Swimming to Tokyo

by Brenda St John Brown

  I laugh. “And I will be well-dressed for it. Thank you.”

  Akiko bows, and Meriko joins her at the counter, bowing as well. “As the Americans say, have a good day,” Akiko says. As I walk to the door, she calls after me, “Come back and tell us about your date.”

  “I’m not sure there will be a date.” My phone rings, the instrumental of Summer Nights singing from my bag. It’s Finn’s ringtone, and I’m not sure if I smile because it’s him or because of the irony of it all. The song, the conversation I was just having, and then, on cue, there he is.

  “Hey.” I stop just inside the door, Akiko and Meriko well within hearing distance.

  “Hey. Where are you?” he asks.

  “In a shop in Harajuku. Where are you?”

  “Kinokuniya. The English bookstore in Shinjuku. Do you want to meet for a late lunch somewhere? I got you a book.”

  “A what?” I’ve told Finn my feelings about reading—feelings he vehemently disagrees with.

  “You know, a book? Pages with words? A pretty cover. Not all covers are pretty, but this one is. It’s sort of purple.” I hear the smile in his voice.

  “Thanks for that.” I smile, too. “Why did you get me a book?”

  “I wanted to. Don’t worry, I won’t quiz you on the symbolism and imagery.”

  “Good. What kind of book is it?” I ask.

  “Uh-uh. Meet me and you’ll find out.”

  I laugh. “I can’t tell if you’re trying to convince me to meet you for lunch or convince me to like this mystery book.”

  “Whichever works.” Finn’s casual on the other end of the phone line. He doesn’t mean it the way I take it.

  “Either. Both.” The words feel heavy with truth and I force my tone to brighten as I continue. “So where do you want to meet then? Where’s Kinokuniya exactly?”

  We go through the debate about where to meet and when, finally settling on Odakyu Department Store in an hour, give or take getting-lost time. I hang up to Akiko and Meriko looking at me expectantly.

  “Was that the guy? You’re meeting him now?” Akiko asks. I nod, and she continues before I can speak. “He likes you.”

  She doesn’t phrase it as a question, but I shrug. “I don’t know. I mean, yes, but as…We’re friends.”

  “Friends is a start,” Meriko says.

  Considering where Finn and I actually started, I never even expected that. I nod slowly in agreement. Friends is definitely a start.

  “Tell him to come to his senses, maybe?” Akiko says.

  “Maybe.” If only it was that easy.

  I pull open the door, a flurry of arigatos and mata dōzos following me out. Just as it’s about to click shut, Akiko scurries up behind me and holds out a silver necklace with a pendant swinging from the end of it.

  “Here. For you.”

  The pendant has kanji characters written on it, and I don’t know many of them outside of food. “I…thank you. You don’t have to…”

  “It’s the symbol for luck. I want you to have it.” She drapes it carefully over my fingertips.

  “Thank you. But seriously…”

  Akiko shakes her head firmly. “No. There is a saying in Japanese: Ningen banji saiou ga uma. It means one’s luck is changeable. Maybe this will change your luck?”

  I smile and bow, more deeply than I probably should, but not deep enough to be able to show how touched I am. “Maybe it will. Arigatō gozaimasu.”

  I bow one more time and set off down the street, clutching the pendant in my hand.

  chapter eight

  I pull myself out of the pool and sit panting on the side, wringing the water out of my hair.

  “You’re fast,” Amelia says. She’s been sitting on the side waiting for me to finish my laps. “You’re sure you’re not bucking for a place on the Rhody swim team? I can get you in. My sorority sister dates the guy—”

  “Whose father is the coach. I know.” Amelia made this same offer when we came to the gym together the other day, although I’m pretty sure her initial offer was an attempt to make up for complaining about Dad. Apparently he made her file two years’ worth of financial reports, but just because she’s the intern doesn’t make her the file clerk and she’ll be damned if she came all the way to Japan for her boss to turn her into one. It was a pretty good rant until she remembered said boss is my father.

  She makes a face. “Well, if you want me to get you a tryout, Mare owes me. Do you want to do some weights before we leave?”

  Now it’s my turn to make a face. “No, but I will if you twist my arm.”

