Apparently satisfied he had packed enough, Johnny zipped Elle’s duffle bag and lifted it over his shoulder. “Hurry! We go airport now.”
The airport? Why were they going to the airport? So they could fly her to some remote location and kill her?
Elle reached for her purse, the Hello Kitty one. She considered the smiling kitten face. She had never seen anything so stupid, so juvenile, in her entire life. As Johnny thrust Elle toward the stairs, she grabbed a stack of photos from on top of the TV, hastily putting them into the purse as they left the room.
Johnny stopped at the bottom of the stairs to put his shoes back on. Elle slipped on a pair of clogs and considered how ironic it was that Johnny had politely removed his shoes before entering her apartment, like he was an honored guest. Elle tried to reach for her sneakers, but Johnny shoved her out the door and onto the street before she could get them.
Tak’s black Mercedes was parked up on the sidewalk outside of the apartment, blocking the way for pedestrians and bicyclists. Tak frequently parked this way. At first, this had impressed Elle—Tak was so powerful, so important, he could park wherever he wanted. Elle had loved being a part of this world; she found it intoxicating. She saw it all differently now.
How could I have been so stupid?
Johnny pushed Elle into the back seat of the Mercedes. It smelled so strongly of cigarettes, she gagged. Elle had driven in Tak’s car hundreds of times before and never been bothered by the smell. How odd it would affect her so strongly now.
As Mike drove Tak’s Mercedes out of her neighborhood, Elle slowly began to regain use of her brain—it seemed to have shut down for the last ten minutes. Or had it been an hour? She couldn’t be sure.
Elle was a mess. The stale cigarette odor in the car worsened her dull headache, and from the persistent tingling on her lip, she knew the cold sore was going to be a nasty one. Her cheek stung and was no doubt puffy and swollen; she hadn’t been given time to cover it with makeup. She hadn’t even had time to comb her hair or put on a bra. At least she had grabbed Mitch’s T-shirt. Elle could smell him on it, and that gave her a small semblance of comfort. She wished she could call him. Mitch would help her.
Speaking in Japanese, Elle asked Johnny and Mike why they were rushing her to the airport. It seemed pointless to continue pretending that she didn’t understand their native tongue. Whatever advantages it had provided in the past were now long gone.
Johnny reacted to hearing Elle’s flawless Japanese by turning his head abruptly toward her, and Mike looked in the rearview mirror with raised eyebrows. Elle took satisfaction in their shock. She still had the power to surprise them.
Even so, Johnny and Mike refused to acknowledge her question. Elle knew it would be futile to try and get more answers from them. She had been in Japan long enough to understand the Japanese could do silence. They were masters at it.
Elle couldn’t stand the quiet. “Will you please turn on the radio?” She tried to sound polite, but it was difficult. Her voice was shaky and uneven.
Mike turned the dial up on the car radio, and Elle recognized the song immediately: Blue Oyster Cult’s “(Don’t Fear) The Reaper.”
Oh, fuck. FUCK!
It had been nearly two years since Elle had relied on songs for direction, but she couldn’t ignore this message. Music had never let her down. This was bad. Really bad. Elle shook uncontrollably. She needed a cigarette, something to calm her nerves. Try as she might, Elle couldn’t heed the advice of the song. She did fear the Reaper.
Johnny told Mike to change the channel, he didn’t like that song. Mike obeyed and turned the dial to a different station. Elle was hopeful. Perhaps the next song wouldn’t have such a dire message.
The Ace of Base song “The Sign” came on. This was definitely a sign—the song title couldn’t have been clearer. But what did it mean? Elle couldn’t be sure. She was out of practice. She listened to the lyrics for more clues.
The lead vocalist sang out about seeing a sign and having her eyes opened.
Aha.
Elle got it. At some point over the past two years, she had stopped listening to the signs. She had become too confident, cocky even, and thought she didn’t need them anymore. Elle was being punished for her hubris.
