by Vann Chow
“Now read to me this next one.” He flipped the page to three days ago and pointed at the entry. “I want to know about this one.”
She read the line she had written just a few days before.
“Oh, that was a lovely evening,” She began.
46. Romance and Music
A few days ago.
“What's this? Jazz festival at 8 PM?” Smith suspended all his manners momentarily when he discovered an unwanted agenda item.
Over the speaker phone, Cheryl answered agenda unapologetically, “It's good for you to have something social once in a while in your calendar.”
“Since when do you also schedule social appointments for me as well?”
“Well, since your not so private life got on the internet.” Cheryl, like everyone else, had been poking fun at him since his visit to Palatial had been photographed and put online to fuel a massive nation-wide mockery of DaiKe's management unscrupulous use of the company's finance. “You really oughta find a healthier interest.”
“Like two million other salarymen who are addicted to the game of Pachinko.” The number was probably slightly bloated. But if one were to visit them as often as Smith, one would probably agree.
“I know, I know.” Cheryl hushed her kids in the background who was whining about the vegetables on their plates.
“You might as well pen me in on all the Nomikai drinking parties with all the dreadful people at work.”
“I would have if you would not behave so sulkily. It ruins the mood. Mr. Mura said...”
“Forget what Mr. Mura said. He's probably not coming back, and neither are all of those ass-kissers that relish sucking his dick.”
Cheryl frowned on hearing his comments. “Mr. Smith, I am not Andy. I am not accustomed to the way you speak about other colleagues.”
“So what now?” Smith asked. “Do I really have to be in Shinjuku at eight?”
“Absolutely.”
“How did she get you to do it? I am curious.” Smith still could not believe his humorless secretary had booked him into a date with Aileen.
“She was persistent. She called the office five times. Well, you should know since you told me to tell her that you weren't around every time. There aren't that many women out there who are not put off by your charms, or the lack off, Mr. Smith. I suggest that you take this chance seriously because I don't know if you can find another one.”
“Why do you have to say that, Cheryl.”
“I mean, you completely ignored her on the streets that day even though she was the one who summon you there in the first place. She even had to fight with the police to get us in the demonstration area. I know because I was there, remember? You probably forgot about me, too.”
“Well, I got there at her request, didn’t I?” Smith retorted. “That sounded pretty responsible to me.”
“And then you just up and left with the girl. You really should at least talk to her and explain the situation. She told me you did none of the above. You know how women are. We get a bit antsy, a bit jealous, even if the other woman is a young school girl...Hmm, maybe especially when the other woman is a young school girl.”
“She's not a...” Smith wanted to explain, but he stopped himself. “That's really not the point. Cheryl, you are getting a bit chatty lately, aren't you? Talking on the company phone on company time with someone outside of your company contacts.”
“Mr. Smith.” Cheryl had this way of saying his name that made it sounded condescending even without seeing her facial expression. This reminded him of his mother every time, who would use this same tone of voice. “Trust me, you will like it. Just think that you're going there for the concert and see what happens. Your online dating profile says you are into Jazz music.”
“Cheryl!” Smith couldn't believe his ears.
“Aileen read it off of your profile, she told me,” Cheryl said defensively, with a smile on her face. She did enjoy a bit of gossip about his boss with her future boss's wife, second wife, whom she liked a lot more than the first one since she had never had the chance to meet or talk to her even before their divorce. “A woman cares about you enough to get you concert tickets to music you like. That is unheard of for people our age. Stop whining.” She seemed to have said the last thing to both her boss and her children at the same time.
Smith took a deep breath and said, “Yes, mam. I'll try to enjoy myself.”
47. Date Night
A few days ago.
“I don't get it. He stood me up! Why did I fall for this guy? It's completely, utterly senseless!” Aileen moaned at the bartender, who lifted both of his eyebrows at the torrent of heavily Australian accented English words coming from the lone sitting guest at the bar. Everyone else was standing and chatting with their companion. The bartender did not speak much English, except the names of all the cocktails and drinks from the menu. He supposed this foreign guest was just complaining about the quality of the jazz music behinds the curtain to the main hall of Cotton Club, of which he was forbidden to comment, so he went back to his work, wiping droplets of water from glasses piling by the sink.
“What's with the long face?” Andy slid himself next to Aileen.
“OH-MY-GOD,” Aileen said when she realized who appeared beside her. “He sent his friend. That's pathetic. No, I am pathetic.”
“Wait, what are you talking about?” Andy asked, confused.
“Didn't Carson sent you here?”
Andy started chuckling. “Don't tell me you're supposed to be on a date with Cars! Looks like he's not here. What an asshole!”
Aileen took a gulp from her glass of wine. It was her fifth. Her wait had turned into binge drinking. Andy could tell from her demeanor that she was pissed and hellbent on getting pissing drunk.
“Forget about him. We're here! The two of us, what a coincidence! I thought I would never see you again!”
“What do you mean?” Aileen gave him a light shove in the chest. “You knew it wouldn't work out between me and Carson?”
