling light. It didn't take long to find to night's entry.

A my name is Asia Senagleez pocket dolls In the middle of a luaw A dad that was worth waiting for I shook my head to bring myself back to the community center. T-shirt Tom freed himself from the conga line and came over to open the oven for me. Today's shirt said my wild oats have turned to shredded wheat.

"Thanks," I said. I slid the cookie sheets of Huli Huli Chicken inside.

When I stood up, he was looking at me through the fingerprints on his gla.s.ses. "Why so glum, chum?" he said.

One of his sidekicks broke away from the conga line and came up to stand with us. "Keep an eye on this one," he said. "He can't be trusted around the pretty young ladies."

Ethel came over, too. "Oh, leave her alone, you old coots," she said. The turquoise sweat suit and matching stretchy headband she was wearing really popped against her orange hair. "She already has a boyfriend. Don't you, honey?"

"Okay," I yelled. "Why don't you dance that line over this way, and we'll get the real party started."

"Oh, no," Ethel whispered. "Is it over already?"

BY THE TIME I FINISHED cleaning up after Lunch Around the World, my phone shift for Great Girlfriend Getaways had begun. I just managed to put the leftovers and everything else into the pa.s.senger side of my car before the phone rang.

"Hi," a woman said after I finished answering. "Can you tell me if your Costa Rican surfing trip is full yet?"

"There are a few spots left," I said. The truth was, the more the merrier, and no matter how many women signed up, we'd find a way to make it work. "But it's one of our most popular trips, so I wouldn't wait much longer."

"Have you ever been on it?"

"Not yet," I said.

"Why not?"

Because I haven't been anywhere in almost a decade and essentially I have no life didn't seem like the most positive response.

"It's next on my list," I finally said in what I hoped was a believable voice. I didn't tell her it was probably my bucket list, and that statistically I had approximately four decades to go before I kicked it.

I shifted the phone to my other ear, so I could put the key in the ignition.

"Oh, good," the woman said. "Maybe I'll see you there."

"Absolutely," I lied. "I'll look for you."

Before my shift was over, I'd fed Anastasia leftover Huli Huli Chicken for dinner and answered three more calls about the Costa Rican surfing trip. It was as if the universe was trying to rub it in. I slid my headphone down around my neck, since my ears were starting to get sore.

"Are you almost done with the phone?" Anastasia said. "I told Dad I'd call him after dinner."

"But you just saw him yesterday," I said.

"So," she said.

"First we'll clear the table and load the dishwasher," I said. "And then we'll do your spelling. And then we'll talk."

Anastasia was already halfway over to the dishwasher with our plates. I grabbed the sponge and started wiping off the table.

She drained the last sip of her milk and put the gla.s.s in the top rack.

"Done," she said. "Can I have the phone now?"

"Spelling," I said.

She held out her hand. "Dad and I are going to do it over the phone. We already made plans."

16.

BILLY SANDERS STOOD UP AND BOWED. I TRIED TO KEEP A dignified look on my face, but I could feel myself grinning from ear to ear at the sight of him. He looked adorably earnest and slightly geeky, the kind of guy I might have hung out with in high school while we both suffered through crushes on cooler, unattainable cla.s.smates.

He was wearing black bike shorts and a red T-shirt with the sleeves cut short enough to reveal most of his muscular arms. His helmet was looped over the back of his chair by its strap.

"How do you say h.e.l.lo in j.a.panese?" he asked when he finished bowing.

I reined in my grin and bowed. "The j.a.panese don't really have a word for h.e.l.lo."

"Then what would I say?"

I sat down. I took a moment to smell the cappuccino, then another to savor the sumptuousness of my first sip.

I'd been looking forward to this meeting. Even though I knew it was ridiculous, I'd changed my clothes three times before I left the house today. When I saw her at the bus stop, I even had this crazy urge to ask Cynthia if I could borrow one of her hot little tennis outfits. As if I could pull that off.