She should have known better. Music had never let her down. It had been foolish to ignore the signs. She wouldn’t make the same mistake again. The song on the radio was right. Elle needed to open her eyes to the signs and to the situation she had gotten herself into. It was a bad one. All around.
As Elle was driven to a fate unknown, she brokered a deal with the gods of music.
I hear you. I understand. If only you will spare me from the Grim Reaper, I promise to never ignore you again. I will pay more attention. I will listen. Cross my heart and hope to die.
3:11 p.m.
Johnny led Elle brusquely by the arm toward the TWA ticket counter at Narita Airport. She was thankful they had taken her there, rather than Haneda, the smaller domestic airport where Sugar Puss kept their plane. Elle had considered the possibility that Johnny and Mike were going to take her onto the band’s jet and toss her out somewhere over the Pacific. Boarding a commercial flight seemed much safer.
Elle looked around the terminal at all the happy, eager faces. Children proudly wearing cow-shaped backpacks in eager anticipation of their first airplane ride. Friends excitedly discussing the waves they were on their way to master. Couples holding hands so tightly they were either embarking on their honeymoon or dreading the other’s imminent departure.
How must she look?
Before reaching the counter, Johnny grabbed Elle by the chin. “You go Hawaii now. You no talk about Tak. You no come back Japan. Never. Understand?”
Elle’s shoulders dropped, somewhat relaxed—they weren’t going to kill her or hurt her after all. And the terms Johnny outlined would be easy to adhere to; it would be her pleasure to never mention Tak’s name again. “Yes, of course. I understand.”
As they stood in line, Elle panicked. “My passport—I don’t have my passport!”
Johnny squeezed her arm tightly. More tightly than was necessary. “I have.”
He had her passport? How? Tak must have taken it at some point. Elle again cursed her stupidity. She’d been such an idiot.
Johnny gave Elle her passport. She put it into her Hello Kitty purse and noticed that she didn’t have any money. She had used all her cash paying for Mitch’s birthday dinner the night before. Elle looked at Mike and Johnny, distraught. “I don’t have any money.”
They didn’t respond.
Frantic, Elle looked through her purse, vainly searching for money where there was none. She was such a bonehead. Why hadn’t she grabbed cash out of the Mitch and Elle’s Adventure Jar before leaving her apartment?
At least she had her ATM card. If she could get to an ATM machine, she could access her savings from English First. Elle touched Mike’s arm. “I need to go to an ATM and get some money.”
Mike deferred to Johnny, who shook his head. “No. No time.”
“Please, it will just take a few minutes, I promise. Please!” Elle’s heart pounded. What would she do without any money? She tried a new tactic. “Look, I have a ton of money in my account. I’ll give you guys half—half of all I have.”
Johnny pursed his lips like he was considering the offer. Elle was hopeful, but he shook his head, saying, “No. We go.”
“Please, Johnny! It would be around one hundred thousand yen for each of you. No one will know. It will be our secret.” “Our secret”—What a stupid thing to say. Like it mattered. Still, Elle was desperate.
“I say NO!” Johnny grabbed Elle by the arm and pulled her close to him. She tried to squirm away, but he tightened his grip and leaned in close, brushing his mouth against her cheek. “You listen me. You be quiet. You leave, you no come back. I see you again, I fuck you like dirty whore.”
Johnny loosened his hold and looked at Elle. A cold, hard look devoi
d of any feeling, except perhaps satisfaction. He had won. All the times Elle had spoken to him condescendingly, all the times she had ordered him around like an errand boy, none of that mattered. He was in control now, and they both knew it.
And really, what did Elle expect after the way she had treated him? A big hug and a teddy bear? No, she had brought all of this upon herself. She had really fucked up this time. There was no way around it.
Elle had gone to Japan in search of something better. Something more. A place where she wasn’t the daughter of a single mother who worked in a bar and was poor. A place where she wasn’t responsible for having a dead brother. A place where she could be the person she had always wanted to be; the type of person to whom others looked with envy.
But instead, Elle had done things she was so ashamed of she couldn’t bear to acknowledge them. Lost in a time and place where consequences didn’t seem to exist, she had forgotten what mattered. The one true thing Elle had found in Japan was her friendship with Mitch, and she had managed to screw up even this.
