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Back This Time Will Be Different Save as PDF
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

“Nice. Thanks, CJ. I make myself vulnerable, and the first thing you do is attack.” I think he’s smiling, though . . . ? Please let him not be really hurt.

“Sorry,” I repeat.

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I am, really.” I can’t help it. I stifle another giggle, and Owen sighs and shakes his head.

“Remind me never to open up to you about anything I’m sensitive about, ever again.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I won’t make fun of your ears anymore.” I put my hand on his arm. “I promise.”

“Thank you.”

“They’re not so bad, actually. For real. I mean, for ears, they’re pretty nice.” They are kind of nice, though. For ears. I give his left ear a tiny little pat, to show that I mean it.

“Okay, that was the weirdest compliment ever. But thanks, I think.” He’s blushing. Which is cute, but oh, crap. I’ve overcorrected.

To steer us out of Awkward Compliment Land and back to reality, I hand him a dustpan and motion for him to hold it while I finish sweeping. “Anyway,” I say, “I only brought it up because if I saw a kid with a jaw like yours, and eyes—”

“Or good-looking ears?” Owen preens, his humor apparently restored. “Like mine?”

I roll my eyes and finish my sentence. “I wouldn’t assume you were related. I’m just tired about people guessing my origins, I guess. I get it enough as it is, being biracial. Like why do people want to know? Why does it matter? I don’t want to put myself into a cubbyhole with a label on it: Japanese. Indian. Scottish. Ghanaian. I’m not coffee or tea or chocolate. It shouldn’t matter where I was sourced.”

“Yeah, okay. I get it. That was messed up. I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.”

“I just—it’s that whole happy-ending thing, I guess. I want them for everyone.”

I wish “happy ending” didn’t have such a narrow gateway: True love. Changed hearts. Reunited families. I doubt that kind of happy ending exists for everyone. But I do know one thing. “I don’t need to have a dad to have a happy ending. I mean like, what—what if I found the guy? What then? He’s hardly gonna be all, Oh, yay, I have a teenage daughter I never knew about! I’m going to be the father she never had! And what does that even mean? The father I never had—that’s bullshit. I have my mom, and I have Hannah, too. Plus, plenty of kids have terrible fathers. That’s way worse than not having one.”

“Fair enough.”

Owen stands and empties the dustpan into the garbage, and I put the broom away. A couple wanders in to buy a premade bouquet and Owen takes care of them while I go back to the workroom.