Those books have always been my favorites. When I was younger, they were my only escape from the regimen of studies and activities that demanded most of my time. That escape, into worlds of imagination and wonder, had me reading them over and over until the pages started getting loose in their bindings and some of the dogeared corners had ripped off.
Any moment I could spare from my studies, my nose was in those books, immersing myself in those worlds of fantasy.
When had I stopped reading them? I really should pick them up again. Was it in college? I knew the answer, and it stung. It was when my media empire was born when I created Na Na Evermore as a brand for my Senior thesis.
I actually started cultivating the idea back in my sophomore year. The concept of a punk paramour who was the exact opposite of myself, knowing I'd need to do something spectacular as the students all around me were so massively artistic and talented.
There weren't many people at the Academy who were marketing majors, most were artists of some sort that had talent to spare. The marketing track was seen almost as the pariah of the school, the kids who couldn't do, only promote.
Had Karmin somehow instinctively known the significance of the books?
I prompted the woman, “You said Zoey had a message for me?”
She jumped a little, she had been lost in her own world. She turned and smiled. I caught her aborting that little bow of hers as she said, “Hai.” She pulled out a small envelope and held it out to me.
She cocked her head as I strode up to her to take it, and she gave a crooked little smile as she looked me over.
What was that about? I cocked an eyebrow, and she looked down, saying softly, “Sorry. You just look different without the makeup, more like your old self.”
I blinked at that, what was that supposed to mean? Nobody except my couple of friends had seen me out of character. I changed the topic quickly from me as I eyed the envelope. “So what...”
She finished, “Is it? A thank you from Mrs. Torville's daughter.”
I smirked at her anticipatory answer as I opened the envelope and looked at the card, saying, “Zoey would kick your ass for calling her that.” Then I smiled at the message. God, Zoey's kids were like the coolest kids.
Karmin admitted, “She insisted on me calling her Zoey, or Mrs. Z. It just felt proper manners to address her formally with others or in mixed company.”
I paused and cocked my head and really took her in. Again she seemed to be exhibiting odd cultural queues that had my Scooby sense prompting me to ask in Japanese, “Anata wa nihongo o hanasemasu ka, Karmin-san?”
Her smile bloomed as she inclined her head in a tiny bow, “Hai. I've lived the last six years in Tokyo, as an English interpreter and personal assistant.” Then she grinned down at her hands and shared, “Your Japanese is atrocious.”
My face was splitting into a grin. Ignoring her cute barb at my rusty Japanese, I replied, “Hey, I only took two years of Japanese back in high school.”
Then I motioned up and down at her. “I thought it was just some sort of anime obsession.” I quickly added, my eyes widening a bit. “Which totally works for you, I'm not knocking it.”
She was blushing profusely and ground a foot on the floor as she admitted, “Well I am sort of an anime otaku. But I like the style.”
I made an ushering motion as I shot one last furtive glance at the books. “Have a seat, unless you have somewhere to go that is.”
She shook her head, sat almost daintily, then brushed her hair behind her ears with both hands. Again, that action seemed far too familiar to me, and I wracked my brains trying to figure out why she looked so damn familiar to me.
I was at a loss. Na Na could talk about anything and everything, but she was just sitting in the back of my head, smugly watching. Oh! “I was about to order out before I locked the lobby for the night. Care to join me? I'm sure we have things that need discussing about this personal assistant stuff. I mean, I've never had one and don't know exactly how that works. Are you more like my handler or something? Keep me in line for the fukin' suits?”
She shook her head and said the opposite of what her eyes were telling me, “No, I couldn't.”
There was something about that. Then I remembered that she had those sort of blended cultural quirks. Wasn't there something about spontaneous invitations in Japan?
Oh yeah, I remember now. We're sort of crass and forward here in the States, and social protocol means next to nothing to us. But over there... I prompted again, “No really, it is no problem.”
She looked down at her hands as she clasped them in her lap, “Thank you, but I don't wish to be a burden.”
If I was right, then this would do it. “I insist.”
She smiled and nodded. “Thank you. It would be an honor.”
In Japanese culture, the onus is on the recipient of the unexpected invitation to refuse until asked three times. This signifies the host's genuine wishes rather than them just being polite. It also explained the grape juice.
Here it is polite to bring something when you visit someone's house, but not necessarily practiced outside of socialite circles or families.
There it is etiquette that is adhered to almost strictly. To show up empty handed can be viewed as an insult or slight to the host. It isn't uncommon to hear stories of the guest who shows up empty handed, opening their wallets to offer cash to the host in apology. As odd as it may sound to us, it would be a slight if the host refused the offer.
I glanced to where I sat the grape juice on the side table near the bathroom. It still didn't explain how she knew my favorite drink besides coffee.
I cocked my head at her. She looked to be about my age, twenty-four or so, though her outfit gave her a more youthful look. She had lived in Japan the last six years? So basically her entire adult life. It must have been a culture shock moving to a foreign land and learning all their customs.
I wondered if it hadn't been as much of a culture shock coming back the America, or does it all just stick with you? It must get confusing at times. But the blending of cultures made the woman just that much cuter to me.
