Page 60 of A Serving of Hope

“So…why didn’t you ask him?”

The light in Yuiko’s eyes seemed to dim slightly. “I was too scared.”

“Scared? Of what?”

“The funny thing about being a mother,” murmured Yuiko, tightly pursing her lips, “is you always recognize the child you brought into this world.”

Koishi gaped at her. “You don’t mean…”

“The man brewing coffee was my son, Masaya. I was certain of it,” said Yuiko, staring blankly into space. “The last time I’d seen him he was five years old, so of course he looked and sounded like a completely different person. But I knew. A mother knows. And I used to play him Carole King songs as lullabies. So I thought maybe…”

“What are the chances…I’d probably have keeled over on the spot!”

Koishi’s attempt at lightening the mood went completely unnoticed. Yuiko was still gazing into the middle distance.

“There were three options for lunch. The daily special, the daily pasta dish, and the macaroni gratin. I went straight for the gratin.”

“And that’s what you want us to recreate. Right, we’re back on track.”

“Sorry,” said Yuiko, turning to face her and bowing slightly. “Have I been rambling?”

“Not at all.” Koishi bowed back. “I was the one asking all the questions.”

“Anyway, when I saw that dish on the menu, my heart felt like it might burst. Macaroni gratin was the last meal Masaya and I shared.”

“What do you mean by that, exactly?” asked Koishi, gripping her pen once more.

“It’s a bit of a long story.”

“Please. Take your time.”

Yuiko drained her glass of water and went on. “Once the divorce was settled, and I’d agreed not to see Masaya again, my husband arranged for us to have one final meeting. Just the two of us. It was only half a day, but it felt like a dream. We went to a department store, bought toys, got some juice from a stall. For lunch we went to a Western-style place in Ginza named Candle. At first Masaya wanted the kids’ set menu, but I’d already decided: Our last meal together would be macaroni gratin.”

“Why that dish in particular?”

“Other Western-style dishes—hamburger steak, say, or deep-fried prawns—felt more like ‘dad food.’ But there’s something about macaroni gratin that feels…motherly, somehow. I got it into my head that, even once I’d disappeared from his life, he might remember me whenever he ate it.”

Koishi nodded. “Now that you mention it, I think of my own mom whenever I eat it. No idea why, but I do.”

“While I was waiting at Tapestry, the same two questions kept swirling through my mind: Had he recognized me? And what was the macaroni going to look like? My heart was racing so badly I thought I might hyperventilate. I finished my water in one gulp, and this young waitress came over to refill it. She was beautiful. I started wondering if she was Masaya’s girlfriend. Maybe even his wife. And that got my heart racing all over again.” As she spoke, Yuiko’s shoulders began rising and falling as her breathing intensified.

“Can I get you some more water?” asked Koishi, getting to her feet. “Or tea?”

“Tea would be good, if you don’t mind.”

Koishi poured her a cup. “This is like watching a blockbuster. I’m on the edge of my seat…But of course, take your time.”

Yuiko sipped her tea, smiling faintly at Koishi’s attempt to conceal her impatience to know what happened next. “I must have only waited fifteen minutes, but it felt like an eternity. Whenever he glanced my way and our eyes met, my heart practically stopped beating.”

Koishi refilled the cup. “I know what you mean. When my boyfriend cooks me something, I can hardly wait to try it.”

“Ah. Is he a chef?”

“Er, yeah,” said Koishi, her cheeks flushing. “Something like that.”

“We’d been apart so long that it was almost like setting eyes on an old flame. I kept panicking whenever he looked at me.”

“Did he recognize you too, then? I mean, you are his mother.”