I'd started out with yoga pants, which made me look athletic but not very professional. Then I tried on my one good suit, which was relatively flattering, but seemed way too formal for meeting someone who invariably wore bicycle attire. I didn't have a lot of choices in my closet, so I finally settled for my old standby-the Anthropologie skirt and a teal cap-sleeved T-shirt with a V-neck.

I knew time was running out with Billy Sanders. I probably should have cut him loose once I had the business cards made and placed an ad on Craigslist for a go-between to help him out in j.a.pan. Or maybe even stretched it to two more as-yet-unscheduled future sessions-one on the phone once he was in j.a.pan, and one to rea.s.sess and talk about his next steps once he returned. Though once he'd found a good go-between, he really shouldn't need me anymore.

But I couldn't quite make myself back away. Instead, I found myself thinking that if I spent some more time learning j.a.panese, and maybe even researching the bicycle industry, I could make myself legitimately valuable.

Maybe there were even some other countries Billy would want to consider for bicycle rental kiosks before he made a final decision. Bicycles were popular in lots of places besides j.a.pan-Denmark, the Netherlands, Switzerland, Italy, Spain, Germany, France, Belgium, and Australia, just to name a few.

It wasn't that I wanted to take advantage of him, but it was a good gig and it paid well. He was a nice guy, too, and easy to talk to. It would be great to find more ways to work with him.

Last night, as I finished my final sips of wine, I'd fantasized about leaving Anastasia with Seth long enough to go to j.a.pan with Billy as his go-between. Maybe if I could somehow talk him into postponing the trip for a year or two, or even three, I could make it work.

Since j.a.pan was such a traditional culture, and business was still pretty much a man's world over there, ideally the go-between should be male and not female. But I thought the fact that Billy trusted me and knew I'd be looking out for his best interests might make up for any cultural awkwardness my gender presented. And if I had a few years, I could probably learn to speak pa.s.sable j.a.panese.

I put my paper cup back down on our table. "You'd greet the person by name, or in this case, you might say good afternoon. That would be Koh-NEE-cheewah."

Billy nodded. "Koh-NEE-cheewah," he said carefully.

"Perfect," I said. Since I hadn't actually started learning more j.a.panese yet, I took another sip of cappuccino while I searched for something else I could still remember in j.a.panese. My short stint as a tour guide in Asia was now a distant memory, and we'd had a translator at each stop.

I'd also blocked most of my j.a.panese memories, since that's where Seth and I had met. Sometimes a picture would come on television, a sky bus in Kyoto or cherry blossoms at Takada Koen Park, and I'd have to close my eyes.

"Koh-NEE-cheewah," Billy said. "Koh-NEE-cheewah, koh-NEE-cheewah."

"Even better," I said. "Okay, now if you want to say, 'My name is Billy Sanders,' you'd say, 'Wah-TAHK-sheewah Billy Sanders.'"

"Wah-TAHK-sheewah Billy Sanders," he said slowly. "Wah-TAHK-sheewah Billy Sanders."

"Great," I said. "Now put them both together." I had no idea if this was something you'd actually do in j.a.panese, but I'd look it up later.

Billy closed his eyes and concentrated. I watched the way the crinkles at the corners of his eyes crisscrossed the racc.o.o.n circles made by his sungla.s.ses.

He opened his eyes and caught me staring. He smiled.

I looked away and took a quick sip of my cappucino.

"Okay," he said. "Koh-NEE-sheewah. Wah-TAHK-cheewah Billy Sanders."

"Close," I said. "But it's Koh-NEE-cheewah and Wah-TAHK- sheewah."

"Jeez," he said. "They sure don't make it easy, do they?"

I ran a finger around the lip of my coffee cup. "It's a tough language for Americans. But most of the people you'll be discussing business possibilities with will speak English, and as long as they see that you're making an effort, you'll be fine. And your go-between will help you."