I plug in my phone to one of Mom’s million chargers and twist and turn in her silver wheelie office chair. The phone chirps to life and I call Mom. She answers on the first ring and her face pops into my screen.

“Konnichiwa!” she says. Her favorite Japanese word. “Hi, sweetie.”

“Hi, Mom.”

“Are you in my office?” she asks. I nod. “Show me my babies! Is Cristina taking care of them?”

I pan the camera across the plants.

Mom brings her face close to the camera. “Oh, look how beautiful they are. The phalaenopsis is blooming!”

“Mom,” I say, “I don’t need to see your pores. Back up a bit.”

She holds the phone at a normal distance. I can see that she’s in a hotel dining room. It’s morning there, already tomorrow. If I were in Japan, I would be one day closer to meeting Frank Gómez.

“How’s Tristan? Did he get the samurai sword I sent?”

I can’t help but roll my eyes. This is the second sword she’s sent him since she’s been in Tokyo. “Yes, Mom.”

“And did you get the anime books? Aren’t they great?”

When I was in fifth grade, I was really into watching anime, then I got into manga. Now that I’m almost a teenager, I would be more excited if she sent me some Japanese lotion with green tea or whatever. I nod anyway. “When are you coming home?” I ask like I always do.

“You know the answer, Mercedes.”

I do know the answer. I just keep hoping that one of these times, when I ask, her answer will be “tomorrow.” I would even settle for “next week.” It never is.

“Thanksgiving. I know.”

You would think that the owner of a successful company could just stay home with her kids and let other people do all the work. But she says she needs to be there in person. Ever since Tristan started kindergarten last year, she’s been gone for longer and longer trips. I think of my own trip. I told Mattie I wasn’t nervous, but when I really try to imagine meeting our dad, I feel all mixed up.

“Hey, Mom, I was wondering—” I begin to say. This is it. I’m going to ask her about Mattie. I’m going to ask her about Frank. I’m going to ask her all the things I’ve asked before and maybe this time will be different.

“This project is going really well,” she says. She hasn’t heard me. She didn’t even realize I was speaking. This time isn’t different. She’s not looking at the camera anymore but at some point in the distance. “But I have to manage every step. In fact, I’m sorry, sweetie, but I’ve got to go put out a fire right now.”