Hiro Loves Kite

by Lauren Nicolle Taylor

  We are opposition and attraction. We collect electricity, and we create light shows across the sky.

  I try to copy the way he holds the chopsticks. He shakes his head slowly but not seriously, and I think I’ve managed to break him from his thoughts at least for a while. “No. No. You’re doing it all wrong.” He takes my fingers gently and arranges them, his touch charged. “See?”

  He picks up a piece of meat with ease. Drops it into his mouth. I pick up a piece… and drop it on the table. We both giggle. “I think I’ll just take the fork for now. Otherwise, we’ll be here all night.”

  He swallows. “I’m not sure that’s such a bad thing…” I bite my lip, thinking maybe I’ll combust to ashes right here in Chinatown. “I’ll teach you later. It took me while to get the hang of it, too. But I had a very patient teacher.”

  This promise of a future time gives me hope. “Someone taught you?” I ask.

  “Yes. I was brought up in an American orphanage. I only learned how to use chopsticks in the camps. Kin’s mother taught me.” His face takes on a strange peace. A kind memory crossing his thoughts.

  “She sounds like she was a really nice lady,” I say, forking the delicious food and crunching on the egg roll, which explodes with flavor in my mouth.

  He watches me with desert dust flying over his eyes. “She was. She was the first person to give me some sense of who I was. Where I came from. Before her, everything was a locked-up secret. She gave me a tiny piece of Japan. I’ll always be grateful to her for that.” He swirls the food on his plate.

  I place a hand over his. “If you ever wanted to learn more about your background, you could…”

  I expect a dismissal. But he contemplates it for a moment. “Maybe one day…” His eyes wander over the character scrolls hanging from the walls. “What about you? Where’s your family from?”

  Leaning back, I blink. “I thought I knew, but it appears my mother had secrets she never shared with me. I know my father comes from a working-class English background. But the rest is a bit of a mystery.”

  “Do you want to know more?” he asks, and I purse my lips.

  Maybe I did once, but it feels rather unimportant to me now. I’m building a new family. History is just that—history. The past doesn’t hold much interest to me. “I know what I need to know. I’m looking forward. It’s different for me. I know who my parents are/were. I know why they did what they did. I need to leave the past where it is. I know enough for peace of mind. You’ve got a lot of holes to fill.”

  “That sounds a little weird.”

  I laugh. “Yes. I suppose it does.”

  We unfold each other like the napkins on the table. Learning new things. Remembering old things. We are building a latticework of shared experience. Compassion and love. It’s a little unsteady but strengthening with every story we share.

  I’m getting to know Hiro the young man. Not the leader of the Kings, who is heavy with responsibility and hiding from the world. This side is young and funny and fresh to new things. Open to them. It’s just another part of him that I embrace.

  I’ve got an armful of reasons to love him now. It fulfils me and scares me at the same time because it will be even harder when he refuses me again.

  26

  HIRO

  I think I knew it would go well. I think I dreaded it also. It strengthens the bandages. Ties us together. It makes me want things. Lips and warm breath on my face. Hand always clasped in mine.

  I shake my head.

  If only the rest of the world would follow. Turn with us not away from us.

  27

  KITE

  Is violence my signature? Is it in my blood? A calling, a clue. A welcome mat for men to brush their steel-capped boots on?

  The lights of Chinatown are leery and bright. But they act as a shelter. People look up instead of in. People see faces painted in red or gold reflections. Color is everywhere, and color is assumed. Hiro sweeps my hand into his, and presses it to his heart. I feel the thrum and beat pulsing like love notes up my arm. I saw one other couple like us, and it gave me hope. His comfort in this place gives me hope, too. In the half light, he doesn’t hide his eyes and face. He strolls more confidently. He soaks in the world rather than letting it push him to the shadows.

  I turn to face him. Standing under a dragon. People walk around us. Not into us. “I’ve had a wonderful time tonight, Hiro. Thank you.”

