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Back This Time Will Be Different
Chapters (77)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. A Series of Screw-ups: The Chisaki Joan Katsuyama Story, Part I
  6. 3
  7. The History of My Beef with Brynn Foer-Preston
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. The History of the Katsuyama Family, Part I
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. A Brief History of Chisaki Joan Katsuyama’s Romantic Learning Opportunities, Part I
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. A Brief History of Chisaki Joan Katsuyama’s Romantic Learning Opportunities, Part II
  20. 13
  21. The History of the Katsuyama Family, Part II
  22. 14
  23. 15
  24. 16
  25. 17
  26. 18
  27. 19
  28. The Complicated History of Chisaki Joan Katsuyama’s Imaginary Relationship with Her Nonexistent Dad
  29. 20
  30. 21
  31. 22
  32. A Brief History of Chisaki Joan Katsuyama’s Romantic Learning Opportunities, Part III
  33. 23
  34. 24
  35. 25
  36. A Brief, Backward History of the McAllister Family, as Paraphrased from the San Jose Mercury News
  37. 26
  38. 27
  39. 28
  40. A Quick and Eerily Relevant History of Asians in America
  41. 29
  42. 30
  43. 31
  44. 32
  45. 33
  46. 34
  47. 35
  48. 36
  49. A Brief History of Chisaki Joan Katsuyama’s Romantic Learning Opportunities, Part IV
  50. 37
  51. 38
  52. 39
  53. 40
  54. 41
  55. 42
  56. 43
  57. 44
  58. A Series of Screw-ups: The Chisaki Joan Katsuyama Story, Part II (Or Maybe It’s a Prequel)
  59. 45
  60. 46
  61. 47
  62. 48
  63. 49
  64. 50
  65. 51
  66. 52
  67. 53
  68. The History of the Katsuyama Family, Part III
  69. 54
  70. A Note from the Author
  71. Index of Flowers and their Meanings
  72. Acknowledgments
  73. About the Author
  74. Praise for This Time Will Be Different
  75. Books by Misa Sugiura
  76. Back Ad
  77. About the Publisher

Mom closed her eyes and massaged her temples, taking another breath in. She released the breath in a long, slow puff, her eyes still closed. Then she opened her eyes and asked, “How? I mean, what— Okay, I’m sorry, CJ, but how could you let this happen? After everything I’ve told you about being careful, about being responsible—did I not make myself clear? Did I fail you somehow? Why didn’t you tell me you were having sex? I would have gotten you on the pill, at the very least! Jesus. Were you even using a condom? Did he pressure you into not using a condom? Because if he did—”

“Mimi!” Hannah cut in. “Calm down. It doesn’t matter how it happened. What matters is that she’s pregnant now. I mean, you of all people should understand how she’s feeling.”

“Well, okay, Miss Therapist,” Mom snapped. “CJ, how are you feeling? Because if you’re feeling how I felt, you’re beating yourself up for being stupid enough not to insist on using a condom. If you’re feeling what I felt, you’re ashamed and disappointed in yourself because you let some idiot talk you into doing something you knew was a bad idea.” Mom was practically snarling now. “That better not be it, CJ. Please at least tell me you weren’t as stupid as I was. Please tell me you used a condom, and it was an accident.”

I opened my mouth to snarl back at her, but something sharp and bitter and formless as smoke rose from the lump in my throat and filled my head, and all I could do was cry. Because what Mom said was exactly how I felt. Furious with myself. Destroyed over having failed and disappointed her in such epic fashion. Unmoored and adrift in the face of an oncoming storm.

And terrified about facing her and telling her that no, it wasn’t the condom’s fault. It was mine. Well, mine and Andy’s, but I felt like I was having to own it way more than him, even though I knew I shouldn’t. I was literally carrying the consequences of our mistake. The thought made me cry even harder.

“Oh, Ceej.” I could hear the remorse in Mom’s voice, and it washed through me and released even more tears. She came over and put her arm around me. “Don’t cry, kiddo. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you, I just—” She sighed. “You know, I’m still mad at myself for screwing up all those years ago. And now I’m mad at myself for not doing a better job protecting you from the same mistake.” She paused, and scowled. “Though your shit boyfriend bears plenty of responsibility, too.”

“He’s not shit.” I sniffled. Why was I defending him? He was shit. “Anyway, we broke up.”