Miyu's Wish (17 page)

My voice was already cracking, but I persisted. “Am I…more a niece to you, or more like a daughter?”

Her face clouded over as I waited. “I…Miyu,” she began, looking for a second like a confused, little girl. I barely recognized her. “You’re like a daughter, of course.”

“Then why can’t I call you
Mother
?” I exclaimed, my voice like a sob.

The car stopped hard. We were there—at the front gate, anyway. Kimberly’s house, a monstrous silhouette looming in the distance, seemed bigger than even Marlene’s. My aunt appeared relieved for the distraction and looked away, rolling down her window hurriedly.

“Miyu Moon to see Kimberly Sutton, please,” she said mechanically to a speaker box.

“Of course,” came the formal-sounding reply. “Welcome. Please follow the main drive up.”

The gate doors pulled apart, and we continued up a winding path. It brought us around an enormous fountain and near an elegant, marble staircase that extended up to the entrance.

“I’ll walk you up,” Aunt Mari offered as we stopped again.

“No, it’s OK. I’ll manage,” I said listlessly, opening the door and pulling my suitcase out with me. I gave her a halfhearted wave and walked up the steps, not bothering to look back.

The front doors opened, and Kimberly was standing right there, smiling brightly. She was wearing a blue- and white-spotted housedress and had her hair tied in a bun. She seemed to shine like an angel, and as she led me inside, I dropped my bag to the floor and began to cry.

“Oh, your aunt loves you. Who couldn’t love you?” Kimberly cooed at me. “Here, try this. It’ll make you feel better.”

I opened my mouth and let her slide a spoonful of warm pudding into my mouth.

She spoke tenderly. “How is it?”

I felt it glide soothingly down my throat and gazed warmly at her. “It’s really good.”

She smiled, snatched a napkin from the kitchen table, and wiped the corner of my lips. “Sorry, I got you a little there.”

We were in her magnificent kitchen, which was about the size of both my living and family rooms combined at home. Apparently Kimberly’s parents liked to entertain, and they needed the huge facility to properly prepare for their guests.

“Where are your parents tonight?” I asked as she returned to the stove.

“Oh, they had to run out and meet some important investment guru or something,” she sighed, stirring a second batch of pudding. “They were supposed to be here this evening, but now I guess it’s just us—with the butler on call if we need him.” She looked at me and shrugged.

“You have a butler? Must be nice being a Sutton.”

Kimberly’s shoulders drooped. “Only sometimes. My parents are never here. I always have to act all pristine and perfect whenever their ‘important’ friends are around, and I’m constantly worried they’re going to throw me into private school.” She sighed again. “I would give anything to have a simple, easygoing life like yours.”

I scrunched up my face. “Aww, don’t say that. At least there are no secrets in your family. My aunt doesn’t tell me anything.”

She seemed unconvinced. I watched as she lifted the pot from the stove and poured its soupy contents into two bowls. “We’ll let these cool in the refrigerator,” she said, changing the subject. “Now, how about we bake something? Cupcakes or brownies?”

I clapped eagerly for cupcakes. Before I knew it, we were chatting like best friends as we mixed the ingredients, licked the beaters, and placed the tins into the oven. It wasn’t exactly
what I had expected from a sleepover at the luxurious Sutton homestead, but it was exactly what I needed.

“Miyu, you really are one of a kind,” Kimberly said tranquilly, her chin resting on her arms as she watched me from across the kitchen table. I squeezed icing over a row of cupcakes, getting a little better with each one.

“Why do you say that?” I asked, picking up one of the cakes and placing a piece of cookie in the middle. I then added two chocolate chips for eyes, two candy corns for ears, and four thin licorice strips for whiskers. I held the finished product up for her to see. “It’s a kitty,” I said proudly.

Kimberly continued to watch me; her golden eyebrows drooped lazily over her eyes. “What we’re doing here, Miyu, I could never do with my other friends. They would think I was weird or silly. But with you, I can be myself. I knew we could do something like this and you wouldn’t laugh. I just knew this would be a special night.”

I walked over and gave her my cupcake. “We’ll be each other’s silly kitty, then,” I said, giggling softly.

“Miyu, you are too much,” she said happily, her voice unusually high and chirpy. She sounded a bit like me.

We continued decorating until we had twenty-four little kittens staring up at us.

“Here,” Kimberly said, handing me the last one she made. “My silly kitty for you.”

We both took a bite out of our cats, and with icing smeared across our mouths, laughed like little kids.

