9 No Letting Go

I know there’s pain
Why do you lock yourself up in these chains?
No one can change your life except for you
Don’t ever let anyone step all over you
Just open your heart and your mind
Is it really fair to feel this way inside?

Some day somebody’s gonna make you want to
Turn around and say goodbye
Until then baby are you going to let them
Hold you down and make you cry
Don’t you know?
Don’t you know things can change
Things’ll go your way
If you hold on for one more day
Can you hold on for one more day
Things’ll go your way
Hold on for one more day

You could sustain
Or are you comfortable with the pain?
You’ve got no one to blame for your unhappiness
You got yourself into your own mess
Lettin’ your worries pass you by
Don’t you think it’s worth your time
To change your mind?

Some day somebody’s gonna make you want to
Turn around and say goodbye
Until then baby are you going to let them
Hold you down and make you cry
Don’t you know?
Don’t you know things can change
Things’ll go your way
If you hold on for one more day
Can you hold on for one more day
Things’ll go your way
Hold on for one more day

I know that there is pain
But you hold on for one more day and
Break free the chains
Yeah I know that there is pain
But you hold on for one more day and you
Break free, break from the chains

Some day somebody’s gonna make you want to
Turn around and say goodbye
Until then baby are you going to let them
Hold you down and make you cry
Don’t you know?
Don’t you know things can change
Things’ll go your way
If you hold on for one more day yeah
If you hold on

Don’t you know things can change
Things’ll go your way
If you hold on for one more day
If you hold on
Can you hold on
Hold on baby
Won’t you tell me now
Hold on for one more day ’cause
It’s gonna go your way

Don’t you know things can change
Things’ll go your way
If you hold on for one more day
Can’t you change it this time

Make up your mind
Hold on
Hold on
Baby hold on

Maya Fey
Kurain Village, Train Station Platform
May 11, 2019, 12:00 PM

Sweet Samarian sandals! Why can’t this blasted thing go any faster?  

Maya pressed her nose against the glass window of her carriage, silently willing the perambulator to get moving. She’d been the only one to board the train headed to LA that afternoon at the Kurain Station platform and couldn’t fathom what the pesky delay was. She had never been overly patient by nature, but this lagging now, when she was so close to finally being able to get to the bottom of things, was pure agony. And every minute apart from Phoenix these past three weeks had seemed like eons.

She tiredly leaned her head back against her seat and closed her eyes in preparation for the two-hour commute. She’d barely slept a wink since she’d gotten back to LA nine days ago from her Japanese spiritual training, during which it appeared she’d been living under a rock for the past two weeks.

When she’d returned and realized that the shit had hit the fan.

The entire time she’d been away in Japan, she had been completely cut off from the rest of the world. Forget cellular reception – there were no phones, let alone cell towers or electricity (read: no radio or TV) in the mountains.  The sole way to make communication with the rest of civilization was an hour and a half walk where you could use the one landline phone of the village’s sole lodge in the visitor lobby.

For which there was usually a mile-long tourist lineup, the Kurain head had noted with aggravation the one or two times she’d made the grueling trek down the steep foothills in the evening after her daily rituals had been completed and she’d been feeling particularly sentimental about wanting to hear her boyfriend’s voice. She would have had to call collect too (she could have died of humiliation at the look she’d received when she’d asked the man at the front desk, in her broken Japanese, if they sold ‘calling cards’ – he’d looked at her as if she’d offered to take out her samurai sword and shave his butt, which, considering how bad her grasp of the language was, may not have been too far-fetched a possibility!) and hope Nick would have accepted the charges – but each time there had been no answer or it’d gone right to voicemail when she’d tried his cell or office line.

Maya had not ever realized how spoiled she’d gotten from Western Hemisphere living. The first few days, she’d woken up completely sore because she was unused to sleeping on a futon, as she was so accustomed to a soft mattress and bed. In Mount Koya, in traditional Japanese style, rooms within the temple were simple, with screened doors, tatami mats, and a small altar decorated with a flower or scroll. In her room, which was kerosene heated, a thin yet comfortable mattress was folded away every morning and rolled out again onto the floor in the evening.

The difference in lifestyle had been astounding. Aside from none of the modern conveniences, including electricity, there was the food there to get used to.  This meant no meat, dairy or eggs, spices, onions, or garlic. The monks in the kitchen only used fruit, tofu, and leaves which could be taken without killing the entire plant that it came from. Essentially, “food made by groovy people only using food that agreed to be in it in the first place”.  For the past two weeks, the fast-food-loving Burger Queen had been dining on tempura, miso soup, vinegary salads, pickles (hold the burger!) something that was a lot like baked beans, a selection of steamed vegetables, and a hot pot with glass noodles, tofu, and mushrooms. For dessert, (or at least she’d thought it was dessert) there was some opaque green jelly stuff, with some orange curd and candied peel and strawberries.