  “No arm-twisting from me. Let’s go get ready.”

  I follow her toward the locker room. She pushes the door open when a voice calls out behind us, “Hey, Am.” Akihiro, the other bank intern, is at the far edge of the pool. “How much longer are you going to be?”

  She looks to me, and I shrug. “Fifteen minutes?”

  “Thirty minutes,” she shouts back to him. “We’ll meet you guys in the lobby.”

  He leaves, and we head for our lockers. I’ve just gotten my shower stuff out when I realize my goggles are still by the side of the pool. “You go. I forgot my goggles and I don’t want to lose them.”

  I’m halfway there when I see Akihiro and Finn come through the door from the weight room to the right of the pool. I have a good seven seconds to watch them strip their shirts off before they see me. Both of them are lean and muscular, although my eyes are drawn to Finn. I was right about the tattoo. Up his arm, across his shoulder. It’s huge. I was right about his muscles, too. Although his biceps have nothing on his abs. My God. I didn’t even know real people had abs like that. They look Photoshopped.

  “Hey, I thought you went to shower,” Akihiro calls.

  It’s still disconcerting to hear perfect English coming out of his mouth. Born in Hiroshima, his parents moved to London when he was five and then to Chicago when he was eleven. He doesn’t even have an accent anymore, although thank God he speaks fluent Japanese.

  “I’m going.” I pick up my goggles and twirl them on my finger. “I left these.”

  They’re close enough now that I see the sweat glistening on their skin.

  “How was your swim?” Finn asks. His eyes flicker over my swimsuit before they land on my face, and I’m glad I’m in my black Speedo and not the blue one that’s all ratty around the edges.

  “Rough.” I roll my eyes. “Amazing what three-plus weeks of slacking will do.”

  “So if we raced, I might win?” He smiles and I try to focus on his teeth and not all that skin. To ignore that tattoo. A snake? A long, spiky black tail zigzags down his bicep, ending just below his elbow. It’s mesmerizing and it’s all I can do not to run my fingernail over it, to trace the outline of raised skin underneath what looks like the creature’s spine.

  But that would be wildly inappropriate.

  “I’ll drown before you win.”

  “Talk is cheap.” He throws his shirt on the bench. “I win and you eat uni.”

  I make a face. I like sushi, but the sea urchin looks like baby poo and I can’t imagine it tastes much better. I accidentally ordered it when I stopped for lunch in Yokohama last week, despite my careful conversation with the waitress. I even made her come to the front window with me so I could point at the plastic food, but apparently my pointing didn’t match up with my words. The plate of sushi that came had not only uni, but smoked unagi, which is eel. I couldn’t eat any of it and ended up just downing the rice.

  “Fine. I win and you come to Tsukiji Market with me tomorrow.” This isn’t really as bad as his until I add the last part. “At eight AM.”

  Finn isn’t a morning person. At all. The one time we met up before noon, he was totally grumpy until at least two. But the fish market peaks between eight and ten and closes up by one. Dad has said he’ll go with me, although it’s not exactly his idea of a perfect Saturday morning either.

  Finn perches at the edge of the pool. “Okay, deal. You’
re totally losing.”

  I fit my goggles over my eyes and put my toes over the edge on the lane next to him. “Oh, I totally am not.”

  “Dude, you’re gonna lose,” Akihiro says to Finn.

  “Shut up and count to three,” Finn says. To me, he says, “Up and back. First one to touch this wall wins.”

  Akihiro counts down, and we dive into the pool. I don’t look over at Finn, just freestyle for the wall. One thing I learned on the swim team is to ignore my competition. Other people use it to spur themselves on, but it just intimidates me. I do much better when I get in a zone, and now is no different. My lungs burn before I even touch the far side, but I kick hard when I get there to give myself an extra push off the wall. Halfway back, I feel myself slowing down and I hope Finn hates swimming as much as he’s said he does. Those earlier laps took it all out of me. My arms feel like they’re moving in slow motion above my head, and my kicks barely make a splash. It feels like my chest is going to explode by the time I lurch for the wall, gasping for breath.

