The Tuesday in question was not unlike other Tuesdays Rebecca had experienced. Her job was boring, but it paid well enough for one girl, and her life was as she desired it to be – simple. Her life away from work frequently consisted of washing the dishes, roaming the city, and studying. She was in school to become a reporter.

While other people glued themselves to sitcoms and reality TV shows, the only shows Rebecca consistently watched were news programs. Local news, national news, evening news hours, if it was a news program, she had seen it.

On that Tuesday, however, she missed the news. As she was exiting her office, on her way to her car, she was approached by an attractive young man in jeans and an expensive-looking full-length leather jacket.

“Excuse me,” he said. “I’m a little lost.”

Rebecca glanced up, startled for a moment, and got herself back under control. “Where are you trying to go?”

The man hesitated. “I don’t really know. Could you recommend somewhere?”

Rebecca stopped walking. “What?”

“I’m… sight-seeing? Yes, that it. And I would like to see your city. Something unusual.”

“This is Iowa,” Rebecca said. “There’s nothing unusual within three states of here.”

“Oh.” Her newest friend seemed disappointed.

“Well, this is a college town, I guess. There should be something here. What kind of things do you like?”

“Music. Are there any live houses?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, like she was trying to remember something. “Yeah. Yeah, you might try down on High Street. It’s just down that way a little.” She pointed back towards campus.

“Great,” he said. “Thank you very much.”

“It was no problem,” she said. “You look a little familiar to me. Is it possible I’ve seen you before?”

A tiny spark of panic crossed into his eyes and he began to stutter. “Uh, no. No, I don’t think so. Look, anyway, thanks. I- bye.”

And just like that, he was off, nearly at a run. Rebecca watched him for just a moment before shaking her head. /That was weird,/ she thought, heading for her car.

***

She’d forgotten about the whole episode by the time she made it home. A quick shower to wash away the tedium of work, and a quickly prepared meal, and she was ready. She plunked herself down on the sofa and clicked on the TV. It was news time.

First was the local news, not usually that interesting, but important to watch from a career perspective. Rebecca knew the local station would be the first place to look for a job when she graduated, and she wanted to be ready.

Then came the national news, with it’s usual headlines: war, famine, death, destruction. It was the stories that came towards the end of the broadcast that she liked the best. Science stories, low-key medical breakthroughs, stupid lawsuits, these were the kind of things that would normally bore her to tears if she encountered them outside of a news broadcast. Somehow, though, reporters always managed to make her care about them. That was the kind of reporting Rebecca wanted to do. The kind that turned the mundane into the vital.

Tonight’s back-of-broadcast story was about Kyle Ginal, a rock star who’d apparently had enough of the high life and run away from home. The piece detailed his young fame, his supposed iconic status, and the messy, financially motivated in-fighting rumored to be going on behind the scenes.

As they showed the most recent footage of him, some paparazzi shots taken near his home, Rebecca put her fork back on her plate and leaned in closer to the TV. The dark hair, the blue eyes, even that leather jacket. “That’s him.” Yes, Kyle Ginal had asked her for directions earlier that evening. “He ran away to Iowa?”

***

She broke all kinds of traffic laws, and what she felt certain must have been the Iowa land speed record on the way back down to Alias. It’d only been a couple of hours since she’d dropped him off, he had to still be in the area.

He wasn’t in Alias, and no one remembered seeing him leave, so she took to the streets, asking after him and checking in random bars, hoping to get lucky. It was at least another hour before she did. He was parked at a booth at a place called The Drunken Lizard, which was featuring a new rock band, and he seemed to be enjoying the show.

She strode right up and sat down next to him, calling out “Kyle!” as she approached. Sure enough, he turned around, realizing what he was doing even while he was doing it. She sat down and pointed an accusatory finger at him. “I said I remembered you. You lied.”

He sighed and combed his hands through his hair. “How did you know?”

“You’re on the news.”

“Hell,” he replied, sighing again. “You going to turn me in now?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Might make a good story. Local Girl Finds National Rock Star? Eh. I’m kind of surprised you haven’t been recognized already.”

Kyle looked despondently across the table at her. “Guess so.”

“What happened?” Rebecca asked. “Why’d you run away?”

He scowled at her. “Is that any of your business?”

She raised her eyebrows. “No,” she said. “I was just asking. No one said you had to tell me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, this isn’t like me.”

