Swimming to Tokyo

by Brenda St John Brown

  I reach for the doorknob, and he grabs my hand. “What are you doing?”

  “Don’t let me ask too much of you.”

  He drops my hand and slams his flat against the door. “Jesus. I am not having this conversation with you when you’re drunk. I’m not doing it.”

  “Then let me out of here.” I hold his eyes this time. I’m not sure how I manage to do it without tearing up, but I think it’s why he doesn’t stop me when I open the door. Never mind that I want him to.

  I go straight to the bar. Amelia and Akihiro stand close to each other, and I slide in between them. “I’m leaving, okay? I’ll see you back at yours,” I say to Amelia.

  “Wait. What? You’re leaving?” she says, putting her glass down on the bar.

  “No, really. Stay. Hook up.” I glance at Akihiro, but he can’t hear us over the music. “I need something to eat.”

  “I can’t just let you leave by yourself,” Amelia says. “We’ll all go. We can go to the Hard Rock and get a real hamburger. It’s right down the street.”

  That actually sounds amazing, and for a minute I’m tempted to take her up on it.

  Until I see Finn.

  His eyes are dark and detached, his mouth set in a thin line. He stands close to me, but keeps a deliberate distance. “Do you want to go?” he asks me.

  “We were just talking about going to the Hard Rock, maybe,” Amelia says. “We could all…”

  Her voice fades. Finn doesn’t even acknowledge that she’s spoken.

  “I was just leaving,” I say. I start for the door without looking back. I’m going to owe Amelia an explanation and an apology tomorrow, but I have a feeling she gets it. She’s been there, done that. Maybe exactly this.

  But it’s uncharted territory for me. I walk as quickly as I can from the club in my three-inch heels, but Finn catches up easily. He falls into step with me without saying a word. We still don’t touch. Or talk.

  In fact, all the way to the train and back to Kannai, he says nothing. The train is empty, and he leaves a seat between us that at first makes me angry and then makes me sad. By the time we leave the station, I’m afraid I might start crying. It’s been over an hour since we argued in the bathroom at the club, and Finn’s silence feels way worse than anything he actually said.

  He finally speaks when I start to turn down my street. “I think my mom is staying at your place tonight.”

  I stop. She is? I try to remember if my dad told me that, but come up blank. Why would he if he thinks I’m staying at Amelia’s? But, good Lord, I can’t walk in on them. Even if they are in the bedroom with the door closed, the apartment is tiny. I walked in one night when they were there together, Eloise laughing, my dad’s voice low. Her skirt was on the couch next to his tie, and I thanked my lucky stars I saw that before I went any further and turned back around, closing the door before I’d even set a foot inside.

  Finn continues, “If you want to come back with me…”

  “I’m mad at you,” I say. I sound like a petulant child.

  “Well, I’m not mad at you.” His voice is soft, and I’m on the brink of asking what he is, if not mad.

  Instead I nod and follow him. We still don’t touch, and I feel way more like a guest than I did the first night, with the exception that I borrow his toothbrush without asking. Even when we’re both in bed wearing just T-shirts and underwear, we keep a space between us that I don’t know how to close.

  It feels like a waste. We don’t usually get to spend the night together. Since that first night, the times we’ve ended up in bed together have been lazy afternoons when our parents were both at work, but the night is more intimate. More full of possibility.

  If only we would touch.

  Or speak.

  It’s 4:40 in the morning when we finally do speak. I wake up to use the bathroom and get a drink, and even though I try to be quiet, I accidentally knock the toothpaste off the sink, clattering onto the tile floor. When I tiptoe back to bed, Finn’s arm goes around my waist.

  “I’m sorry I woke you,” I whisper.

  He pulls me closer. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I just…”

  “After earlier, our conversation in the bar?”

  I twist around so I’m facing him. My knee goes between his legs. Funny how it feels automatic. “I meant what I said. You don’t go out with girls like me.”

  Finn’s hand finds my skin under the T-shirt I’m wearing. “And I meant what I said. I wasn’t having that conversation when you were drunk.”

