A/N: Hello, welcome to some new Balinger. :D The rough draft of TRM is complete. I will attempt to polish and publish a new chapter every week, most likely on Saturdays. I hope you enjoy what I believe is a happy future for one of our favorite couples. Cameos by original characters may occur. So look out! :D
Summer
Disclaimer: Based off/Adapted from work by Shobhan Bantwal.
Chapter 1:
I had no clue that within the next hour my life was about to take a dramatic turn. The bizarre incident struck so unexpectedly that it let me dazed and fighting for breath. Literally.
In my mother's native language, this type of special occurrence was all part of the plan designated on the akai ito. The red string of fate.
I'd heard of epiphanies and traumas changing people's lives in a flash. I'd known one or two individuals who had either plunged into misfortune or zoomed into orbit because of a single momentous event—heck, the brothers who once lived down the street from my house could do that literally—but I couldn't believe my experience could match or even outdo theirs to some degree.
Those kinds of outlandish things happened to others, in my opinion. Ordinary folks like me were exempt from such encounters. Or maybe not.
One minute I was striding forward, trying to maintain my best "smart marketing-public relations executive" image, and in the next I was falling on my back, arms flailing, my short skirt riding upward, providing the shocked people gathering around me an unobstructed view of my underwear.
Sheer humiliation. Well, at least I'd had the sense to wear my best panties, the ones that my cousins Kimora and Nemu, had insisted I splurge at the best lingerie store on this side of the Pacific.
It had started out as a normal day. I had strolled into my twenty-second floor office in the huge multi-story building in Marunouchi, Tokyo, like I did each weekday morning. Granted, I had an important meeting later that day, and I was uptight about it. I was to meet the new highly respected president and CEO for the first time since I'd joined the company with the name Tjinsaka, incorporated.
After my shower that morning I'd taken extra care with my hair and make-up. Then I silently offered prayers before the family shrine. When it came to important business meetings, I wasn't going to leave anything to chance. Like my great-aunt from Japan always said, "Prepare yourself well for any kind of catastrophe, but always be sure to pray to Amaterasu. Think of the heavenly goddess as your insurance agent." It was no coincidence that my great-aunt was named Amaterasu. She also happened to be an insurance agent for Insure for Life: Japan.
By the time I had gotten to the altar my auntie, my oba-chan, had already finished her daily prayer. Despite being a modern woman and a medical doctor, she followed an archaic family tradition of not eating or drinking anything before offering the day's first prayer.
She had placed rice and water in front of the shrine. Incense she had put in the corner of the room was wafting its scent around.
Unfortunately, I wasn't all that fervent about my Shinto faith. Back in the States, I think my mom stopped by the temple at least once a month, but when we were little, she only took Stacy and me for major holidays. And my dad, despite having two parents who followed Shinto tradition, started getting into Catholicism as a teenager so my grandma pulled him out of Uruguay as quickly as she could. I went to the altar every now and then—when I needed an extra help from above—like today.
After praying, I felt much calmer. So what if I had to face the head of the company for the first time? I was a professional and could handle almost anything. Or so I thought.
I would realize how wrong I was by the time the workday came to an end.
At precisely 8:07 a.m., our office assistant Kimiko "Kimi" Matsuda, and I wished each other good morning as I stopped by her desk, or the administrative office as she preferred to call it.
The marketing-public relations department occupied a corner suite made up of three rooms, the first one being a main outer office with Kimi's desk, a row of filing cabinets, a fax machine, a copier, and a coffeemaker. It opened out into a long main corridor, but in the back it had two doors that led to separate offices, the smaller one being mine and the larger belonging to my boss, Alec Wrotsky. The only access to Alec's and my offices was through Kimi's area. She was our gatekeeper.
Locking her door conveniently locked the entire department. I appreciated the safety feature.
Kimi took one look at me and beamed, the dimple in one cheek deepening. "Ginger, you look great!" She swiveled her chair to study my outfit more intently. "Wow, you're even wearing the shoes you got last month, too. Nice."
I gave her a small pleased smile. I'd hoped others would love my ensemble as much as I did. After I spent hours in the store looking for a fall wardrobe, it would've been a letdown if someone hadn't noticed. "Thanks."
Kimi looked down at her own grey pantsuit paired with dark blue shell and black mid-heel pumps. "Everything I wear looks so bleh. How come when you wear the same thing it looks all stylish and cute?"
"That's not true," I said with a dismissive gesture of my hand. If Kimi only ate a little less rice, she'd be attractive. She had a lovely face with wide, sparkling black eyes and an infectious smile that no one could resist. Losing a bit of weight could work wonders for her. And the slightly outdated pantsuit could look more refined if it were taken to a tailor or given a simple accessory to spruce it up. A soft but bright scarf or a great statement necklace could bring on a sense of chic to her ensemble.
Kimi was a good worker and a kind soul, and she had become a friend and a confidant in the short while that I'd been working in the company. Besides, as a forty-year-old mother of two young boys, Kimi didn't really have to pull of elegance. She had bagged her man seventeen years ago, and he apparently loved her, extra baggage and all.
"It is true, Ginger," Kimi argued, "That's because you're young and thin and pretty."
I shrugged. "Thin yes, young perhaps…but pretty? I don't quite know about that." Frankly, I didn't quite feel all that young anymore, not since my thirty-second birthday four months ago.
My parents had dropped a few concerns, and my extended family had dropped more than several hints about my flagging biological clock, my soon-to-fade looks, and my shorter than average stature—my vice. The consensus was that if I didn't find a husband within a year, I was quite likely to die an old maid.