After a moment’s silence, Rebecca said, “They interviewed some of your friends.”

Kyle rolled his eyes with a look that said he didn’t consider them his friends any more.

“They seemed really worried about you,” she said.

“Worried about my money,” he answered.

“You should at least call them. Nothing’s going work out if you just run away.”

“What are you, my mother now?” he asked, his voice full of sarcasm.

“I’m just saying,” she started.

“I’m here to listen to some music. Could you… butt out? Please?”

She stared at him for just a second before getting up and leaving.

***

She didn’t bother telling anyone what had happened, and within a week, she had nearly forgotten about it. The following Tuesday, she went home, took her shower, prepared her dinner, and sat down in front of the TV as usual. Everything was going as expected, the same stories over and over again, until right before the last commercial break in the national news.

“Switching to a lighter note, it seems Kyle Ginal decided to come home on his own. He revealed in a press conference this afternoon that he had been feeling stressed due to the strain financial matters are putting on his relationships and that he spent a brief time in Iowa.”

The screen switched to a clip of Kyle at the press conference.

“Why Iowa?” a reporter asked.

Kyle shrugged. “That’s just where I ended up. Turns out they’ve got a lot of good bands there, though. And one particularly nice girl, too.”

Labels: fictions

The phone was ringing, but Jack was not moving. He simply refused. Nine o’ clock in the morning was an ungodly time of day. Let the phone ring. He, Jack, didn’t give a damn.

His roommate, however, had other ideas. “Wake up, Jackie, it’s time for making money.”

“Ah, shit,” Jack mumbled into his pillow. His hand crept out from under the blankets to grasp the phone. “What?” he said into it.

“Ah, good morning, sunshine.” It was Toby, his agent. “Up till our usual hour last night?”

“Have you got a job for me or what?” Jack growled.

“Ahahah. Indeed I do. It’s only one day, but it’s for some rock band prepping for a world tour. Down at Bruckman Auditorium.”

“Some rock band?”

“They asked us to keep their name a secret. The lead singer’s apparently a little paranoid.”

“Ugh,” Jack sighed. “I don’t need that.”

“You got some great moonlighting gig I don’t know about?”

Jack didn’t have a snide remark for that one. He really didn’t have a great moonlighting gig. In fact, this gig wasn’t especially great either, and the rent was due.

“They want you down there by ten,” Toby said. “Business casual.”

“Ugh,” Jack said, so as to indicate the affirmative, and rolled over onto the floor.

***

At ten o’ clock and three minutes, Jack parked his black Vespa outside of Bruckman Auditorium and raced for the door. It took him another five minutes and a helpful pamphlet to find the right room, by which time, he was pretty well certain he’d be receiving yet another reprimand from Toby on The Dangers of Tardiness. Luckily, the band didn’t seem to be in any big rush.

As he peeked the door open and slipped through, his clients for the day were all huddled around a table on the far end of the room, pointing at something and laughing. One of them didn’t seem to be laughing quite as hard as the others, but his blush was making up for it.

Jack stood against the far wall, unable to believe his luck. This was SATORI, a Japanese rock band that counted him, Jack, among its biggest fans. The blusher was the band’s rhythm guitarist, Jun Kurosaki, upon whom Jack had been nursing a high-school crush, practically since high school.

“Sumimasen,” he started. Excuse me. “Okuremashite, moushiwake arimasen.” I’m terribly sorry for my tardiness.

They all looked up from the table, and Satoshi, the lead singer, came over to greet him. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, in near-perfect English. “You’re the translator, right?”

Jack nodded hesitantly. “Yes. Jack Finamon. If you’ll pardon me, you speak English very well.”

Satoshi flashed his signature infectious grin. “Don’t worry, you and I are the only ones in the room who do. T-boy only knows swear words, and Jun-kun doesn’t understand a word of it. Usually I translate for them, but today’s a surprise.”

Satoshi led them back to the table where he made introductions. Jack took the opportunity to investigate the cause of the earlier laughter, which turned out to be a series of photos apparently taken during Jun’s recent birthday celebrations. Each photo depicted Jun in the exaggerated embrace of a different scantily-clad beefcake. Jun’s face was beet red in all of them, but his smile was genuine.

“Alright then,” Satoshi continued, this time in Japanese. “Let’s get started.”

