Swimming to Tokyo

by Brenda St John Brown

  “Songs?” He nods. “Can I see?”

  His face flickers in surprise, but he nods again. I reach for the papers and leaf through. The loose papers are all music, chords scribbled on the lines. I recognize the notes from my stint with the piano back when I was nine, but not well enough to bring any of it to life in my head. I open the notebook and skim the pages, but he watches my face too closely for me to read any of it.

  “Are you going to play anything for me?” I ask.

  “What do you want to hear?”

  “Everything.”

  “Maybe.” He glances at the clock. “It’s still early. I think we have some movies.”

  “I’d rather listen to you play guitar.”

  He gives me a look. “You have to give to get, you know.”

  “What do you want?” I raise my eyebrows suggestively, and he smiles but shakes his head.

  “Not that. One question.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “One question. I ask, you answer, and I’ll play for you until dawn if you’d like.”

  “I would like. Speaking of, where am I sleeping?” I haven’t seen Eloise since we walked in, but I can’t imagine she doesn’t care where I sleep.

  “You can have my bed. I’ll take the floor or the couch.” He knows I’m about to object. “And that’s the way it is, so don’t make a big deal out of it.”

  I stick my tongue out at him and lay down on the futon. The pillow smells like Obsession for Men, and I take a deep breath in. God.

  “Fine, so what’s the deal with this question?”

  I expect some kind of preface, even though maybe I should know better. “How did you move on? When your mom died? How did you get over it?”

  What the hell kind of question is that?

  “I didn’t.”

  Impatience flashes across his face. “Zosia.”

  “It’s true.” I sit back up. I can’t be laying down for this. “I miss her all the time. Some days it’s worse than others, but there’s at least one moment, even on the best days, when I miss her like I did then. She told me before she died it’d get better. I don’t think she imagined it would take so long.”

  “Did you miss her today?”

  I nod. “When I was getting ready. I wanted her there, you know, to help me figure out what to wear. To tell me I had nothing to be nervous about. She had no patience for theatrics. She’d have told me to suck it up.”

  Finn looks down, but I can see his smile. I’m about to tell him it doesn’t offend me when his smile disappears. “So if you’re not over it, how do you do it? Because you seem like you have your shit together about it. Completely.”

  Suddenly I understand. He’s asking because he thinks I know something he doesn’t. I still don’t know everything that happened with his father, but whatever it was, it’s not over.

  “Oh, Finn. I don’t know. I don’t.” I swallow hard. I want more than anything to say something that will help. “Maybe it’s different when you miss someone because they’re really gone.”

  “Yeah. Maybe.” He says it so quietly, and I know it didn’t help at all.

  I’m wondering what to say when he reaches for his guitar. The chords are soft as he starts to play, and I realize he’s not going to say anymore. He asked. I answered. The end.

  But I need to try again. “I went to school the day she died. She’d been sick and it was getting worse. Every day was a little bit worse. But she said I needed to go. School was important. I was in art class and a lady from the office came in to talk to Mrs. Rubio, the teacher. All I heard Mrs. Rubio say was ‘your mother’ and ‘the office,’ and I don’t know why, but I thought my mom was there, that somehow she’d suddenly gotten strong enough, well enough, and she was there in the office. I ran down the hall in my art smock with paint on my hands. My Aunt Gwen was there, Dad’s sister. And I kept asking her where Mom was. She didn’t understand; she didn’t know what I thought. Until I finally screamed at her. I remember it so vividly. I screamed, ‘But they told me Mom was in the office.’And she just shook her head. Really slow, like she could keep me from knowing.”

  My eyes swim with tears, and Finn leans toward me over his guitar, but he doesn’t move to touch me.

  “I went home and they let me see her. She looked so peaceful. Finally. They thought I’d get hysterical, but you know what did it? Seeing the green paint on my hands. I went to wash my hands later and I lost it. Completely. Because that paint was from the last minute before I didn’t have a mother anymore.” I blink and the tears spill over.

