I touched the tongue stud with my finger. Every now and then it came into contact with my teeth, letting out a tiny click. The pain was still there, but the swelling had gone down quite a bit. Ama turned around and looked me in the eye.
"So, Lui, how does it feel to be one step closer to having a forked tongue?"
"I'm not really sure. But I think I'm happy about it."
"Good. I want to share this feeling with you," he said with a sloppy smile.
12
I couldn't pinpoint exactly what was so sloppy about his smile. Perhaps it was something to do with the way his lip sagged with the weight of the piercings. Until then, my image of guys like Ama was that they spent all their time being stoned and sleeping around, but I guess not all of them are like that.
Ama was always kind and occasionally said sentimental things that didn't match his appearance at all. Once we got back to his room he kissed me for what felt like an eternity. He ran his forked tongue along my tongue stud, and the pain that vibrated through my body felt good. As we were having sex, I closed my eyes and thought of Shiba-san and what he had said. A right reserved for gods alone, huh. Fine then, I guess I just have to become a god. The sound of heavy breathing resonated in the cold space. It was summer, the air conditioner wasn't on and my body was damp with sweat, but for some reason the room was still cold.
Perhaps it was because Ama only had steel furniture.
"Can I come?" Ama's wheezing voice floated lazily in the air.
I opened my eyes slightly and gave a light nod. Then he pulled out and came on my crotch.
"I told you to come on my stomach."
"Sorry, I mistimed it," he said apologetically, and pulled over the box of tissues. It really pisses me off that he does that, because it makes my pubic hair all hard and matted. I just want to let the post-coital sleep kick in and let me drift off, but because of his incompetence I always end up having to take a shower.
"Use a rubber if you can t come on my stomach."
Ama looked down and apologized again. I wiped myself with a tissue and stood up.
"You taking a shower?"
Ama sounded so lonely that I stopped in my tracks.
13
"Uh-huh."
"Can I join you?"
I almost told him that he could. But looking at him there butt naked and wearing such a pathetic expression, I decided against it.
"No way. I'm not getting into that tiny bath with you."
I grabbed a towel, walked into the bathroom, and locked the door. I stuck my tongue out at the bathroom mirror and looked at the silver ball sitting on its tip—my first step to having a forked tongue. I thought of how Shiba-san had told me not to stretch the hole for at least a month, so there was still a long way to go.
When I came out of the bath, Ama handed me a cup of coffee.
"Thanks."
Ama smiled and watched me drink my coffee.
"Lui, let's get under the covers."
I got into the futon next to Ama. He buried his face between my breasts and began sucking my nipple. He loved to do this and it had become a kind of pre- and postcoital ritual. It always felt good when he sucked my nipples, maybe because of his forked tongue. His relaxed face made him look a little like a baby and this aroused a hint of a maternal instinct, even in the mind of someone like me. I stroked his body and he looked up at me and smiled. He looked so happy and content that watching him made me feel a little content myself. Ama had the shell of a punk, but from somewhere inside he exuded the air of an iyashikei TV celebrity—someone with the talent to put others at ease. He really was a difficult one to figure out.
14
"Wow! Unbelievable! I can't believe you did that! It must have hurt like hell."
That was my friend Maki's reaction to my pierced tongue.
She kept staring at it and pulling a face, saying "ouch" over and over again.
"I mean, what came over you? You? With a tongue stud? I thought you hated all those punks and iiber-funky Harajuku kids."
Maki's the epitome of a Barbie-girl and a good friend of mine.
We met two years ago at a club and we've been great friends ever since. We always hang out together, so she knows my tastes well.
"Well, I met this guy who's kind of a punk," I explained, "and I guess I was kind of influenced by him."
"It's unusual for a Barbie-girl like you to have a tongue stud though," she said, "I mean, first you go and stretch the holes in your ears and now you put a hole through your tongue. Do you think you're going to go totally punk?"
"Maki—I'm not a Barbie-girl," I retorted, but she wasn't listening to me. She just kept going on about punk this and punk that. I guess I can understand her reaction a little. I mean, if you think about it I guess a tongue stud isn't exactly the usual complement to a camisole dress and blond curls. But so what if it isn't? Anyway, it's not going to be a tongue stud forever. It s going to be the tongue of a snake.
"Maki, what do you think about tattoos?"
15
"Tattoos? I think tattoos can be cute. Like a little butterfly or rose or something like that, you know," she said with a smile.
"I don't mean the cutesy stuff. I'm thinking about dragons, tribal patterns, ukiyoe woodblock prints, that kind of thing."
"Huh?" she said, raising her voice and furrowing her brow.
"What's going on with you? Is that new punk of yours trying to make you get one? Are you two an item or something? Has he completely brainwashed you?"
Actually, I couldn't help but wonder if it was brain¬washing of a kind. The moment I'd laid eyes on Ama's tongue, I'd felt a shudder inside as all my morals and val¬ues started crashing to the ground. I couldn't take my eyes off it. And although the fascination didn't translate di-rectly into a desire to possess a forked tongue myself, I had embarked on the tongue-splitting journey anyway, in hopes of finding out what it was that gave me such a rush.