***

The morning was spent meeting nearly every person who worked at the auditorium. Satoshi insisted. His criteria seemed to be if they were in charge of anything, anything at all, they were eligible. Jack had never imagined that operating a pneumatic lift could take more than one person, but here at Bruckman Auditorium, they apparently had three. Satoshi insisted on talking to them all.

They ate lunch at the small cafe nestled in one corner of the building, where Jack himself became the target of Satoshi’s seemingly never ending curiosity.

How did he learn Japanese? From his great-grandmother. Why be an interpreter? He liked the people and the lack of routine. How long had he been at it? Almost five years now.

Throughout the interrogation, Jack couldn’t help but notice that Jun was watching him. He’d look over to find dark eyes and thin lips and then Jun would blush ever so slightly and look down at his meal. The fish sandwich, Jack also noticed, he wasn’t eating much of.

Satoshi’s questions never seemed to stop – Where did he grow up? Here in Boston. Were his parents still living? Mom, yes, dad, no. What did he like to do in his spare time? Mostly sleep, but some fan translation stuff, too. – and Jack was forced to take advantage of his client’s momentary pause for breath in order to speak to Jun.

“Is it not good? I’m sure they’d exchange it for you if it’s not to your liking.”

“Jun-kun here thinks he’s on a diet,” T-boy said, his first words of the day. “Thinks he’s getting a little flabby.”

Satoshi shot him a look as Jun blushed. “Taka,” he warned. Taka shrugged an apology, and Satoshi turned to Jun. “You really should eat something though, kid. We’ve still got a lot of work to do.”

“I think I saw a salad up there, would you like that instead?”

Jun hesitated, but the look of relief on his face was answer enough. “I don’t want to waste the sandwich,” he said.

“I’ll eat it,” T-boy volunteered.

“You will?” A smile spread across Jun’s face, and Jack felt a warm spot growing in his stomach.

“Well then,” he said standing up more quickly than was strictly necessary. “I’ll go get the salad.” And with that, he all but ran for the lunch counter.

***

The afternoon’s schedule did little to improve Jack’s lot, being mostly taken up with watching the band discuss which props were to go where when and how, and listening to the three of them poke fun at each other like brothers. Most of the ribbing centered on Jun’s advanced years – the beefcake pictures had apparently been from his thirtieth birthday party, held the previous week – but Jun got in a couple of good jibes himself, calling upon Satoshi’s rampant control issues and T-boy’s complete lack of social grace for assistance. By the end of the day, Jack was ready to declare his undying love for the adorable young man from the top of the nearest building.

After their last stop on the auditorium tour, Satoshi turned to Jack. “Thanks for being such a sport today,” he said, in English. “I know you probably didn’t feel too useful, but,” he hesitated. “Actually, I have a couple of favors to ask you. If you don’t want to, please don’t feel like you have to.”

“O…kay,” Jack said, curious but wary.

“Jun-kun likes to paint, but with our schedule, he hardly has any time to.” Satoshi shrugged. “He brings his sketch book with him everywhere, but we just never have time for sightseeing. I was wondering if you knew any good places to take him.”

“Oh, uh…”

“And if you would take him there.”

“Oh.” Jack’s mind reeled.

“I have more stuff to take care of here, and Taka’s not much for that kind of stuff, but it’s Jun-kun’s birthday, and he really deserves to take it easy.”

Jack found himself unable to speak. Alone? With Jun-kun? The mere thought, and he could hardly breathe.

“If you don’t want to…”

“Oh no no no no,” Jack quickly protested. “I’m sure I can find somewhere. What kind of things does he like?”

“Nature mostly, but at this point, I think just about anything will do.” Satoshi thought for a moment. “He likes the sky.” When Jack responded with a thoughtful look, Satoshi continued with a devilish smile. “Come on, let’s break the news to him.”

***

“So,” Jack said, a nervous wreck in the driver’s seat. “Do you want to eat first, or shall we get right on with the painting?”

Jun had been blushing ever since Satoshi told him the evening’s plans. “Whichever…”

“Are you hungry? What kind of stuff can you eat?”

Jun shrugged. “Really whatever I want. It’s just a self-imposed diet.”

“Ah.” Jack thought a moment. “I read somewhere that you like spicy food, is that right?”

Jun nodded, his blush deepening.

“Well then, I’ve got just the place.”

