I violated his trust. Timeframe undefined. I agree because it’s irrelevant really. I was hoping for a celebration once Finn was off the hook. The girl dismissed him quickly. He was back in five minutes. He shook the lawyer’s hand, then my dad’s. A nod to Eloise and then he finally looked at me.
His eyes stayed flat, empty. “I’m so sorry. You’ll never have to do this again.” He kissed me on the forehead.
I burned that into my memory, too.
Then he walked out and I didn’t stop him.
I didn’t even try.
I didn’t cry until I got home and walked into my room. It had been twelve hours since he’d knocked on the door, maybe to the minute. My pillow had still smelled like him. That’s what did it.
I haven’t cried since Sunday, although that’s not a measure of anything. I know Dad’s worried, even if he’s also not-so-secretly relieved things seem to be over.
What are you going to do when he breaks your heart, Zosia?
He’s watching me for that slide into lethargy, like he thinks he could stop it this time. But I don’t have the words to tell him this is different. Mom is gone. Finn left. There’s a world of difference between the two.
It’s coffee that finally drives me out the door. I have a pounding headache and used up the last of the instant yesterday. At first I intend to hit the vending machine across the street for a can of coffee, which isn’t as disgusting as it sounds and will do in a pinch. But once I’m outside, I walk the extra two blocks to Starbucks. And once I’ve had two sips of my scalding venti Americano, I can’t bear the thought of going back to the apartment.
I slouch against the wall outside and text Amelia. I haven’t texted her since Monday night when she sent me a message asking if I wanted to meet her at the gym. I sent her a message back that I wasn’t feeling well and she sent me a <3 and asked me to let her know when I’m feeling better.
I’m not feeling better, but I need a girlfriend. Tell me you can blow off work.
Her reply less than a minute later: Can’t. A probably can tho.
Of course Akihiro can blow off work. He’s leaving Japan in three days. But I can’t imagine hanging out with him without Amelia or Finn. We’d just end up talking about one or the other, and I’m not up to either.
Finn for obvious reasons, the most obvious being Akihiro doesn’t know what happened. At least not from me.
And Amelia because, well, they hooked up that night in Roppongi after all and are hot and heavy. Emphasis on hot. We double-dated with them last week, and I couldn’t say exactly what they were doing in that darkened movie theatre, but I’m pretty sure it gives PDA a whole new level of meaning.
I don’t bother to reply to Amelia and scroll through my texts. I have two hundred from Finn, at least. He borrowed my phone one day and teased me for keeping them all, but it still didn’t make me delete them. Even pre-Kamakura, I saved almost all of them.
Scanning through, there are at least thirty exactly the same: Sweet dreams. Sleep well. He thought it was dumb when I insisted the first time he walked me home that he let me know when he got back. He could more than take care of himself, he said. I didn’t doubt that. But I still felt better knowing. And it would take two seconds to save me the worry.
“My mother doesn’t even worry about me, Zosia,” he’d said.
“I’m not your mother.” I hadn’t meant it as a judgment on Eloise, but he took it that way. And he texted me that night and every night after without me asking again.
I arrow down through the rest of his texts. The last one, Saturday at 1:24. Just woke up. Sorry. Be there by 2. LU.
My response from the locker room at the gym. No problem. LU2.
Love you. Love you, too. The first time he wrote it, I hadn’t known what it meant. I still have that exchange, too, from the day after Roppongi.
LU?
I love you, Zosia. Just like that, even though it was so new.
I love you, too. But the feelings weren’t new. Just voicing them.
That’s the kicker. Reading it still makes my heart turn over, and I can’t remember Saturday night without the rest of my insides turning to jelly. And that’s before I even think of the way we touched each other. That definitely makes it worse and not just because of the obvious. But because everything about it, starting with our huge fight in the love hotel, was the complete unvarnished truth. All tens all around.
Mom would tell me to call him. To stop being an idiot and just do it. Because he’s not going to call me. Or text. Or stop by. That’s clear.
Everything that happened from the minute we woke up on Sunday to the minute he walked out of that police station just proved what he’s believed all along. And my silence confirms it. Like I’m shouting it from the top of Tokyo Tower.
In between my moping, I did a lot of reading online about children of abuse. Not that it makes me an expert, but I understand a little more now and I recognize Finn in some of the things I read. Like the trust issues. Self-esteem. Anger. The worst thing someone can do who’s involved with a victim of abuse is think they can make it better. Make up for it. The thing is that never occurred to me. Not once. I wonder if maybe it should have. Maybe things would be different now.
I drain the rest of my coffee and stand up, tapping through the contacts on my phone until I get to the right one. I listen to the ringing at the other end and then the sleepy, “Hello.”
“Hey, Min. Why are you sleeping?” I check my watch. “It’s not even midnight there.”
“I know. We did this damn nine-mile hike today. I’m exhausted. What are you doing? Why are you calling me on my cell phone?”
“I just wondered how your date went with Dan the Man? I was thinking of you.” I hear rustling through the phone and then crickets. “I’m guessing it went well since you had to go outside to answer.”