Elle was like Tonya Harding when all she had wanted was to be Nancy Kerrigan.
What would Jimmy think of his big sister now?
Elle returned Johnny’s steely gaze. There was no sense in fighting or arguing or making a scene. She was beaten down and wanted to cry. She had nothing. Nothing but a hangover, a cut cheek, a cold sore, and a stupid Hello Kitty purse.
Elle held back her tears and willed herself to maintain the one thing she could control: her composure. She would not give Johnny the satisfaction of thinking he had broken her.
3:41 p.m.
The ticket agent at the TWA gate announced the flight for Honolulu was beginning to preboard. Surprisingly, Tak had bought Elle a ticket in first class. She couldn’t begin to fathom why—maybe he did still care for her? Regardless, Elle was thankful. She hadn’t eaten all day, her stomach was beginning to rumble, and she had no money to buy food. At least in first class she would be well-fed.
Johnny stood up from his seat and signaled for Elle to do the same. Once again, he gave her a hard, ruthless look with not a trace of humanity. Was it possible he had no conscience, none at all? “Remember, no talk about Tak and no come back Japan.”
Elle nodded.
Satisfied he had completed his job, Johnny turned to leave. Mike bowed slightly to Elle, turning to see where Johnny was. Noting Johnny’s back was toward them both, in one fluid motion, Mike quickly thrust a wad of yen into Elle’s hands.
She quickly took the money and stuffed it into her purse, regretful over her past behavior toward Mike. This was the second time that day he had shown her kindness and compassion. Elle wouldn’t be able to properly thank him—at any moment Johnny might turn around—so she looked at him intently, hoping to silently convey her sincere gratitude.
Did he sense it? Elle hoped so. It was only a short moment before he, too, turned away from her.
Elle handed the agent her ticket and prayed no one would be in the seat next to her. She couldn’t bear the thought of small talk. The only person Elle wanted to hear from was Mitch. He would know what to do. She would call him as soon as she landed in Hawaii.
As Elle boarded the plane that would take her out of Tokyo, she was grateful. Despite all the ways in which she had erred, the universe had been good to her. The gods of music had accepted her deal; she had been spared. It was her turn to give back. Elle resolved to make amends for all her poor behavior. Not only would she would honor her vow to pay attention, to listen, and to learn, but she would also be the kind of person Jimmy would be proud of. And that meant no more drinking, no more smoking, no more drugs. It wasn’t too late to start over. Elle would do better. She would be better.
Starting now.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
James Bay: “Let It Go”
June 5, 2017
12:01 a.m.
Elle absentmindedly turned the slim straw in her martini around, taking in the bar as Win excused himself to go to the men’s room. She couldn’t remember the last time the two of them had gone out alone, but karaoke had been so fun that Elle decided to join her husband for a nightcap before going up to bed.
Elle rarely drank and was feeling the effects of the vodka from her martini. Everything seemed softer to her, slower and gentler. Why had she imposed such a strict stance on drinking for so long? Yes, she had abused alcohol when she was younger, but that was a long time ago. Elle was older now, wiser. Surely, she could handle a few cocktails.
In a strange coincidence, this was the very same bar Tak had taken Elle to on one of their first dates. It was decorated differently back then—very WASPy and preppy, like a country club on the East Coast, which was precisely why Tak would have chosen it. He had always been so enamored with everything American. At the time, Elle had also been impressed with the place. Surrounded by the air of wealth and prestige, she had felt important being there.
The bar retained its air of exclusivity but was now styled in a more modern design, all minimalist with clean lines and edges. Elle preferred this new look. The only remnant from the past was the piano in the corner bay window. A young Japanese woman sat behind it and was playing music softly, just as one had done many years before.
Elle allowed herself to think about Tak for a few minutes, something she hadn’t done in a very long time. It was hard not to remember him here, in this bar, where after their date they had gotten a room and made love. Sex with Tak had been incredible, unparalleled to anything Elle had ever experienced before or since, but mind-blowing sex wasn’t everything, not even for a young person. Tak was an ass. She couldn’t forget that.