***

Caliente was a restaurant famous, infamous some would say, for its spicy dishes, but what Jack really liked about it was it’s decor. The entire interior had been done up to look like a Mexican garden, complete with murals, trellises, and mild humidity. The waiters and waitresses were all dressed in variations on traditional Mexican dress, and the tables were tiled in vibrant colors.

Jun took one step into the circle of bright natural light that shone down from a cut-out in the ceiling, his mouth agape and his eyes wide. “Yabai~” he said. Awesome.

They were seated in a cozy little booth with a window. Jun’s gaze roamed all over the restaurant, his eyes twirling around like ballerinas. Jack’s eyes, on the other hand, were fairly glued still.

Jun was gorgeous. His black hair was wiry and riddled with greys, his face was thin and he had perfectly square jaws. He didn’t look more than twenty-five. Just my type! Jack thought.

After their waiter took their drink order, Jun whipped a small black sketchbook out of his coat pocket and began scribbling away. Watching from across the table, Jack was amazed at how accurately Jun was able to catch the atmosphere of the room with only a few quick lines. By the time their drinks had arrived, Jun had gone through several pages, each filled with tiny representations of their surroundings.

“You’re really good,” Jack said as the waiter left.

Jun’s blush returned. “Thank you,” he said, his voice so quiet as to be barely audible.

Unable to keep himself from smiling, Jack asked another question mostly in the hope of keeping Jun distracted.

“Where’d you learn to do that? Did you teach yourself?”

“I’ve always liked to sketch. I just look at stuff and draw it. When I was in high school, I took a few drawing classes, but mostly they were boring, so…” Jun trailed off, shrugging. “Sorry,” he mumbled, apparently embarrassed at having shown such enthusiasm.

Jack didn’t bother hiding his smile this time. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s figure out what we’re going to eat before that waiter comes back.”

Using the width of the table as an excuse, Jack scooted his chair around close to Jun’s, and the two of them poured over the menu. Jack had been to Caliente enough times to know exactly what he wanted, but Jun didn’t seem to be able to make up his mind. When the waiter came to take their order, Jun thought for a moment and then ordered whatever the waiter thought was the hottest thing on the menu.

When their dinner came, Jun dug into his plate with surprising voracity, and almost instantly, his face was red and his eyes were watering.

The laughter the two exchanged when Jun grabbed for his drink seemed to erase the tension, and the rest of the meal went wonderfully. They exchanged tales of traveling in their respective countries, mostly of the places they’d eaten while there, and Jun began to tell stories of the crazy things he and the rest of the band had done.

“Once, for my birthday, we were right in the middle of recording an album, and right in the middle of a song, the whole staff pops through the door with my birthday cake, only they’re all naked.”

Jack burst out laughing. “What!”

Jun rolled his eyes. He was blushing, just with the memory of it. “We were almost done with the album, and no one had slept in like three weeks. I was sitting there thinking to myself, they’ve finally cracked under all the pressure.”

“Heheheh. Naked, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Jack shook his head and went to spear another bite of his dinner, but dropped his fork en route, which bounced right off the plate and directly onto his shirt before diving for his pants.

There was a split second of silence before Jun let out his own burst of laughter, his hands flying up to his mouth in an attempt to stifle the sound.

Jack looked up from his lap with a wry grin on his face. “Oh you think that’s funny, do you?”

Jun’s only answer was more giggling, so Jack picked up his fork and speared a chuck of chicken off of Jun’s plate and held it thrust it towards him, threateningly. “Maybe we’ll get you dirty, too,” he said.

Jun’s smile was replaced with a look of mock fear for just a moment before the two of them collapsed into giggles again.

“I think it’s time to stop drinking now,” Jack said.

“Hey, mine’s non-alcoholic,” Jun protested.

“Then maybe it’s time for you to start?”

Jun smiled and raised his eyebrows suggestively.

A pleasant silence descended on the table for a few minutes before Jack asked, “So can we stop at my place and change my clothes before we go sight-seeing?”

“I suppose.”

***

Jack’s apartment was empty when he and Jun arrived. “The Roommate must’ve gone out,” Jack said, heading for his bedroom. “Have a seat,” he called back. “Make yourself at home.”

Jack threw his dirty shirt in the hamper and contemplated his closet. He wanted something sexy, but not overtly so, attractive, but not blatant. “Maybe brown?” he wondered aloud.