We eventually left the baking behind, and Kimberly gave me a tour of her home. Each room seemed to hold a different amusement, and we spent the next couple hours playing air hockey, jumping around on a giant trampoline, or making terrible music on her father’s grand piano. We finally reached the library, which—along with countless shelves of books—housed a number of stunning paintings.

“There’s a reason I brought you here last,” Kimberly explained. She walked behind a bookcase and dragged out a large, rectangular package. She brought it toward me, looking both hesitant and anxious as she let it lean against my body. “Think of it as a thank you and an apology…for everything,” she said somberly. Her eyes were moist.

“This is really for me?” I asked in surprise, examining the object with anticipation. It was clearly a painting of some kind, and the frame was over half my height.

Kimberly placed her hands together as if she were praying, touching them to her lips. “Yes. Go ahead, open it,” she urged softly.

I smiled curiously and began peeling away the brown paper. The first few pieces required a bit of effort, but the rest stripped away easily. I then stumbled backward with a gasp, Kimberly darting forward just in time to catch the frame before it tipped over. I was staring at myself—or rather, a very idealized image
of me—floating through space with a cloud of stars trailing behind my body. A full moon hung in the background like a silvery monocle.

“It just came to me one night in a dream,” Kimberly said, almost mumbling her words. She caught my eye for just a second and then glanced away, her face bright red. “It took me three tries and four weeks of painting to get it right.”

I remained transfixed by the picture, words eluding me. She had depicted me as older, taller, and more developed than I actually was, and my face looked both serene and wise. I wore nothing but a long, blue shroud that swirled around me and then chased the stars. The entire piece was beautifully realized, but I hugged myself and looked away.

“Kimberly,” I murmured, forgetting to breathe. “It’s lovely. But you didn’t have…”

“I
did
have to,” she muttered indignantly. “I know I was terrible to you, but let this be a symbol of how sorry I am. And how grateful. I was just so jealous before.”

“Because of Thad?”

“No!” she exclaimed, her eyes almost glowing. “
You.
Pristine, perfect Miyu. Whenever I see you, I remember how hateful I can be. Especially to you. And then I hate myself.”

I was speechless. Her desperate, haunting gaze held me spellbound in its grasp. “Kimberly,” I found myself protesting. “I’m nothing special. I don’t deserve this.”

She laid the picture down and came before me, staring obstinately into my eyes. “But you do! I could never repay you properly!”

I clutched her face, brought it level with my own, and then whispered into her ear. “But you see, I’m the jealous one. I’d give anything for even half of your charm, your grace. And all the girls at school look up to you in the same way.” I then embraced her warmly, and she released a sharp, mournful sob that seemed to shake the room.

“But Miyu, it’s all a show,” she murmured. “My life’s nothing but living up to others’ expectations. I hate it. I just want to be carefree and happy and silly, and to whine and shout and frolic and hug whenever I want. Like you.” She looked at me meaningfully.

“You want to be short and clumsy and defenseless?” I asked her softly.

She smiled back weepily. “It’s what makes you so cute.”

We retreated to her bedroom and changed into our pajamas. I traded my denim dress for some pink jammies, while Kimberly slipped into a silver nightie. She pulled out the pins in her hair, letting her golden mane fall around her like a current of windblown gold. She caught me admiring her and she smiled sheepishly.

“I know,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I should be thankful for the life I have. It’s just that…”

“What?” I asked, looking at her expectantly.

“Never mind,” she said hopelessly, looking embarrassed. She then jumped on the bed next to me, snatched a pillow, and clobbered me over the head.

“Hey!” I squealed, jumping onto her. “That’s not nice!”

We both laughed as she rolled on her back, and I pressed the pillow over her face.

“I’m tougher than I look!” I said.

“Oh yeah?”

She flipped me over effortlessly and now grinned down at me with satisfaction. I gazed back up and placed my finger into her right dimple.

“This is how I always want to remember you,” I said. “Happy.”

Kimberly suddenly released me and sat up, her eyes glistening again. “I am happy…when you’re around,” she said with surprising finality.

We stared at each other for a long time, and then I smacked her in the face with my pillow.

“Ow!” she laughed. She snagged another cushion, and we proceeded to pound each other until the lights were off and we were lying side-by-side, exhausted and drifting off to dreamland. A pleasant wooziness overtook me as I felt Kimberly snuggle closer; I could almost feel her heartbeat pulse gently within me,
hear her thoughts, feel her breasts move up and down gracefully as I breathed. We each had what the other wanted, and her wish tasted like a piece of fine chocolate melting in my mouth. I licked my lips and closed my eyes.