The fare she’d dined on was simple, vegetarian, fresh, clean, and pure. Full of delicately steamed vegetables with whole grains and light soups, the meals left her feeling so refreshed and cleansed of the strains of daily city life.

Maya Fey
LAX Airport
May 2, 2019, 3:30 PM

The retreat had left the diviner completely detoxed and purified. So of course, it was only natural that after trying to call her boyfriend twice more to no avail, and then checking her phone for the umpteenth time to find, to her disappointment, there had been zero texts, calls, or emails from Phoenix in her absence. Not even one sucky, I miss you kind of message, or even a simple, welcome back, the first thing Maya had done once she was back in the Los Angeles airport was head straight to the dining lounge and order the biggest, juiciest burger and greasiest fries available on the restaurant menu.

This is just what I needed after all that training. I not only deserve it, but I’ve also earned it! Ugh, no more training. I don’t ever want to see another waterfall as long as I live.

Making the last-moment choice of pure gluttonous indulgence, the spirit medium decided to order extra mayo, bacon, and fried onion rings on top of her burger. When it arrived, she attacked it like it was her last meal on earth, tucking into her food and devouring the huge platter in record time, barely pausing to swallow.

This was probably not the wisest idea. Because to this day she wasn’t sure if the immediate queasiness in her stomach almost immediately afterward was due to the shock to her digestive system to be eating such crap after detoxing, or if it was because she happened to look up at one of the numerous TV’s put up in the lounge.

Right in front of her, the headline on the bottom of the screen read, “New Developments in case of Phoenix Wright, Forging Attorney.”

Maya wondered if the world had suddenly gone slightly tilted, or if it was just her imagination. Her mind reeled. She dropped her pickle and steadied herself on the table with both hands. She felt sick to her stomach and would have bet her life it wasn’t from the artery-clogging lard from her Sumo-sized burger. Fighting back nausea, she snatched the lemon wedge that had come with her glass of soda and stuck it in her mouth, sucking hard at the sour juice until the feeling eventually quelled.

The reporter on the screen kept on talking, but the rest of the newscast was muted, and Maya was no lip-reader. There would be no answers for the millions of questions racing through her mind from a silent television, she realized. She spat out the lemon wedge, which she’d unconsciously been gritting in her teeth all this time, and agitatedly fumbled through her bag for her cell. Once again, she rang Phoenix’s office number, even though she knew, in her heart of hearts, that the effort would be in vain. The phone just kept on ringing, and this time didn’t even go to the answering machine. Thereafter, she tried his cell. It went immediately to his voicemail.

“You’ve reached Phoenix Wright, attorney at law. I’m sorry I missed your call, but please leave your name, number, and message and I’ll get right back to you.”

“Nick, where are you?” She yelled helplessly. “Please, talk to me! Call me back! I’m worried sick about you!

Next, she called home. Pearl answered on the first ring.

“Mystic Maya! You’re back? I kept trying to call you earlier and I always got your answering machine.”

She must have been trying to call my cell while I was on the plane and it was turned off.

“I’m at the airport, Pearly. Could you please tell me what the hell has been going on in the news since I’ve been gone?”

“I think Mr. Nick is in trouble, Mystic Maya. I’ve collected all the newspapers for you since you’ve been gone. He’s been on all the news channels. I even taped some of them on the VCR for you. What’s a… ‘forgin tourney?”

The VCR? The first thing among my Master’s duties needs to be updating the technology we’ve got back at Kurain Manor!  

“Pearly, we’ll chat when I get home. I’m going to skip the train and just take a taxi straight home, so I should be there in about an hour to an hour and a half, OK?”

“OK, Mystic Maya. See you soon.”

The cost of a taxi from Los Angeles to Kurain Village would surely be murder, but Maya didn’t care. One of the few perks of the job title was that she’d been bequeathed but never really wanted to include an almost limitless supply of disposable income. Who would have thought that an ancient village, while situated in LA but immensely steeped in Japanese culture and tradition, created in the 17th century and modeled after Feudal Japan, (with no cell tower!) would be so steeped in wealth?

She hopped into a cab and made a spur-of-the-moment decision to try to stop by Phoenix’s place en route. She hoped he would answer the door, as she had left her office keys back home in Kurain. However, ten frustrating minutes later, having found the gesture to be yet another exercise in futility, she was back in the waiting cab, gently sucking on her poor abused knuckles, which were raw from her repeated impotent banging, coupled with loud hollering, at the office door.

Mystic Ami, please let him be alright, she prayed over and over again as the taxi drove on. Please don’t let my Nick be dead.  

She sent Phoenix numerous texts, each more frantic than the last, the entire ride home, until reaching Kurain, where her signal died and she could do so no more. The moment the cab dropped her off in front of Fey Manor, Maya ran inside full steam, only to nearly run head-first into her 9-year-old cousin, who’d been waiting in the foyer.