“I like brown,” said a voice from behind him.

Jack whirled around and was so shocked to find Jun’s figure in the doorway that he forgot to cover himself for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” Jun said. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I saw you staring at me today.”

Jack felt his cheeks flush. “Eh… Sorry.”

Jun shook his head. “It’s okay. I was staring, too.” His eyes shifted around the room. “I don’t know what type you are, really, but… I like you.”

“Oh,” Jack said, his eyebrows raising as he worked out the future direction of the conversation.

“I thought we could, you know, /not/ sight-see.”

“Did you now.”

***

When Jack awoke, it was three in the morning. He rolled over, wondered why the bed was cold, wondered why the bed shouldn’t be cold, and then sat bolt upright, his sheets in a messy pile at his waist.

“Oh my God,” he said to the empty room. “Oh my God.”

He turned on his bedside lamp and rubbed his eyes. There was a post-it on his door.

‘Thanks for the wonderful night. Dinner was great, and you were incredible! -Jun’

Jack let a little moan escape his lips. It had been incredible. Brief thoughts of showing up unannounced at Jun’s hotel and running off with him floated through Jack’s mind, but his stamped them out. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he told himself.

Throwing some pants on, he headed for the restroom. On the way back past the living room, he noticed the TV on. Harry, The Roommate, was still awake. He looked over as Jack flopped down on the other end of the couch.

“Hey there,” he said, suggestively.

“Ugh,” replied Jack.

“Yeah, Jun looked pretty exhausted.”

Jack’s eyes flew open. “You saw him?”

“He asked me where the post-its were. It’s a good thing I understand Japanese.” Harry grinned. “How was he?”

“Ugh. Perfect. In every possible way.” Jack sighed. “And I’m never going to see him again.”

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “He looked pretty satisfied.”

“He lives in Japan.”

“When are they going back?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Oh. Did they hire you for tomorrow too, then, or…?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

The TV flickered in the dark room, but Jack couldn’t pay attention. All he could think about was Jun. After a few minutes, he gave up and went back to his bedroom, where he tried, but did not succeed, in getting back to sleep.

***

Jack waited until ten o’ clock before admitting to himself that they really weren’t going to call him back into work. Harry went off to his regular job, and Jack moped about. He tried breakfast, but wasn’t terribly interested. Around noon, he got sick of hearing himself sigh and managed to get some sleep. When Harry came home at quarter to six, Jack was sprawled out on his stomach on the couch, a can of beer open but untouched on the floor in front of him.

“Oh man,” Harry said. “You’ve got it bad.”

“Yes,” Jack answered. “And I’m getting sick of it already. You think his security people would kill me if I just ran up and kidnapped him?”

“I should think the legions of fangirls would present the greater challenge.”

Jack sighed for what felt like the eight-hundred-millionth time that day and rolled over onto his back. “Yeah, probably,” he said, and then, “What’s that?”

Harry was holding a small envelope. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s got your name on it. Kind of heavy, too. Wonder who it’s from.”

He tossed it over to Jack, who held it up to the lamp and squinted. He could almost make out familiar shapes. “A… 15… Backstage… Oh my God.”

“Backstage? What?” Harry leaned over as Jack ripped into the envelope. Inside were two small rectangles of cardboard and two laminated squares of paper. “Are those tickets?” he asked.

Jack couldn’t answer. The note included with the tickets and backstage passes to Satoshi’s first international concert had blown his mind.

‘Jack- You really were incredible. I’d love to see you again. Maybe we could keep our clothes on this time? -Jun’

Labels: fictions

I was thirty-two before I found love. I met a woman who said she was going to die before she was thirty. When I asked her why, she said she just knew. “Like the sky is blue,” she said, “or apple pie is tasty. I just know.” She wasn’t ill, she didn’t have any terminal disease, she was just going to die. Wasn’t she scared? Wasn’t she worried? She seemed so … normal. “Why be worried?” she asked. It wouldn’t stop her from dying. It would only give her wrinkles. When I met her, her thirtieth birthday was eight months away.

Aki was the sweetest, most patient thing in the world, and she was also one of my biggest fans. I’ve been in the music business since I was sixteen, hopping around the club scene until I landed in my first commercially successful band at age nineteen. I went solo at twenty-four, and by the time I was thirty-two, I had released six albums and almost two dozen singles. I say all this by way of mentioning that Aki owned every single one of them, and was the first, and to date, only, fan I’ve ever met who could, under certain specific circumstances, manage to contain herself in my presence.

