Hatsukoi Page 3

  “What in the world was that?”

  Junko’s frown could have shaken mountains. “He’s a nice boy. I don’t understand why you broke up with him.”

  “I told you back then.” Aiko didn’t like talking to the back of her mother’s head, but that’s what she got when Junko turned around and ambled back to the kitchen from whence she came. “It wasn’t working.”

  Junko tightened the knot in her apron and glared over her shoulder at Aiko. “When a relationship is good, you keep it good.”

  There was nothing good about it! Daisuke was a nice enough boy, a sweet boy, a polite boy, but nothing about him made Aiko think, after five months, she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. And since she also had no desire for him, continuing the relationship was moot. I’m too young to waste my time like that.

  “I’m going now,” she announced to her now silent mother. As she stomped out into the genkan to put on her boots and head out the door, Aiko hoped this odd run-in with her ex-boyfriend wouldn’t sour her day with Shizuka and…Reina. The thought of the tough-speaking girl sitting near her, beautiful and flirty, was enough to put a smile back on Aiko’s face before the freezing air could bite it off.

  * * *

  The restaurant the others agreed on was dark and intimate, the kind of place playing right into Aiko’s fantasies. Even better, the hostess led them to a curving booth on the side of the room, complete with candles and enough room for four bodies. Shizuka shoved Aiko on the inside and followed her to flank one end, while Michiko and Reina filled out the other. Aiko had a menu in front of her face and didn’t realize who sat next to her.

  “I love your headband,” Michiko said. Disappointment flooded Aiko’s blood as Reina already got up to go use the toilet. That just left Michiko, sitting right next to Aiko and admiring her accessories. “I appreciate any girl who loves pink.”

  “Sou?” Aiko nodded in gratitude and searched Michiko’s fashion for a likewise compliment. “I like your necklace. It’s very colorful.”

  “Thank you.” Michiko perused her own menu as her hand touched the red necklace resting atop her black sweater. Even in “real life” she was stylish, with a red miniskirt straight out of a fashion magazine and bouncing bobbed hair topped off with a thin, black ribbon. Aiko analyzed her own clothing, convinced she looked like a lazy high schooler next to Michiko’s Western sophistication. Is she really a lesbian? She could get any guy she wanted. Daisuke would have loved her for her complexion alone.

  They ordered a mixture of salads and breads to share amongst each other, and the conversation following was dominated by Shizuka and Michiko, who had many opinions about their manager and his expectations for their group. Aiko didn’t understand much about the entertainment business, but Shizuka hated the handkerchief she always had to wear on her head and Michiko got tired of being yelled at by their fourth member, another American living on another plane of existence separate from mere mortals.

  Reina never said much, even when Michiko asked her for back up about what a “bitch” their lead singer was. Instead, she remained slumped down on the edge of the booth, her hand always rubbing her eyes. The natural caretaker inside Aiko wanted to reach over and nest a bed for Reina, something she had never felt for Daisuke.

  “Say, Aiko,” Michiko said, “why is it you keep hanging out with a couple of perverts like us?” She nudged Reina. “I mean, most girls not in the scene would have run away by now.”

  Aiko lowered her steaming teacup. “The ‘scene?’”

  “Lesbians,” Shizuka muttered into her own tea.

  “Oh.” Aiko bit her lip and considered an answer. How do I tell her it’s because I want to know Reina better? Saying that would be odd in itself. She barely knew Reina – what was so special about her? Aiko even judged herself when compared to Michiko, who, with her Western features, was miles ahead of Reina in the beauty contest. “Well, you seem nice…”

  “Eh.” Michiko held out her manicured hands and brushed away some hair from Aiko’s forehead. “Are you sure it’s not because we’re gay and you’re curious?”

  “Knock it off, Mi-chan.”

  Shizuka smoked a cigarette and glared at Michiko as if she were going to jump Aiko there at the table. Michiko hmphed and pulled away, preferring to instead hold herself to the dozing Reina.