  Finn brushes his fingers across my cheek, but I’m grateful he doesn’t embrace me. I haven’t cried for my mother in a long time, but I’ve done it enough that I know I’ve got to get it under control or the emotional fallout will last for days. I take deep shaky breaths and squeeze my eyes shut until the tears are just a trickle. I lift my head and look back up at him.

  “Sorry. Better.”

  “You don’t have to be sorry, Zosia. Or better.”

  Of all people, he knows that’s not true. I say, “Why do you call me that?”

  “What?”

  “Zosia.”

  He raises his eyebrows at me. “It’s your name. What else would I call you?”

  “Most people call me Zo or Zoe.”

  “That’s not who you are to me.” He kisses my forehead as he says this and slides over next to me on the futon. “Why did you tell me that? About your mom?”

  I focus on our hands as he presses his flat against mine. “The minute I realized what I’d lost wasn’t when I found out she was dead. It was when I understood what I didn’t have anymore. Because that’s what you spend your life trying to get over. At least for me. As soon as she said cancer, we knew she was going to die. But it’s missing her, knowing she’ll never be there no matter what…” His hand is so much bigger than mine. We weave our fingers together and let go. Again. Again. “There’s a saying in Polish. Nigdy odszukują wiatr w terenie. To jest bezużyteczne próbować odkrycie co już jest nieobecny. Never seek the wind in the field. It’s useless to try to find what is already gone.”

  “Do you believe that?”

  “I do. But it’s harder to live it.”

  Finn’s fingers close over mine and stay there. We’re sitting there, hand-in-hand, hip-to-hip when Eloise raps on the door and pushes it open. I jump away, but Finn doesn’t move.

  “Hey, Zo. I just wanted to make sure you have everything you need.” Her eyes sweep over us, and even though we’re not doing anything—and I mean anything, since I dropped his hand—I feel uncomfortable. I don’t know what or if she’ll report back to Dad, but given his attitude about Finn, I don’t want Eloise to have any ammunition.

  “Yeah, I’m good. Thanks.” I force a smile. “Thanks for having me. I told Dad I was fine at home, but I think he worries there will be some crisis and I’ll be on my own trying to speak Japanese.”

  “I’m sure you’d do fine if that were the case. He just didn’t want you to have to worry about anything. And we’re more than happy to have you.” She leans against the doorway. “We have some movies if you’re interested. I think we got the latest Bourne one.”

  “I offered, but she’s not interested,” Finn says.

  Eloise raises her eyebrows, and I imagine her wondering what I am interested in, so I add quickly, “Finn said he’d play me some of his songs.”

  “Really?” She looks at Finn, not me, her eyebrows barely visible now.

  “Really.” His tone makes it clear that he’d appreciate it if she didn’t say another word.

  Eloise gets it, although her eyes rest on me again. I remember Finn saying he didn’t really play his stuff for other people, and I wonder if that includes his mom. I don’t get to think more about that, though, because she says, “Okay. Well, I have an early start, so I’m off to bed. Are you two set with sleeping arrangements?”

  I’m glad Finn jumps in because I have no idea what to say. “Yeah, Mom. I told Zosia sh
e could have my bed.”

  “Where are you going to sleep?”

  He shrugs. “Floor. Couch. Somewhere.”

  “We have the extra futon if you want to put it in here. That way I won’t wake you in the morning.”

  I wonder if my mouth is hanging open because Eloise basically just suggested we sleep together. Well, okay, maybe not that. But she definitely suggested we share a room, which is way more than Dad would do. Finn’s lips curl a little, and I’m pretty sure he’s remembering the conversation we had earlier about not having sex when he says, “Yeah, sure. That should be no problem at all.”

  Eloise doesn’t seem to be the type to miss the sarcasm, but she ignores it. “Okay. Come get it then and I’ll leave you to it.” She glances at me. “Goodnight, Zo.”