  I push my goggles up, wiping the water away from my face and look around the pool. Akihiro pumps his fist in the air at me. A splash and Finn touches the wall beside me, panting. “Jesus Christ.”

  I’ve caught my breath enough to be able to pant, “Told you so.”

  “There’s no way.”

  “You picked the wrong stroke. Never breast stroke when you’re racing. It wastes too much energy.” I hang over the rope. “Mine. Seven-fifteen.”

  “You’re a bitch.” But he grins as he says it. “I’ll be there with bells on.”

  “Make sure you bring coffee.” I extend my hand to Akihiro to help me out of the pool. “We’ll see you guys out front in fifteen minutes.”

  I hurry through my shower and join Amelia in front of the mirror where she’s drying her hair section by section. “What happened to you?”

  I dot cover up over my nose and under my eyes, brush mascara over my lashes. “I had a last-minute race with Finn.”

  “A race?” She wrinkles her nose. “Why?”

  “We were messing around.” I smile because I can’t quite keep it to myself. “I won.”

  “He let you win?”

  “No. He’s coming early to the fish market with me tomorrow. If he won, I had to eat uni.”

  “I’d rather eat uni than get up at the crack to go to a damn fish market.” Amelia grimaces and then asks, “What’s the deal with you two anyway?”

  “No deal. We’re friends.” I can never quite make myself put the “just” in there. “Why?”

  “Naoko was asking.” Naoko is Dad’s assistant. She’s young, sweet, and the only reason I actually have a cell phone after Dad and I bungled our attempt to buy a pay-as-you-go on my fourth day here. God knows what we would have ended up with if she hadn’t come along on her lunch break.

  “Yeah, he’s…I don’t know. He’s available as far as I know.” My stomach churns a little as I say it. It’s true. He is. And aside from an occasional sizzle, things between us are totally platonic. No matter how much I think about what it might be like to kiss him.

  “You spend a lot of time together. I wanted to make sure.” Amelia turns off the blow dryer. Her blond hair is sleek and shiny, which is totally unfair. It can’t even be dry underneath, for God’s sake. For my part, I run leave-in conditioner through my hair and wind it into a loose knot on top of my head. With any luck, it will dry curly instead of frizzy and I’ll be able to let it down later.

  “We’re friends.” I meet her eyes in the mirror. “What about you and Akihiro?” I ask, even though I think she’s too sorority girl for him and he’s too brainiac for her.

  “Um, no? I mean, I’d hook up with him for a night, maybe, but that’s it.”

  The way she says this is so offhand, like she does it all the time. And maybe she does. I don’t know her very well, although we’ve been hanging out when we run into each other at the gym that Citibank provides free to bank employees and their families. She’s funny in a sort of sarcastic way. And she’s easy in a way Finn’s not. So far, our conversations haven’t gotten much deeper than where to find the best deals on Shiseido and what English TV shows are on and when.

  “So who then?” I ask. Because there’s someone she’s interested in. You don’t put on eyeliner that carefully for a night out with friends.

  “I have my eye on Yudai.”

  “Yudai?” I say it loud enough for another girl in the locker room to turn and look. “I mean, he’s good-looking and his English is amazing, but…I just thought… he doesn’t seem like your type.” I have no idea what Amelia’s type is, but I wouldn’t have picked Yudai. He seems too soft-spoken. Too nice.

  But apparently not because it’s the first thing she says. “He’s really sweet.”

  So I agree wholeheartedly. “He totally is. I’m just surprised.”

  Amelia meets my eyes in the mirror. “You may go for that whole bad-boy thing, but I’m over it. Trust me. I’ve been there, done that.”

  I scowl at her. “What are you talking about?”

  “Who’s that guy on that TV show you like? He’s an ass.”

  “I think he’s good-looking. There’s a huge difference between thinking someone’s hot and wanting to date them.”

  She puts her hands on her hips and faces me. “So if Finn made a move, you wouldn’t be into it?”

  A blush inches across my cheeks. “We’re friends. I told you that.”

  “That’s not what I asked. What would you do if he wanted to hook up?”

