Chapter 2
The next day, my book-loving Indian friend, Haimi, gives me a call. She wants to know if I want to go what she calls "library pouncing" with her.
Let me explain.
Library pouncing is not exactly what you're probably thinking. If it involves attractive librarians, do me a favor and completely erase that from your mind. Thanks.
Basically, on a rainy day, Haimi likes to go to every librarian within a 100-mile radius and get a book from a random genre. Then she reads the first word of a random chapter in the book and somehow pieces them together to make a sentence for her "horoscope". Believe me, it surprisingly works.
"Please, please, please, Mi!" Haimi begs. Her voice is thickly accented. "I need company and I cannot library pounce alone. It is unethical."
"I'm not even out of bed yet," I say, yawning. "Are you seriously up already?"
"Maybe."
"Fine. I'm getting up. As long as you take me to Publix afterwards. I need to get a fruit tray. My brother is coming back from a business trip and I'm in charge of buying fruit for him and Teresa."
"Deal! Meet me . . . at . . . the haunted library downtown. Bring an umbrella, Mi, because it is raining."
I look at my window and groan. It's pouring. "On second thought, Haimi, I'm not feeling very well."
"Get you and your grammar-loving ass out of that bed before I come over and make you do it!"
"I'm up, I'm up."
"No you are not."
I get out of bed. "I am now, Haimi."
"Do twenty jumping jacks before you do your little morning routine, Mi. See you at the haunted library."
"Ok." I blink, sleepy. "Bye."
"Bye, Mi-Ray-Ay!"
I hang up. Of course Haimi wants to go to the haunted library.
The haunted library is haunted. Well, according to Haimi and Sobo (grandmother in Japanese), it is. As the "legend" goes, a man was murdered inside the library downtown, which also happens to be the oldest building in our entire town. His ghost haunts the 100-year-old library. His screaming can be heard in the stairwell that winds up to the tippity-top floor. I, for one, have never heard Old Man Johnston's ghost screaming. But Haimi has. Her and Sobo are very close. Sobo and Haimi knit together on Sunday afternoons and Sobo fills Haimi up with phony information, like Old Man Johnston in the haunted library downtown. Also, Sobo talks to Haimi about when the streets were paved, all about segregation, and when the devil's drink (aka coffee) was invented.
So, basically, Sobo believes everything she hears, from the end of the world in 2012 to The Walking Dead being a true story.
I slip on skinny jeans, flip-flops, and a loose t-shirt; I put my midnight black hair back in a ponytail. Then I head to the library.
---
Haimi is standing outside of the haunted library, nibbling on a cherry Twizzler when I arrive.
"Finally, Mirai the Adorable Japanese Girl gets to the haunted library, a building built in the late eighteen-hundreds, haunted by the ghost of Old Man Johnston. She and Haimi the Sexy Hindu in a breathtaking sari plan to stay the night." Haimi gasps dramatically. "And. . . . SCENE!"
"Haimi," I say with an eye roll. "Stop watching Ghost Hunters."
Haimi plants her hands on her hips. "They are my life, Mi-Mi. One cannot simply stop watching Ghost Hunters. If you would begin to watch, you shall understand."
"Are we gonna go inside or what?"
"What - do you think we are going to just stand around out here?"
"Shut up," I laugh.
"Patience is a true virtue, Mi."
I swing open the creaky door and step inside. "Are you coming inside?"
"I suppose."
Inside the haunted library, only a few people are seated at the cracked leather couches reading books. The haunted library is always chilly - which only provides more proof to Haimi and Sobo that it is, in fact, haunted.
I shiver. "How long are we gonna be here?" I whisper.
"Twenty minutes, tops," she replies. "Onto the romance section."
Haimi closes her eyes, spins around, reaches out her left arm, and touches a book on a shelf in the romance section.
"Dear John," I say.
She nods and opens it at a random page.
Chapter twelve, page 173.
"Hours," whispers Haimi so quietly that I have to strain to hear her.
I scribble down the word "hours" on a sheet of paper with a blue ballpoint pen. "Moving on," I say.
"YA!"
In the young adult section, Haimi repeats her whole spinning ordeal and randomly grabs the book Mockingjay. Page 233. The word is "blindsided".
I write it down. "Now where to?"
"Umm . . ." Haimi thinks. "I am asking Vishnu, don't judge."
I sigh. "Waiting."
"Vishnu says horror."
"Sure he does." I follow her to the horror section.
The book is a collection of Edgar Allan Poe's stories.
The Spectacles, page 861, "many".
"Read the words so far," Haimi commands me.
"Hours, blindsided, and many."
"This is not looking very good," she whispers. "Vishnu, what next?"
I wait again.
"Vishnu is feeling uneasy, too," Haimi whimpers. "Let's go to the religious section."
She grabs the Bible and opens it to a random book on a random page. It's somewhere near the middle.
"You," she says. "We've got hours, blindsided, many, and you."
A few books later, we sit down at a table and she unscrambles the words.
"You will be blindsided by many troubles," Haimi reads slowly. "After many hours and days, you will find . . ."
"Find . . . what?"
"I need one more word," she says hastily. "Go, grab me one from your favorite section. Hurry, Mirai."
I get up and shuffle to the cooking section. If this stupid horoscope comes out readable and convincible with a cooking book in the mix, I will believe this weird coincidence.