I met her at a concert and book signing held to promote my first short story collection. Hundreds of girls, and even some guys, packed themselves in front of a small stage, which itself was packed into the atrium of a moderate-sized chain bookstore in Osaka, every single one of them desperate to have The DANA sign their copy of BOOK TITLE. Aki was eager, too, but she wasn’t screaming or waving or jumping. She just sat there while I sang, eyes closed, blissful half-smile on her face. Except about the middle of the first song, she gave the girl next to her a very dirty look.

In line at the book-signing, it was more of the same. She didn’t seem to mind having to wait hours in line with sweaty, over-excited fangirls, and indeed she was even polite to most of them. As each of them came up to me in turn, there was gushing, there were enthusiastic “I love you!”s, and one girl even asked if she could have my babies, but when Aki reached the front of the line, she simply slid her copy of my book across the desk at me, smiled brilliantly, and asked, “And how are you today, sir?”

I was instantly charmed. “Well I’m just fine. How are you?”

“I’m delightful,” was her reply.

I couldn’t keep my smile from growing, and so I started signing, my head lowered a bit more than stricly necessary. “Who do I make this out to?”

“Aki,” she said. She hesitated a bit before continuing, “Kamimura.”

My head snapped up, smile gone. My best friend in the world, Yuki Kamimura, died in a horrible motorcycle accident not too long after i left his band to go solo. I was devastated. I didn’t write anything for six months. The thing was, I had left the band under… shall we say less than ideal conditions, so when he died, no one called me. I wasn’t even invited to the funeral. I had to visit his parents on the sly just to find out where his grave was. Somehow, I’d managed not to meet anyone else with his last name since then, and I was a little surprised at how much it effected me.

“Yeah,” she said in response to my look. “A little freakish, huh?”

“Eh,” I stuttered, “yeah.” I stared down at the book, still a bit hazy. How many of these very stories had I bounced off of Yuki in their early stages? He had always encouraged me to write my stories down, had always loved hearing about them. And now I was supposed to sign something short and pithy to a remarkably attractive girl with his last name? Aware that I was holding things up, I looked back up at her. “Are you going to be here a while, in the bookstore I mean?”

She shrugged. “Yeah. I figured I’d make a day of this thing, anyway. Is there something I can do for you?”

“Can I hang on to this?” I asked, indicating the book. “I want to write something special, but I can’t seem think of anything at the moment. So, if I can hold on to it, I’ll think of something, and then I can find you later?”

Her eyes widened with excitement at the special treatment. “Certainly. Jeez, I’m not crazy, you know.” Then she leaned in towards me and said, with a conspiratorial air, “Anyway, it’ll make the rest of my day’s plans a little easier.”

I found the mischevious gleam in her eyes impossible to resist. “Your plans?”

“I figured half an hour for the concert, a couple of hours in line, and then a few precious seconds with you. And then I was going to stand around and gawk at you until you left, at which point I planned to stalk you until you had me arrested.”

My laughter was probably a bit too loud, but I didn’t care. Her frankness and easy manner were infectious. “That sounds like a wonderful plan. I’ll talk to security, see if we can’t work it out.”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll try and end up in the cafe, but you might find me in the fantasy section, too.” And with that, she ducked out of line and disappeared into the store.

My friends who were there tell me I didn’t seem distracted during the remainder of the event, but honestly I don’t remember much of it. I was stuck on what to write to Aki. There was so much to say, and so much of it so silly. I felt an instant attraction to her, something that had never happened to me before. I usually take so long to warm up to people that they just give up. Most everybody I’ve met has found me abrasive and anti-social upon first meeting me. My irrational desire to see this girl again, perhaps even to ask her out, on this one meeting seemed more likely to come from a toad than from me. And then there was the fact that she was the only person to ask me how I was doing at a fan event. Just a few words, but their presence seperated her from the rest of the world in my mind. And of course there was the entire last name issue. That was the silliest of all.

At length, the line thinned, and I set out to find Aki, her book still blank. She wasn’t at the cafe, and I didn’t find her browsing the fantasy section, but I did see a certain head of blonde hair slouched down in an overstuffed chair by the back window. She had fallen asleep, a thick fantasy novel closed in her lap.

