Guardians: The Turn (The Guardians Series, Book 3)

  GUARDIANS: BOOK III

  THE TURN

  By-Lola St.Vil

  This book is dedicated to the best Mom this side of the light:

  Marie D. St.Vil

  You save me everyday.

  Thank you.

  This book is also dedicated to

  The people of Haiti

  I hope to make you proud someday…

  “No more tears now; I will think about revenge…”

  ----Mary, Queen of Scots

  CHAPTER ONE: AIR

  My owner and I are seated at the counter. A sweaty old man with dirty nails sits a few feet away from us. He isn’t sure if the girl next to me is my girlfriend. He studies me. Then decides he doesn’t care if I’m her boyfriend or not because I’m so scrawny, there is nothing I can do to stop him from hitting on her.

  The truth is I have a knife and with it, I can slice clean through his carotid artery before he even thinks of opening his greasy lips. All the same, the middle-aged man is right; I am not the danger…

  “What’s a pretty little thing like you do’n with this guy?” he asks her.

  She doesn’t acknowledge him. Her focus is out the window and on the dilapidated factory a few miles away. He tries again.

  “Ugly old building ain’t it?”

  “Very.”

  “So, why you keep looking at it?”

  “We have history.”

  “Listen, you look like you could use a friend. And well, my car’s out back. We could get—”

  “—Friendly?” she says, finishing his crude thought.

  He laughs, or at least tries to. Years of smoking have caused his laughter to be halted by phlegm- coated coughs.

  Judging by his pot belly and neck fat, smoking isn’t his only bad habit.

  “So, what do you say?” he persists.

  Most girls would have a problem being propositioned in the middle of a cheap diner by a sleazy old dude, but not her. She is enjoying this.

  “I’m only seventeen,” she replies innocently.

  “I don’t mind if you don’t,” he says, sliding his tongue across his nicotine stained lips.

  “What’s your name?” she asks.

  “Wes.”

  “Wes, you wanna hear a story?”

  “What story?”

  “The story of how I died.”

  “Oh, you one of them chicks who think she a vampire?” he jokes.

  “I’m not a vampire.” She answers.

  “Guess that means I’m safe.”

  “I wouldn’t say that…”

  “Hell, if that’s what it takes to get you in the car, tell me how you “died” but first tell me your name.”

  “My name is Redd. They used to call me Miku.”

  * * *

  “My Mother was born in Utashinai, the smallest city in Japan. Utashinai has only one high school and two hotels. But what it lacked in options, it made up for in beauty. The winters were pristine. Travelers would come from all over to ski on the spectacular slopes. But the best thing about Utashinai was the quiet. It was a great place to get away from the frenzy of Tokyo.

  While most residents enjoyed small town life, my mother Mayako, hated it. She dreamed of being in the big city. She longed to spread her wings and see what the world had to offer. When she was sixteen, she got her chance. The High School closed down causing her to have to travel to the neighboring city.

  There she met Jae Min, a Korean man who was in Japan on business. He courted her for weeks. He walked her to and from school, brought her gifts, and proclaimed his love for her. Finally, she gave in. They made love by the side of forgotten roads, cuddled in fields of flowers, and planned their future as winter fell.

  When Mayako found out she was pregnant, she wasn’t afraid. She had a life with Jae Min. She knew he would take care of her and her child. The only thing Mayako dreaded was telling her father. He hated Korean people. In fact, Japanese and Koreans had a long history of mistrust against one another.

  But surely this would be different. Her father would meet Jae Min, see what a kind, caring and wonderful man he is. Then he will welcome Jae into the family. Mayako told Jae Min first. He looked back at her blankly. She gently touched his hand.

  He jumped as if someone had awoken him from a deep sleep. He apologized for being so distant. She said she understood it was a shock. He said it wasn’t a shock, it was a blessing. She smiled brightly and wrapped her arms around him.

  She then went to tell her father. He was livid. He hated Koreans. And she was only sixteen. So, he kicked her out and told her to go back to Jae Min. Heartbroken, she packed her things and headed back to her lover.

  When she got there, the house was empty. Only packing tape reminded. Crushed, Mayako returned home to face her father. He was forgiving and allowed her to return home. But the more her belly started protruding, the more embarrassed he was by her.

  Desperate to leave home, she tracked down Jae Min through a friend. She found out he had moved to America. She wrote him and asked how he could hurt her so badly. He wrote back and said he was ashamed. His company was in bankruptcy. He was living in a little apartment and had no money. How could he take care of his family with no job?

  Mayako decided to forgive him. She didn’t tell him but she planned to find a way to get to America and help Jae Min. She would get a job and they would be a family. She told her father about her plans.

  She hoped he would feel better knowing that she would leave as soon as she had enough money. One morning unable to take the whispering and gossip, her father bought her a one-way ticket to America.

  She flew out to California, big belly and all, to see her love. When she got to Jae Min’s house, she was sure she had the wrong address. The house was actually a mansion. She rang the bell and a servant answered. She asked to speak to Jae Min. The housekeeper disappeared and a few minutes later, a beautiful Korean woman came to the door.