  I inch closer to him and let my fingers wander up his thigh. “I’m not drunk now.”

  Finn cups my breast, caressing my nipple ever so slightly between his finger and his thumb. “I don’t go out with girls like you. You’re right.”

  “I know. You made that perfectly clear.” I pull away and bite the inside of my cheek. Dammit.

  He continues like I haven’t spoken. “I don’t have relationships and I sure as hell don’t fall in love.” He pulls me closer, his mouth next to my ear. His breath is warm on my skin. “But I’m falling for you.”

  Falling.

  In. Love.

  Oh my God.

  A balloon filled with light and air expands in my chest. I wouldn’t be surprised if I looked down and I was glowing from the inside out.

  I kiss the corner of his mouth. “I’m falling for you, too.”

  Falling. Have fallen.

  Landed.

  chapter sixteen

  I paw through the pile of laundry on the floor in an attempt to find my swimsuit when Dad appears in the doorway.

  “What are you doing?” he asks.

  “I’m supposed to meet Amelia at the gym at noon, but I can’t find my stuff.” I start folding as I sort. Maybe that will help.

  “I thought you were going out with Finn?”

  I nod. It still feels strange to talk to Dad about Finn, although to his credit, he hasn’t freaked since the night of our big fight. “He’s meeting me there, which reminds me, I need my swim bag, too.”

  “Where are you two going?”

  “He won’t tell me. It’s this thing he’s got.” A date means he plans, he pays, and he won’t tell me what we’re doing. The first couple of times I protested, but now I like it—the anticipation and the not knowing.

  Dad steps into my room and clears his throat. “I, um, I’m glad things seem to be going well.”

  I falter in my folding. “Yeah, it’s good. He’s great.”

  “I know you spend a lot of time together and I just hope…I know you’re a sensible girl, but sometimes it’s easy to get caught up…”

  Oh my God. After everything he’s said about Finn, now he’s going to launch into the sex talk? We’ve had variations of this through my teen years but always in theory, and he clearly thinks this is something very different. “Dad!”

  He plows through my protest. “I can arrange an appointment for you with a doctor if you need birth control. I know condoms are available, but it’s easy to think you don’t need one just once and, well, once is all it takes.”

  He takes a deep breath to continue, and I dive in. “Dad, Finn and I aren’t having sex.”

  “You’re not?” He seems thrown by this bit of information.

  “No, we’re not. He won’t.” This sounds bad, and I trip over myself trying to explain. “He thinks I’d never date him if we weren’t here, and he says he doesn’t want to be my biggest regret.”

  “But you’re in love.” The way Dad says this is so sure it takes me a second to realize I’ve never told him.

  “Dad, I…” I stop. I was about to apologize, but I won’t do that. “Yeah. We are. But we’re not. Having sex, I mean.”

  “Okay, well, good. Good, then.” He looks so relieved I almost laugh. But then the lines come back to his forehead. “You know Eloise and I are going to that ball tonight?”

  Speaking of having sex…

  “Yeah. It should be fun.” I’m not sure about tha
t, but it’s meant to kick off the obon, summer festival season, and it could be fun. It’s just that this includes all the higher-ups from the bank. Dad’s been practicing his polite Japanese nonstop. I even heard him in the bathroom the other day, practicing the inflection on his hajimemashite, the most formal way of saying nice to meet you.

  “We’re staying in Ginza, at the hotel,” he continues. I nod. He’s told me all this before. “I know you’re going out with Finn, but I’d still like you to come home tonight.”

  “Dad…” Forty-seven thoughts race through my head. We’re in love. He knows it. We’re not sleeping together. He knows it. I’d give my left arm to wake up with Finn because even though I slept over the night we went to Roppongi, that was already a week ago. A week that feels ten times longer. Dad doesn’t know I stayed over that night. He still thinks I crashed with Amelia. I wonder for a second if I should tell him and level with him that I plan to spend the night at Finn’s anyway. Technically, I’ll come home first for a change of clothes, so I could do both without having to lie, even if is stretching the truth by a mile. “Yeah, sure, Dad. It’s fine.”