Elle took a sip from the martini, concluding she should be thankful for Tak, for the experiences she’d had with him. Without them, she wouldn’t be in the place she was now.
And where, exactly, was that?
“Are you happy, Mom? Are you living your dream?”
Am I? Sure, Elle was happy at that moment; the last few days had been fun. But was she truly happy?
No, despite having everything she thought would bring her joy, Elle wasn’t a happy person. Not really. Maybe she couldn’t be. Maybe it wasn’t possible for someone like her. Maybe after everything with Jimmy, she didn’t even deserve to be.
Still, she had been happy when she first lived in Japan.
Elle considered the piano player. Was she happy? How could she be, given her thankless job? Her hard work and skill weren’t being appreciated—not one person was paying her the least bit of attention. It seemed of vital importance to Elle to acknowledge the pianist’s efforts, to validate she was more than a prop providing ambience. Elle decided to give the woman her full attention until Win returned.
She turned toward the piano and strained to hear the music above the din of the guests engrossed in their own conversations. The soft notes sounded vaguely familiar, but Elle couldn’t quite identify the song. Then it came to her. It was “Let It Go,” the song from the Disney movie.
Of course. It had to be a sign.
Let . . . It . . . Go . . .
Elle had been convinced this song and “Shake It Off” were warnings about a confrontation with her past, but what if they were messages about her future? Could it be that the key to her happiness was letting go of the past? Finally, for once and for all, shaking off the devil that had been on her back since the cold December day when she had found Jimmy cold and lifeless next to her in bed.
Elle would never be able to fully forgive herself for her brother’s death, but perhaps she could excise her other demons. Was that possible? What if the reason for her happiness in Tokyo had been because Elle hadn’t hidden who she really was? She didn’t pretend around Mitch. She allowed him to see her true self, and it hadn’t mattered. He accepted and loved her for who she was.
Elle had belonged with Mitch.
To be happy in the same way again maybe, like the princess in the song, she needed to stop pretending. Instead of trying to be the mom, the wife, the friend sh
e thought everyone wanted her to be, Elle needed to let go and simply be herself.
But who was that person? And would she be accepted?
“Are you happy, Mom? Are you living your dream?”
How could she be? Elle hadn’t told the truth her entire life. Not even to herself.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Tracy Chapman: “New Beginning”
June 6, 1994
2:15 p.m.
A salesman wearing a cheap toupee and brightly colored Hawaiian shirt was on TV, shamelessly hawking junky used cars. His pushy tone and grating voice irritated Elle and made her nostalgic for the singsong, light, and innocuous sound of Japanese. She looked around for the remote to change the channel but couldn’t find it. She tried jumping up to reach the buttons on the TV but was too short. Sweating profusely—the laundromat was impossibly hot—Elle sat down, dejected, on top of a dryer and watched the water rise in the washing machine in front of her. In a few minutes, save what she had on, all the clothes she owned would be swirling around in the warm soapy water.
After everything she had done to her escape her dismal past, to reinvent herself, Elle couldn’t believe it had come to this. Here she was, once again, the pathetic and inferior girl in a self-serve laundromat.
Elle hated laundromats. Along with the bitter whooshing sound made when the door to a public transportation bus door closed—everyone else had a mom or a dad who could drive them to school—the hot, damp smell of laundromats was a visceral reminder to her of growing up poor.
Doing the laundry had been one of Elle’s childhood chores. The apartment she had lived in was so crappy it didn’t have its own laundry facility, so twice a month Elle had to schlep a rose-pink laundry basket to the laundromat several blocks away. To get there, she had to walk past a park her classmates frequented. Elle dreaded this part of the walk. She was terrified someone from school would see her with the laundry basket, and it would confirm what they already knew about her: Elle was poor. She didn’t have a house with a backyard and a laundry room. Or a dad. Or a baby brother. She was different.
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