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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

“Not even Hitler? Not to save millions of Jewish lives and prevent World War II? Besides, it’s not like time travel is realistic. We’re talking fantasy hypotheticals, here, not actual possibilities.”

“Okay, fine. Hypothetically, Hitler would be a prime candidate. A better candidate than the Longfellows.” Owen nods, satisfied. “But even with Hitler dead, someone else might have come along and taken over. I mean, there are so many terrible people in the world. Think of Assad in Syria. Or Idi Amin. Or Stalin. Or slave traders. Or the soldiers who were part of the Nanjing Massacre. It’s too big. It’s too awful. And it’ll never, ever stop because people are terrible.”

“Well. That’s dark.”

“You’re the one who brought up Hitler. Anyway, history is dark.”

It’s even happening in my own small life. The McAllisters—both then and now—are just part of a long history of bullies taking things from people who don’t have the power to fight back. Maybe the newspaper article will make a difference, but there will always be other McAllisters, other bullies. How do we keep fighting in the face of that fact?

We huddle together with the blanket around us, watching the ocean crash against the rocks. And then in the process of adjusting the blanket so that it protects us more effectively against the wind, I somehow end up in front of Owen with his arms around me, clutching the blanket under my chin. I lean into him and luxuriate in the warmth of his body seeping into mine, in the comforting solidity of his chest, and the pressure of his arms. I close my eyes and it occurs to me that strangers who see us will assume we’re boyfriend-girlfriend. Ha. As if.

And then a funny thing happens. It’s like the idea of Owen as my boyfriend takes over the way my body understands things. It changes the way his arms feel, the way his body feels, pressed against mine the way it is. It’s still comforting, still friendly, but now, suddenly, it’s starting to feel kind of sexy as well.

It’s like the color blue. Anthropologists say it didn’t exist for centuries—people just didn’t “see” it. The sky was sky-colored, not blue. And then somehow, somewhere, someone named it, and suddenly the sky was blue. Suddenly everything is different because I’ve become aware of a possibility where one didn’t exist before. Or maybe it did. In any case, I don’t know what to call it, and I’m a little nervous about what to do with it.