  His eyebrows rise as he gazes at my flushed face and the closing distance between us. “You know what? So did I.”

  “You seem surprised.” I frown and he traces the lines on my forehead with his finger, which are rough as mermaid scales.

  His touch moves down the side of my face, over my cheek, and to my neck. “I am surprised. I just thought this might be harder. That people would be more…” His hand rests on my pulse, which is fluttering like a lady’s fan.

  “More judgmental?” I offer.

  “Yeah,” he whispers, leaning down and brushing my ear with his lips. It’s soft skin on soft skin. It’s making me want.

  I make a strange gasping sound and shiver. Snow melts into my stockings. He pulls back and says, “We should get home, before we…” I know he’s about to say freeze to death, but he stops himself. The fresh memory of Kamo is as powdery and dangerous as the snow gathering on the streets.

  I nod and he takes my hand as we cross the street, leaving the lights of Chinatown behind.

  We hurry along as the temperature drops. Shoulder to shoulder, heads down, we move as quickly as we can under lamplight and neon signs.

  It’s late and dark, and people look like creeping ghouls across the white of the snow. I glance up from my frozen shoes to see a hull composed of bodies coasting toward us, laughing raucously and bumping each other in play. The men are drunk and happy.

  Hiro tenses beside me. Removing his hand from mine, but standing close. I feel it like a magnet falling from metal.

  As they approach, we move to the wall of a building to let them pass. They don’t seem to notice us until one of them sways and collides with Hiro, who helps him stabilize. Their eyes connect. The strange light doing macabre things to the man’s face. He smiles, slurring a little as he thanks us. But as he gets a closer look, he begins to squint and frown.

  It’s a strange strike-of-lightning moment. A twist of the face, a moment of recognition and a flash of hate. The man straightens suddenly. Violently. Hiro steps backward, pulling me with him. Backs against the wall.

  The man snarls. Hands scrunching into gloved fists. But then the group call to him, and he releases his stare. He gallops lopsidedly to join his friends like he is standing on the deck of a boat. They move around the corner, their voices hushing. All the breath I was holding escapes in one large sigh.

  Hiro faces me, running his hands over my shoulders and brushing the snowflakes from my coat. “Are you okay?” he asks, words coming out harsh. I shudder forcefully, the cold really starting to bite into my bones. That, paired with the sense of dread, has my whole body trembling. He grabs the edges of my coat and tugs them together, pulling it tight over my chest. “You’re really feeling the cold.” Eyes like navy nights caress me. “We should get out of here.”

  He starts to remove his coat. His concern for me is so sweet. Even when he frowns, he looks handsome. I reach out and take his coat collar, intending to pull it closed and stop him from taking it off. But instead, I hastily pull him to me. His mouth collides with mine just for a short magical second. It’s enough to warm me all the way down to my toes, which feel like they’ve slipped into cloud slippers.

  I close my eyes dreamily. He is…

  He is ripped from my arms, and he lands hard in a pillow of dirty snow. It flies at my face, stinging like sand and grit. “What do think you’re up to, you dirty yellow bastard?” He spits on the ground. “You think you can take our women? You need to stick to your own kind.”

  I cover my mouth as the shadow of a man shoves Hiro to the ground. He ma
kes a horrible noise as words are knocked from his lungs. But he quickly recovers and kicks the drunken shadow in the chest, sending him flying into the stairs behind us. He growls and groans, but doesn’t get up.

  The other men come running and I do the only thing I can think of: I scream.

  I scream as loud as I can. The few people on the street start to look up. Start to turn toward us. I swing my bag around. I call for help. The men stop a few yards in front of us, and I put my hand up. “Don’t you come any closer,” I warn.

  I kneel beside Hiro, who’s cradling his jaw and wearing this awful, heart destroying and defeated expression. I help him up. He slings his arm over my shoulder and we run across the street, just as a cop car rolls past us.

  The men hoist their friend up and scatter, muttering words I don’t want to hear. Words I don’t want Hiro to hear.

