3.3
It's been a great day. I've spent it all with Miki. We went shopping, bought tonnes of clothes, and then had dinner at a fancy Vietnamese place. We've come back to my apartment to relax, and we're at the end of a drama that we both follow regularly. It started a few months ago and is one of those really irresistibly bad dramas. One of the ones that nobody dares admit they watch, but come evening time, they’re glued to their screens.
As the end of the episode draws near, the main character, a twenty-three year old woman who aspires to be the manager of the corporate strategy department at the computer software company she works at, has just been told by her childhood friend a burning secret - that he's been in love with her ever since he can remember. The music swells up beautifully, and the childhood friend wraps his arms around the heroine, bringing her in for a dramatic and passionate kiss.
"Oh, please! He's not even cute!" Miki calls out, ruining the moment.
I hit her on the arm hard so that she shuts up, but she keeps going.
"If I was her, I'd go for the hottie that works on the second floor."
"Miki, you're ruining it," I hiss.
She crosses her arms and looks at me with a bitchy look that makes me forget about the TV show and start laughing.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" I giggle.
"Because you're not listening to what I'm saying. This childhood friends of hers is sketchy," she begins her analysis just as the closing credits roll.
"What's so sketchy?" I ask, turning to her and mimicking the position she's in.
"He's been gone for four years," Miki says, sticking her nose up in the air.
"He was at university," I groan.
"Hah, we don't know that!" Miki cries, pointing a finger in the air triumphantly. I giggle because she gets way too into these kinds of things. "Second of all, he's ugly."
I frown.
"Okay, yeah, but that's not very nice to say," I tell her with a disapproving look.
"But Aya-chan, in these dramas, it's never the ugly guy that gets the girl. I mean, just look at him."
I frown again. Something in me tells me to stand up and fight for the guy even though I agree with her. I feel this need inside me. I sense an opportunity.
"So you wouldn't date a guy if he wasn't good looking?" I ask.
Miki stops and evaluates my question. She can tell we've left the realm of fiction and we're now having a real life discussion.
"Well," she says hesitantly. "I wouldn't want him to be hideous..."
"Well, what if he was a gorgeous man until he got his face burned off in an accident. Would you still love him?"
"Of course," she says without any hesitation.
"You don't sound so sure," I say, although I'm bluffing. She sounded pretty sure.
"Well, I don't really think about it. I've never met a burn victim before."
Nice try...
"So you wouldn't date someone who was different? Like, too different? Out of the norm? Someone others wouldn't approve of?"
I'm not sure where I'm going with this, but something inside me is screaming at me to stop it now.
"I've dated my fair share of guys that nobody - especially my parents - approved of," Miki says with a wicked grin.
Oh, I know that. But what I mean is... What do I mean?
"What would you do for love? Or what would stop you from loving?" I finally ask.
There it is. The kicker.
My god, I can't believe we're talking about this. This is way too weird.
Weird because I feel something inside me. It's a box that I want to open, but I'm much too scared to.
"I, uh..." Miki's voice cracks.
I want to know exactly what she's thinking. I need to know. I'm freaking out here, and I don't even know why.
"Love is love," she finally says. "Who am I to decide what to do and not to do? I'll just do whatever it takes 'cause I can't control myself."
Not what I was expecting. I know that she has a good heart - a superb, stupendous, wonderful, loving heart - but it's surprised me that she's answered my question seriously. I thought she'd play it up and talk about leaping over tall buildings and swimming to the bottom of an ocean to do battle with a killer squid. Instead, she's left it open-ended and, in a way, sweet. She'll do anything, no matter how big or small. For that person she loves.
Who is that person she loves?
No, don't ask. Don't ask. Don't ask. Repeat my mantra. Don't ask. Don't a-
"Anyone in particular in mind?" I ask.
I've asked. I'm dumb.