  “May I help you?”

  “I am looking for Jae Min.”

  “My husband isn’t home right now. He went to pick up the kids from soccer practice. Is there something I can help you with?”

  She had learned a good amount of English before having to leave school. Still, it was hard to process what the lady was saying.

  “Kids?” she repeated softly.

  “Yes, he went to pick them up. Who are you?”

  “And you are—?”

  “—his wife.”

  She felt a sharp pain travel down her full belly.

  She cried out. The lady then looked at her sharply.

  “I knew one day one of his toys would follow him home.”

  “Toys?”

  “He goes on trips and picks up these worthless young things to play with.”

  “We are going to be a family.”

  “He already has one. You need to go home”

  “I can’t.”

  She shoved a few hundred dollar bills in my mother’s hand.

  “Do not come back,” she said as she slammed the door. Mayako ordered herself to stay calm. She walked back to the taxi.

  She told the driver to head in any direction. He asked if she was okay. She said she couldn’t remember how to breathe. Mayako knew she couldn’t go back home. She went from shelter to shelter. She soon settled in Korea Town, a few miles from downtown Los Angeles. She never missed an appointment at the free clinic. She wanted to make sure her baby was healthy. She would use that child in some way to exact revenge on Jae Min.

  When she found out that she was having twins, she was overjoyed. Two beings that would b
e raised for the sole purpose of destroying a man’s life. She went into labor in the middle of the night. Her delivery was long and painful. She refused drugs. She wanted to be fully aware when she gave birth to her perfect weapons.

  But when she gave birth, she looked down at their tiny faces and she couldn’t find it – the hate that she felt for their father. Suddenly it was gone. He had given her two perfect little angels. Innocent. Pure. Pristine. How could she hate Jae Min? He had given her a gift more precious than a thousand mansions.

  She didn’t need Jae Min anymore. She had something more important: her daughter Miku and her son Rio.

  Mayako said to the nurse, “These babies are my Kuuki.”

  “What does that mean?” the nurse asked.

  “Air. They are my Air.”

  From then on she didn’t give Jae Min another thought. Her only concern was for me and my brother. She worked hard and struggled to pay rent. But she always kept us fed, sheltered and loved. Never did a day go by where she didn’t call us her “Kuuki.”

  When we asked about our father, a sorrowful cloud would darken her face. So we learned early on to avoid the subject. We didn’t learn the truth about our father until our grandfather came for a visit. Things between him and my Mom were still rocky.

  One night, we heard them arguing. He asked her why she lived in squalor while our father was rich. She said she’d rather die then accept a dime from him. She didn’t need anything. She had us.

  While my mother didn’t care about my father, he was all I thought about. I found where he lived and I asked Rio to come see the house with me. He didn’t think it was a good idea. He is only two minutes older than me, but he acted like he was years ahead. Mentally, he was. Even at thirteen years old, Rio had a certain composure about him.

  He was always getting me out of trouble. Even if he had warned me not to do something and I went ahead and did it. He would still rescue me. So he went with me figuring I might get myself in trouble.

  We watched from a distance as our father’s family gathered for dinner. I think Rio was prepared to see a man who kind of looked like him. But he wasn’t prepared to see his very reflection looking back at him. Rio had inherited the very essence of our father. The perfect eye brows, plump red lips, and high cheek bones.

  Unable to stand the surge of anger going though him, he tossed a rock and shattered the window in the dining room. I grabbed him and ran. Rio made me promise not to have any contact with him whatsoever.

  But even though I agreed, I was having difficulty staying away. See, I didn’t hate my father. I knew I was supposed to, but I just didn’t. I thought that maybe somewhere in the back of his mind, he was just afraid to love Rio and me. I thought if I could show him what good kids we were, he’d want to get to know us better.

  So, I wrote to him. He didn’t write back but I didn’t let that deter me. I sent him impressive report cards, school pictures, and school science awards. Any father would have been proud. But Jae Min never answered back.

  One day, Rio found a letter I was about to send off. He was so livid, he nearly tore the house apart.

  “Calm down!” I told him.

  “No! You’re acting like a baby. You need to grow up. That guy doesn’t give a damn!”

  “He left Mom. But that doesn’t mean he didn’t want us.”

  “You are so damn stupid. He left us, not her. US!!!”

  “He’s my father and I want to know him.”

  “Well, he doesn’t want to know you.”

  “Yes, he does. He loves me. He wants me.”

  “Ok, then, how many times did dear old Dad write you back?”

  “He’s very busy.”

  “How many?”

  “He’s gonna write back.”

  I went off to the corner and cried like the baby he accused me of being.

  I cried so hard I couldn’t make out what Rio was saying. I just wanted him to leave me alone.

  But he wouldn’t go away.

  “Don’t cry, okay. We don’t need him.”

  “Why doesn’t he want us?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Then Rio did something he used to do when we were little and I would get sad; he would make up crazy stories about how things got to be the way they are. It was always about how some animal did some silly thing and made the world the way it is today. It was my job to find a way to fix it. Last time, I helped a zebra get back its strips by feeding him a black and white cookie.