  Nobody said much else throughout the short meal, least of all Reina, who seemed to eat her lunch when Aiko wasn’t looking. Otherwise, she was a model of silence and sleepiness, to the point Shizuka kicked her beneath the table and demanded to know what she had done the night before to become a “soulless bastard” now.

  “Your mother,” Reina mumbled.

  Michiko patted her on the shoulder and pulled the hair out of her eyes, like a doting mother tending to her lackadaisical child. “Reina partied a little too hearty last night,” she said with a whistle in her voice.

  “Surprise.”

  Aiko polished off the last leaves of her salad and wondered why she had bothered to look so nice that day. Maybe this was a sign she should cut ties from Reina, because regardless of how intriguing she was on the surface, Aiko didn’t have time for anyone so disjointed. For the second time that day, disappointment festered inside. How fast the self-proclaimed phase ended.

  And then somewhere between Shizuka getting up to use the toilet and Reina rolling her head along the back of the booth, Michiko offered a cherry tomato to Aiko on a pink palm. “I noticed you ate all of yours. I don’t feel like eating them today. Would you like it?”

  Aiko studied the little plump tomato and nodded. She reached a hand to take it from Michiko, but the other woman snapped it back and held the tomato between her fingers.

  Naiveté may have been the cornerstone of Aiko’s experiences, but she did not discount her instincts. So when she saw that tomato held between two petite, manicured fingers, and the lovely woman holding them…Aiko had to divert her eyes so she did not look into the entrancing “come-hither” lurking within Michiko’s. When she glanced again, she saw confidence manifested in a Western woman with no shame. The way Michiko leaned against the booth, her hosed legs crossed and pointing toward Aiko like an invitation, almost told her as much as parted lips and raising brows did. This isn’t just flirting. Is she making a move? Sweat dotted Aiko’s forehead.

  “Here.” Michiko pushed the tomato toward Aiko’s mouth.

  All Aiko had to do was turn away, pluck the tomato from Michiko’s fingertips, or just ask her to stop this game. No reason for her to play a charade she had no interest in. What if Shizuka came back now? Aiko didn’t want her new friend to get in trouble.

  It seemed simple. Aiko told herself over and over to put her foot down, figuratively or literally, but the heat in her cheeks eased down her throat and spread through her chest like an infection – an infection influencing her jaw to drop open low enough to fit a cherry tomato.

  She closed her eyes when the skin of the tomato touched her lips. It stayed there, hovering on her flesh, and teasing the barrier of her teeth. Such a barrier was faulty, and the infection eased her tongue through her teeth and tasted the tomato. As the vinegar from leftover salad dressing covered her tongue, Michiko pressed the tomato further into Aiko’s mouth, until only the greens remained outside her lips.

  A simple tug and the greens came free, snatched between Michiko’s retreating fingers. “Is it good?” she asked, her voice low.

  The tomato remained intact inside Aiko’s mouth, but she nodded regardless. She made a short snack of the tomato and swallowed.

  Lingering inside her organs, the infection retracted its strange orders but did not relinquish its influence. The heat continued into her stomach, following the tomato and warming her insides. Something screamed in acquiescence as her clothing constricted and her thighs burned.

  The brief image of Michiko pushing her against the booth, kissing her and shoving a hand up her sweater would have never entered Aiko’s mind before that poisoned tomato.

  Mich
iko sighed with a lowering of her shoulders. “When Shi-chan gets back, let’s wake this one up and go somewhere else.” She gazed at Aiko for a second before leaning in, as if perverted fantasies came true.

  She braced herself.

  When Michiko didn’t kiss her, Aiko took the initiative brought on by a cherry tomato. Oh, no, she didn’t have the gall to kiss another woman, let alone in a public atmosphere. But she said the words she heard time and again in the romance movies from Hollywood and beyond.

  “Yes. I’d like to go somewhere. Private.”

  * * *

  “You sure you want to be left with them?”

  Aiko didn’t look Shizuka in the eye when asked a second time. “It’s fine,” she said. “I don’t mind. You go on and meet your other friends.”

  Shizuka kept one eye on the others before taking Aiko by the shoulder. “Don’t hang around them if they make you uncomfortable. Okay?”