She looks at me, and for a second, I see a distant look in her eye. It's as if she's figured out the meaning of life and is about to let me in on the secret. Her expression quickly reverts to one of amusement, and a twinkle in her eye overshadows anything secretive in them that I saw before.
"Plenty of people," she quips. "My parents, my friends, and the ranchers that raise the tasty cows I eat when I go for yakiniku."
She rubs her tummy and licks her lips as a finishing touch.
She knows that's not the kind of love I'm talking about. I'm talking about romantic love. The kind where you want to touch the person you're with all the time. The kind where a kiss is like a breath of pure air.
"So what about you?" she asks. "What would you do for Tachibana?"
Keita? Nothing. Or not much. He's stupid. If he disappeared, I'm sure not many people would miss him.
"I don't know," I mumble, shrugging.
"Oh, so now you're evading my questions? And you get mad at me when I do that?" Miki gasps dramatically.
I push her shoulder.
"It's not that. I'm just not sure. He's not really, um..." I trail off.
What I want to say is that I don't like him and I want to break up with him right now.
But for some reason, I have a feeling if I say that with Miki here beside me, just the two of us in my apartment, things might get weird.
No. Why would they get weird? If anything, she'd party. I know she doesn't like him.
But still. It would be weird. And I might not be able to control what happens next.
No.
I must not think about it. There's nothing to think about.
"He's not really your type?" Miki asks.
Is that hope in her voice?
"No," I say quickly. "He is. He is."
She stares at me. I think I'm scaring her with my firmness. I smile.
"I'm just not sure yet what I'd do for him. We're still getting to know each other."
"Getting to know each other? I think you're beyond that stage at this point. How many months has it been?"
She starts to count, but I grab her hand quickly and make her stop.
"No, I mean... you can't know everything about a person in such a short time. Even after two or three years, you still don't know everything..."
I trail off and hastily let go of her hand.
This has to end now.
Miki starts to say something, but I look at my watch and cut her off.
"Hey, you know what? Actually, I asked Keita to come over this evening. He'll be here in about half an hour," I say quickly, pretending not to hear her start up with something.
She stops, looks at me like she doesn't know who I am, and stands up.
"Great. I'll see you later, then. I'll let you two have your alone time," she says.
She sounds barely human. More like a robot.
Suddenly I feel very crappy.
I walk her to the door and stand there awkwardly as she puts her shoes on.
"Mail me when you get home safely," I say with a wave.
"Right, because you'll come to my rescue if I've been kidnapped and can't mail," she says sarcastically.
She means it in jest, but something in her tone tells me she doesn't believe I'd go and help her if she was in trouble.
She leaves with a "good night" and I close the door, slumping down in my couch.
Would I go and help her if she was in trouble?
Of course. No doubt about it.
What would I not do for her is the better question. There's very little I wouldn't do for that girl. She's my best friend in the world. Sometimes I think-
No. I don't think.
I fumble for my phone desperately, trying to distract myself.
Keita. Call Keita. Get him over here now.
I find his number and hit dial.
Pick up pick up pick up, I chant in my head.
He finally answers.
"Can you come over now?" I ask quickly.
"Um, now?" he asks stupidly.
No, "now" as in "three years from this Tuesday." Arrrg. Of course now, I think angrily.
"Please?" I ask him, unable to keep the desperation out of my voice.
I want him to stop asking questions and to get here as soon as possible. I win, because he says he'll be here shortly.
I hang up quickly and start to jog around my room, trying to keep my mind off what has just happened. I try to forget my conversation with Miki.
I like Keita. He's my boyfriend and I'm lucky to have him. He has a car, and I admit that he can cook pretty well.
Why am I being so shallow? He has a car? Since when do I care about a car? If he was a jerk, would I still like him because he had a car? I hope not.
I'm now hopping around the room, replacing every thought of Miki with anything I can think of. Glaciers, rabbits, curry, ice cream cones, tissue boxes, anything not Miki.
About half an hour later, the doorbell rings. I know what I want.