  I’d say, “Go away. I’m sad and I’m never gonna be happy again.”

  He’d say, “Okay, but Harry is gonna be in really big trouble.”

  “Who’s Harry?”

  “Harry the Salamander”

  “Gross!”

  “Well, say what you want but we humans should be very grateful for Harry. One day he was playing ball with his friends and they dared him to throw the ball as far as he could. So, he threw it so high, it got stuck in the sky.”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  “Yeah, he did. And now it’s stuck in the sky. Come look.”

  I looked out the window.

  “That’s the moon, silly.”

  “Otherwise known as Harry’s soccer ball.”

  “How is he gonna get it down?”

  “I don’t know. That part’s up to you.”

  Then I would spend hours thinking up ways to fix the problem. Soon, I’d forget to be sad. But that was when I was ten. Now I’m thirteen and nothing is making the pain go away.

  He puts his arm around me.

  “You are always wanted. And always needed. You are Kuuki. Remember?”

  “I am Air.”

  “Yes, and no one can live without you.”

  That was enough for me. Or at least it should have been. In my heart I secretly still longed to be a part of my father’s life. So, when Rio and I got early acceptance to Yale, I leaped at the chance to write my father and tell him. I thought I could make him proud. I thought this one thing would get him to want me in his life.

  About three weeks after I wrote my father, my mom sat us down and told us she had cancer. She used reassuring words to minimize her condition. Stomach cancer isn’t too bad. It only hurts a little…

  Our world was crumbling. We asked about treatment. They said it would cost a small fortune. The Cancer spread through her quickly and mercilessly. Near the end, it seemed more humane to let her go. But Rio and I couldn’t. We had never loved another human being like we did the frail 5’3” woman lying in the hospital bed.

  Then we heard about a cancer trial being done in the UK. It would cost a lot but we didn’t care. Rio and I were determined to find a way for Mom to get there. Although he had yet to respond to any of my letters, I wrote to my father again, telling him about my mother’s condition.

  Two days later, something amazing happened: My father wrote back. He said he wanted to meet with me but that he had to do it secretly. He didn’t want his wife to know about it. I was thrilled to be meeting with him. I suggested we meet at the meat packing factory where my Mom worked. I thought if he saw what deplorable working conditions my Mom had to endure, he’d surely help.

  But my father didn’t enter the factory, his wife did. Her expensive highlights and well-manicured nails made her look out of place. She walked into the factory like she was entering a room full of animal droppings. She glared at the blood soaked floors with disgust.

  When I was a kid, I used to hate going to the factory to see my mother. The sound of the machines sawing bones always made me cry. It was like a house of horrors. I saw one of the machines take a cow’s head apart and grind it into a sloppy paste. After that, I could no longer eat meat.

  “Where’s my father?” I asked her.

  “He couldn’t come. I’m his wife, Jennifer.”

  “You don’t look like a ‘Jennifer.’”

  “I changed it.”

  “Why didn’t my father come?”


  “He’s not accustomed to dealing with the trash. I’m the one who figures out how to get it out of the house.”

  “My family isn’t trash. Your husband made love to my mother and then abandoned her.”

  “So, you must hate him then?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, so you love him?”

  “Yes.” I said quietly.

  “Then you should honor his wish and go away”

  “He doesn’t want that. He wrote me back.”

  “No, I did. I have been receiving your mail for years now and I thought it was time we meet face to face and come to an understanding”

  “About what?”

  “Your mother was, like all the others, something to make the days go by. She was no more to my husband than a story to tell the boys back at the office: ‘Hey, I went Japan, picked up some chop sticks, a new phone and a whore.’ ”

  “Call my mother a whore again and I’ll rip your damn heart out.”

  “Common and vulgar; like I thought—trash”

  Before I could stop myself, I attacked her. She fell backwards and hit the ground. We wrestled around on the floor. We pulled each other’s hair and threw punches. She grabbed my head between her fingers and turned it towards the window.

  A black limo was parked in the lot. A man who looked like an older version of Rio sat in the back, looking out into space.

  “Call him,” she ordered.

  “Get off me!” I shouted.

  “Call out to your father and see if he answers. He won’t because you were a mistake.He could care less what happens to you.”

  “He loves me!” I roared back at her.

  “Call him!”

  I opened my mouth but the sounds wouldn’t come.

  “Call him!” she demanded.

  But I couldn’t. I loved him. And even though I had every reason to, I couldn’t stop loving him. The thought that I could call out his name and not get an answer was paralyzing. It wasn’t just that I loved him. In my mind, he had loved me, too. I lost my Dad in real life. I couldn’t lose him in my heart too.

  “Call him, you bitch!”

  “No!” I shouted.

  I managed to get up off the floor and lean on the wall for support. She got up and attacked me. Suddenly one of the industrial machines came on. It was the one used to saw and grind large chucks of meat. We must have switched it on by accident. I ran up two flights of stairs. She ran after me.