"So, you want to meet him?"
Two hours later we were standing at our meeting place.
"There he is."
Maki's eyes opened wide when she saw who I was waving to.
"You've got to be kidding," she muttered.
"That's him," I said. "The red-haired monkey."
"Tell me it's not. He looks kind of scary."
As Ama came closer he could see Maki was feeling un-comfortable, so he gave her a timid look and said, "Sorry I'm so scary-looking." To my relief, that was just enough to break the ice, and Maki cracked up laughing. After that the three of us wandered downtown and ended up at some place with nothing much going for it other than that it was cheap.
"Have you noticed how everyone gets out of the way when we're walking with Ama-san?" said Maki.
16
"I know. When I'm walking with Ama, the scouts for the hostess bars stay out of my face and nobody tries to stuff flyers in my hand."
"So I guess I'm pretty handy to have around, huh?"
Ama and Maki immediately hit it off, and when he showed her his forked tongue, she did a complete turn¬around and went off about how cool it was.
"So Luis going to get one of these as well, huh?"
"Right. We're going to get matching tongues. Hey, Lui, why don't you get your eyebrows and lips pierced as well. Then we'd have matching everything."
"No way. All I want is a forked tongue and a tattoo."
"Come on, don't turn her into a complete punk," said Maki.
"Lui and me made an oath to remain Barbie-girls forever."
"Did not. Besides, I've never been a Barbie-girl."
"Yeah, right," said Ama and Maki pretty much at the same time. "You're the ultimate Barbie-girl."
Then for some reason they both looked at me and be¬gan chanting, "Down in one! Down in one!"
The three of us stepped out into the night air pissed out of our minds, not giving a shit about the noise we made as we shouted and cackled our way to the station through streets refreshingly empty of scumbag scouts. Almost empty, tha
t is.
17
A couple of thugs came into sight, and they began to eyeball Ama as we got closer. It came as no surprise to me. Guys like them were always trying to pick a fight with him for any reason they could pull out of the air. "What you looking at?" they'd spit. Or walk into him on purpose, turn around, and bark,
"Watch where you're fucking going." But all Ama ever did was laugh like a fool and apologize. The only thing tough about him was his looks—or so I thought.
One of the guys—decked out from head to toe in Versace—walked right up to me and said, "Hey, girl! That your boyfriend?" Ama and Maki were no use at all, with Maki hiding behind us and avoiding eye contact and Ama just glaring, so I just tried to walk around the guy. But he stepped over to block my path, and said, "He's not, right?"
"What? Haven't you got enough imagination to picture us fucking?" I shrugged, stone-faced. He put his arm around my shoulder and said, "No, you're right. I can't picture it." Then he pushed his hand down past my shoulder and slid it over my breast. As I was trying to remember what color bra I had on, I heard something like a dull thud and suddenly he was gone. I looked around me, not knowing what had happened. Then my eyes found him on the ground and Ama standing next to him, his eyes burning. I knew then that Ama had hit him.
"What the fuck are you doing?" shouted the other guy mid-stride as he came straight for Ama. Ama responded by crushing his fist into the oncoming face and then moved straight to straddle the Versace guy who was still flat out on the ground. Ama punched him in the temple, then again, then again, then again. And when the blood started to flow, Ama still didn't stop. The guy was out cold, but Ama kept on, relendess.
18
Maki saw the blood and started to scream. That was the exact same moment I remembered that Ama was wearing thick rings on the middle and forefinger of his right hand. The sickening rhythm of metal on bone sent a chill through my body.
"Ama, come on. That's enough." I said. But he didn't seem to hear me at all, and his fist kept lunging back again and again into Versace's sticky, unflinching face.
The other guy got up and began to steal away. I knew that he would be calling the police.
"I said, that's enough!" I grabbed Ama's left shoulder, then felt the jolt of his arm as his fist went into the guys face yet again. I looked away to the side, and all I could see was Maki throwing up. "Ama!" I shouted. Then I felt his muscles relax and I breathed a breath of relief as I thought it was all over. But it wasn't, not quite. Ama put
his fingers in the guys mouth! Rummaging around in there like he was looking for something. "What the fuck are you doing!" I slapped him on the top of his head and pulled as hard as 1 could on his tank top. Then I heard the sound of sirens.
I looked over at Maki and shouted at her to get out of there quick. She looked as white as a ghost, but still managed to say,
"Well, the three of us should get together soon, yeah." She gave a quick wave and was gone. Tough girl, Maki. She even runs well when she's drunk. I turned back to Ama, who was staggering to his feet and staring at me with a hollow gaze.
"You've gotta get a grip! Do you understand? The police are coming. We've got to go!" I tapped him on the shoulder and he gave me a gushing smile. He grabbed my hand and we ran, with him pulling away ahead, dragging me gasping for breath behind him.
