“It’s… fine.” Lex managed a polite smile.

“Oh, there’s your friend with your boxes. I’ll let you unpack. Here’s your key, I’ll leave it on the counter. If you need anything, just ask me.” She bustled away.

Man, that woman could talk. But friendly. Probably nosy too.

Venus crossed the threshold and stopped. Stared. Tried not to grimace. “Are you sure about this, Lex?”

“Do I have a choice? I couldn’t afford anything else.”

“This place is a dump.”

“Venus, what happened to ‘speaking the truth in love’?”

“That is love. You’re lucky I don’t dump this box and leave you stranded.”

Lex knew she was kidding, but the dingy surroundings seemed to almost weigh her down.

Venus dropped the box she held into a corner. “I’ll bring in the pieces of your bed.” Lex was glad they were light enough for her to handle by herself.

After she left, a head popped into the open doorway. “Ha-roh?”

“Hi.” Lex smiled in greeting at the wizened round face, the round body, even the gray hair caught up in a bun as round as the ones in the Chinese bakeries.

The eyes disappeared as she smiled, her mouth in the shape of a plump pot sticker. “I Mrs. Chang. Next door.”

She’d picked up at least a few phrases from Venus and Jenn’s Chinese dads. “Ni hao ma? ”

Mrs. Chang exploded into cackles. “You accent terrible.”

Lex laughed.

“Japanee?”

Lex nodded.

“You eat chou dofu?”

What was that? Lex shrugged and shook her head.

“I get you some.” Mrs. Chang disappeared.

Venus appeared with one side of her aluminum bed frame. “Neighbor?”

“I think so. She’s Chinese.”

“Does she speak Cantonese or Mandarin?”

“Dunno. I can’t tell the difference.”

Venus sat a hand on her hip. “Why not? Trish can, and she’s as 100 percent Japanese as you.”

“This coming from a 50 percent Japanese.”

“At least my dad taught me Mandarin, thank you very much.”

“Trish can tell because she sings – she’s got a musical ear. The only note I can tell is if a volleyball is bounced and it makes a flat squish.”

Venus snorted in amusement in spite of herself. “When’s your dad coming by with the box spring and mattress?”

“He said he had something to do until three. So he’ll swing by the house, pick it up, and bring it here around four.”

“Something to do? Like what?”

Lex shrugged. “I never asked. He didn’t want to talk about it.”

Venus propped her hands on her hips. “Your family’s lack of communication is something else. How do you guys get anything done?”

“Hey, hey, hey. I grew up with one brother and a single dad. I’m lucky when they tell me good morning.”

“Ha-roh?” Mrs. Chang peeked her head in again. “I bring you – ”

Venus snapped as straight as a Japanese bow. “Lex – ”

“Thanks, Mrs. Chang.” Lex took the plastic food container filled with brown-beige cubes. Oh, it looked like fried tofu.

Eww, what was that smell?

Venus’s mouth had frozen in a plastic smile. She murmured to Lex, “Don’t open it. Just say thank you to Mrs. Chang.”

“What are you talking about?” Lex tugged at the container. She loved Chinese food. She ate anything Jenn’s dad served her, even when he didn’t know the English name for it.

“I’mgettingtherestofyourbed.” Venus disappeared like a ninja.

Mrs. Chang motioned to the food and beamed. “You like?

Good.”

Lex cracked the cover open.

Ugghhh.

She didn’t think anything could smell so rotten in her life. She cranked the lid back down. Her eyes watered, but she slapped a toothy smile onto her face. “Th-thanks, Mrs. Chang.”

“You want more, you ask me.” She turned and strolled away.

Venus reappeared with another part of her bed, then gagged as she entered the studio. “You dummy. I told you not to open it.”

Lex wiped at the tears gushing from her stinging eyes. “What the heck is that?”

“Stinky tofu. From what I’ve been told, it’s an acquired taste.”

“You can actually eat that?”

“My parents’ cat won’t even eat it.”

“Ugh.” Lex tossed the container onto the counter. “I heartily apologize for not listening to you.”

“You? Apologizing? That’s a first.” Venus drew her eyes wide.

“Oh, bite me.”

Venus chuckled and started putting the bed frame together. “This is kind of a long commute to work for you, isn’t it?”

“It’s only temporary.”

“Is your boss okay with your leaving?”

“Yeah, Russell okayed my leave, no problems.” Lex tugged at one of the Velcro straps on her brace. “Besides, the doctor said I could go back to work six weeks after surgery. But I’ll still be in rehab, so I’ll need to take off time to go to physical therapy sessions each week.”

“I guess I’ll have to take you to PT until they say you can drive.”

Lex winced. “Yeah. Thanks a lot, Venus.” She coughed at the dust in the air. “After the surgery, when my knee can handle stairs again, I’ll look for a room in a town house.”

Venus snapped the aluminum frame into place. Something seemed to catch her eye. She squinted toward the far corner. Lex glanced over.

A small spot on the carpet.

The spot moved.

“Aaaiiieee!” Venus climbed to her knees on top of a box of books. Lex sat on another box and drew her legs up.

The mouse scurried away.

TWENTY-THREE

She couldn’t pray.

Lex huddled in the middle of her bed and stared at the clock. She should try to get some sleep for surgery tomorrow. It would also keep her from thinking about the bottled water in her fridge that she’d like to chug in defiance of the “no water after midnight” rule the surgery nurse had given her.

Even after a week in her apartment, Lex still kept her ears strained for rodent-like sounds. The mouse hadn’t made a repeat appearance, but she still surrounded her bed with traps.

The blessedly silent studio seemed like a cage with walls too thick to let her prayers through. Would God even hear her if she did pray?

I’m pretty mad at You, You know. Yeah, You probably already know.

Maybe she should read her Bible. Except… it still lay packed somewhere in her boxes. Besides, she had no idea where to read. Knowing her luck, she’d open it up to a list of genealogy. Or worse, some bloody, violent war.

She felt abandoned, just like when Mom had died. The chemo that made her sick, and then the futility of it all. Dying at home, with Lex’s hand holding hers. Mom had even dressed up for the occasion.

Lex shivered. It probably wasn’t the wisest thing to think about Mom and dying the night before knee surgery.

She needed to be strong. She should think about what she did have. She had Venus taking care of her after surgery. She had a ground-floor apartment, found last-minute, and the mouse hadn’t returned. She had a terrific surgeon – the doctor for the Oakland Raiders, no less.

So go to sleep and let him do his thing tomorrow.

Lex lay down. Listened to the quiet apartment.

Couldn’t sleep. Obsessed about water.

“You’re not going to need anesthesia.” Venus nudged her again. “You’ll fall dead asleep on the table.”

“Can you not use the word ‘dead’?”

Lex shifted in the uncomfortable chair in the surgery center’s waiting room. Actually, it wasn’t that uncomfortable, she just didn’t like sitting in it. Especially when she wanted to drink a lake and eat a horse.

The door at the other end of the room opened, and a nurse clad in colorful cartoon scrubs smiled at her. “Lex Sakai?”

She trudged through the door into the main area of the surgery center. The nurse directed her to a bathroom, where she set a gown, socks with rubber treads, a bonnet, a bag for her clothes, and a urine cup on a chair.

Lex picked up the cup. “I haven’t drunk any water since yesterday.” She sounded kind of whiny.