Pink Spades

Copyright © 2010 by Aleasha Wilson. All rights reserved.





Chapter One: Homecoming



Ahsaela stepped out into the wet moonlight, letting the cool and moist concrete touch her bare feet. She closed the front door of the house shut, slowly, being careful not to wake her mother. She just wanted to be alone for a while. Rain sprinkled softly against her warm face as she stepped further away from the house. This would be the last time she would set foot in this area again, she thought to herself. Ahsaela’s mother is a successful fashion designer and her company has many locations all over the globe.

Sometimes, a specific area needs her expertise. When this happens, that’s when it’s time for she and Ahsaela to pack their bags and move for a while. Ahsaela is absolutely tired of this routine. She and her mother have moved at least four times over the past year and a countless amount of times the years before that. Yet, the time has come again, no matter how much Ahsaela pleads with her mother for the nomad life to end. This time, they’re leaving for Tokyo, Japan first thing in the morning.

Ahsaela sighed as she walked along the quiet road. It’s not like she’ll miss this area much, because they’ve only lived here for a few months, but she is emotionally exhausted. Tired of setting up shop and tearing it down just when she feels settled in. She sighed again as she reached into her jean’s pocket to retrieve her cigarettes and lighter. She hastily ripped open the box of Camel menthols, pulled out a single cigarette, and placed it between her dry lips. She flicked her lighter to life, to begin the lung destroying process.

At that moment, she just felt so lost. Not even sure who she is anymore. Never stayed in a place long enough to make friendships to fill her loneliness. Ahsaela inhaled deeply, letting the poison from the smoke course through her lungs. The sting the smoke left, as she exhaled, seemed to remind her that she was alive. She used to abhor the thought of puffing a cigarette. It seemed the life she and her mother have led, has caused her to feel bitter and indifferent, thus leaving Ahsaela uncaring about her body any longer.

She stood next to a tree, admiring it. “Well, lucky you,” she said out loud to the tree. “Your roots keep you all tied down here. Must be nice, not having to travel, ‘eh?” After that was said, she began to feel envious of the tree. Wishing she was a plant so that she could stay in one place and have a home for once. A real one.

Ahsaela climbed the branches of the tree, until she reached as high as she could, and sat down comfortably on the nearest branch. She let her hands feel along the bark of the trunk and noted how hard the branch felt beneath her. In that moment, she began to feel weak. She now wished she had the strength of this tree, so that she could make it through this wicked routine called life. She continued to smoke her cigarette, as she stroked and hugged the tree, letting her negative thoughts run through her.

“Hey! You know what?” she laughed out loud. “You’re the first living thing I’ve gotten this close to since I’ve lived here. Hahaha!” Ahsaela puckered her lips and pressed them roughly against the trunk of the tree, then hopped down. She landed on all fours with the cigarette still burning in her mouth. She took one last puff of it and threw it into the road, before she turned around to head back toward the house.

Ahsaela’s mother was still sound asleep on the living room sofa when she quietly entered the house. She tiptoed upstairs and bolted to her bedroom. When she was all changed for bed, Ahsaela snuggled under her soft blankets. After a while of lying there, dreaming about living her life as a tree instead of a human, she finally fell asleep. She slept peacefully while she dreamt of being a lovely tree, full of life and strength.

She smiled an unforced smile for once, while she soaked up the beautiful sun’s rays. She sighed happily as the wind whipped through her branches, causing her leaves to whisper enthusiastically to one another as they swayed with the breeze. Ahsaela even laughed with joy while children screamed playfully and ran around her trunk. The innocent children climbed her branches, letting her feel their warm and soft skin on her coarse bark. Ahsaela felt at ease for a change. This place, where her roots live, is her home, she thought. No need to move away, no need to start a new life. She smiled again as the stress left her body.

She loved her new life, the life of being in this one place and forming a bond with it; becoming a part of it. Ahsaela beamed once more because she could feel the water coursing through her veins and the hot sun giving her life. She was unbreakable now, she realized. No one could move her from this place. She was home.

“Ahsaela! Get up! We’re going to miss our flight!” her mother screamed from downstairs. Ahsaela’s eyes popped open. She glanced around her bedroom, angrily, realizing that her being a tree was just a dream. “Fuck.” she cursed to herself. All of the negative feelings she felt last night came rushing back into her, as she shoved the blankets off of her.

Uncaring, she pulled on the jeans she wore last night and threw on the first t-shirt she found nearby. She fumbled with her flaming, red hair in the mirror for a second with her shaking fingers. She sighed at how pitiful she looked this morning. She pulled her pink chucks on and fled downstairs. Her mother was pacing back and forth in the kitchen, trying to get her dark hair into a tight bun. She looked over at Ahsaela when she reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Saela, honey, you look terrible,” she observed. “Here, let me do something with your crazy hair.” She took two big steps toward her with a hair tie in her mouth. Ahsaela groaned, clearly annoyed, by her mother’s concern. She stood with her arms folded across her chest, defiantly, while she let her mother mess with her hair. She felt her fingers frantically scrape along her scalp, pulling her hair off of her shoulders. Ahsaela rolled her eyes as the torment continued. She felt her hair being twisted into a bun, just like her mothers, and she groaned louder in agony.