She said as she cocked her head at me, “I thought you'd be out at a rave or something. Doing a podcast.”
I shook my head as I grabbed the landline handset on the coffee table. Yes, I still have a landline, if you tease me about it, you can just go get stuffed. “I wanted to give my full attention to this new endeavor with the station, so my Monday's are slated for KVRL only.”
Before she could ask again, I prompted, “Chinese? Pizza? Italian?”
She perked up at that. “There is an Italian place that delivers?”
Ah ha! I've found a weakness! I shall exploit it to the best of my abilities. Insert evil inner grin here.
I nodded. “Of course there are Italian places that deliver, this is Seattle after all. I doubt there is any style food you can't find in the Emerald City that doesn't deliver. But this isn't just any Italian.”
I was already dialing as I wiggled my eyebrows at her and said, “This is Alessandro's.”
Her jaw dropped, and she asked, “Alessandro's delivers? I though they were upper crust.”
I nodded, channeling some of my alter ego as I smirked. “They don't, and they are. Best Italian in a hundred mile radius. A friend of mine, Crystal, introduced me to the owner, Alessandro... awesome man. He knows my schedule is the nightlife, which leaves little time for a real life, so he let me know that I can call anytime and he'll have food sent out.”
She looked suitably impressed, and then I furrowed my brow before smiling at a thought. The man never once charged me, saying you don't take money from friends. Maybe I could finally repay his kindness. I said quickly before the call was answered. “Hey, personal assistant-y person. Make a note to talk to Porter about putting Alessandro's in the rotation for the segment, would you?”
She just gave a smug smile and nodded, and I noted she was already finishing up typing something on her cell. Ha
d she anticipated the request after I brought the place up? Shit, she really was like Cassandra wasn't she?
Someone answered and I said, “Hi, this is Na Na Evermore. Would it be possible to have some food delivered? Yes? Thank you, we'll have...” I covered the receiver and looked over at Karmin expectantly.
She shyly offered, “As silly as it may sound, I'll have spaghetti and meatballs, just like you.”
Fut the actual ever loving ferret humping wuck? How did she know that? I'm calling bullshit on this here and now after I order. I passed along the order, and they said to expect it within the hour.
I pressed the end button and slowly and deliberately placed the handset in the charging cradle. Then I sat back, then locked my eyes on her then accused in a frosty tone, “Would you mind explaining how you know what I like to drink, what I like to eat... and just why you look so god damned familiar to me? I know it isn't because you're dressed like Haruhi Suzumiya! Do I know you from somewhere?”
Chapter 5 – Reunion
Nala looked dangerously calm with fire in her eyes as she asked me, “Would you mind explaining how you know what I like to drink, what I like to eat... and just why you look so god damned familiar to me? I know it isn't because you're dressed like Haruhi Suzumiya! Do I know you from somewhere?”
Her voice was as cold as liquid nitrogen, freezing the space between us.
While the rest of me was frightened as I swallowed hard, the little chibi inside me was as pleased as a chipmunk that she knew what had inspired my outfit choice today. Nala liked anime back then as well, she had a few character t-shirts she wore to school on occasion.
Gah! When had she gotten such fire and confidence? Grr, I had been over her for quite some time, so why did I feel my old crush peeking out through my eyes as she stared at me, waiting for an answer? I'm so weak.
I just nodded. Her hard glare wavered, and I saw a smile ticking at the corner of her mouth, heavens above, I was amusing her. She sighed and asked pointedly, “Would you care to share with the rest of the class?”
I nervously pushed my hair back with both hands. The act had her eyes narrowing a little like she was trying to recall something, and I nodded again and said, “There.” Like it was obvious. Well, it was obvious to me, bet she didn't even know I existed back then. It wasn't her fault, I just always lost my nerve whenever I tried to will myself to go over and speak with her.
She let out an exasperated breath, and her amusement bled away into frustrated anger. “Don't get cryptic, did the fuckin' studio go poking around into my personal life?”
Ok, scary Nala is scary!
I was making a mess of this I looked at my feet. They didn't quite touch the ground on this comfortable overstuffed couch. I felt like a teen again... then I straightened. No, I'm a different person than I was then, we both are. I'm stronger now.
I turned to look into her expectant gaze, that fire was the new part of her that she developed with her Na Na persona. As scary as it was, it sort of made a part of me want to cheer for her. She had finally found her courage.
I explained, “I know you from class. We sort of went to school together.”
She blinked twice in surprise then asked with a tinge of amusement in her tone, “Sort of? Did you attend the Art Aca... no, you just said you've been in Japan the last six years.”
I shrugged and expounded, “Sort of, you know, junior high and high school...”
She looked almost pained at that, as if she felt bad she couldn't recall. I shook my head and offered with a shrug and a sad smile, “We didn't really know each other. I just sort of remember things about you.”
She blinked at me, her eyes moving like she was stripping back the layers of memories that have built up upon her foundation over the years, and her eyes went wide as she stabbed an accusing finger at me and blurted, “Kitty K-Hue!?” She looked so excited that she had just figured it out.
