Outside Beauty by Cynthia Kadohata Page B

the car, Jiro cautioned me, “Mrs. Sherwood have no neck.”
    â€œNo neck?”
    He nodded. “I know you have good manner,but I just want warn so not surprised.”
    I had no idea what he was talking about, but when we walked into the emporium, I saw a woman standing at the counter. She had no neck. Her head was just planted right there on her shoulders.
    Mrs. Sherwood was a small, squat woman with a happy face. I admit I was curious about how she turned her head. Did she have to turn her whole torso to look left and right? Jiro eyed me warningly.
    Even though I was curious, I didn’t judge Mrs. Sherwood for not having a neck. I thought again about Chuang Tzu’s heroes like Cripple Lipless and Uglyface.
    Jiro set his box of gum on the counter, and Mrs. Sherwood smiled widely, not at the gum, but at me. The store didn’t look much different from any little store in Chicago or Nebraska or wherever. There were the usual brands of bread and soft drinks and everything else. But there was also my father’s gum, prominently displayed on the counter.
    Jiro said, “My daughter, Shelby.”
    â€œMy husband says you mentioned once that you had a daughter! Isn’t she lovely?” And she smiled as if I really was lovely.
    â€œShe play piano. Take lessons for,
anooooo
, ah . . .”

    â€œWell, it was only four months,” I mumbled.
    â€œIsn’t that wonderful?” Mrs. Sherwood said, as if it truly was wonderful. She radiated happiness. “I wish Mr. Sherwood were here so he could meet her. When my kids grew up and moved out, I never felt so proud, but it broke my heart at the same time. It’s nice to have young people around, isn’t it?”
    â€œYes,” said Jiro, but I couldn’t tell whether he meant it.
    Mrs. Sherwood leaned toward me. “You should be very proud, because your father makes the best gum I’ve ever tasted. If this were a fair world, he would be as rich as the Wrigleys.”
    She handed my father a check, and we left.
    As we drove again in his boat car, he said, “Some children make fun of Mrs. Sherwood for not having neck. I’m proud of you.”
    â€œI wouldn’t make fun of someone!”
    â€œI know. You’re good girl.”
    Our next stop was twenty miles of scenic road away. There wasn’t much along the road, just occasional clusters of frame buildings. I leaned out the window like a dog and tried to imagine gold stars lying along the highway. After a while we stopped at a place called Ark-Mart.

    According to Jiro, the owner, Mr. Lumpkin, briefly “went crazy” more than a decade ago. Then he opened this store. He had studied zoology at an Ivy League school, and in his professional life he had specialized in coyotes, helping to eradicate them for the government. He later decided killing coyotes was only making them smarter in the ways of not getting killed. And he began to love the coyotes. “This is when he go crazy,” Jiro said.
    He chuckled. “Mr. Lumpkin say he once swallowed live fish to see if he could feel fish soul when it died.”
    â€œCould he?” I asked.
    Jiro frowned as he turned off the engine outside Mr. Lumpkin’s store. He seemed very deep in thought. “In Japan some people take live shrimp, cut off head and tail very quick, and swallow. They say this best way to eat shrimp and get full flavor. I try once, but I don’t feel soul.” He smiled at me. “Good question.”
    When we got out of the car, Jiro said, “You carry box.” He opened the trunk and I paused. My mother probably would have been appalled: She was not raising her girls to be gum salesmen. Even though I was tidy, I had never done much work. Our mother actually hired a housekeeper when the apartment got out of hand. But Jiro was waiting patiently, so I picked up the box and followed him inside.

    Mr. Lumpkin looked perfectly normal, except maybe a little