“Welcome back, Mystic Maya!” The child squealed, rushing towards her beloved cousin with her arms outstretched.

“Pearly!” The psychic gasped breathlessly, quickly returning the effusive hug the tiny spirit medium greeted her with. “Talk to me! You’ve got to tell me what’s been happening with Nick!”

The child apprehensively bit her thumb, and with her free hand, gently tugged Maya down the hallway to her bedroom.  Stacked on top of Pearl’s bed were about a dozen dailies, and in the corner, there was a small television and VCR set up. She handed her cousin the newspaper on the top of the pile and looked at her anxiously as she went to turn the TV on.

“I think you should sit down first, Mystic Maya,” the little girl advised nervously. “Do you want to read the paper first or see the news?”

The necromancer didn’t reply as she was already too busy reading the front-page story of the first paper. She was aghast when she saw the cover, which read, “Phoenix Wright, or Phoenix Wrong?” with a large image of Nick pointing below it. She couldn’t believe her eyes; what had he done to get such a horrendous headline? Feeling sickened, all she could do was turn the page. The article started nicely, talking about Phoenix’s law career and all his past wins. But then it turned acerbic, saying he forged evidence and presented it in court. He’d been disbarred since then, and nobody had seen him since.

Her stomach dropped. A dreadful roaring filled her ears. She looked up, wild-eyed, at the television screen which was now playing one of the news reports on it. A red-headed anchor was speaking. She forced her spinning mind to focus on the rest of what the woman was droning on about.

“This has cast great doubt on all prior trial convictions,” the reporter continued. “Phoenix Wright, the former “King of the Turnabout”, had built quite the reputation for himself by winning seemingly impossible cases, starting with the murder trial of his former partner and mentor over three years ago. However, with the latest speculations about his questionable tactics now being further scrutinized, dozens of the Forging Attorney’s previously resolved cases may prompt further investigation…”

Maya reached for her phone, staring down at the lack of service bars and trying not to give in to the overwhelming desire to screech in helpless fury and haul the useless thing across the room.

The second thing on my Master’s to-do list. Install a freaking cell tower!  

There was a landline just outside the house though, and Maya staggered there almost in a daze. She dialed Phoenix’s number, but again, the call went to voicemail. She couldn’t bring herself to leave a message, to ask if it was true or not. She could only hang up and hope for him to call back.

The village leader plodded back into her house, wondering how quickly she could get a train ticket into town. One usually left every few hours, and she could be there by early afternoon at the soonest. But she had meetings to attend, things that had to be done, and people to lead. She couldn’t just skip out on a day or more on a whim. For not the first time, Maya cursed the Master’s position, cursed her mother for leaving this mess, cursed her sister for dying, and most of all cursed herself for having inhaled that heart attack on a platter burger. It seemed to be resurfacing in her gut now with an indomitable vengeance that made her wince in discomfort, and she clutched her abdomen.

Had she been given the choice, she would have been happiest continuing to spend her days at the law office as Phoenix’s assistant. But because of this accursed titled position she was born into, that she had never aspired for or wanted, she was bloody well stuck!

In order to capture someone’s attention, you must allow them to have the mental and emotional space to let you in. And even though he’s dodging me like a stray bullet right now, I don’t care! Whether he’s too stubborn to admit it or not, I know Nick needs me! He needs more than this damn village does! I have got to get to him. I’ve got to, I’ve got to…   

The raven-haired brunette didn’t realize the room was keeling as she stabbed at the button of the remote to turn off the offending television before hurling it across the room. It thudded heavily against the wall before clattering noisily to the floor. Her head was pounding, and that pesky nausea she’d experienced at the airport had returned, full-throttle. She needed air.

The new Master fled from Pearl’s room at a brisk pace, ignoring the child calling out behind her. Pearl quickly ran behind the fleeing form. The young medium was not entirely sure what was going on, but she knew it was not good. She knew something bad had happened and that “Mr. Nick” was in trouble.

The necromancer barely made it out of the house before she was violently sick, directly into the bushes right outside the front door.

Pearl watched her guardian anxiously, her sweet face wreathed in concern as she gently rubbed her kinswoman’s back while she heaved.

“Mystic Maya, are you going to be alright?” She asked worriedly.

“I’m fine!” Maya gasped, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her vision was blurry, and the world still seemed to be spinning. She gripped the porch railing for support to pull herself back up. “Nick, I need to get to Nick!” On shaky legs, she managed to stagger as far as the main hallway before her knees buckled and gave out from underneath her.

Mercifully, Pearl was there to catch her cousin’s head to keep it from hitting the tile as she collapsed to the ground in a dead faint.

Wayne Wonder – No Letting Go (chapter title)
Wilson Phillips – Hold On