Outside Beauty by Cynthia Kadohata

So I knew I shouldn’t judge my father, but I did.
    My father grinned widely when he saw me. The fathers . . . A low-level hoodlum, a gum manufacturer, a he-man nature guy, and an uptight history teacher, all joined by my mother’s unpredictable taste.
    I felt as though a little conscience imp sat on my shoulder saying,
Hug your father!
So I hugged him quickly and pushed myself away.
    â€œYou grow bigger,” he said.
    I didn’t know if he meant I would grow bigger or I had grown bigger. Since both were true, I said, “Yes.”
    â€œHello, Maddie,” he said.
    Maddie tugged my hand, and I held her to me. She started to cry again. “I’ll come see you,” I whisperedin her ear. “Even if I have to run away.”
    Jiro handed me a baseball cap that read KOMATSU GUM. He fumbled with something in his pocket and pulled out a small, inexpertly wrapped gift. Maddie leaned over me as I opened it. To tell the truth, I was expecting a bracelet—my mother’s training, I guess. Instead, I received a cassette of “Puff the Magic Dragon.”
    â€œYou tell me once you like that song,” Jiro said.
    Of course, I was too old for “Puff” now, besides which it was just about the most depressing song ever written. But . . . manners, manners, manners! I forced a grateful smile and thanked him and placed the baseball cap on my head.
    Jiro looked at me expectantly, and when I didn’t say more, he nodded. He reminded me of one of those nearsighted Japanese men with cameras who moved in clusters throughout Chicago tourist attractions. But he was different from those men. They belonged somewhere. He didn’t seem to belong anywhere on this planet. Somehow he managed to have a Southern accent and a Japanese accent at the same time. He’d lived in Benton Springs, Arkansas, for the past decade, selling gum to local stores. He called his product Gum-Bo.

    He seemed sober for a moment and then said thoughtfully, “Ah, you told me you sing ‘Puff the Dragon’ in fourth grade.” He cleared his throat. “In traditional Japan divorce, someone get custody, you don’t see kids anymore again. Different in America.”
    â€œYou and Mom never married, so you never got divorced,” I said sulkily.
    â€œYes. Yes. We have it annulled.”
    â€œYou mean you got married?”
    â€œYes, in Las Vegas, for two days. Then she stop drinking and want annulment.”
    They were
married
? It reminded me of the time I caught a fish, and it went over the boat and got off the hook and fell back in the water, all in about thirty seconds. But mostly what I had on my mind was my new predicament. I decided to try pleading honestly. “The thing is,” I said, “since the doctors say she’s going to get better, why can’t we all just stay in Chicago?” I pressed my lips together to keep from crying. I didn’t want to cry in front of Maddie. It would only upset her more.
    He nodded his head several times in a row. “I suppose against law,” he said. “No adult in your apartment. And, ahhh, I suppose plastic surgery costmany money. I suppose your mother may run out of money.” He looked around and turned to Maddie and said, “Not sure what Bronson-san look like. He supposed to be here.”
    â€œYou don’t have to call him
san,
” I said.
    â€œAh, Mr. Bronson.”
    â€œYou don’t have to call him ‘mister.’”
    â€œHe’s not here!” Maddie exclaimed. “I can go home with you! Hooray!” She grabbed my hand again and held tight.
    I looked around and didn’t see Mr. Bronson. I said hopefully to my father, “Can she come with us?”
    He gazed at the nearly deserted airport and frowned. “Can’t leave her here.”
    Maddie looked so hopeful, it just about slayed me. I said, “Maybe we should just go home. Maddie can stay with us.”
    Then Jiro