Memorial(45)

All of a sudden, out of nowhere, I wanted him to pack his shit and leave. I wanted him to dissolve. I didn’t want him anywhere near me.

By the time Ben came back to bed, I’d shut my eyes. He called my name, but I didn’t open them. But he whispered my name again, and he wrapped himself around me, laying his legs over mine. And his shoulders sat on my shoulders. And Ben kept murmuring it, Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike, softly and slowly. Even after he’d fallen asleep, until I was knocked out, too.



* * *




? ? ?

After his night off, Eiju was nothing but energy.

I told him to cool it. To remember what Taro said.

Taro’s book-smart, said Eiju, but I know my body.

He’s a fucking doctor, I said. He knows everyone’s bodies.

Eiju slapped my shoulder. It was late afternoon. We’d taken a walk that morning, and Tennoji buzzed around us. We’d gelled into the foot traffic around Namba, until we’d made it back to the complex and the little woman living beneath us shook her head as we clattered loudly up the stairs.

You need to chill the fuck out, said Eiju.

That’s hard to do when I’m babysitting you.

No one has to do anything.

I guess you’d know that better than anyone.

Are you good? You been laid in a while? Because we’ve got fags all over this city.

Before I even realized what I was doing, I was already stomping back down the stairs, jogging past the cranky neighbor lady. I crossed the road, took the stairs to the station, and bought a ticket for the local line. But I didn’t actually hop on a train. I watched them stop and depart. Our station never got too much traffic in the afternoon, so everyone was either headed toward Umeda, taking a late trek to Shin-Osaka, or coming back from a day out in the world. Some lines formed and dissolved behind me.

Eventually, I realized I’d been holding eye contact with a lady on the next platform. She blinked back at me. Had her hair in this bob, with tight black jeans, and this too-large Toronto Raptors sweater. When I waved, her face broke into a grin, and she waved back at me, until a train severed our view. But then she hopped on and smiled through the window. And neither of us looked away. And the train started up and she was gone.



* * *




? ? ?

I used to wonder what Ma meant when I asked her about Japan, because I could only remember so much of that shit from when I was younger, and she’d tell me that it was different from home, but also the same. It was her home, not mine. But it was still home. Whatever that meant.

This was after Eiju left the second time. After their last major break. Sometimes, we’d just be sitting together in some diner by the feeder road, or at the dinner table, or driving, and Ma’d inhale sharply, out of nowhere. As a kid, that shit terrified me. But I got older. I stopped being surprised. Stopped reacting to it.

It was, I figured, just how Ma coped. No one gets to choose what steadies them.

When I asked her what was wrong, all Ma ever said was, Nothing.

Or, I just remembered something.

Or, Never mind.

Or, Don’t worry about it.

I always thought it was over Eiju. That Ma missed him. And I was half-right. But at some point, way later, I realized what the gasp was about: not stability, or consistency, but comfort.

The closest place for Ma to find it was home. Her home.



* * *




? ? ?

Tan passed through the bar again the next evening.

Eiju glanced up. He’d been feigning interest in whatever Sana, who’d arrived alone for once, was talking at him. Hana and Mieko sat stewing on opposite ends of the counter. They were pissed at each other about something or another, but Eiju teased them both that they’d still shown up to the bar together.

Hana’s only here because she has nowhere else to go, said Mieko.

I would, if you’d hurry up and drop your boyfriend, said Hana.

At that, Tan walked in. He pursed his lips at everyone, nodding my way. I went to grab him a beer. And everyone else settled down.

My father gave Tan a glance. Then he looked at me.

Where you coming from? said Eiju.

My mother’s, said Tan.

Your actual mother? said Sana.

The one who gave birth to me in Bedok, said Tan.

Lucky mama, said Hana.

Luckiest mama, said Mieko.

All of a sudden, just like that, all was forgiven between the two women.

What do you do that lets you travel like that? said Sana.

I’m a photographer, said Tan. I take pictures.

Of what?

The city, usually. The site I work for tells me what and when.

Lots of foreigners working in Osaka nowadays, said my father, and Sana hissed at him.

That’s a good thing, old man, said Sana.

Never said it wasn’t, said Eiju.

I’m sure his mother loves the stability, said Sana.

Stop that, idiot, said Hana.

What? said Sana. Am I wrong?

It’s fine, said Tan. What she loves is the bills being paid on time.

And with that, he chugged from his beer.



* * *





It didn’t take him long to finish.

When Tan stood to leave, I told Eiju I needed a cigarette.

My father gave me a look, but he didn’t say anything about it. Tan raised an eyebrow. He paused for me at the door.