I haven’t told Mindy anything about what happened with Finn. Not after she Skyped me early Monday morning about her pending date. Dan asked her out completely out of the blue. She hadn’t noticed him all summer because he was working with the day camp kids. And he wears preppy black glasses and plaid shorts, which frankly would make him invisible to her anyway. But he likes Jane’s Addiction and the Sex Pistols. And Mindy, apparently.
“Shut up.” I can tell by her voice she’s smiling.
“So?” I start walking away from the main street.
“He’s kind of incredible.” She pauses for effect but doesn’t let me ask. “We went to the Mexican place in town and then we broke into the golf course.”
“How and why do you break into a golf course?”
“We climbed the fence so we could see the stars. He knows, like, a zillion things about astronomy. You’d be proud of me. I even learned a few constellations.”
“I bet that’s not all you learned.” I smile for the first time in three days.
“He kissed me goodnight, but the rest of it was pretty innocent, thank you very much.”
“Ah, but how was the kiss?”
“Oh my God. Seriously.” Her voice drops. “Unfucking-believable.”
“Wow. Good for you.” I kick an empty Coke can to the side. “So when are you seeing him again?”
“Tomorrow. I have a half–day, and he’s taking the afternoon off so we can do something. He’s totally not my type. I mean, seriously, he was on the debate club in high school. Who does that?” She laughs, and I’m sure she’s rolling her eyes.
“So he’s an Andrew Krempa clone? You know, Min—”
“Shut up. Andrew Krempa is a pompous ass. Dan’s about as far from that as you can get. He, like, volunteers at a soup kitchen every Friday. And he wants to be a teacher.” Mindy extols Dan’s virtues for another good three minutes before she says, “Anyway. We’ll see. How’s Finn? I assume you two kissed and made up the other night?”
She’s so offhand in her asking and on such a high from talking about Dan I can’t bring myself to tell her. “Yeah, yeah.” It’s true. We did kiss and make up. And
then there was the rest of it.
“What are you guys doing today?”
“I, um, I don’t know.” I turn the corner, barely missing a woman pushing a stroller, and gomen nasai her five times before going back to Mindy. “God, I’m a hazard.”
“Walking and talking was never your strong point.”
“Go to hell.”
Mindy laughs. “Meet you down there. Should I let you go? This is costing you a fortune.”
I sigh. “I know. Probably. Email me.”
She promises a juicy email, and we hang up. I mouth a silent thank you to my phone. At least talking to Mindy helped me get out of my head for ten minutes.
Which is good because I’m about to dive right back into it. And then some.
chapter twenty
I stand in front of Finn’s building debating if I should press the buzzer when an old lady comes through the front door. I smile and bow, slipping inside as she exits. Did I know I was coming here all along?
Maybe.
But it doesn’t help with the way my heart pounds and it’s not from climbing the stairs. I stare at the number on the door for two minutes and let my fist rise and fall three times before I knock. He might not even…
The door opens in front of me and the thought vanishes.
I lick my lips and tighten my fingers around the strap of my bag. “Um, hi.”
Finn’s eyes are dark and unwelcoming. “What are you doing here?”
“I, um, wondered how you were.”
“Yeah.”
That’s not an answer, but it tells me everything. And makes me a little braver. “Are you going to invite me in?”
He shakes his head. “I’m on my way out.”
I look down. It’s hotter than hell, but he’s wearing jeans and a blue-and-white striped button-down. Definitely the closest he gets to dressing up. “Where are you going?”
He looks off beyond my shoulder. “I’m meeting someone.”
Nice. That didn’t take long, did it? “Who?”
His voice drops a notch. “No one you know.”
“Anyone I should be worried about?”
He shrugs. “Depends what would worry you.”
“I can think of a few things.” I match my tone to his, but I might never be able to use my right hand again from how tightly it’s wrapped around the strap of my bag.
He lets the corner of his mouth turn up a degree before he catches himself. “It’s not your concern.”
And his eyes thaw. For just a second. Combined with the hint of a smile, it’s a thread. A tenuous one, but I grab it. “You want company?”
“Do I want company?” He echoes the words back at me, and his eyes are flint again. “Do I look like I want company?”
“No.” All his face is saying is that he wants me out of here. Out of his sight. Completely. So I fix my eyes on his shirt, the thin blue stripe. The shell button.
“I can’t do this right now.”
The striped shirt turns away and goes back into the apartment, although he doesn’t shut the door behind him.
I think about running. Possibly all the way back to New Jersey.
But he comes out five seconds later and turns his back to me as he locks the door. I stare at the space between his shoulder blades where I know the dragon’s tongue lashes his spine.
I don’t mean to touch him.
But the next second my palm flattens against the crisp cotton, squeezing his shoulder, running along his back before I stop with my fingers twisted through his belt loop.
He stiffens, and I’m pretty sure his grip is tight enough on the door handle to break the damn thing off. I’m still staring at how white his fingers are next to the black door when he leans back into me.
I’m completely unprepared for his weight, and my fist flattens against his side, creeping toward his stomach. My breathing is shallow, and I close the three inches separating us so my chest rises and falls against his back. His hand on my elbow pulls me closer until my cheek is hard against his shoulder blade.