  Dad nods, and I go back to my folding. Conversation over. Except he’s still standing there and his voice is soft when he says, “Do you want one more opportunity to tell me the truth?”

  My voice rises as I twirl around to face him again. “I did tell you the truth, Dad.”

  “Are you going to spend the night with him?”

  I think about my answer for a good thirty-five seconds before I nod. “Probably.”

  “Eloise thinks I should relax. She says it’s better to be straightforward than to make you feel like you have to sneak around.”

  I swallow hard. “What do you think?”

  “I agree in theory, but it’s harder in practice.” I bite my cheek as he continues. “I understand it. He’s your first love. It never feels like enough.”

  “No.” He’s right about that.

  “So what’s your real plan for tonight?”

  I take a deep breath and let my words spill over each other. “We’re going out and then I was going to stay at his place. Not for that. That’s the truth. I just…I want to wake up with him. Dad, I’ve never felt this way before. About anything. Definitely not anyone. And…he makes me feel happy. He…makes me feel.”

  My mouth has gone kind of gluey while I’ve been talking. Dad asked for the truth and he got it, but now I feel exposed and awkward. Admitting to my Dad I want to sleep with my boyfriend, even if it is only to sleep, is way more honest than I’m used to being with him.

  He shakes his head really slowly, and he’s got the bad news look on his face. “Oh, Zo…”

  “Dad, please. Maybe Finn’s not the guy you would’ve picked for me, but…”

  “I can’t condone you staying over with him.” He looks at me like he expects me to agree, but I don’t say anything. “Even if you’re not…”

  “We’re not.” We’re dancing closer to the line, but not that close.

  Dad’s face sort of crumples, and he shakes his head. “Eloise thinks you’re good for each other. Maybe you are. I don’t know.”

  I resist every urge to try to convince him. It will sound too defensive. And maybe a little desperate.

  But I must have some kind of look on my face because Dad shakes his head and his eyes flash. “I don’t want you staying over. That’s it. I don’t.”

  This isn’t unreasonable. I know that. I can’t think of anyone I know whose father would actually agree to letting them spend the night with their boyfriend. And if we were in New Jersey, it wouldn’t even be a consideration. But somehow knowing I could be waking up with Finn after days of wanting to makes me want it like I’ve never wanted anything before. Ever.

  So I smile. Just a little at first, but I force it at the edges until it’s wide enough to be convincing. “Yeah. I understand. I do.” I look down at the black tank top in my hand I’ve sort of half-folded. Dad’s eyes follow so I have to loosen my grip a little. “I’ll tell him.”

  His face eases a little. “I know I’m probably being old-fashioned, but it just doesn’t sit well with me. I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah. I know. I get it.” Another smile. Forced and cracked around the edges, but Dad doesn’t seem to notice.

  I should feel worse about the way I blow it off when I’m telling Finn later. But I don’t.

  “So you’re inviting me to stay at yours?” Finn asks.

  “Right. I mean, my dad said I couldn’t stay at your place, but he didn’t say anything about you not staying with me. And it’s not like he’s coming home.” I sort of hold my breath saying this because it means I’m technically lying and Finn knows it.

  “How much exactly do you want him to hate me again?”

  I breathe out a little bit. That’s not a flat-out no. “He’ll never know. Besides I told him we’re not having sex.”

  “Really?” Finn hooks his finger through the belt loop of my shorts. “Did you tell him why?”

  “I told him you mistakenly think you’ll end up being my biggest regret.”

  “Editorializing, I see.” He grins and pulls me closer. “And what did he say?”

  “He, um, didn’t really know what to say.” I bite my lip. I’m tempted to say it. What Dad said. Because we are in love. And since that night in Roppongi the boundaries have blurred, but they’re still there.

  “Well, whatever gets me waking up with you can only be a good thing.” His face falls a little. “But I don’t think—”

  I reach up and kiss his neck. “Come on. You know you want to.”

