In the Age of Love and Chocolate (Birthright #3)(42)

A female house servant dressed in a maroon kimono led me down a hallway. The hallways ran along the perimeter of the building. The servant slid open a door that also acted as a wall.

I went into the bedroom, which had tatami mats on the floor and walls, but a Western-style bed. The room had a distant view of a pond. A cat roamed the grounds, and I wondered if she was a descendant of the cat Natty and I had met on our visit over a decade ago. Or perhaps it was the same cat? Cats live a long time, sometimes longer than people.

I unpacked my suitcase and then lay down on the bed. Silly to say, but it began to seem of pivotal importance that I find out the weather for tomorrow, my wedding day. I turned on my phone, but it wouldn’t work. I turned on my slate; slates were said to be more reliable than phones when you were traveling. A message came up on the screen.

win-win: Anya?

anyaschka66: I’m here.

win-win: I hoped you might be using your slate since you were traveling abroad. You’re in Japan, right?

anyaschka66: Yes.

win-win: That means you’re getting married tomorrow.

anyaschka66: Are you going to try to stop me?

win-win: I’d never try to stop you from doing anything anymore. I’m slow, but I learned my lesson.

anyaschka66: Smart boy.

win-win: I was thinking that it was nice seeing you at Natty’s graduation, though.

anyaschka66: Yes.

win-win: This is tiring. Why did our grandparents ever like doing this? Why didn’t people pick up phones?

anyaschka66: They had a lot more acronyms than us. My nana used to tell me them sometimes. She won a speed-texting competition when she was fifteen or maybe sixteen. OMG. LOL.

win-win: I know OMG but what’s LOL?

anyaschka66: Laughing out loud.

win-win: So you don’t need that one much.

anyaschka66: What’s that supposed to mean?

win-win: You’re kind of serious. You’re kind of a funeral of a girl.

anyaschka66: I’m funny.

win-win: Not LOL funny.

anyaschka66: LOL.

win-win: Wait, are you actually laughing out loud?

anyaschka66: I’m not laughing out loud. Probably no one is EVER laughing out loud when they write LOL. Actually, I’m ROTFL.

win-win: What’s that one?

anyaschka66: I’ll tell you the next time I see you.

win-win: When will that be?

anyaschka66: Maybe not for a long while. I’ll be based in Japan for the next several months at least, though I’ll be traveling to the other club locations, too. I will be in Boston briefly for Natty’s freshman orientation at MIT.

win-win: Look me up if you have time. I’ll congratulate you on your marriage, and I can help you and Natty if you need a big, strong man to move boxes or whatever.

anyaschka66: Who’s this big, strong man you’re talking about?

win-win: LOL.

anyaschka66: I should go. I’m getting married in the morning.

win-win: OMG.

anyaschka66: Look at you, using those fancy acronyms.

win-win: DDT YLRPANG IS IMY IHTYMYO IKIDHARBIDWAETHY ITIMSLY IDHMR

anyaschka66: Now you’re making stuff up.

win-win: All of it stood for something, I assure you.

anyaschka66: I don’t think a one of those acronyms has any chance of catching on.

win-win: Congratulations, Annie. Congratulations, my old friend. I’m serious. Be well and be safe and no matter what happens to either of us in life, let’s promise never to go so long without talking again. LOL.

anyaschka66: I think you might be misusing LOL, Win. Unless you meant that last part as a joke.

He must have already turned off his slate, because he did not reply. I turned off my slate and got into bed.

I could see that peacock feather sitting on my suitcase across the room. I felt as if the eye was looking at me, and so I got out of bed and tucked the feather into the sheath of my machete.

* * *

That night, I did not sleep. It may have been the jet lag.

* * *

It may just have been the jet lag.

XVI

I BELIEVE MYSELF TO BE MAKING A CAREFULLY CONSIDERED AND CALCULATED DECISION; I IMMEDIATELY EXPERIENCE REGRETS; I DO MY BEST TO IGNORE THEM

WHEN I AWOKE IN THE MORNING, I had not even slept an hour. My skin was puffy, my vision was blurred, my hands were sweaty, and my head throbbed.

A woman from Yuji’s staff dressed me in a kimono made from cream-colored silk with the lightest pink cherry blossoms embroidered into the hem and sleeves. My hair had grown long enough to accommodate the traditional topknot style. Gold ornaments on surprisingly sharp daggers were stuck into the buns. My face was powdered white, my cheeks were powdered pink, and my lips were painted bloodred. Finally, a heavy silken hood was draped over me. I felt like I was in a costume, but maybe every bride feels this way no matter what the circumstances of her nuptials are.

The thong sandals I was wearing forced me to take very small steps. I shuffled over to the bathroom. I closed the door behind me. I lifted the kimono and strapped my machete under it. Better to be safe than sorry, I thought. I looked in the mirror, and I fluffed out my kimono.

We were married in a Shinto shrine. I didn’t understand most of what was said. I nodded when I was asked, uttered the occasional hai when it seemed appropriate. We drank sake from small ceramic cups, and an atonal guitar provided the accompaniment. We performed a ceremonial act with tree branches, and then the service was over. Less than a half hour, I’d say.