roaches running from a housefire. Even though it wasn’t quite eleven A.M., the smell of fresh popcorn, peanuts, and bitter beer filled the air.
“I don’t want to bet, R.C.” Tomiko’s words were lost in the sound of pre-race chatter.
Over a million and a half dollars were being bet today, R.C. had told her. What Tomiko couldn’t know was that R.C. counted on winning, in fact had to win, at least two hundred thousand dollars. After buying Tomiko a large diet Sprite, he left her to place his bets.
When he returned, the horses began lining up in the starting gate, and R.C. and Tomiko took their seats near the window on the second level.
Next to them a man with a program clinched tightly in his hand spoke through gritted teeth. “Let’s do it, Ice Chaser!” he yelled.
Tomiko felt R.C. tense beside her. “Did you bet on her, R.C.?”
“Damn right. Seventy-five grand. And if that bitch loses today . . .”
Tomiko whistled under her breath. “I didn’t know you’d risk that much on one horse.”
R.C. was smiling now; the mare was steady at the gate and the race was about to begin. “You might as well know now. I bet big and I win big.”
“And when you lose?”
Her husband ignored her as the crowd stood and shouted. Have No Doubt was ahead at the quarter mile, Only Action was in second, and Ice Chaser was close behind. By the time they reached the half-mile, Ice Chaser was coming from behind to battle Have No Doubt. R.C. was jumping up and down like a five-year-old on a pogo stick.
In a wink of an eye, Ice Chaser pulled out in front by a head. The screaming escalated. Just as suddenly, the mare stumbled and fell, the jockey tumbling off the horse. Silence fell across the stadium. The tickets R.C. had been clutching so feverishly slipped from his fingers and scattered like lice on the cement floor. Simultaneously, R.C.’s cell phone rang.
Though he spoke in whispers, Tomiko heard R.C. explaining to the person on the other end of the phone that he’d make up the loss before the day was out. Tomiko couldn’t believe that he wasn’t concerned about the mare or the jockey. It was like a repeat of earlier this morning. Was she the only one who saw the horses as breathing beings rather than pieces of profitable meat?
Tomiko watched R.C. as he spoke frantically into the cell phone. Was this who she’d married?
R.C. was more than twenty-five years older than she, but they’d known each other since she’d been a young teenager. He’d come around to her stepfather’s stables, wanting to get into the horse business. She had followed the handsome black man around the horse farm and he had paid special attention to her.
When he visited three years ago, she had become a woman and suddenly R.C. looked at her differently. At first they had dated in secret. He had swept her off her feet. She’d never before met a man who was both so romantic and sophisticated. All the young Japanese men she’d dated had been stiff and formal. Tomiko had clung to R.C.’s expansiveness as if he were a life raft in a cold dark sea.
He’d told her tales of America, the rolling hills of his horse farm, his beautiful home in Michigan, and she’d become entranced. She shared with him her dream to become a fashion model and he promised her that, with his help, she could be a fashion star in both the United States and Europe.
R.C. was the first person she’d become close with who shared her black heritage: her mother had kept her away from her black father’s parents, her grandparents. Tomiko knew her mother was ashamed that her daughter was half black. R.C. was the first man to make her feel beautiful rather than strange with her deep olive skin tone and wild, crinkly hair.
Up until then, she had only felt different. Most of the people in Japan shunned her. She remembered a conversation she’d had with her mother when she reached puberty.
“You’re not a baby anymore, Tomiko. Soon you’ll be old enough to marry a fine
“I don’t want to bet, R.C.” Tomiko’s words were lost in the sound of pre-race chatter.
Over a million and a half dollars were being bet today, R.C. had told her. What Tomiko couldn’t know was that R.C. counted on winning, in fact had to win, at least two hundred thousand dollars. After buying Tomiko a large diet Sprite, he left her to place his bets.
When he returned, the horses began lining up in the starting gate, and R.C. and Tomiko took their seats near the window on the second level.
Next to them a man with a program clinched tightly in his hand spoke through gritted teeth. “Let’s do it, Ice Chaser!” he yelled.
Tomiko felt R.C. tense beside her. “Did you bet on her, R.C.?”
“Damn right. Seventy-five grand. And if that bitch loses today . . .”
Tomiko whistled under her breath. “I didn’t know you’d risk that much on one horse.”
R.C. was smiling now; the mare was steady at the gate and the race was about to begin. “You might as well know now. I bet big and I win big.”
“And when you lose?”
Her husband ignored her as the crowd stood and shouted. Have No Doubt was ahead at the quarter mile, Only Action was in second, and Ice Chaser was close behind. By the time they reached the half-mile, Ice Chaser was coming from behind to battle Have No Doubt. R.C. was jumping up and down like a five-year-old on a pogo stick.
In a wink of an eye, Ice Chaser pulled out in front by a head. The screaming escalated. Just as suddenly, the mare stumbled and fell, the jockey tumbling off the horse. Silence fell across the stadium. The tickets R.C. had been clutching so feverishly slipped from his fingers and scattered like lice on the cement floor. Simultaneously, R.C.’s cell phone rang.
Though he spoke in whispers, Tomiko heard R.C. explaining to the person on the other end of the phone that he’d make up the loss before the day was out. Tomiko couldn’t believe that he wasn’t concerned about the mare or the jockey. It was like a repeat of earlier this morning. Was she the only one who saw the horses as breathing beings rather than pieces of profitable meat?
Tomiko watched R.C. as he spoke frantically into the cell phone. Was this who she’d married?
R.C. was more than twenty-five years older than she, but they’d known each other since she’d been a young teenager. He’d come around to her stepfather’s stables, wanting to get into the horse business. She had followed the handsome black man around the horse farm and he had paid special attention to her.
When he visited three years ago, she had become a woman and suddenly R.C. looked at her differently. At first they had dated in secret. He had swept her off her feet. She’d never before met a man who was both so romantic and sophisticated. All the young Japanese men she’d dated had been stiff and formal. Tomiko had clung to R.C.’s expansiveness as if he were a life raft in a cold dark sea.
He’d told her tales of America, the rolling hills of his horse farm, his beautiful home in Michigan, and she’d become entranced. She shared with him her dream to become a fashion model and he promised her that, with his help, she could be a fashion star in both the United States and Europe.
R.C. was the first person she’d become close with who shared her black heritage: her mother had kept her away from her black father’s parents, her grandparents. Tomiko knew her mother was ashamed that her daughter was half black. R.C. was the first man to make her feel beautiful rather than strange with her deep olive skin tone and wild, crinkly hair.
Up until then, she had only felt different. Most of the people in Japan shunned her. She remembered a conversation she’d had with her mother when she reached puberty.
“You’re not a baby anymore, Tomiko. Soon you’ll be old enough to marry a fine
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