I started giggling. “Masaka, I haven't heard that name in so long.” I hated the name Karmin when I was younger, so I went by Kitty, and all the other geeks in the gaming club started calling me K-Hue.
I was able to redefine myself after high school, and shed the Kitty name for my real name again. I'm sort of loving my name now. Heck, there's even a famous singer who spells her name the same as me.
I squeezed my eyes shut and smiled at her as I squished my head down to my shoulders. I tried not to giggle, I felt like I was acting like an anime girl with my actions, I could almost feel my imaginary cat ears and tail swishing around. She must think I'm still that geek from back then. Ok, whatever, I may or may not still have a geek tendency or two.
She grinned and said the last thing I would have ever expected in like a kajillion years, “You were awesome. So popular.”
She flopped down on the couch on the far side from me, looking far too pleased with herself. The accompanying smile was a good look on her, and the way she had that amazing tail of hair wrapped around her n... wait! She was hiding her tattoos! Why?
I narrowed my eyes. In every Na Na Evermore podcast you could only see the teasing hints and edges of her ink, and downstairs, the dim lighting she had on in the dance studio didn't afford me a good look at them.
I tried not to stare at the parts of her arms she didn't have shrouded in the towel when we came up the elevator. I couldn't make out much in my peripheral vision, just some gears and clockworks. It was so very steampunk and organic looking. But now she wore her jacket that hid her arms and a longer shirt. Now my curiosity was screaming that it just had to know.
I sighed. Maybe one day she'd trust me to see them?
I shook my head and got back on topic as I squeaked out, “Umm... maybe I was wrong, it sounds like you and I went to completely different schools. In what world would the butt of all the school's geek jokes, be popular?”
She shook her head and shrugged then she suddenly looked terrified for a moment. It was just a flash. Then she said carefully, “Then you remember me before...” She motioned up and down herself.
A little voice in my head told me I had to be really careful about my response. She looked like a rabbit ready to run from a lunging dragon. I nodded with a smile. “That girl is still in there, under that awesome veneer you've built around her.” That was it. I understood now, Na Na was like a suit of armor for her, not just a brilliant marketing creation. I squeaked out, “I've always loved your long hair.”
She actually blushed slightly at that. Then she brushed aside the topic and circled back around to me as she looked genuinely confused and asked, “What do you mean? You had people around you all the time. You were the president of the gaming club and sci-fi club. You got to have fun doing what you loved anytime you wanted.”
I blinked then giggled. “You and I have different definitions of popular. It was the gaming club and the sci-fi club. By definition that made us the unpopular kids. It was a geek cloud that surrounded me, and nobody wanted to get close to us, or they'd catch a severe case of nerdlings.”
She shrugged and sounded a million miles away as she said, “Yet you were surrounded by people who 'got' you, and enjoyed the same things. Face it, woman, you were a geek queen among your subjects. That... is popularity.” Then she added almost in question. “Some of us would have killed to have friends around us like that.”
I plowed forward because she seemed to be thinking about something that made her unhappy. “I just noticed over the years how you always had your head in a book at lunch, and always worked through it without eating, only studying.”
I cocked my head toward the grape juice over where she set it down. “You just drank a bottle of grape juice.”
Then I brightened, and smiled at the memory her books by the window had sparked. “But one day a month, you changed your routine. Instead of school books, you'd bring in a Jules Verne book and actually eat lunch as you read.”
I prompted almost smugly, “Those were the days...”
She interrupted with a tinge of wonder in her voice, �
��...they served spaghetti and meatballs.” Oh, so that's what others feel like when I interrupt them and finish their sentences. I nodded with a silly grin on my face.
She nodded as well, as her brow furrowed in thought, and she shared in a faraway voice, “I made a deal with myself back then, that I would defy mom and allow myself just one day for myself each month. I love spaghetti and meatballs, so I chose the day it came into the rotation as my cheat day.”
She looked over at the bookcase. “So I read the books I wanted to, ate what I wanted to, and escaped into the world inside those books, if only for a while.”
Her mom was the one pushing her to be so studious? She sounded almost pained and haunted about it. She glanced nervously at me and then slid over closer to me. My heart started beating faster just from the closeness to her.
Nala pulled up a sleeve and pointed at a spot on the amazing tattoo sleeve that twisted around her arm like wisps of smoke. It had no color to it, it was only sharp black lines and shadow that created a stream of gears, cranks, and pressure vessels that had an almost organic feel.
I smiled at the wistful look on her face as she pointed at a fantastical submarine in the mix. She explained, “The Nautilus, from Verne's books. One of my memories.” She indicated some of the other things woven into the amazing artwork that was now part of her skin. I wanted to see more, to ask questions but she pulled her sleeve back down, hiding them from my gaze.
Memories? I asked, “Are they all memories?”
She nodded and nervously smoothed down the sleeve of her jacket with one hand. “I don't ever talk about them, they're private. I don't know why I'm saying anything now. Maybe because you knew me before Na Na. They're all my happy memories. I had so few growing up I didn't ever want to lose them.”
She seemed happy about that revelation, so why did I feel so very... sad? Then I snorted when she pointed at me and put her airs back on.
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