The Winter Quarters

by Anna Veriani

  “Let’s just get some sleep,” Kai said. He wriggled under his blanket again. “No heater this time, if that’s okay.”

  “Some people say I make a good heater,” Hiro said casually.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah.” Hiro reached out and yanked Kai close to him, while Kai laughed and pretended to try to get away. Hiro pulled his own blanket over them both, his chest to Kai’s back.

  “Oh.” Kai stilled. “You are warm.”

  “You’re welcome,” Hiro said casually. He paused. “And thank you.”

  “Thank you?”

  “For telling me what’s been going on in your head. I knew it was something.”

  Kai didn’t respond, just repositioned himself so his head was on Hiro’s arm. His hair felt impossibly soft, tickling Hiro’s skin.

  “I always want to know, Kai,” Hiro murmured.

  “So do I,” Kai said.

  Hiro drifted off to Kai’s deepening breaths, the rain outside slowing to a patter.

  Chapter Nine

  SO many times when he revisited things he had known as a child, he was surprised to find how much smaller and less extraordinary they seemed in his adulthood. This was not the case with the Asada Inn. He still got routinely lost in its palatial enormity, and so it was that, when Hiro gave him directions to the kitchens on Thanksgiving morning, he ended up in a tiny kitchen with a Western-style oven, and he was wondering how Asada Inn operated with such a small workspace before he realized, after a half hour passed, that no one else was joining him to make macaroni.

  He shrugged it off and decided to cook by himself anyway since he’d lugged all the ingredients with him. Hiro had provided him with Italian mozzarella, Swiss Gruyère, and Wisconsin cheddar. The milk and butter came from Hokkaido, and Kai nibbled on the plain butter as he cooked. There was something special about Hokkaido dairy; it tasted luxurious, flavorful and rich.

  He waited in the kitchen while his mac and cheese baked in the oven, happy to be warmed by the heat. He wondered if any of the Asadas besides Hiro had ever eaten mac and cheese before.

  Just after the timer pinged and he set the casserole dish on the island counter, Hiro appeared in the doorway. Kai stared. He was wearing dark green corduroy pants and an orange sweater.

  “You look festive,” Kai said.

  “I am ready.” Hiro rubbed his hands together. “Where is everyone else?”

  Kai blinked. “Were other people supposed to come? I thought I found the wrong kitchen.”

  “Aw, no. I wonder if they forgot?” Hiro said.

  Kai forced a smile. “That’s fine. Mac and cheese can be my contribution to an otherwise Japanese dinner.”

  “No, that would suck,” Hiro said.

  “It’s fine.” Kai was an adult; he didn’t need to celebrate the holidays. Even though the thought of going through Thanksgiving with scarcely an acknowledgment of the day made him feel horribly lonely. But Hiro was here, and he knew it was Thanksgiving, so that was all that mattered.

  “Let’s go set out your dish,” Hiro said softly. “It smells amazing, by the way.”

  Hiro slipped on oven mitts and carried it out for him. They walked what felt like a couple of city blocks before Kai said, “Where are we going?”

  “Summer Quarters. It’s not booked right now.” They walked down a hallway that was filled with brush paintings of rich green mountains and pheasants.

  Kai slid the door open, letting Hiro in first, and then gasped.

  Two long, short-legged tables had been set out in the tatami room, and what looked like every member of the Asada family was sitting on cushions around it. They seemed different somehow, and Kai realized none of them were wearing Japanese-style clothing. They were all in jeans and sweaters like Hiro.

  The tables were laden with dishes.

  “Is that cranberry sauce?” Kai gasped. He was pretty sure cranberries didn’t grow in Japan.

  Risa, sitting near the door, smiled. “Imported. Shinsuke picked them up in Kyoto,” she said.

  The table was lined with steaming dishes, and he spotted green beans, mashed potatoes, Japanese pumpkin, and in the center, two perfectly roasted chickens. His stomach growled, and Hiro laughed, never taking his eyes off Kai’s face as he struggled to find room on the table for the mac and cheese.

  “It is possible I sort of, maybe, intentionally gave you directions to the wrong kitchen,” Hiro said. “Do you like it?”

  Kai opened his mouth to say something, realized a lump had formed in his throat, and nodded.