“Aki?” I whispered. Nothing. “Aki?” I tried again, touching her arm. Still nothing. I shook her gently and called her Kami-sama, my old nickname for Yuki, and she sprung to alertness.

“Oh my God,” she said as she began to wake up. “Oh my God, I am so sorry. I just– I finished my book, and I just fell right asleep.”

Her embarrassment was cute, too, though. “Don’t worry about it. I do have a little bit of bad news though.”

“Oh?”

“I seem to have some kind of mental blockage. You’re book’s still blank.”

“Oh,” she said, disappointed, but making a valiant effort to hide it. “Well, that’s okay, I guess. Maybe I can give you my mailing address or something?”

“Actually I was thinking about lunch.”

She frowned, so cute. “What?”

“With you. If that’s alright.”

“You’re kidding, right?” When I shook my head no, she said, “Of course I’ll have lunch with you, I’m not crazy, you know.”

I smiled. “You keep saying that. I’m starting to think maybe you protest too much.”

She flashed me a devilish grin. “Well, maybe I am just a little crazy.”

***

She took her seat in my car gracefully, but with an odd timidity, like she was afraid she’d break the thing simply by sitting in it. During the short drive to the cafe, she unabashedly oogled my interior. When I asked her what she thought of it, she said, “More conservative than I would have imagined, but I like it.”

The cafe wasn’t busy, it never is, so our server came right up and took our order. I should say, tried to take our order. Aki had no idea what she wanted.

“What’s good here?” she asked me.

“Basically everything,” I answered, unhelpfully. “I’m having the fish sandwich, which is so much more incredible than the words ‘fish’ and ‘sandwich’ would imply, but I’m weak for anything fish.”

“Well,” she said, “I don’t want to get the same thing you’re getting, because if I decide it looks good, I can just eat yours.”

“Oh can you?” I said, smiling.

“You can eat off mine, too. If you weren’t getting the fish, what would you get?”

The waiter interjected, hoping to avoid some pointless standing about. “Perhaps you’d like to start off with some drinks?”

“Oh!” Aki said. “That sounds good.” She turned her attention to the menu while I ordered my drink, but I didn’t take nearly long enough.

“And what can I get for you, Miss?”

“Oh man,” she answered.

“Are you always like this?” I asked.

She looked up at me with a pained expression. “I really am. I’m sorry.” She glanced back at the menu with a sigh. “Oh Lord, enough already.
Will you just order for me DANA, please?”

I could feel her cuteness beginning to overwhelm me, like a big fluffy blanket that I didn’t want but couldn’t resist. “She’ll have a strawberry lemonade to drink, and for dinner she will be having the tuna salad.”

The waiter thanked me and left, a relieved expression on his face.

“The tuna salad’s good?” Aki asked me as he left.

“The tuna salad’s incredible. They put something in it.”

“Crack?”

I cocked my head in thought. “Maybe. I was thinking onions or peppers or something, but it could be crack.”

We laughed and the akward silence we’d both been dreading fell across the table. We studied each other for a moment before we started laughing again.

“If I just stare at you for the entire lunch, that’s not going to be a problem, is it?” she asked.

I shrugged. “Depends on how much you talk about me.”

“The more the better? I can keep going for a while.”

“Ah, the less the better, as it turns out. I’m assuming we both already know all about me. I’d like hear about you. Your English is incredible. You live here in Japan?”

“I’m here with the JET program actually. Teaching English to the super advanced students. I live in Boston.”

“Are you a teacher in the states, too?”

“Heck no. I’m a horrible teacher. Truth is, I’m probably doing these poor kids a hideous disservice, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to come here.”

And our conversation didn’t pause again. We talked about everything, our mutual distaste for children, her fascination with languages, my gadget fixation. When our food came, we spent fully twenty minutes debating which national cuisine was the best. I’ve always been partial to Japanese food, with the way they handle seafood, but she claimed to be addicted to pasta. It was the most delightful lunch, and when we were done eating, neither one of us wanted to go home.

She pushed her plate away and sighed. “That was really good. You picked well.”

“I had to keep you away from my plate.”

She smiled and blushed. A pleasant silence lapsed between us. After a few moments, she caught my eye. “I’m glad I met you,” she said.

