Free Southern Fried Sushi by Jennifer Rogers Spinola Page A

“
    The message poured out before I could stop it. My hands tightened angrily on the steering wheel, and I swerved, whacking at the radio button.
    “But have you chosen life through Jesus Christ, the sinless Son of God? Or are you following your own way and believing that you, and you alone—”
    I finally jammed the button off. Jerked the steering wheel back and calmed my breath, staring angrily at the desolate yellowlines stretched out on endless asphalt. Maybe it was better to fall asleep and plow into the guardrail than spend my first few hours in Virginia getting a lecture.
    Nobody could tell me I hadn’t earned my job or my good standing. I’d received my academic scholarship at Cornell fair and square, night after night of endless studying. After all, what else could I do? Stay at home with Mom and listen to her rant about aliens?
    I’d worked hard to pay my bills, unlike my richie-rich friends who bought Mont Blanc watches for Christmas presents and traveled to Europe for spring break.
    I, Shiloh P. Jacobs, had done it. Without help from any supernatural source. Don’t tell me I need God or any other crutch to give the credit to! I fumed, knuckles still rigid on the wheel. I deserve my success, and yes, Carlos, my Louis Vuitton scarves!
    My cell phone rang, and I hastily stuffed my Bluetooth in my ear. “Carlos?”
    “Ro-chan!” Relief poured through me at the sound of Kyoko’s voice, even far away and crackly. “Where are you?”
    “On the way from Richmond to Staunton.”
    “Lots of traffic?”
    “Not a soul. Sunday noon, so everybody’s at church I guess.” I made a face.
    “Are you all right? Do you need anything?”
    “I’m fine, Kyoko. Really. I just need to get to the hotel and eat something and sleep. I’ll feel more … normal.” I tried to rub sleep from my eyes.
    “You? Normal?” Kyoko snickered. Then her voice abruptly sobered. “The … uh … service is tomorrow?”
    My grin faded. “Yeah. I’ll find out more when I get there.”
    “So what’s Virginia like?”
    “I have no idea. So far … flat. Lots of trees.” I peered out my windows. “And deer-crossing signs.”
    “Good weather?” “Yep.”
    “Hmm. Good.” Kyoko wouldn’t say it, but I could hear the worry in her voice. “You really doing all right, Ro?”
    “I am. Really. And thanks for everything, Kyoko. You’ve been great. You’ve helped me so much.” Nothing would make Kyoko flee faster than heartfelt praise, but I said it anyway. Thought briefly of Hachiko the dog, perched on the edge of Shibuya station.
    “Yeah, well … I’d better let you drive. Call me when you get checked in, okay?”
    “Sure. Thanks again.”
    “Stop thanking me. You’re getting on my nerves.” “Sorry.” I bit back a smile. “By the way, has Carlos maybe … called you? To check on me?”
    “Carlos?” she snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous, Ro. Why, you mean he hasn’t …?”
    I bit my lip. “He’s probably just busy.” “Ahem. Well. Don’t get run over by any turkey trucks.” She’d actually been reading up on western Virginia. “Funny.” “I try. Well, bye.”
    “Matta.” The Japanese short form for “see you,” which is different from “good-bye” (
sayonara)
.

    By the time I reached the Best Western hotel in Staunton, I could hardly move my legs. The water and ham biscuit I’d bought at the run-down, Podunk gas station just past Afton Mountain had dissipated hours ago. The one with the ticking NASCAR clock, cowboy-hatted patrons, and unintelligible saleswoman. Sheesh.
    “Hi there!” said the desk clerk a little too brightly. I must have looked tired because she gave me a sympathetic look. “Long
    trip?”
    “From Japan.” The lobby, decorated in a country-ish pattern of florals and cranberry colors, smelled distinctly of swimming pool and coffee.
    “All the way from Japan!” Her eyes popped as she took my credit card. “PATTY,” read her name tag. She really did look like a friendly