“What? Like hell I’m going to let you walk around with me in public, looking like a bum!” She retorted. She finished the hairdo and stood in front of Ahsaela with a huge smile on her face. “You’re so beautiful, baby. Now get your bags so we can leave.” She kissed her lightly on the forehead and trotted away in her loud heals. Ahsaela grabbed her luggage and followed, unwillingly. When they were both settled into the car and the engine roared to life, Ahsaela wished she was still in bed convinced that she was a tree.

The pair finally made it onto the plane and took their seats. The flight was going to be about fifteen hours, the flight attendant told them. Ahsaela put her face in her hands when she heard the news. Her mother noticed and rubbed her back caringly. “Saela, I know you don’t approve of this but, you never know! You might actually like Japan.” Ahsaela shot her a cold look and leaned back to stare out the window. Her mother sighed and wished she could figure out a way to make her daughter happy again. When Ahsaela was a young girl, she used to love traveling place to place, like it was an adventure. “I guess it got old for her,” she thought. “I want her to be happy and comfortable, but I want to be too. Aside from the fact that I’m being commissioned in Tokyo, I really just want to see what kind of life I could have there.”

Every place she's ever lived since…since Harold’s death has just seemed so dull and lifeless to her. Ahsaela turned her head toward her mother as if she had heard her thoughts. “It’s okay, Deb,” she started. “I want you to be happy too, which is why I haven’t tried to attack you for dragging me to so many places.” Ahsaela forced a crooked smile and poked Debra in the nose.

“I would appreciate it if you would just call me mom.” She shot back as she let her eyes roll. “I’ll call you mom when you start acting like one,” Ahsaela wanted to say, but that sounded too harsh once she thought about it more. Debra is a wonderful mom. She was just a housewife when dad was alive. Ahsaela could tell she was unhappy all those years being cooped up at home with her. Dad didn’t feel she should go to work because he made a ton of money already. He was a star athlete for the New York Yankees. He was an old fashioned kind of guy and wanted her mother to be pampered and not be forced into any form of labor whatsoever.

The two constantly argued about that, their whole marriage. When he passed away eight years ago, she had the freedom to act. So she started her own clothing line and the money came flying in. She loved her mom, very much. She just hated her right now, if that makes any sense. Ahsaela and Debra fell asleep shortly after their brief conversation. Debra rested her head on Ahsaela’s shoulder and she laid hers against the passenger window.

After fifteen hours of drifting in and out of sleep and short chit chat with one another, Ahsaela and Debra finally arrived at their destination. It felt good for them to finally stretch their legs as they slumped out of the plane. They arrived to their cozy apartment and dropped their bags. Ahsaela immediately found her bedroom and scanned the area. The Japanese tend to have smaller homes than Americans so this would take some getting used to. Her bedroom wasn’t very large, but it’s not like they’ll be living in Japan long anyhow, she thought, “I give this place five months tops, then Debra will want to move again.” Ahsaela wasn’t even sure how long she could stand living in another country. She didn’t know any Japanese whatsoever. How was she going to get by? She pondered. The sliding door to her room creaked and Debra poked her head inside.

“You hungry ,baby?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. Her dark skin shimmered in the sunlight that leaked through the window. Her pleasant smile almost made the anger Ahsaela felt disappear…almost. Ahsaela gave a slight nod in her direction with a half smile. Debra beamed and then held one finger up like she had just remembered something. She walked away for a minute and returned with a clothes hanger with a black bag hanging off of it.

“This is your school uniform, Ahsaela, you’re already enrolled at a very prestigious high school here in Tokyo. You’ll start next week. Take a look.” She barked at her, sweetly. She held out the hanger, beckoning Ahsaela to take it. She glared at it for a moment then rolled her eyes. She snatched it from her mother’s hands and unzipped the bag. She was disgusted beyond words to find what was inside it. She eyed the uniform with much scrutiny.

First she noticed the navy blue jacket. It had a neat collar and the school emblem sewn onto the front pocket. Gold buttons lined the front. Underneath the jacket was the crisp, white, collared blouse with a red bow tie attached. Ahsaela cringed the most when she saw the tie and glared at Debra. Debra ignored the gesture keeping that smile on her face, which annoyed the hell out of Ahsaela even more. Under the blouse was the cotton, navy blue skirt to match. Ahsaela sighed and laid the uniform across her new bed.

“You don’t like it?” Debra pried.

“Mom…it’s…hideous!” Ahsaela answered angrily.

“I think It’s awful cute, actually. It would be nice to see you looking like a lady for a change.” Ahsaela scoffed at her mother’s remark and found the T.V. remote. She flicked it on and plopped down onto the bed, deliberately trying to ignore her. Debra sighed in defeat and walked out of the room to start cooking dinner. Ahsaela’s attempt to distract herself from her horrible life failed miserably after surfing through all of the channels. Everything was in Japanese. She haughtily smashed the off button on the television and lay back on the bed. Her blood began to boil as she replayed the scene in her head. She stared across the bed at her uniform of doom and smacked it away.

“I’m used to making a lot of changes, but this is way too much.” She spoke aloud to herself. How the hell am I supposed to live here when I don’t know a goddamn thing about Japanese culture? How am I supposed to learn anything? How am I supposed to cope? Am I going to be the only American in my class? All of these questions ran through her mind, giving her a migraine. She groaned with frustration and situated herself on her pillow. Within minutes, she drifted off to sleep again, drowning herself in her angry thoughts...