  “You know I want to.” He brings me closer until I feel the button of his shorts against my ribs.

  “So it’s settled.”

  He doesn’t say anything and I think maybe it is. I wait another twelve seconds in case he’s going to protest, and when he doesn’t, I ask, “So what are we doing today anyway?”

  “Uh-uh. You know how this works. But don’t worry, it will be interesting.”

  I make a face. The last time Finn promised me interesting, he took me to a restaurant where we picked our fish from a tank and the sushi chef fileted them right in front of us. I took a bite but couldn’t swallow more than that, and even he admitted later it was all just a little too fresh. “No fish?”

  “I don’t think so. But maybe. You’ll just have to see.”

  He still won’t tell me as we get off at Shibuya and join the throngs of people in the scramble crossing. Or at lunch, ramen at 109, which is in an ultra-trendy shopping center full of shop after shop of clothes and accessories. I can’t even count the number of girls wearing miniskirts and stilettos or boys with orange hair, following wearily and holding bags.

  After lunch, we walk around people watching and window shopping, and it’s nearly dusk when we climb the hill behind 109. I’m not paying attention to where we’re going, so when Finn stops in front of one of the neon signs, I assume he’s just trying to figure out where we are until he asks, “What do you think? This one?”

  I look at the sign and the building behind it. Twenty-two thousand yen. I get that. And the English is impossible to misunderstand. Love hotel. But love hotels are for one thing only and it’s the one thing we aren’t doing.

  I gape at him. “What are we doing at a love hotel?”

  “You said you wanted to go to one.”

  This is true. I do. I said it one night when we were coming home from karaoke. I’d only meant for Finn to hear, and I definitely didn’t mean it the way Akihiro took it, but when Finn asked me later if I was serious about wanting to go, I insisted I was. And now here we are.

  I look back at the sign. “Okay, then. What do we do?”

  “I say we check them out and see which one has the coolest room open. The menus will show the rooms that are available as lit and the ones that are taken are dark on the sign.”

  We make our way around the cluster of buildings that comprise Love Hotel Hill. A lot of the rooms are just tha
t—rooms. But then there are the rest of them. One with a complete Hello Kitty theme. The American West. An English castle. A round bed covered in a black fur bedspread. We’re at the last hotel, and there’s a room with a red heart-shaped bed and what looks like a trampoline in the corner, although it’s impossible to tell from the tiny picture.

  “I think this one,” I say.

  Finn presses the button and a key pops out of the bottom of the sign with the number seventeen on it. We go through the door marked “in” and find the room at the top of the stairs. We’ve seen no one and heard nothing, although when we walk into the room soft music is playing from the CD player on the table. I drop my bag inside the doorway and walk around the room touching everything. The bed is the largest thing in the room, by far, and the sheets are shiny enough to be satin. In the corner, the thing I thought was a trampoline is a kind of stool with no seat. I’m not sure what this is for, but I’m fairly sure it has something to do with the things on the table. Handcuffs, whips, spiked bracelets, and a lot of stuff I’ve only seen in Lady Gaga videos.

  “So I guess we got the S&M room,” Finn says.

  I twirl the handcuffs around my finger. “What do you want to try first?”

  “Don’t even go there. I would totally use those on you.”

  My stomach flip-flops, although it’s not so much from his words as the look on his face as he says them. Like he’d do it. And I’d like it. I drop them back on the table. “Promises, promises.”

  He opens a drawer and pulls out a strip of condoms and a tube of something. “It’s got everything apparently.”

  “At least they’re promoting safe sex.” I wander into the bathroom, and there’s a huge Jacuzzi tub, a walk-in double shower, and more tubes, this time shower gel and bubble bath. Finn follows me, and I catch his glance in the mirror.

  “Feeling dirty?”

  “Maybe.” He holds my eyes until I turn around.

  “In that case, bath or shower?” I lean over to brush my lips to his.

  “Shower.” He catches my bottom lip between his teeth for just a second.