19
After a while, when I thought I couldn't go any farther, we found a narrow alley, ducked down it, and collapsed to the ground.
"What the fuck was that!" I surprised myself with the strain in my voice.
Ama squatted down beside me, stuck out his bloody fist, and opened it in front of me to show two red
centimeter-long objects sitting in his palm. I instantly knew they were the guys teeth. I felt as if an ice cube had been dropped down my back.
"They're for you. Little tokens of revenge," said Ama with a smile that was proud yet innocent, like that of a child.
"What the hell would I want with those!" I shouted, but he grabbed my arm and dropped them both into my palm, keeping his eyes on mine, saying, "Take them. They're a symbol of my love for you."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I didn't know what to say. I just opened my mouth and let the words come out, "That's no symbol of love. At least not in Japan."
Then he cuddled up to me and I ruffled his hair until we had both calmed down.
After that, we sauntered over to the park and found a tap where Ama washed his tank top and hands. Then we caught the last train back to Ama's place. As soon as we walked into his apartment, I pushed him into the bathroom. Then once I was alone, I took the teeth from my makeup bag and rolled them around in my palm. I washed the blood off them in the kitchen sink and stuffed them back in my bag.
20
I wondered how I got there. Into a situation like this with a psycho who thinks we're together. And what if I tried to leave him? Would he try to kill me?
When Ama came out of the bath, he sat next to me and looked at me like he was trying to read my thoughts. I just sat there saying nothing and eventually I heard him say, "Sorry," in a voice barely above a whisper. "It's just that I can't control myself," he said. "I mean, I'm basically good-natured, but once I cross a line it's like I have to go on to the end. Until he's dead, you know."
His words made me think that he'd killed someone before.
"Ama, you're an adult, you know. I mean in terms of the law.
If you kill someone, you will go to prison."
"No, actually, I'm still a minor," he replied, looking me straight in the eyes. I felt myself starting to run out of patience and wondering why I even bothered worrying about him.
"Don't be so stupid."
"No, it's true!" he said.
"You told me you were twenty-four when we first met!
"Yeah, but only because I thought that was how old you are.
Didn't want you to think I was a kid. I kind of dropped that on you out of the blue, didn't I? Should I have broken it to you more seriously? How old are you, anyway?"
"How rude can you get? I'm still a minor too."
"You're kidding," said Ama, opening his eyes wide. "You serious? Well, that's perfect." He smiled from ear to ear and gave me a hug.
"It just means we both look old for our age," I said, pushing him away and realizing just how very little we really knew about each other. We didn't know about each other's upbringing or each other's age. It wasn't even like we'd been 21
avoiding these topics or anything, either. They just never came up. Even now, as we found out we were both under twenty, we still didn't bother to find out exactly how old we were.
"So, Ama, what's your real name? Amano? Suama?"
"Suama? What kind of name's that? It's Amadeus. Ama's my first name
and Deus is my last name. Isn't Deus a cool name? Sounds like Zeus, doesn't it?"
"If you don't want to tell me your name, that's fine with me."
"It is my real name. What's yours?"
"I bet you think its Lui for Louis the Fourteenth, don't you?
Well, you're wrong. It's Lui for Louis Vuitton."
"So you're quite a high society woman then," he said sarcastically, while handing me the first of several beers, over which we chatted until early morning.
The next day, just after noon, I was over at Desire with Shiba-san, looking at tattoo designs. I couldn't believe how many there were, from ukiyoe for a certain unwelcome section of society, to skulls, to Western designs like the original Mickey Mouse. I was really impressed with the range of his drawing skills.
"You want a dragon?" asked Shiba-san, peering over my shoulder, as I thumbed through dozens of pages of dragon designs.
"Yeah, I think I might go with a dragon. This is the one Ama's got, right?"
"Yeah. The shapes a little different, but its based on the same design."
Shiba-san leaned against the counter and looked down at me, while I carried on flipping through the files. "Ama doesn't know 22
&nb
sp; you're here, does he?" I looked up. Shiba-san had a thin smile on his face and a lecherous gleam in his eyes. "No, he doesn't," I said.
"Don't tell him I told you my cell number," said Shiba-san, his expression turning a little more serious. I guessed he knew something of Ama's temper.
"What is Ama . . ?" I started, but stopped myself. "You want to know about him?" he asked with a shrug. Shiba-san smiled up at the ceiling for a second before bringing his gaze back down to meet mine. "No, actually, perhaps I don't," I said. "Fine," he said with indifference. He then came out from behind the counter and walked out of the store. Then ten seconds later the door opened and he walked back in.
"What were you doing?"
"I closed the store. I have an important customer."
"Oh, okay," I said indifferently, and looked back down at the file. Later, we went to the back room to discuss the kind of tattoo I wanted while Shiba-san drew
beautiful designs with amazing speed. As someone with no artistic talent whatsoever, I was envious of his skill.
"To be honest, though, I'm still wavering. I mean, tattoos are for life, so if I'm going to get one, I want to get the best possible design there is, you know."
Snakes and Earrings Page 2