“You're too hot for him,” Andy said as he gave her an appreciative once-over, which made Aileen blushed more than the wine she had already consumed made her. “He's asexual. I have never seen him get interested in women.”
“Oh well, you could have warned me!” She replied. “Bastards. Both of you.”
“Hey, lady, give me some credit for rescuing you from drowning in sorrows on your own at the bar.”
That made Aileen smile. “Are you here for the concert?”
“I just escaped from the most boring evening of my life in there.” Referring to the improvised music that came through the seam of the music hall entrance. “My date is still in there.”
“Was it the music or the date you're referring to?”
“Both. I said 'Jazz music' when she asked me what music do I listened to. I mean what else do you say without sounding like a dumb-ass? Of course, you say 'Jazz music'. And next thing I know she dragged me to this awful concert.”
“You're exaggerating.”
“No, I am not. They are trying to fuse Japanese Taiko drums with blues. It's not working, I am telling ya.”
“So are you telling me all men just pretend to like jazz when they like something else?”
“Like sex,” Andy said. “Yes, we are all after something else. You can trust me on this one.”
Aileen crinkled her nose. “Carson is not that kind of guy.”
“Which is precisely why he's not here today. I told you, he's not interested.”
“Then why did he sign himself up for Omiai ? And attended the last two dates Miss Newton, who is probably no longer your girlfriend anymore by the looks of it, has set up for us? He bought me flowers. He was hinting to take me home the other day, and he even dropped everything at work for me when his company was in the middle of a crisis. Then he doesn't call anymore. I just can't figure him out.”
“You’re are a test case, lady, to prove a point?”
“What?”
; “To prove to himself that he was not an unattractive, undesirable middle aged man with nothing going on for him. You came up, and he simply played along.”
“Gosh, you have a way to make a woman feel bad about herself.”
“Well, I once naively believe that Cars might get out of his shell with this one,” he explained. “I helped Marie pick matching profiles from time to time.”
“And all the while I thought she had some kind of secret algorithm.”
“The secret algorithm used to be her mother. But she is getting old.”
“And you guys decide to experiment with me.”
“Based on your current emotional status, I declare the experiment a failure.”
“So that's it?” Aileen asked, still hanging on to her bit of hope. “I don't believe it. We could have been together.”
“Aren't you a little bit dramatic?” Andy teased. “You barely know each other.”
“Which is why this whole affair is so...arousing.” Then she sighed. “Your date...she might be looking for you.” In the corner of her eyes, Aileen spotted a young woman in a black dress slipping out through the doors of the main hall and looking fervently to her left and right. “Shouldn't you be going back in there?”
“I told her I need a smoke,” Andy said. “Give me two shots of those,” Andy yelled over the counter to the bartender who at the time was pushing two red liquors in shot glasses over the bar top to another customer. The man managed to not show his annoyance. Professionalism.
When the alcohol came, Aileen picked it up and feigned disbelief. “What are these? And I thought we are in a Jazz festival. Show some class!” she jested.
“They are called Red Haired Slut. Drink up!”
Aileen pushed the vicious, lumpy drink down her throat. The drink was not made out of tomato juice but had the same texture which threw her off a little when she tasted something and expected another.
“Yuck! That was disgusting.” Aileen wiped the dripping red juice from the corner of her mouth.
“You're funny,” Andy said.
“Are Japanese girls not funny?” Aileen probed, seeing how his date might be the poor girl who was standing helplessly on her own at the entrance, dialing and redialing some numbers to no avail.
“Too much politeness. Too much pretension. I can't breathe anymore.” He pulled his tie loose and elaborated. “They smiled at everything I said even when they didn't have a clue about what I was saying. Just tell me, you know? I don't give a fuck if they don't understand my English, I can explain myself in Japanese. I mean I learn to speak fluent Japanese for a reason. But no, they all want to practice their English, they all want to listen to Western music, eat Western food, live a Western life, be a foreigner's wife. I don't get the appeal. They come in droves like bees over honey on everything Western.”
Aileen laughed and stroked his back as if he was a child. “Oh, come here. Poor soul. You're so popular.”
“It really gets on my nerves some times that no matter how many times I told them to speak up when something's wrong, they never do. They just accept whatever I impose on them, like gospel. It gets on my nerves some times.”
“I thought men liked to have women who worship them like Gods.”
“It was fun at the beginning. Now I can't stand it anymore. I don't like to think that their panties get all wet as soon as they see another specie of me.”
“You mean some other white man?”
“Yes! I mean, how do you tell when someone sees you not as yourself but as a shining trophy. When some other men come along, they would not give two sheeps about me.”
“Is that why you're never serious?”
“I don't know why you'd think that. I am hundred percent into it every time.”
Aileen snorted.
“What was that?” Andy smiled. “Don't tell me you haven't had a fling or two in Japan, huh?”
“I was hoping to get off with Smith.”
“And Smith is probably trying to get you off of him.” Andy looked down at his phone. He had texted 'Where are you?' to Smith and the answer he got back was 'at a concert'. He held it up unceremoniously for Aileen to read, who rolled her eyes.
“When am I ever gonna get laid?” She bellowed, ignoring curious glances from people around her. The pair chuckled.
