by Tria, Jay E.
Jill watched the blossoming crowd warily, clutching an iced tea bottle to her chest. It was a loud, cheerful mix of poets, writers, and singers, some faces she recognized from an old class, a concert or other, but mostly complete strangers. Their talk and laughter mingled with the music blaring from the speakers, a select mix of J-Rock, old blues, a couple of Trainman singles, and fun pop classics that Shinta carefully curated to his mother’s taste.
Jill turned to the living room and saw her old Physics professor with Yuki Mori, the birthday girl. Both waved cheerily at her. Jill nodded back once and returned her eyes to Shinta’s face. They were standing guard by the buffet table, clustered with Miki, Son, and Nino.
“I forget Professor Mori runs with the hippie crowd,” Nino observed.
“These people are so cool they make me feel like I’m boring. That has never happened before.” Son was watching a woman with blue hair braided to her waist stand barefoot on the carpet, talking to an old lady in a baby pink cardigan.
“She used to be a man,” Shinta said, pointing to the scene Son was immersed in.
“Blue hair?” Nino blurted out.
“No, the cardigan lady,” Shinta countered.
Miki stared back at him, his mouth agape as Nino, Son and Jill burst out laughing. Whether Shinta was joking or not would remain a mystery forever.
Jill grabbed a fistful of chips from the table and stuffed them to her mouth, her eyes on the door. Kim walked in.
She glugged her drink to wash the chips down and slammed the bottle on the table. “I need to go,” she muttered, pushing Nino’s shoulder out of her way.
Shinta grabbed her hand. “Come on. This way.”
***
Miki’s eyes followed Jill’s back as she ran up the stairs, Shinta towing her along. He felt like such a dad, his feet itching to follow and pull Shinta by the tiny bones of his ear, and scream at Jill that they were leaving right now, and that she better stay away from this troublesome boy.
But his feet stayed put and he did nothing of the sort. Miki had long mastered such strange, would-be satisfying impulses.
“Do you see some force field around those stairs that I don’t?” Son was beside him, the words muffled as he chewed on a barbecue stick.
“Go make a scene and get the girl,” Nino put in, nodding towards the staircase. “Start a fist fight and throw the other guy into the pool while you’re at it. What else are you supposed to do in a party?”
Miki turned away and fixed his mouth in a line. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Son scowled. “You’re such a cheater, Miki.”
“What?”
“You fight sideways, like the heartbreak virgin that you are,” Son expounded.
Miki looked back at his friends, his mind offering him a lot of ready retorts to vehemently deny what they were implying. But the alcohol in his veins made him tired. That third bottle was a bad idea.
“A lot of good this fighting has done for me,” he muttered.
“That’s just it, my friend. You lack conviction.” Son wrapped his arm around Miki’s shoulders, squeezing him in a man-embrace. “You fight like someone who knows he’ll lose.”
“You think I never had a chance with her?”
“I think you never wanted to find out.”
Miki clicked Son’s bottle with his, giving him a small smile. “Cheers.”
“You know losing is not always a bad thing,” Nino said. “You learn stuff. I, for one, have learned that I am not built for long distance relationships.”
“What are you talking about?” Son frowned at him.
“Suze and I broke up,” Nino proclaimed, matter of fact.
“What did you do, you jerk?” Miki hit the back of Nino’s head with his palm.
Nino stepped back and massaged the spot, but did not hit back. Instead, he confessed. “Jenny and I kissed.”
“Who’s Jenny?” Son asked.
“Does it even matter?” Miki sighed out.
“I told Suze, and she broke it off.” Nino continued his confession calmly. “There were a lot of expletives during that phone call. Not the cleanest of breaks. But there it is.”
“A phone call breakup. Good job, my friend.” Son shook his head.
“Kim still holds the record on that one with his text breakup, the mighty coward.” Nino grinned. His hand clasped Miki’s cheek. “The point is, life’s too short to be standing still. So choose and make your move, and do it fast.” He slapped Miki’s cheek lightly a few times and let go.
Miki turned his eyes back on the stairs, the steps disappearing into darkness after the first landing. He could go up there, and he could say something, do something brave and honest. It would change many things.
But he wouldn’t. He could handle the little aches, the tiny fissures on his heart that he endured every time she smiled at him, every time she cried over another boy. But he could not handle losing her.
Nino was right. Even when you lose, you learn things. Tonight he learned that he was not built to lose his best friend.
He took out his phone and looked for Ana’s number.
Slipstream
I slipped from the edge and I’ve fallen
Should have heeded the warning
Do not cross the yellow line
But it’s too late
And there’s no brake
And I’m falling
And you had no warning
You look me in the eye and I’ve lost
My heart, my head, tingle down my toes
Do not cross the yellow line
But it’s too late
Where’s the brake?
And I’ve fallen
You should have warned me
So I stand here on the train tracks
Waiting for you to look back
Turn back
And see me
Sliding in the slipstream
Tumbling in this daydream
Of you seeing me
Of you
And me
You take a free fall and I catch you
But you like where the slipstream takes you
You don’t even see the line
And it’s too late
Take a break
And I’ve fallen
Can you save me?