  Hiro laughed some more, swinging an arm around Kai and leading him to the center of the table. On one end of the table sat Okami, looking particularly strange, as Kai had never once imagined her in Western-style clothing before. At the head of the table was Hiro’s father, in somber black with a full head of salt-and-pepper hair. He had never shown Kai a hint of unkindness but was nevertheless incredibly intimidating.

  To Hiro’s right was Risa, and beside Kai was—

  “Long time no see.” Hiro’s cousin Shinsuke, whom Kai hadn’t seen in maybe a whole decade, gave him a two-fingered salute.

  He was definitely not fourteen anymore. He had grown upward like Hiro, just as tall but thin as a rail, lanky and angular where Hiro was broad. He had awful bleached locks of yellow-blond that fell into his eyes, ruining what would have been an otherwise strikingly handsome face.

  “You’re….” Kai wanted to say all grown up, but Shinsuke’s J-pop blond hair just wasn’t letting him. “You’re so much older.”

  “And you’re so much richer,” Shinsuke said in English.

  “Yo!” Hiro growled. “Don’t be rude.”

  “You speak English now?” Kai asked, a quick change of topic.

  “I studied abroad,” Shinsuke explained, switching back to Japanese for the benefit of the rest of the table. “But I’ve never been to New York.”

  “Shinsuke is extremely excited to talk to a New Yorker,” Risa spoke up.

  “A famous New Yorker,” Shinsuke agreed eagerly. “From Ishikawa. You have to be, like, the only Ishikawan ever to make it in New York.”

  “That’s not true,” Risa said immediately. “There’s the chef—”

  The two of them immediately dissolved into a cacophony of bickering until Hiro’s mom lifted her cup. The entire table fell immediately silent.

  “Tonight,” she said, “we’re eating an American meal to honor Kai-kun. Thanksgiving is about family, and Kai-kun has always been a part of our family.”

  “Wow.” Kai was tearing up again. Hiro put a hand on his shoulder, grinning, and for a moment Kai saw him as though he were looking at a high-definition photograph, Hiro’s face in hyper detail, from the shadows cast by his jutting cheekbones to his oversize grin to the scruff on his cheeks and chin.

  If Kai were having Thanksgiving in New York, they’d be in the Duffy home, because the producers had decided that Mr. and Mrs. Duffy’s gold dining table looked best on camera. Someone else would guide the conversation, everyone keeping in mind to make it interesting enough to justify showing it on international television. Usually that meant histrionics, someone storming out in tears. One time Big D threw a turkey leg in Kai’s mom’s face, and Kai completely lost it, diving over the table to take a swing at him. The producers loved it. It went viral immediately, was made into a dozen different GIFs, and Kai remembered thinking, You don’t get it. None of you get it. I hate him.

  Kai looked at Hiro, Hiro’s hand squeezing his shoulder, and he felt surrounded by warmth and love and normality.

  “I love you,” Kai said. Hiro’s eyes flashed in surprise, and Kai quickly stood and addressed the table. “I love this all so much. Thank you, everyone!”

  Kai bowed and sat, and Hiro’s father stood up.

  “A few days ago my wife informed me that Kai-san, who came here as our guest, served tea and checked in tired travelers with the same hospitality as our most diligent workers,” he said. He turned to Kai, who immediately felt lik
e he was sweating under a hot light. “Kai-san is my son’s oldest friend and one of the hardest-working young people I know.”

  Shinsuke and Risa both looked down at their plates.

  Kai fought the urge to deny it—he was lazy, rich, spoiled.

  “I have never had the courage to make my home in a foreign place as Kai-san has,” Asada-san continued. “Kai-san has assimilated into American culture, and now we respect the traditions he’s brought with him.” He raised his glass of sake. “Happy Thanksgiving! Kanpai!”

  The Asadas raised their glasses and made cheers, Hiro pouring sparkling cider into Kai’s glass and Kai pouring Asahi beer into his. After a din of kanpai and itadakimasu, they dug in, Hiro loading Kai’s plate with mashed potatoes and carrots, pumpkin and roast chicken. Kai grinned when he realized they were all eating with chopsticks despite the Western-style dinner.