Haimi finishes her homemade horoscope.
"Let me hear what it says," I say.
"You will be blindsided by many troubles. After many hours and days, you will find kale."
I burst out laughing. "Kale, eh?"
She frowns. "Maybe I'll have health issues."
"Yeah, maybe." I grin. "I need to go get a fruit tray now, Haimi."
"Let us do yours."
"My horoscope?"
"Yes!"
"Ohh, Haimi, I'd rather not."
"You are so lazy. Let us go."
Nearly thirty minutes later, Haimi is unscrambling 10 books' worth of words.
She blushes. "This is the best ever, Mi!"
"Read it," I say, annoyed.
"You will find someone who will spice up your life," she reads. "Oh my gosh, you will find love!"
I roll my eyes. "This is stupid and cheesy. I will not."
"The library books tell all," Haimi says, smiling.
"If that's what you want to believe, then do so. I need to get a fruit tray now."
---
"Here." I hand Teresa the fruit tray. "I can't stay because of the cake shop. Sorry." I try to look sad. "Give Akira my love."
"Stay, Mirai," Teresa, my brother Akira's wife, says. She never learned to pronounce my name right. "Let your other brother's wife take care of that cake shop for you. This is your brother we're talking about!"
"I'm sorry, Teresa." I shrug. "I'll drop by sometime during the week."
"Fine. Be that way."
I give her a dirty look before getting back in my car and driving away.
My mind wanders back to that library book horoscope.
You will find someone who will spice up your life.
It could've been a tools book, instead of a cooking one, that made the sentence into something else, like you will find someone who will screw up your life. Or a tree book. You will find someone who will spruce up your life. The possibilities are endless.
Back at Yum-Yum Cakes, I doodle on a decorative napkin behind the counter. I hear the ding! of the bell on the door and look up.
"Another slow day?" It's Ozzie.
I smile. "Yep. Why are you here again? Not in a mean way."
"Had a craving for a cupcake, why else?" He laughs. "I didn't think you would be open on a dreary day like this."
I nod. "My sister-in-law said she's sick. But she's just a hypochondriac, so . . ."
"Interesting," Ozzie says.
"How is Asia?"
"That little dreamer? Thrilled about a Japanese princess coming to her birthday party."
"Aww." You have to admit, that's adorable.
"She told at least five of her friends today at gymnastics about you. They were all like, 'Where's Japanese Land?' And Asia said, 'Far, far away, near cupcakes'."
I laugh. "She's so sweet."
"Very inquisitive, that's for sure. Today, she asked her mom about where babies come from. My sister - her mom - answered, 'A beautiful, white bird sent from God'."
"Aww! If only more kids were as innocent as her."
"I agree."
"What kind of cupcake can I get for you?" I ask, standing up.
"Do you guys still have pumpkin spice?"
My heart skips a beat. "Umm . . . pumpkin spice?"
Ozzie nods. "That's what I said."
"I think we're out." I look in the glass. There's only one left.
"Damn. Was really hungry for a cupcake."
"No, there's one left." I give it to Ozzie. "Sorry, I didn't see there was one left."
"No big deal." Ozzie shrugs. "Sorry for cussing over a cupcake. How much do I owe you?"
"Nothing," I find myself saying.
"Really?"
"Er . . . yeah." I nod. "On the house." I smile.
"Thank you, Mirai." Ozzie smiles back. "I appreciate it."
I nod. "Anytime."
"I've got a few minutes before I have to head home," he says. "Mind if I kick back here for a little while?"
"Not at all," I reply.
Ozzie goes and sits down at a two-person table. I watch him, debating whether I should go sit by him or stay put.
"Come sit with me," says Ozzie, startling me.
"Me?"
He nods. "Who else?"
I smile, walking over to the table and sitting across from him. "How's the cupcake?" I ask awkwardly.
"Damn good," he replies. "Are these homemade?"
"Yeah." I nod. "Glad you like it."
"You live here your whole life?"
"Pretty much. Moved here from Japan twelve years ago," I say. "And you?"
"Moved here from Chicago when I was . . . nineteen, for college. That was five years ago."
"You're twenty-four?" I tried to do it in my head. Give me some credit. I barely passed calculus, let alone trigonometry.
"Correct. How old are you? Sorry. I know it's impolite to how old a woman is. You don't look older than eighteen."
"Twenty-two," I say. "This job is helping me pay my way through college. I'm majoring in respiratory therapy. I'll graduate in May of this year."
"Awesome. I majored in toxicology."
"Poisons?"
"Right."
"That's neat." I nod. "Never met anyone who is a . . ."
"Toxicologist?"
"Yes!"
"It's cool." His phone starts to ring. "I need to get this."
"Of course."
"Hey," Ozzie says. "Yeah, I'll be home soon. . . . Ok. . . . See you then. Bye. Alright, buh-bye."
"That was quick."
"My sister," he explains briefly. "I better get going. Thanks again for the cupcake, Mirai."
I smile. "You're welcome. Come back soon!"
"Will do." He tosses the wrapper in the garbage. "See you around, I guess."
"Bye, Ozzie."
Ozzie opens the door and smiles before leaving.
My heart is racing. Maybe this stupid library book horoscope actually is real.
But then again, no.