  “Of course.” What was she, six? “I’ll take care.”

  Her cousin glared at the pair down the street once more before mumbling about train fare and seeing other people. “If you say so,” she said. “But if you need anything, find a payphone and call someone, okay?”

  “Yes. Jya ne.” Aiko waved goodbye to reiterate her point.

  After casting some rough goodbyes to her coworkers, Shizuka marched down the street toward the nearest station. A blur passed Aiko in the form of Reina. Michiko thus explained this exhibition of her newfound liveliness a second later: “She wants to get home and take a nap.”

  The weight of her flirtation still expanded throughout Aiko’s body. We’re alone now. But that means Reina’s gone, too. “Is she okay?”

  Michiko considered that question with a twitching lip and crossing arms. “She doesn’t think things through, that one. She stayed out late last night drinking with some other friends.”

  “Oh.” Aiko figured as much but didn’t want to insinuate it. While Reina hadn’t quite been an example of a hangover, she did reflect the same side effects of a student staying up too late to write a paper at the last minute. “Did you go out last night?”

  “Hm? Oh, no. I wasn’t in the mood.”

  A pair of schoolgirls pushed between them without apologizing. Michiko scoffed and suggested, “Let’s follow your own idea and find somewhere…private. What did you have in mind?”

  Aiko tugged on her purse strap. “I don’t know. We’ve already had lunch…” What if she suggests we go to a hotel? Aiko wasn’t ready for that. Just the thought made the infection inside her balk.

  “Jya, there’s really only one cheap place two girls can go for a little privacy.”

  Although Aiko knew Michiko meant a hotel, she was relieved to find it was not at all. They went to a nearby karaoke bar offering discounts during the day. When presented with a drink menu at the counter, Michiko point-blank asked what kind of alcohol they should get. Aiko declined – she was underage – and purchased orange juice instead. Michiko settled with a beer and the two of them were led to an upstairs room with low lights and cheap sound systems.

  The tiny karaoke booth held five people at maximum, but even just the two of them crowded around a small table like two feet in slippers too small. The drinks followed right behind while Michiko lit a cigarette.

  “You sure you don’t want some?” She popped the cap on her beer.

  Aiko shook her head. “No. I’m not twenty. I didn’t want to risk getting caught.”

  “Ah. I’m not twenty either.”

  “You’re not?”

  The smile on Michiko’s face brought cheeriness to the drab karaoke room. “No. I’m nineteen.”

  “Really! Is Reina-san nineteen too?” Aiko couldn’t believe it. Reina had such an adult air about her. She had to be at least twenty-two. At least.

  “No. She just turned twenty a little while ago. I’m young because I went to school in America until high school. The school years don’t exactly match up well.”

  “Oh, of course.” Aiko had heard from Shizuka that Michiko was a recent transplant to Japan in the past few years. A slight accent haunted her Japanese, and sometimes the words she used could have been better…and sometimes her grammar didn’t add up right…but for the most part she sounded natural enough. “Where in America are you from?”

  Michiko drank some of her beer before answering between drafts of her cigarette. “California. San Jose, specifically.”

  “Ehh? So cool!”

  “I guess.”

  “I want to go to California.” Aiko leaned back, her mind replaying Hollywood movies and documentaries from travel channels. When she looked at Michiko again, it was all she could do to keep from analyzing her as a “Californian” as opposed to just an “American.” She has a tan, and she looks so…expensive. In truth, she doubted Michiko’s ensemble added up to much more than a hundred American dollars, but the way she wore it suggested the sweater was cashmere instead of cotton, the skirt designer as opposed to from a sales rack. Michiko could even wear the red necklace with bulbous beads and betray their identity as cheap plastic. The only thing authentically expensive about her was her perfume, which Aiko recognized from her older sister’s impeccable collection.

  As if Michiko knew she was being analyzed, she lifted a hand to her necklace and tapped a plastic bead. “California is nice. I miss it. You should go if you get the chance.”

  “My university has a study abroad program for those who study English. I hope to go in a couple years.”

