Abstract
Like Morning Dew Mimi Kawahara (bio) As Suki swoops toward me, flexed feet high, black hair flying behind her, eyes wide in astonishment, she exclaims, "Look, Mama, I'm swinging!" I smile and put my palms together in silent applause. Next to her a pouting girl bounces in place as her mother types on her phone. "Push me pleeease," the girl pleads. Glancing up at Suki pumping her spindly legs, the mother addresses me, "What's your secret? I can't get her to try." "Her imaginary friend went first," I reply. "Oh … I see," the woman says tentatively, unsure whether I'm ingenious or insane. Suki conjured up Charlotte last year after a beastly boy bullied her, pulling her hair and squinting at her "alien" eyes. He has since moved away, but Charlotte has remained. Often a nuisance channeling Suki's complaints, occasionally she serves as a helpful role model. Emerging from Riverside Park for snack time, Suki skipping at my side, I feel the weight of my actual secret. If that woman knew I'd been paid to act as Suki's mother three afternoons a week for the last two and a half years and had no children of my own, she wouldn't want my parenting advice. "Can you stay for dinner?" Suki asks, taking my hand. "Not today, I have to get back to Tomo." To explain my inability to spend more time with her, I invented an older son who had chosen to stay in Japan with his father but then developed hikikomori, whereupon his father, unable to stay home with Tomo, sent him to me. I thought a boy, especially a troubled one, would be less likely to arouse jealousy. Not that Suki had heard of hikikomori, but she understood that a happy person wouldn't hide out in his room for months on end, and I felt better having a full backstory. "Can you make those onoko- pancakes again?" "Oko-no-mi-ya-ki," I…
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