Memorial(46)

Outside, I offered him my pack. He eyed it before taking out his own.

Sorry, he said, in English. If I don’t borrow, I’ll smoke less.

I tried that a long time ago, I said.

And now? said Tan.

I shrugged, waving my pack at him.

The two of us stood under the railing, rubbing our hands. There was a chill in the air. The streets were clear except for some revelers, and they were fucked up, laughing way too loudly, swinging their arms. When one member of their party nearly slipped and busted his ass, the entire group screamed.

You know Osaka pretty well? said Tan.

I don’t know shit.

Ha.

How’s it different from back home? I asked.

Tan looked at me. He grinned.

It’s softer, he said. Or more present, maybe. Is that what you’d say?

Nah. But English is flexible. Your words.

My words. How long have you been here?

About a month.

That’s not very long.

It isn’t.

How much longer do you think you’ll stay?

I don’t know. But eventually, I’ll leave.

Do you mind if I ask why you’re here, said Tan.

I gave him a long look. He stood an inch or so shorter than me. Today he’d tied his hair back, and the fur on his chin crept up the sides of his face.

I’m here for my father, I said. The old bartender. He’s dying.

It was the second time I’d allowed myself to say that out loud.

Hunh, said Tan, I thought you two looked alike.

I’ll take your word for it, I said. Think you’ll drop by the bar tomorrow, too?

I might, said Tan, smiling.

I’m flattered, I said.

Don’t be, said Tan. Osaka’s a small town.



* * *





The bar was locked when I made it back. So I walked to the apartment.

When I stepped through the door, Eiju was dozing on the sofa. The news projected variations of the weather across his face. We looked at each other for a moment.

Early night? I said.

Eiju blinked back at me. Then he shut his eyes again.

Hard to compete when your partner’s out chasing ass, he said.

Now I’m your business partner?

Don’t play dumb. You know what I’m saying.

Yeah, but I don’t think you know what you’re saying. I think you’re writing checks your ass can’t cash.

Eiju stood up so fast that I couldn’t anticipate it. He’d definitely shrunken.

And what now, he said, eyeing me. You’re gonna teach me a lesson? You’re gonna beat my ass?

I was about to respond when I looked at Eiju, standing pantless with a single sock, looking absolutely fucking ridiculous.

I realized, for the first time, I guess, that he really was an old man.

But his fist still connected.

On most days, I wouldn’t have fallen. But I was already off-balance. And then there was his uneven flooring, except Eiju must not have expected it either, because he fell into me, or onto me, and all of a sudden the two of us were on the floor.

I lay on top of him. We looked at each other a little dumbly. And then I pushed myself off Eiju and away, jumped up, kicked on my shoes, grabbed my jacket.

Just fuck off! he said. Run away! Just like her! It’s all you two are good at!

I didn’t say anything to that, because I didn’t trust whatever was about to come out of my mouth. Once I’d slammed the door, I stopped for a cigarette on the stairway.

Some dude and this kid stood beside each other on the stairway a floor down, investigating the noise. They could’ve been brothers. Or cousins. Or maybe a young father and his nephew. Eiju’s apartment was a quiet building, in a quiet neighborhood, and I could only imagine what we’d sounded like.

The pair eyed me for a while. The kid picked his nose.

I asked what the fuck they were looking at and the kid said, You.



* * *





It was only a few hours past midnight when I came back. I could feel the sleep creeping up my feet. One of the ladies living below us stepped outside to smoke, and when I smiled her way, she gave me a look, like, What the fuck?

Which was a good fucking question. It was time to face facts, or at least catch a few hours of sleep. But when I tried Eiju’s door, the handle wouldn’t give.

He’d locked it.

Fuck, I said, quietly.

And then, louder: FUCK.

As quiet as it was, I heard the woman below me sigh.

And then, despite everything, I thought about Ben.

So I started to text him.

Deleted it.

Sent him a handful of photos instead.

A chill set in on the rail beside me. It slipped a little farther down my socks. It was midday in Texas, which meant he would’ve been at work, but I was putting my phone away when the text bubbles appeared on his end.

They appeared. Disappeared. Appeared. Disappeared. And then they were finally, resolutely, gone, but I waited another five minutes, just to be sure.



* * *





The bubbles didn’t come back.

So I walked.





Tennoji, on a Sunday night, before the crack of fucking dawn, held an entirely different feel. Save for some stragglers, no one else was on the streets. The convenience stores glowed from block to block. The only other people outside were getting ready for the next day, sweeping at the entrances of Lawson’s and McDonald’s and 7-Eleven. At some point, it started drizzling. And then the rain picked up overhead. And I ducked underneath the awnings beside me, turning into this tiny all-night Chinese diner.