  But it’s too late. I know just as his bruises are growing, so are all the doubts he had about us.

  The ride home is silent. Just the rattle of the cars to keep us company.

  And I just pray and pray and pray that this one idiot hasn’t torn it all down. These men full of hatred are like the sea dragging its fingers into a sandcastle. Stealing pieces, pulling out the foundations. Always seeking to destroy good things.

  Hiro is in his own world. A world he won’t show me. I sense it building, though. Skyscrapers of anger and doubt are being constructed in that head of his.

  We enter the tunnel to the sounds of sleeping Kings. There are so many words that need to be said, but we can’t say them yet. Hiro holds my hand loosely, and we pick our way over the sleeping children. Leading me to the back of the tunnel. “Come with me,” he whispers, taking me down to the railways tracks and tugging me backward as far as they go. Then he releases my hand, and I feel like he’s trying to cut something between us. But it’s resistant to the blade. It can’t be severed that easily.

  I step toward him, my hand out. We are folded under the shadow of the platform. Krow lit a candle for us, but it’s right at the entrance. “Are you hurt?” I ask in a small voice. A voice under a shoe that’s pressing, pressing, pressing.

  Shaking his head, he laughs strangely. “I’m fine.” He’s not fine. He’s furious.

  “You’re not fine.” My chin sinks to my chest. “Please, Hiro, don’t let this ruin our date. It was good. So good. Apart from those drunk idiots, it was wonderful.”

  He huffs and paces. Stepping over the tracks and onto the ground repeatedly. I watch his feet. He’s so agitated. “Don’t you see? It’s always going to be like that. Wherever we go. It’s always been like that for me. And now I’m dragging you into it, too.” His arms flap at his sides.

  I clench my teeth. Tears threatening. “You didn’t drag me anywhere. I willingly walked into your life. I love your life.”

  Again, he laughs; it’s bitter and gravely. Hard to swallow. “You’re not being realistic. You’re too dreamy for your own good.” He throws his hands in the air. Summoning clouds. “Hell, neither was I. I think I just got so caught up in my feelings that I forgot the truth.”

  “And what is the truth?” I say, feeling my own anger growing. Why does everything have to be practical and realistic?

  “That this world won’t make space for you and me, Kite.” His voice splashes like the last of the water. His huff is replaced with exhaustion.

  I’m not that easily dissuaded. “Then we make our own space. We carve it out. We blow it up. We don’t let the world tell us what we can and can’t have.”

  Whispered frustrations. Hands thrown up in anger. But I don’t feel threatened. I feel completely safe. This is why he is worth fighting for. This and so many other reasons. “You say you love my life. But that feeling will fade when people are always staring at you. When they make you feel like you’re less than human. It will eat at you. It will change you.”

  I can’t keep up with his movement and I sit on the tracks, my skirts fanning out around me like the spokes of the sun. “I love your life because I love you, Hiro. I love you and everything that comes with you. The Kings, the tunnel, the work. The fact that you’re a half-Japanese orphan. Everything. You won’t give this a chance.” I gesture between us. “You need to give me a chance.” I speak to the tracks. They lead to a dead end, but there’s always something on the other side. Always.

  He stops still. Standing over me, chest heaving. He offers his hands and pulls me up. “Oh Kite, I love you, too, but…”

  I don’t let him finish. I don’t want to hear all the reasons why he shouldn’t love me, and I shouldn’t love him. Bringing my mouth to his, I kiss him passionately. Clumsily. With so much heat and need that we stumble until his back hits the lip of the platform above us.

  His kiss is filled with hunger but also sadness. A pressure of pain that he can’t let go. I want to take it for him. I want to lay it down on the tracks and let it be obliterated.

  I want. I want. I want…

  Him.

  Breathless, we break apart. Not really wanting to. More words hang on the other side of this kiss. But he loves me. He said it. And the first words that come out of my mouth are, “Marry me.”

  “No.”

  “But you love me.”

  “Yes”

  “Then marry me,” I demand.