  “I can get my own food,” he said, reaching for his plate.

  “I know you can,” Hiro said. “I’m just unbearably annoying and prefer to do everything for you.”

  Shinsuke gave them both a significant look, one eyebrow arched.

  The dinner unfolded precisely as Kai would have wanted, with ample anecdotes from the elders and appropriate amounts of gluttony. He was on his third plate of mashed potatoes when his phone rang. It came from Hiro’s pocket, as he’d offered to safeguard Kai from his phone. The ringtone triggered something instinctive in Kai, like Pavlov’s dog, only instead of gearing up for a treat, he braced himself for an electric shock.

  “Just ignore it,” he said quickly, embarrassed as a hush fell across the table. Hiro’s father, who a moment ago had been telling a story about when Hiro and Kai were boys, was now frowning at Hiro like this was his fault.

  “It’s my phone,” Kai said quickly. “You can just turn it off, Hiro.”

  Hiro was frowning at the screen. He said in English, “Fifteen text messages from Leslie Martinez?”

  “Please,” Kai whispered, increasingly desperate, “please turn it off.”

  Hiro complied, and Kai looked up to see his father nod approvingly. The general chatter around the table picked up again, even as Shinsuke shot Kai a curious look.

  “You have a girlfriend?” he asked.

  “Assistant,” Kai said lowly. He couldn’t remember the last time he had willfully ignored a message from her. Leslie would never send fifteen text messages unless there was a good reason.

  But this dinner was too important. Hiro’s father’s praise was too generous for Kai to get up and leave the meal made especially for him. Guilt spread through him, though, at the thought of ignoring Leslie.

  “The correct way to eat mac and cheese,” he heard Hiro telling Risa, “is to scoop it up with your hand, like this. Basically just act like your hand is a shovel.”

  “Do you think I’m stupid?” Risa swatted Hiro. “That is not true, Hiro.”

  “It is true,” Kai said earnestly, leaning forward. “It’s cleaner to use chopsticks or a fork, but the most polite way….” He scooped up some of the gooey noodles on his plate.

  “It’s best if you can fit your whole hand in your mouth,” Hiro added, demonstrating.

  Risa shook her head in disgust.

  Kai felt suddenly light. His phone was off. He was in rural Western Japan, and New York was a fourteen-hour flight away, and his phone was off. He was unreachable—his only job was to focus solely on socializing with the Asadas, enjoying a Thanksgiving that felt more like a true family dinner than his last celebration at the Duffys’ had. He had Hiro. Leslie could wait.

  SHINSUKE followed Hiro and Kai back to the Winter Quarters, Hiro hushing Shinsuke when he tried to sing in the halls. The night had been divine, and Kai didn’t even remember the text messages until Hiro pulled Kai’s phone from his belt and handed it to him.

  “Ready to check on this?” he asked.

  Kai rubbed his temples and took the monstrous device, turning it on. Shinsuke was on his own phone, clearly a tech addict. He swiped his hair out of his eyes and said, “You should probably see this, Kai.” He passed him his phone.

  He’d googled Kai’s name. The first headline the search engine spat back read KAI LEDGING’S ASSISTANT PUNCHES PAPARAZZI. Just below that was #WHEREISKAI WHILE HIS ASSISTANT ATTACKS PHOTOGRAPHERS? and ASSISTANT FROM HIT REALITY SHOW GOES BERSERK OUTSIDE BAGEL SHOP. The last one Kai could read before Shinsuke took his phone back was NO, SERIOUSLY, WHERE IS KAI LEDGING?

  “Looks like some creeps started hounding your assistant on the street, asking where you are, and when they cornered her she punched one of them in the face,” Shinsuke said.

  “Good for her,” Hiro said aggressively.

  “Was she arrested?” Kai said.

  “Yeah,” said Shinsuke. “Then released. But you probably want to ask her what really happened. I don’t actually trust any of these reports.”

  Kai nodded. He could picture it clearly enough: the media getting itchy while he was away, then spotting Leslie on the street. Because if anyone was supposed to know where he was, surely it would be her. He closed his eyes, his skull starting to pound. Why couldn’t he have just taken a vacation while the cameras were rolling, like a normal celebrity? Why did he have to run away all the time?