“I’m glad I met you, too. This is probably the best lunch I’ve ever had.”

Her smile this time was different, sad. “What?” I asked.

She hesitated before answering, “Have you ever known something was going to happen? Even though there’s no evidence that it’s going to happen and it’s highly unlikely that it would really happen, but you just know it will?”

“Like what?”

“Like, what if you predict when you were going to die.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Is this going to turn out to be some creepy TV show?” When she shook her head, I said, “I’m not sure I’d want to know. What are you talking about?”

“This is going to sound silly,” she said, looking off to the side. “I’ve always felt like I’m going to die before I turn thirty.”

My eyebrows shot higher.

“It’s a little silly,” she said again.

“It’s certainly an odd thing to know. Are you ill?”

“No. In fact I haven’t been sick in a long time.” She took a deep breath. “Ever since I was sixteen or seventeen though, I’ve had the feeling that I need to get things done really quickly. Like there’s not going to be any time later on. When I was about twenty-three, I realized that it was because I’ve always assumed that I was going to die really young. Honestly, I’m kind of surprised I made it this far.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-nine. My birthday’s in November.”

I didn’t quite know what to say to that. “Eight months?”

“Yeah.”

I sat back, my head swirling with questions. “How could you– I mean, what are you even–” I took a breath and tried again. “How could you know such a thing?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, I don’t know. At first, I told myself it was ridiculous. Even if I was going to die that young, how would I know it? But, the closer I get, the more certain I am. Like the sky is blue. Or apple pie is tasty. I just know.”

“Are you going home again before…” I almost said “before you die,” but caught myself. “I mean, before your birthday.”

She shook her head. “No, actually. I signed up for another year over here.”

“Why? I mean, wouldn’t you want to go home?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s kind of boring at home. Anyway, I’ve always felt more comfortable here than I did in the States. People over here are way more polite.” She flashed one of her brilliant smiles. “Maybe it’s just because I’m blonde.”

The waiter came with our check, and took some of the dirty plates with him.

“Actually,” Aki continued, “I read somewhere that politeness and reticence are embedded into the Japanese culture because of the population density.”

I looked up from the bill. “Really?”

“Yeah. Some sociology site I was reading the other day. Cool, huh? Now if we could only get that embedded into American culture, we’d be set.”

I raised a suspicious eyebrow and fished some cash out of my pocket. While we waited for the return of the waiter, Aki studied the cafe, and I studied Aki. She looked younger than twenty-nine, but felt older. She was twirling her hair like a teenager, but her eyes were flicking back and forth over every surface as though she were going to write a novel on each and every person in the cafe. As the waiter left with the bill, she caught me staring at her. She blushed and put her hair behind her ears.

“Sorry,” she said. “It’s a dumb habit. Makes me look like I have bubble gum for brains.”

I chuckled, and we lapsed back into silence, Aki’s eyes straying back over the cafe. The waiter came back, we exchanged pleasantries, and he left.

“So,” I said to Aki, “ready to go?”

“I guess so,” she said with a sigh. She gathered up her bag, we stood, and I noticed something odd. For a second, I thought it was just my imagination, but she was indeed swaying.

“Aki?”

“Ugh?” was all the response she managed before her eyes fluttered up into her skull and she collapsed. I dove for her, barely catching her before she hit the ground. Almost instantly, she was awake again, and we sat there for a moment, collapsed on each other, the entire cafe staring at us.

“Are you alright?” I asked.

“Uh, yeah. Uh, sorry.” She struggled to get off of me, and I helped her to her feet. She was a little unsteady, but at least managed to stay upright.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah,” she said. She was blushing madly. “Yes. I’m fine. I– I should get going. I’m sure you’ve got places to be. It was really nice to meet you. And thanks for the wonderful lunch.” She turned and nearly ran from the cafe.

“Hey, wait up!” I called, following after her. She wasn’t hard to catch up to. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m sorry,” she said, blushing again. “I’m just tired. I could hardly sleep last night, big surprise.”

“What about your book?”

“Oh!” She fished one of a card out of her bag. “Well, here’s my address. Just sign the book whenever and you can send it back to me. I’ll be here. Well, for a while anyway.”

I took a second to look down at the card, and when I looked up again, she was stepping into a cab.

“Thank you so much for everything, DANA-san. Sayonara.”

And just like that, she was gone.

Labels: fictions