  I mumble goodnight and Finn follows her out. It takes a long time, considering the apartment is tiny and there’s not that much storage. I listen for whispers but only hear something heavy sliding across the wooden floor, clicks, more sliding. I pick up the nearest book and start to thumb through, scanning the drawings and text before I flip back to the cover. Organic Chemistry. There are some sticky notes and I page through those, noting the marks in the margin. It’s Finn’s handwriting and I manage to read two sentences he’s written before he comes back in, dropping the rolled-up futon in the doorway.

  “Studying?” he asks.

  I make a face. “I’m not even sure this is English.” I take one final look at the book before closing it. “You’re really smart, aren’t you?”

  “Book-smart, yes. You shouldn’t sound so surprised.” He sits down next to me.

  I laugh. “I’m not. You’re at MIT, for God’s sake.”

  “Doesn’t mean you don’t judge a book by its cover.” He raises an eyebrow at me. “You know - juvie, the tat.”

  His tone is casual, but I can tell it’s forced. There’s a question there he wouldn’t dare ask directly, but it doesn’t mean he cares any less about the answer. “That’s not who you are to me, Finn.” My voice is soft as I peek at him through strands of hair that fall into my eyes, and he looks away.

  He clears his throat. “So did you want to watch the Bourne movie?”

  “No.” Half of me is disappointed he didn’t force the question. Half is relieved because I have no idea what I would say if he actually asked who he is to me. The only answer I have is he’s more than he was this morning and less than he’s going to be, if today is anything to go by.

  “So what do you want to do?” he asks.

  “I thought you were going to play guitar for me.”

  “I told you. I don’t usually play for other people.” He reaches for the guitar as he says it.

  “I know. But you’re going to play for me.” I make myself find his gaze and hold it.

  He doesn’t look away. “But I’m going to play for you.”

  And he does. Long after the lights are out and I’m tucked into his bed, the soft chords of his guitar fill the room. Occasionally he hums along, but he doesn’t sing and I don’t ask him to. I fall asleep with the music, and when I wake up it’s 3:15, still and dark. I hear Finn’s even breathing and reach out. He’s closer than I thought, and my hand lands on his chest. His eyes fly open.

  “Sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “Are you okay?”

  I nod before I realize he can’t see me in the dark. “Yes, go back to sleep.”

  He mumbles something and pulls me to the edge of my futon, threading his legs through mine. The futon is only a little smaller than a twin mattress and my leg falls in the gap, but I don’t move it away. I’m pretty sure Finn’s back to sleep the second he stops moving, but I lay there for a long time listening to the sound of our breathing perfectly in sync.

  chapter twelve

  I haven’t slept with someone in so long. Ever, really, since the night I stayed over at Kevin’s when his parents were in Atlantic City and we definitely didn’t sleep. My endless sleepovers with Mindy don’t count either because I don’t end up with her curved around me, her breath on my neck making me squirm.

  I wake up early and sneak out of Finn’s room to use the toilet. The apartment is still and silent, so I don’t bother to lock the door. Mistake number one. Mistake number two is opening the medicine cabinet. Just for a peek.

  The shelves are the usual jumble of deodorant, dental floss, and Tylenol. There are a few bottles with kanji on them. Below the shelves are two small drawers, just like ours. And, just like ours, I bet Finn and Eloise have one each.

  I slide the first drawer open. It’s Finn’s. There’s a razor, shaving gel, a comb and a bottle of Obsession for Men. I smile a little and pull out the second drawer. Hair clips, brushes, Tampax, and a strip of condoms. They’ve got kanji on them, too, which means they were bought here. Holy shit. I knew my dad and Eloise were doing the deed, but…

  “Can I help you?” Eloise’s voice is soft behind me.

  I whirl around. My face is easily as red as the foil packets in my hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…I mean, I was just…”

  “If you need one…” she starts. To be fair, her face is pretty red, too.

  “Oh my God, no. I was just being nosy. I don’t. I mean, I didn’t mean to…” I shove the condoms back in the drawer and slam it shut. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m really sorry.”