  “No, Kite.” A burning sigh. “Have you even thought about what marriage would be like for us?” he asks. He waits only a beat for an answer and then answers himself. “I have.”

  I’m still pressed against his chest. I’m not moving. He’s not pushing me away. Not my body anyway. “You have?”

  His nose touches mine. I want to cry for the pain of this moment. For how brief our pleasure is compared to the pain that follows. “Of course I have. What about children? Have you thought about what their lives would be like?” This only makes me smile. Which was probably not the aim.

  I picture children, dark skin with honey eyes. Or pale with dark blue eyes. Or some other stunning mix of the two of us. “Our children would be beautiful.”

  He frowns, his arms wrapped around my waist. “They would also be a curiosity.”

  “They would be unique. They would have challenges. But they would be so loved, Hiro. That’s the difference. You’d be there to help them. And so would I.”

  “But life would be harder for them.” There’s a sliver of the unconvinced in his voice. Like maybe he hears me.

  I stare up at his face. So many years of abuse and being looked down upon have scratched deep scars into his heart. I understand that. But we can’t be afraid to walk a different path. We have to keep moving forward. “Life is hard, Hiro. But if we let the world dictate how we live it, we might as well give up. Change is good. It’s necessary. Otherwise, we just stop.”

  He opens and closes. Hears me, but then lets years of experience cover his ears. “I don’t want to be the first one. The damn flagship for interracial marriage.”

  I take a deep breath in. “If everyone thought this way, nothing would ever change. Love changes the world. Courage makes its stick. If the options are to be with you and have a tougher life or to not be with you and have a slightly easier one, than I choose you. I don’t want a life without you. Do you want a life without me?

  He shakes his head. “No.” Raking that hand through his hair.

  His heart beats against mine. “Then it shouldn’t matter how hard our life will be. It will be worth it.”

  “I just can’t marry you, Kite. It’s not fair.” I see want in his eyes. I hear sacrifice in his voice.

  I kiss him again. Softer. Letting our lips linger together as I talk. “Hiro, marry me,” I whisper against his mouth. “I won’t ask you again.”

  My heart’s already broken. And I know what his answer will be. But I am brave. I am here with him, and he makes me feel like I’m the planet that could occlude the sun. Like I can trap the light, and I can decide where it will shine.

  “No. I’m sorry, Kite. I can’t marry you.”

  28
<
br />   HIRO

  Marry me, she said. And I said no. Again. When almost every single part of me except this one sliver of my heart wanted to say yes. I’ve dashed my hopes now. Thrown them like a sack of kittens off a bridge. They sink to the bottom of the silty harbor. They’re gone. She won’t ask me again. It’s how it should be, right? People like me aren’t supposed to get what they want.

  Her heart holds me up. Her view of the future is intoxicating. But it’s a painting in an art gallery. I can’t touch it. I can only view it from afar while wondering what the artist was truly thinking. Kite is the artist, and I wish I could think the way she does.

  A splash of her color crosses my vision. Playing children look up as I walk through the door. They run to me screaming, ‘Daddy,’ as I hang my hat. It’s a fantasy. It’s unreal. The world she talks about would have to start with people like us. And I’m not sure I’m ready for the pioneer life.

  We’ve fought so hard just to get to this place.

  And I’m tired of fighting.

  I think if she’d gone back to her room, it would have destroyed me. But her heart is bigger than most. Sadly, it can take more hurt than most, too. So, she stayed. She lies with her back to me. Knees up, restless. Tonight, she sleeps a breath away from attack. She’s not always like this, but I guess she has a reason to be tense tonight. I ruined our date. Maybe I ruined everything.

  I smile thinking about my hands on hers, trying to show her how to use chopsticks. She is so willing to try. Open to me. And I just slammed the door in her face.

  Kettle, what’s wrong with you, man? Kin would say.

  I sit up. Agitated. The world is what’s wrong with me.

  And what the hell does the world have to do with you and Kite?