  “You speak English?” Michiko’s eyes lit up brighter than the ignored karaoke TV. “I never get to speak English with anyone,” she said in quick, fluent English.

  Aiko’s brain struggled to process a stream of foreign words. She understood them, but there was no way she could talk back in any proper conversation without exhausting her vocabulary in less than five minutes. “Gomen,” she apologized, “I’m not so good at English conversation yet.”

  “Oh.” Michiko averted her eyes to her cigarette and beer bottle, things more interesting than the disappointing Aiko Takeuchi. And the silence following did nothing to assuage Aiko’s surety that she was the worst companion in the world for such a beautiful and flirtatious foreigner. Hence her surprise when Michiko extinguished her cigarette and spoke again. “Are you a lesbian?”

  “Eh?” That word, “lesbian,” kicked Aiko in the stomach and laughed in her face. Reina had asked her the same thing, but in a more roundabout way, a more Japanese way. Foreigners were tricky. “I’m not!”

  “Then why are we on a date?”

  “A date?” The last date Aiko went on was with Daisuke, when they went bowling and she decided to dump him. “I didn’t know this was a date.”

  “Maa, that’s good, because it’s not a very good one.”

  Oh, no, I’m a horrible date! Didn’t matter Aiko had no idea it was a date. Didn’t matter she didn’t want to date women…yes? What if Reina had asked me on a date? What then? What if she marched up to Aiko, said, “You. Me. Date.” and stalked off again in the same manner? What would Aiko say? I don’t date women. But she knew if Reina did that very thing, she would have no control over the infection in her throat screaming, “Yes, yes, let’s go right now!”

  “So, what do two women do on a date, anyway?”

  Michiko rolled her eyes, as if Aiko were some little girl asking where beef came from. “What do a man and a woman do on a date together? Two men? They talk, they eat, they complain, they shop, they play…” She judged Aiko’s reactions. “They fuck.”

  Another little dirty word, but this one didn’t kick or laugh at Aiko; instead, it tugged at her gut and asked the infection to come out and play. She let it wash over her, warming her, before responding. “Then I guess the difference would be whether or not you want to sleep with somebody.”

  “Not always. Sometimes you have to make a lot of mistakes until you know what you want.”

  “Such as?”

  Michiko frowned at the wall in front of her, as
if unpleasant images played like a movie on top of the Chage & Aska poster. “In America, I had a few boyfriends.”

  “Really?”

  “Un.” Michiko needed another drink of beer before continuing. “Not any good ones, but it wouldn’t have made a difference even if they were perfect princes. They were all older than me, but not too old. I lost my virginity at thirteen, and it sucked. And sex kept sucking until I dry humped a girl friend of mine and had the best orgasm of my life. Well, the only orgasm I’d ever had with another person.” She drank again. “Everything made sense after that. Admitting I was gay was easy.”

  “So it’s who you have the best sex with…”

  “No. You oversimplify. As usual.” Aiko didn’t know if that was a jab at her personally, or what Michiko perceived as a Japanese mindset. “Asking somebody how they know they’re gay is like asking somebody else how they know they’re straight. You just know.” She looked at her for the first time since telling stories. “Have you had boyfriends?”

  Aiko thought of Daisuke, waiting for her outside her house, waiting for her inside the house. “Yes. A few. I broke up with my last one in October.”

  “Did you enjoy sex with them?”

  A hand clasped around Aiko’s heart, stealing her breath and stopping the blood in her veins. A week before dumping Daisuke, they went to a hotel together, to celebrate their five-month anniversary. Aiko knew what he implied with this trip, and until they sat on the bed together and he kissed her, she thought she was ready. Ready for him to touch me and look at my body. But nothing he did felt good, and before he could finish unbuttoning her blouse she told him to stop and retreated to the bathroom. Daisuke never asked her what was wrong, even after they left the hotel early and he took her home, still a virgin. I wasn’t ready. That’s what she had told herself. I was too nervous. It wasn’t the right time. I didn’t want him. She hadn’t wanted any of her boyfriends – even the clever ones, the cute ones, the gracious ones.