  “Well, they’re there if you—”

  For the love of God, I cannot let her finish that sentence. “Thanks. I mean. I won’t, but thanks.”

  The doorway is wide enough to slip by her, and I keep my head down as I try not to run back to Finn’s room. I clamber back into bed, half-expecting Eloise to knock on the door. I don’t know what she’d say, but everything I imagine is progressively more mortifying. It takes twenty minutes for my pulse to go back to normal, and I don’t think I take a deep breath until I’m sure she’s left the apartment.

  I don’t tell Finn. I have a feeling he wouldn’t care about the condoms but would have a definite opinion on my snooping around. I don’t think Eloise will say anything either, but there’s no way in hell I want to run into her again today. Or this week, for that matter.

  She texts that afternoon to say she’s been called to Hokkaido. Dad calls while Finn and I are walking around Yokohama with news that it will be at least another day before he’ll be back to Tokyo, too distracted to ask questions. So Finn and I stop by for my clothes on our way back from the station that night like it’s decided. Like my staying with him is a given.

  The apartment feels bigger with just the two of us. Finn drags the cushions off the couch and turns on one of the Bourne movies. I don’t know which one, but I don’t really care. He’s the one who suggested a movie marathon. I’m just happy to be laying here in the crook of his arm, feeling his fingers in my hair, resting my hand on his chest, trying to play it cool. Like I’m not imagining the muscles underneath that shirt. Like I’m not imagining that shirt off completely. Midway through it, we start kissing. By the end of it, both of us are shirtless. Things heat up in the second one. I barely see Matt Damon fire his first shot before I lose the rest of my clothes, including my panties. Finn slides one hand between my legs and turns off the TV with the other.

  “I only want to hear you,” he whispers.

  I gasp as his finger slips halfway into me and then out. “Finn, I thought we weren’t…”

  “We’re not.” Finn’s hand moves lazily over my wet center. “But it’s very hard to keep my hands off you.”

  “No one said you had to.” I arch up as his lips graze my breast.

  He brushes my lips with his. “You’re very wet.”

  I thrust my hips up a little. Finn’s touch is so sure. “I know.”

  “What should I do about that?” he murmurs into my neck. His finger moves in excruciatingly slow circles between my legs.

  “What do you want to do about it?” I whisper. Sweet Jesus, if he could just go a little faster…

  He pulls away so
I can see his face. His eyes are bright with desire. “I want you to tell me, Zosia. Tell me what you want.”

  I try to swallow, but my mouth is dry. I’ve done this before, but I certainly wasn’t vocal about it. “I want…” I close my eyes for a breath. Finn’s hand slides down my thigh, back between my legs. When he touches me again, it’s like an electric shock. I take a sharp breath in and meet his gaze. “I want you to make me come.”

  His mouth covers mine, and his finger slides back into me, gently at first, then faster, deeper. The pleasure rockets through me, and when his fingers move to caress the pulsing wet between my legs, it takes less than a minute for the release to wash over me, blue and green flashing behind my eyes.

  Once I’ve stopped twitching, Finn cradles me against his chest. I let my eyes close and listen to his heartbeat thrumming in my ear. I still feel his erection pressed against my stomach and I wonder what I should do about that. But I’m not sure how to start after it seems we’ve so clearly stopped.

  I wriggle up and kiss the corner of his mouth, my hand dancing down his chest toward his boxers. Finn kisses me but takes my hand and brings it back up between our chests. “Uh-uh,” he says.

  “Why? I want…”

  “There’s plenty of time for that.” Finn kisses me again and then rolls away, pushing himself to his feet. Standing upright, his boxers do nothing to conceal his desire, but he ignores it and reaches a hand out to pull me up. “Come on. Let’s go to bed.”

  I stumble into him a little as I get up, and his arm snakes around my waist. It feels a little weird that he doesn’t want to finish what we started, and I hope he’s not one of those guys who’s into self-denial. Mindy dated one of those, and she said it was great at first but got weird fast.