  “Thanks, Shinsuke,” he said tiredly. “Why don’t you guys go enjoy the rest of the night? I’m going… to try to….” Try to what? Fix this? It was a little late for that; he’d left everything in his life hanging for two weeks, and things had gotten to a boiling point. “Try to be less of an asshole to my assistant.”

  “You’re not an asshole, and I’m not leaving you alone,” Hiro said. He turned to Shinsuke. “Go help my parents clean the kitchen.”

  Shinsuke nodded and dashed off. Once they were alone, Kai released a massive sigh he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in.

  “This is going to suck,” he said.

  Hiro grimaced. “I’ll make us some tea.”

  “I FUCKING hate your guts, Kai,” Leslie said the moment she picked up.

  “I know,” he sighed.

  “Where the hell are you? Your mom wouldn’t tell me.” Kimi was always good at protecting his secrets. Gratitude washed over him. “They kept asking me where you’d gone, flashing cameras in our faces, and no one believed me when I said I didn’t have an answer.”

  “God, Leslie, I’m so sorry. You must have been so scared,” Kai whispered. “If there’s anything you need—a spa trip, therapy—”

  “Scared?” She snorted. “Therapy? I wasn’t scared of a couple of greaseballs who don’t know how to form proper fists, Kai. They were just annoying.”

  “I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Leslie,” Kai said. “I know I’ve acted like a dick.” He couldn’t explain why: how in New York his head felt so clouded that ditching her in JFK seemed not only reasonable but necessary. “Please just… relax. You deserve a break.”

  More than I do.

  “Yep,” she said flatly. “I think I’m going to take a trip back to my parents’ in San Diego. Not that this shook me up, because it didn’t, but everyone has been all tense and weird since you left. I need a breath of fresh air.”

  “Use my card,” Kai said.

  “Thanks.” There was a heavy pause.

  “What is it?” Kai tensed.

  She sighed. “Honestly? Your mom’s, uh, fiancé, Carlos, asked me if I could do some work for him right before you left. Because he needs someone who can speak English and Spanish. And I told him no because managing your shit is a full-time job, but….”

  It hurt. It was a reasonable thing for her to do, but it hurt, because Leslie was one of very few real people in his life back in New York, and now he knew what it sounded like when she quit.

  “You want to work for Carlos sometimes?” he tried anyway, fruitlessly.

  “Your mom got him connected. He has enough going on now to take me on full-time,” she said carefully. “He’s rich, but he’s still not famous outside of the fashion world. That means I�
��ll get secretly photographed by greasy assholes less than once a week. I miss when that was the norm for me.”

  I do too, Kai wanted to say. That voice came back to him: Will somebody help me? He squashed it. His overwhelmed assistant quitting because of something stupid that he’d done was the last thing that deserved pity.

  “I get it,” he said. “Call Bryan when you get a chance.” Kai’s lawyer handled all of Kai’s employees’ paperwork.

  “Will do,” she said.

  He wanted there to be something more, for one or both of them to apologize, but the tension on the phone was suddenly too much to break through. He was realizing he was going to have to hang up without saying goodbye just as there was a click from the other end, and the line went dead.

  He put his phone on the table, then thought better of it and hid it in his bag, out of sight. He crumpled against the table.

  Hiro was there immediately. Kai fought the urge to push him away, not wanting to be harsh. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Hiro to hold him. It was the opposite; he felt like he didn’t deserve him.

  “You’re so tense,” Hiro said, squeezing his shoulder. “I’m not letting you go to sleep without a dip in the onsen.”

  Kai shook his head numbly. He had no right to enjoy anything the Asada Inn had to offer.

  “Please,” Hiro said softly. “It’ll make me feel better.”

  Kai closed his eyes. It was like Hiro always knew exactly what he was thinking and how to persuade him to do anything. Kai nodded his assent and followed Hiro toward the showers.

  NO matter how much he felt like he needed to punish himself, the steaming-hot water immediately relaxed him. He sighed as his muscles loosened, laying his head back against the rock ledge of the pool. He breathed in, hyperaware of Hiro beside him, and smelled the air full of potential energy.

  “It’s going to storm,” Hiro said.

  “As long as it doesn’t hail while we’re in here.”