“I can’t do this right now, Zosia.” His voice is soft, his grip tight on my arm.
I at least have the sense to hesitate. To know that whatever I say next will determine, if not everything, then close. My lips press into his shirt, and I nod. “Okay. But you walked out on me twice in two days and I’m not up to a third. You need to be done.”
“Do I?” There’s at least a small smile in his voice, even though I can’t see it.
“Yes.” I bite my cheek hard so I won’t say anything else. Amelia is this cool. Possibly Mindy. But not me.
“Or what?”
I was wrong. I realize that immediately.
This is the moment that will determine everything.
“Or you’re just a guy I spent one amazing summer with in Tokyo.” I let go of him and cross my arms over my stomach when he turns around to face me. I stare at his throat between the pointy collar of his shirt, smooth and tan. “And I really want you to be more than that.”
“I’m—”
“I’ve never fought for anything in my life. Even when I could have, I didn’t. My dad always said I was as good a swimmer as Allison Moore. I beat her almost every time when we were on JV and I liked it. I liked winning. But then my coach said I should get more serious. I could be really good. And I stopped running, started skipping practice, got sloppy in the pool. Because I didn’t want to care so much that I couldn’t walk away.” My words are fast but not fast enough to keep up with my head.
I pause for air, and Finn tries to fill the gap. “I’m—”
I continue like I didn’t hear him. “All summer, we’ve had this push-me-pull-me thing, and I was finally done. I thought I was ready to let you go. I have the picture in my head of the minute I decided. I thought it was all I needed. With my mom…it was my sixteenth birthday. August 15. We knew it would be the last one. She was way too sick, and the chemo wasn’t doing anything but making her weak and bald. I remember looking at her across the kitchen and she was laughing and eating cake and she looked happy. She was there and she was happy, and I remember thinking that day, ‘It’s okay, Mom. It’s okay to go while we’re all still laughing.’And when I think of her, that’s what I remember. That’s the picture in my head. I have one of you, too, but it’s not the right one.”
“How do you know?”
“There’s no peace in it.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s not the right one.” His voice is soft, bordering on apologetic.
His words cut through my resolve like a knife through a melon. “I…it’s not. That’s not how this is going to end up.”
I’ve been focusing on his shirt collar and his throat the whole time. It’s the only way I can make myself say anything that’s come out of my mouth the past two minutes. The tears still threaten somewhere between the back of my nose and behind my eyes, and I know if I look up I’ll cry.
Although all it takes is his finger tracing my jaw. By the time he lifts my chin up, my eyes brim with tears and his face blurs in and out of focus. I can’t even see his eyes, and I really, really wish I could.
Especially with what he says next. “I’m meeting my father. He’s on his way to Sydney via Tokyo. He emailed me on Saturday and asked to meet. He wants to make amends, he said.”
Ice shoots down my back from my neck to my knees, but at least it freezes the tears. I blink a few times until I see Finn’s face. It’s composed, calm except for the way his jaw flexes while he waits for me to say something.
Saturday night. I thought he’d been talking in theory. But he knew. I wish I could remember exactly what he said, but Saturday is a blur, so I say, “What do you think about that?”
“I think I’m going to be late.” He shakes his head a little. “I was on my way out the door.”
Right. “Did you…did you want company?” I brace myself for his refusal.
“I don’t know.” Which isn’t a flat-out no.
So I inch up to it like he can’t
tell exactly what I’m doing. “Where are you meeting?”
“That coffee shop in Ueno we went to that time. I couldn’t think of anywhere else.”
“I’ll take the train up with you.” I say it like it’s been decided.
“Sure. Yeah.” He picks up a backpack from the hallway near the door and takes a couple of steps. I watch him go before I realize he said yes, although I totally expect him to change his mind.
We keep our distance the whole way to the station. I nearly take his hand, but stop myself. The next move has to be his. As the train jerks away from the platform, I see our reflection in the window, his hand reaching for my shoulder, then dropping back to his side.
“You can touch me.” I spin around. He’s closer than I thought. “You should, actually. Before I spontaneously combust.”
He smiles. A real one that stays in his eyes. “I might like to see that.”
“I bet you would.”
After that, I expect it. Anticipate it. Practically hold my breath for it. But he doesn’t touch me until we’re two stops from Ueno. It’s crowded, and normally we’d be pressed together, sharing a hand grip instead of leaving room for a small child between us. Now, even the couple of times we’ve been shoved together, he’s stepped back.
Until he doesn’t.
His arm goes around me and draws me close, nestling me into that space where I fit along his hip. The relief washes over me. I don’t try to hide it, and I have to dig my fingernails into his shoulder so I won’t cry out.
“Ouch. That hurts,” he says.
“It would be rude to burst into flames in front of all these people.” I try to keep my tone light, and it almost works.
“It would mess up the trains for the afternoon, that’s for sure.” His hand slips under the hem of my tank top to the bare skin of my back. “Where did you say you were going?”
His thumb hooks the waistband of my shorts while his fingers flutter between my skin and the thin fabric of my shirt. “I didn’t.”
Swimming to Tokyo Page 21