I rush over and open it, grabbing the boy I see out there and pulling him in. I don't think. I just act. I start to kiss him, and I push him up to the wall. He warms up to me after his initial wave of extra dumbness. He might be brain-dead, but he's an amazing kisser when he's not slobbering all over me. He's not too bad with his hands, too.
He doesn't question me. He goes with the flow. That's the thing with guys. When you need sex, they are there. They are ready if you are. Oh, are they ever ready.
I lock my door and then drag him to my room. I'm now almost completely distracted from my problem. But I can't get Miki's voice out of my head.
"Love is love."
It certainly is.
"Who am I to decide what to do and not to do?"
I push Keita onto my bed and follow him down, not letting my lips and hands leave him.
"I'll just do whatever it takes 'cause I can't control myself."
I feel him smile.
"Is this the big emergency?" he asks playfully.
"Mmhmm," I reply.
I want him to stop talking. If he doesn't talk, I can pretend it's not him.
"You really need to have more emergencies more often," he smiles some more as I try to kiss him, and I put my hand on his face.
"Shhh. No talking."
He seems happy enough with that. Dumb dogs are easy to please.
I focus completely on the now. Maybe I should get him to talk to remind me that it's him, because this him - Keita - that I'm on top of. Nobody else. Keita.
I need to do more. I need to go further. If I can lose myself in a moment of bliss, I can put to rest any doubts in my mind. I can prove to myself, prove to other people, that I'm not questioning myself here. That I'm not going crazy.
I tug at his jeans. I get his belt undone and then I undo the button and the zipper, and like I said before, when you're ready, they're ready. He's ready to go. But suddenly he grabs my hands and pushes me away.
Maybe he wants to switch positions. Maybe he wants me on my back. That's fine. I'll do whatever he wants.
"Aya, what's going on?" he asks, sitting up.
What??
"What?" I ask breathlessly.
Maybe he fell asleep and is just waking up now in confusion. No matter. I'm sure he'll like what I have planned. I push him back down.
And he pushes me back up again.
"Slow down," he says.
What the hell is this? Slow down?!
Since when does a guy utter those words?
"Slow down? Are you even a man?" I ask scathingly.
This guy really pisses me off.
Apparently I piss him off, too, because he looks at me angrily.
"No, it's not that I don't want to, but... is there something wrong? Are you okay?"
There is nothing wrong! I yell in my mind. Absolutely nothing! Now take off your pants and let's get busy.
"Why? A girl can't do this to her own boyfriend? God, I thought you'd be happy," I snap at him.
He's got have lost a few brain cells. Maybe from when I pushed him against the wall.
"I wouldn't mind, but with the fact that you've been so distant lately, I'm wondering if you've got some other reason for suddenly wanting to get into my pants."
No. There is no other reason. Definitely not. I'm just feeling a need for a little loving. Is that too much to ask? I just want to hang out, have sex, you know. The usual thing you do with your boyfriend.
"You- you- I- Arg!" I scream at him.
I can't even phrase my thoughts correctly. Flustered, I leave my bedroom in a huff and go and sit down on my couch, arms crossed, breathing heavily with anger.
He comes out of the bedroom soon after, his pants all done up. So much for my spontaneous fun plan.
"Aya, I just-" he starts, but I hold up a hand.
I don't want to see him right now.
"No. Just get out."
"I-"
Shut up.
"Get out," I repeat in a voice that brooks no further argument.
He's so whipped. He stops talking and leaves. The minute my door closes, I begin to cry.
When did my life get so messed up? Why would I do something like this? Am I that depressed over the thought of losing a boyfriend? I don't even like him that much. The only reason he's still with me is that if I let him go, I'll be single and I'll be prey to other thoughts and to other people, and I'm too scared to change my life right now. Too scared.
I check my phone. Miki hasn't mailed. She should have been home by now. I have a feeling she won't mail me tonight.
A day that started so well has ended disastrously because instead of having at least one person with me, now I've lost them both.