  I think about this before I answer her. Not that I haven’t thought about it a hundred times before, but I’ve never said it to anyone but Mindy and it feels like a huge leap of faith to confide in someone I’m not sure I trust very much.

  “I don’t know. I mean, okay, yeah, I’d probably go for it, but we’re friends. And I think he’s a better friend than he is a boyfriend.”

  “You think?” Amelia gives a dismissive shake of her head.

  Exactly why I didn’t want to tell her. Fool me once… “Yeah, well. It’s irrelevant.”

  “It’s that whole damaged thing, isn’t it?” Amelia looks at me. “Trust me, it’s hot at the beginning, but it gets old.”

  “It’s not like that.” I start to say more but stop. Because Amelia’s right, although I wouldn’t have ever used that word before she said it. But it’s there in the things he won’t talk about and the way his face changes when he talks about his family. If he talks about them at all. Which is practically never. And it’s not just the father/ ex-girlfriend thing, although the one time I brought it up, he completely shut down and I learned my lesson. That’s off-limits.

  Just like Mom’s cancer is off-limits. I don’t mind talking about Mom, but the cancer is a different story. He asked me one day what it was like, knowing she was going to die. He hadn’t meant it maliciously, but I couldn’t handle it and walked off, leaving him in the middle of the station in Shinagawa. He’s never brought it up again.

  Amelia paints on her pink lipstick and smiles at herself in the mirror to make sure there’s none on her teeth. “Okay, whatever. We’re meeting everyone at the pier in half an hour, so let’s go.”

  I take one final glance at myself in the mirror. My eyes are still bloodshot from the pool, so I look sort of like I’ve been crying, and I feel a plain Jane in my green shirtdress next to Amelia, but it’s as good as it’s going to get. Still, I can’t help noticing how both Finn and Akihiro check out Amelia when we join them in the lobby. Not only is her hair gorgeous, but she wears a low-cut black tank and a jersey skirt that clings in all the right places to her size-four butt. Between the two of us, she looks like she’s dressed for a night out, and I look like I’m ready for a day at the playground. For the tenth time, I chastise myself for not keeping up with my laundry. My pink dress from Nadia in Harajuku would’ve been perfect if it wasn’t sitting in my pile of dirty clothes.

  My confidence plummets further when we walk into the ba
r/restaurant at the pier. It’s Friday night, and to say it’s crowded is a huge understatement. Groups of men laugh near the bar, downing beer and sake. Most have their ties loosened but their jackets stay on, giving them an air of composure, even as their faces redden. Even the girls still in their “office lady” uniforms look smart, with their perfect makeup and crisp white collars. We join the group Amelia and Akihiro have arranged to meet—others from the bank, including Naoko and Yudai—and bags are stowed, drinks bought, and everyone is laughing.

  Except me. I try, but I can’t get into it. My conversation with Amelia churns in my stomach like a plate of greasy fries at the state fair. I don’t want to like Finn, and I definitely shouldn’t wish for more. We’re friends and that needs to be enough.

  At least I get to nurse an Asahi beer while I mentally list all the ways he’s wrong for me. Damaged tops the list because I can’t stop thinking it now. His closet is lined with skeletons, the kind that make him hard and cold. And, granted, I’ve only seen flickers in the way his jaw tightens and his hands clench, but could I handle being closer to him and having him shut me out the same way? Or worse?

  No. Plain and simple. No. He said himself that he was a four on the honesty scale, and giving up whatever ghost he’s holding on to is going to take a ten. At least.

  About an hour in, Finn comes up and leans against the bar beside me.

  “Speak of the devil,” I murmur.

  He bends down close to my ear. “You all right?”

  “Sure. You?” His elbow grazes my arm, and he moves it away.

  “You look…disinterested.”

  I can’t believe he’s noticed. He’s been laughing and talking the whole time. He likes these group dinner/drinks things, which always strikes me as odd. But Tokyo is an extension of the whole strangers-on-the-airplane metaphor. Ten weeks total and we scatter. No obligation, no promises. He’s actually said that, if not word for word, then close enough.

  Three weeks in, I’ve managed not to ask if that philosophy extends to me. It probably does. I push the thought away, but it has everything to do with why the next words come out of my mouth.