Save me
So I stand here on the train tracks
Waiting for you to look back
Turn back
And see me
Sliding in the slipstream
Tumbling in this daydream
But you don’t see me
No it’s never me. (Miki)
***
“Why are we in your room?”
“Because you’re trying to hide from your ex-boyfriend. And there’s no way he’ll come looking for you in my room. We’re not close enough friends for that.”
Jill inclined her head, taking her first step inside. “Fair point.”
Shinta flicked on the lights as she passed him, one foot keeping the door ajar. “Do you want me to keep the door open?”
“If I’m going to hide, I will do it correctly.”
“Fair point.” He closed the door with a thud, turned the lock for good measure, and followed her inside.
Shinta thought of his room as the White Room. It had white walls, white floors, white ceilings, and sheer white curtains that showed off the small terrace and invited in the sun and wind. If he left the air conditioning on at night, Shinta would wake up to the room bright and cold, with wisps of frosty air hanging from the ceiling and from the windows, and the White Room would seem like heaven.
Jill stood in the middle of his white narrow rectangular heaven, hands lightly on her hips. She turned to him, a curious glint in her eyes. Shinta’s breath caught, his heart hammering inside his chest.
“Your room back home cannot be this clean, can it?” Jill said.
Shinta cleared his throat and tried a grin. “You couldn’t see an inch of the floor with all
the trash and things.”
“And you have several portraits of your face up on your wall don’t you?” She smiled teasingly up at him.
“It’s part of the job description,” he retorted, scowling. “It reminds me of my physical flaws.”
“What flaws?” Jill demanded, rolling her eyes.
Shinta smirked. Deciding against air conditioning, he pushed his white sofa bed—the only furniture in the room apart from the big white closet—to face the terrace. He threw open the narrow double doors and pulled away the curtains, so that a light hot breeze crept inside the room.
He sat on the bed, Jill plopping down beside him, stretching her long legs next to his. She laid her head down on his pillow, her gaze easily caught by the clear view of the night sky. She was searching the velvet blanket above for stars—one of her hobbies—her thoughts far away from him. He wondered what had happened, on that night she left her phone in Kim’s car. He wondered how Kim had broken her again, causing her to get lost in long stretches of silence such as this.
“It would take forever to count stars that don’t want to be seen,” Shinta said when her silence stretched on.
Jill’s gaze remained upwards when she spoke.
“I always liked the concept of forever. The constancy, the certainty.” She paused, closing her eyes. “But maybe forever does not exist. Maybe there’s just today, and last night, and seven years ago. Then there’s tomorrow again, and it spins until it fades to black and we all die.”
“That’s a very romantic theory,” Shinta piped in, trying a cheerfully sarcastic voice.
Jill shook her head slowly, her closed eyes framed by wisps of lashes. “Life is not a romantic movie. The boy gets the girl, then he leaves the girl, and they don’t live happily ever after.”
Shinta pinched her cheek. “Look at you, turning cynical. You must be terribly damaged.”
Jill’s eyes flitted open. “That’s why I was returned.”
Shinta took in her blank smile and realized that wasn’t a very good joke. “I have my own theory,” he said quickly. “About forever.”
“Okay. Tell me.”
It was Shinta’s turn to look at the black expanse of heaven as he marshalled his thoughts.
“I think it’s just a problem of naming convention. Forever just sounds so serious. Like there’s so much at stake. Like you die if you don’t make it. And if you don’t make it, everything that happened—good and bad—disappears with the end. So much worry and pressure.” He turned to see her listening aptly to him. “So I’m just going to count it on a day to day basis.”
“Until when?” Jill asked.
“Until it runs out,” he answered. “I would fight so the days don’t end, but when they do, then okay. I’ve tried, so it’s okay.”
“How long does that take?”
“See? You’re curious, too.”
He turned to face her, and that was a mistake. His cheek landed on the pillow inches away from his safe distance from her. He always found himself leaning close to her, stealing a feel of her hair under his chin, a graze of his breath on the line of her nose, the feel of her cheek under his fingers. Maybe to test himself. Maybe because from the moment he met her, the heat and light he felt from her was like gravity pulling at his core. He caught her gaze, her eyes dark as deep night, and knew this time he was failing the test.
He cupped her nape with his hand and pulled her head toward him, his mouth crashing into hers. He caught a glimpse of the shock in her eyes before she squeezed them shut and kissed him back, her lips parting at the first urging of his tongue. One slim leg wrapped around his waist, her arm clutching tight around his shoulder, drawing him closer. Shinta’s heart leapt to his throat. She wants me too, was his bewildered thought, and he rolled on top of her, his fingers crawling up her stomach and swiftly pulling her shirt over her head, tearing his shirt off of him too, a blissful confidence burning inside him.
He moved his head, Jill’s teeth on his lower lip as he pulled away from the kiss. He rested his forehead against hers, gasping, eyes travelling from the graceful line of her neck, to the beads of sweat between her breasts. He wanted to see her. He needed both eyes open, even as Jill had taken to nibbling his ear. He groaned, releasing a throaty laugh. He pressed her gently back down the bed as his fingers unclasped her bra, slid the straps down her thin arms.
