Tokyo Ever After: A Novel (Tokyo Ever After #1)(68)

It’s a lonely walk through the airport. I’m used to Akio frowning, Mariko fussing, and Mr. Fuchigami pointing out historical landmarks. In keeping with my burn-it-all-to-the-ground vibe, I’ve blocked all international phone numbers. The only calls getting through are Mom’s and the AGG’s.

Down the escalators I go, the bag on my shoulder weighted down with all my deep emotional issues. Next time I get a hankering to search for my father only to find out I’m a princess, I’ll do the smart thing and shut that shit down. Yeah. Next time.

Mom is waiting for me. I find my first smile when I see she’s brought Tamagotchi. I scoop him up and he growls and squirms until I put him down. He hides behind my mom.

“Careful, I’m pretty sure he ate some deer pellets this morning,” Mom says.

“He does love a pooh-pooh platter.” I give him one last head rub and he nips at my hand. Then, I fall into her arms, find that soft spot in her neck, and cry. I’m so used to bowing and nodding that physical touch feels novel, but not unwelcome. She smells like incense and laundry detergent. Like home. All suddenly feels right with the world, or at least a little better.

She smooths my hair, cups my cheeks. “Oh, Zoom Zoom. Tell me everything in the car. Let’s get your bags.”

Arms slung over one another’s shoulders, we make our way to the carousel. I lean into her and let my sadness show in the sag of my body. She carries the weight.

Luggage is already spinning around. I search for my bag and my eyes catch on a bright pink sign. Welcome home from the hospital! The rash cleared up, yay! Three girls are smiling and wave frantically—Noora, Hansani, and Glory.

“They insisted on coming,” Mom says, resigned. She knows better than to try to keep us apart. What God has put together let no man (or woman) put asunder. “You’re going to have to sit in the middle. It’s going to be a tight fit.”

I don’t care. I run and hug each of them.

“I told them the sign was too much,” Hansani whispers to me. In elementary school, Hansani was a bit of tattletale. She follows the rules and is unashamed.

I pull back, staring at each. “I hate you.” I turn to Hansani. “Except for you, you’re awesome.” Then, I pull them back to me.

It’s a five-hour drive home. I am the main entertainment, and I tell them everything. All the bitter details. Akio and me starting off as enemies. The developing relationship with my father. The Shining Twins sabotaging me at every turn, and their grand finale, selling my taboo romance to the tabloids. The landscape has changed from scrublands to pine forests. Hostess wrappers litter the car floor. The girls came equipped. Glory even brought a biscuit from Black Bear Diner.

“Did you tell your father?” Mom asks.

I stay silent. I did tell him. After the prime minister’s wedding, I tried to explain about the twins setting me up, and he brushed it off. How’d that feel? Not good. Not good at all. “They make me feel stabby,” I say instead, picturing the twins’ stupid evil faces.

“I’m sure any jury would acquit you,” Noora assures me.

In the rearview mirror, Mom smiles. Hansani is riding up front. She’s an excellent copilot, cheery and bright, pointing out interesting landmarks. I’m sandwiched between Glory and Noora. I don’t mind. It’s nice, like a cocoon. With them, nothing can touch me. Or at least, I can forget for a while all the things that hurt.

“I don’t even care about that anymore.” I do, but there’s much more to focus on, like my broken heart. “Akio hates me. I ruined his life.” It’s why he didn’t meet me that day. How could he, after everything I’d done? Love can cut as easily as it can heal.

“Maybe,” Glory carefully suggests, “you just need to give him some time to come around.” Guess Glory is a bit of a closet romantic. I’m happy her parents’ divorce hasn’t jaded her too much. She’ll make it back to the world of coupledom, but me …

Did I leave too soon? Give up too easily? “No,” I say. Glory wasn’t there. She wasn’t waiting on the sidewalk, watching the sun inch through the sky with her heart in her hands and her soul bared then bludgeoned. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I never was one of them. I don’t belong in Japan.”

Noora pats my leg. I lean my head back and close my eyes. There is no happily ever after. Fairy tales are bull.

The end.





31


An entire week passes. I hole up in my room. For a while, I kept up on the tabloids; they were still reporting on my affair, feasting on the body even though Akio had gone dark and I was on another continent. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I switched to bad television, mostly reality shows. On day seven, I binge a show about some guy with five wives. I am making incredible advances in feeling sorry for myself. It’s award-worthy. I convince myself it’s a positive. Got to keep those goalposts moving. Also, I haven’t showered. The weather is warm and there’s no air conditioning. So yeah, it’s bad all around.

Mom reluctantly supports my newfound hermit lifestyle. She brings food and drinks and makes sure my blinds are open, even when I hiss at the sunlight like a vampire. Jones has stopped by, bringing me a tincture for broken hearts and some aromatherapy—peppermint to improve my mood and increase my energy.

Noora prances in. She eyes my jammies. I’ve gone with a Christmas theme this morning. “Did someone forget it’s afternoon?” she asks. Her hair is particularly glossy today. I hate it.