“There is always someone who thinks you are smart, funny and gorgeous, and thinks whoever stood you up tonight is an absolute idiot.”
Aileen could not stop herself from smiling.
“Hey, I think your girlfriend is looking for you.” She pointed to the direction of the girl who had her arms now crossed still standing in front of the entrance, in a stance that showed anger.
“Let's dash out of here!” Andy slammed two thousand yen on the bar and pulled Aileen out of the Cotton Club into the dazzling city streets.
48. Unforgettable Past
A few days ago.
“Unforgettable...that's what you are. Unforgettable...”
Smith found himself singing the lyrics to the tunes he heard over the street noise of the relentless part of Shinjuku. The outdoor stage of the Tokyo Jazz Festival was currently occupied by the Tokyo Jazz Orchestra. Nat King Cole's Unforgettable , their current piece, plucked at Smith's memory. A bygone time when he was still young enough to be romantic.
He walked towards the stage while humming, wanting to take a better look at the talented Japanese musician who was working his magic on the saxophone. The instrument was as big as his upper torso. How he longed to switch places with him.
“ Unforgettable, though near or far. ”
“Oh! Sumimasen !” Entranced by the music, he had bumped into someone accidentally. “Daijoubu deska? Are you alright? ”
“Sumizu-san!” It was Misa, as chance would have it. “Pleasure seeing you here!”
“The pleasure is all mine,” Smith instinctively leaned over to give her a hug as greetings the American way but retracted as soon as he remembered where he was.
Misa smiled and went for it. The embrace was sweet and warm, like between long lost friends. Smith was smiling profusely as he could hardly contain how glad he felt to see her again.
“Come sit down with me,” Misa suggested.
It had been a while since he had found the time to enjoy an outdoor concert. He was a bit out of practice for such carefree evenings. He crossed his legs on the grass lawn in front of the stage next to Misa and took off his suit jacket.
As with everything in Japan, there was nothing accidental about this piece of lawn in the middle of the city. It belonged to a cafe. A waitress came over to take their drink orders.
“Did you come here just for the concert?” Smith asked.
“I went to an interview at a Pachinko parlor around here. The Neverlands. When I stepped out, I heard this beautiful music, and it was like a hand that pulled on my heartstrings. Before I knew it, I had been here for an hour already.” She shrugged.
“You are quitting InterHRLA?”
“Oh, I am sorry. I know I should have stayed longer but I can't...I am afraid. Not after what happened the other day...” She tilted her head down, seemingly still embarrassed for what happened to her at the demonstration.
“That was probably a one-off,” Smith said. “Let me talk to Aileen. I will tell her to back off. You are a researcher, not a, not a billboard. If you're a bit sensitive to the flashlight, who could blame you. I have those moments myself. Everyone has them. Don't worry about it, especially not if I am going to tell Aileen to let you stick to your desk job.”
“It's not that. You still don't read Japanese newspaper, do you?” Misa bit her fingernails.
“That's a nasty habit.” Smith pried her fingers from her locked teeth. “You would ruin your nails like this.” He had made it a habit to stop his kids from biting their nails as soon as he saw it. Misa was taken aback by his direct approach, and she gaped at him. Smith regretted soon after for the blurring of boundaries between friends and family. “Sorry, I shouldn't hav
e done that. And no, I don't read Japanese newspaper if I can avoid it.”
Misa smiled. She fished her flip phone from her pink striped Burberry handbag. Its myriads of decorative chains jingled as she did it. With swift fingers, she typed her own name in Kanji into the internet browser on her phone and clicked a few times that led her deeper into one of the entries. A tabloid article appeared. She presented it to Smith, who read words out loud habitually whenever he encountered difficult Japanese writings. Seeing his difficulty, Misa loaded the website once more through Google translate.
“Feminist from InterHRLA an ex-porn star. Dual standards harm organization reputation.” Below the headline was a photograph of Misa in the midst of her breakdown on the streets during the last InterHRLA demonstration. Smith grabbed the phone with two hands, unable to contain his shock.
“I have been kicked out,” she said with a reassuring smile as if she knew Smith would feel more hurt about the news than she was. “I knew it would happen.”
“How did they find out?”
“You can find everything online these days,” Misa replied dryly. “I just didn't expect someone to find out so soon. If I hadn't suffered a breakdown in public, perhaps it could only come out much later. Maybe years later.”
“That's...” Smith could not find the right words to describe how he felt at the moment. It was a mixture of blatant betrayal and sharp guilt. If some journalists could find it online, there was no way that Tanaka had not known of it. It was that moment that Smith realized Tanaka was withholding information from him. But to what end? It bothered him immensely that he, who had resolved to call himself Misa's guardian angel, did not spot the coy and did nothing to protect her since he made his resolution, which now felt completely irrelevant. “That's...I am speechless. I'm sorry.”
There was no safe place for anyone on the web. The two of them, victims of the brutally unforgiving internet. He let out a deep sigh.
“You knew it already, didn't you? You don't have to pretend to be surprised for my sake. If not from Tatsu, you probably would have heard from Andy.”