He held his weight above her, hands exploring her sides, her stomach, his eyes taking in every detail of this vision. Look, a small freckle near her navel, he noted as he dipped his tongue into its warmth. Another one on this nipple, as he kissed it, tongue swirling, nibbling gently. Jill shivered beneath him, moaning his name, and it was all he could do to not explode that instant.
She pushed him away and Shinta panicked, but she rolled over and now she was straddling him. She pressed herself against his chest, fingers through his hair as her mouth consumed his. His fingers curled around her waist, arms crushing her to him. Her nails raked down his abdomen, fingers expertly flicking open the button of his jeans. Her hand slid inside the denim, inside the cotton of his boxers.
Fire shot inside him, shocking every nerve in his body, kindling a thought in his head. “No,” he muttered.
Shinta let out a low growl, then his lips stopped moving with hers. He rolled away, unlocking their limbs. A brain is an inconvenient thing. Fucking liability.
“No?” Jill murmured.
She crawled back to him, her lips moving down the planes of his stomach, tracing each ripple of muscle, nimble fingers returning to their good work down his jeans.
“No,” he repeated.
He clasped her wandering hand and pulled her up, catching her face for a rough kiss. Then he pulled away again, creating a good foot of white sofa bed between them.
He lay on his back, fixed his eyes on the purple sky, mastering his breathing, summoning sheer will. After what felt like an eternity of struggle, he turned back to her.
Jill was smiling, fire and light dancing in her big dark eyes. “Is it because the terrace door is open? Are you cold?”
“Cold is the last thing I am right now,” he said with a choked laugh. The sight of her half-naked and glorious, her eyes fixed only on him, took his breath away.
“You can’t be a virgin,” she continued her teasing.
He held her gaze, breathing in and out deeply, taming her humor and the fire inside him. He refused to make the obvious mistakes. He had to do right by this girl.
“I’m sorry I said you were damaged,” he said, glad to hear his voice sounded even. “You’re not.”
“Of course I am.”
“Why would you want to be perfect? Who is? I’m not.” He smiled, daring to touch her again as his heartbeat slowed. One soft kiss on her bare shoulder, one hand to cup her cheek. “I love you, you know.” How easy it was to finally say it.
Jill’s gaze flicked down, losing vein of her teasing. “You don’t have to. Love is stupid, remember?”
Shinta laughed. “Oh I know.” He pulled Jill’s chin up so she would look at him, then landed her head on his shoulder, stroking her hair. “I don’t know about forever, but I love you just the same.”
March 21, Wednesday, one year ago
Light streamed through the window, white spokes of sun coming through the dark curtains. Jill’s eyes fluttered open. Her sleepy gaze took in the dark blue walls, hidden under movie and concert posters. A pile of faded denim and T-shirts on the floor. A lonely sneaker lay overturned just inches from the clothes heap, its pair missing, holding the door ajar.
Her lips pulled up in a smile. She always loved the view of Kim’s apartment in the morning. She rolled over, pulling out the sheets to face the owner of the room. Kim looked very much awake.
He smiled, lifting a finger to trace the line of her nose. “Why is it you don’t sleep over as often as you used to?”
Jill’s eyebrows rose. “Because you freaked out when I started folding your clothes.”
“I think it was when you mov
ed my toothbrush.”
“Accidentally.”
Kim nodded, gaze elsewhere. “Right.”
Jill pushed his chin up so he would meet her glare. “I’ve been your girlfriend for more than six years now and you have commitment issues. Really, Kim?”
Kim shook her hand off, yawning a little too loudly. “It’s too early for a stupid fight.” He pulled the blanket off of her, his eyes taking a leisurely stroll down the length of her body. Jill blushed despite her annoyance. She remembered being too exhausted and sleepy to put anything on last night.
“You’re stupid,” she mumbled, her sleepy brain unable to churn out a better comeback. She’d had this fight with him before, about sharing a lunchbox to school, about missed Saturday stay-in date nights. About Kim writing a song without her. About his detailed plans for the band while for her he only had a general idea, a long yet dangling line.
But he was right. The morning was too beautiful for a fight. She snuggled next to him. “Do you love me?”
Kim’s face pulled in a thoughtful mask. He swayed his head side to side. “Mmmm, well…”
Jill pushed his face away with her palm. Kim laughed. He rose, and in the next second was on top of her, his skin warm against hers. He tasted her mouth with a slow kiss.
“Do you love me?” Jill said again when the kiss was over, feigning exasperation though her heart was racing. Her body had forgotten all traces of drowsiness.
Kim’s strong arm was around her, and he pushed them to lie side by side. He lay his cheek on the pillow, the tip of his nose meeting hers.
“Early morning the sun is streaming/Tear my pillows mess up my sheets,” he sang to her ear.
“Did you just make that up?”
“Whisper questions you know the answer to/You spin to fill the space in between.”