With each passing year I was supposedly inching closer to tooth loss, dementia, and osteoporosis. I'd probably lose even more inches because small women were more susceptible to bone deterioration, according to my Auntie Mai, my father's younger sister. I called her oba-san out of respect as per Japanese tradition.
Of course, dealing with the glances of disproval and pity were all partly my fault. Thanks to some sort of gratitude from the University of Tokyo toward my grandfather, any of his offspring within the next three generations, if accepted to the school to attend any of their universities, were exempt from school tuition and room and board fees. It only made sense that I wouldn't turn down the chance at a free education, and a world class one at that. Attending Todai was no joke and a diploma from them was just as respectable as attending Harvard here in the States. Stacy had attended there and look where she was now—the president elect of Uruguay. Not to mention that the economy here was great and I figured I could accumulate a solid bank account before returning home. Another plus was that I no longer had to talk to my parents' families with stilted Japanese; I was fluent now.
Not that it helped my current situation.
Auntie Mai's birthday gift to me had been a book titled Score a Hit Before Your Ovaries Quit. It was not a gag gift. My aunt's sense of humor didn't extend to witty presents. I hadn't gone past the first few pages yet, but it was a primer for women on the art of landing a man.
At this point, my aunt wasn't dropping hints; she was grabbing me by the scruff of my neck like she would a recalcitrant puppy and dragging me toward matrimony. A thirty-something, unmarried niece would diminish her own young daughters' marriage prospects. In fact the ripple effect of one black sheep's deficient image could potentially taint the entire Hirano clan if it wasn't bleached white as soon as possible.
Kimi wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Is that suit in honor of your meeting with Baljeet Tjinder today?"
"No." What was Kimi trying to insinuate? That I was out to bat my eyelashes at our CEO? Ew, no. I grew up with that kid for god's sakes. When was the last time I'd even seen him? Well, anyway I'd been there, done that, and wasn't in the mood to do it again. Even if I was interested in the man the employees referred to as their CEO, I was nowhere near the significant chapter in my Score a Hit book yet and wouldn't know how to go about flirting the right way. The book said there was a method to everything. But I had to master the subtle art of seduction first, before I ventured into practicing it.
"After all, he's an American like you, and friends with the Flynn and Fletcher brothers. He's a good catch, right?" Kimi seemed have this notion that anyone with the same nationality had to be the best of friends. But as far as I knew, nationality and childhood were all that we had in common. He was a genius, a wealthy man with a corporation of his own, with all the surrounding power and trappings, while I was a nobody with an ordinary job.
To some extent Kimi was right, though. I did want to impress Mr. Tjinder, but for entirely different reasons.
First of all, it was important to my career. I firmly believed in setting the right tone. I wouldn't be surprised if he noticed me right away, he probably wouldn't be shocked to find the younger sister of Hartzen's Corporation's former CEO Stacy Hirano working in the branch of the no longer existing company. But I had to show him that I was ambitious and not someone who had leeched off Stacy.
Second, since he and I both had grown up in Danville, his friends and mine were very well acquainted with each other. If I made a poor impression on him, he could pass it one of his buddies and the words would spread like a wildfire. I'd work too hard at attaining the image of bright and hard-working professional to end up with a "dud" reputation.
Third, jobs like mine were rare. I'd heard rumors that as Tjinder had been combing over and visiting his new acquisition in Hartzen's, he'd fired a few employees for incompetent work. I wanted to keep mine for a long time.
And last but not least, a dumb image would ruin my chances of eventually finding a decent husband. Who would want a dunce for a wife, especially the cerebral Japanese guys with advanced degrees from pedigree schools, and magna cum laudes written all over their diplomas that my aunts and the family elders introduced me to?
My aunt Noriko after discovering who Tjinder was (his profile, not his relation to me), and that he was single and unattached had hinted that I should try to charm him. Sure he wasn't Japanese like she would hope but Asian heritage, a solid paycheck and a few million dollars to his worth, as according to Ferbes, made him a considerable candidate.
"One never knows when and where fate will strike, and it is up to an individual to give it a slight nudge in the right direction," she'd declared with a hopeful edge to her voice. She had apparently heard good things about Baljeet Tjinder from the gossip she attained from her husband's colleagues' wives. In the Japanese book of matrimonial prospects, Tjinder was very close to near a superb catch.
Kimi's teasing grin tugged my wandering attention back to her. "Who are you trying to fool?" she challenged. "Admit it; you're wearing a classy outfit to impress him."
"Absolutely not," I retorted. "I went shopping the other day, and the new line of clothes looked so chic. I tried a few things and…you know the rest."
"I know it well. You're a woman, and we can't help ourselves if we want pretty things."
I laughed at her pretty apt portrayal of my shopping habits. "Am I that predictable?"
"Spoiled brat is what you are. Your parents give you too much freedom and your family allows you too much money."
"Not anymore," I countered. "I've been paying for my own credit card bills and my auto insurance and gas since I started working seven years ago." I pointed to my outfit. "Strictly department stores. And very often deep-discount stores if my savings account starts looking anemic."
"Really, now!" mocked Kimi.
"I love discounted stores. They used to have some amazing ones back in the US."
"Humph."
"You don't like them?" I threw her a wide-eye look.
"I adore them. Besides, they're the only shops I can afford." One thin, scornful eyebrow shot up as Kimi turned back to her computer. "I wasn't talking about the stores you shop at, silly; I meant the things your family does for you. How soon do we forget the free room and board?"
I headed quietly back to my desk because I had no rebuttal. She was right. I was still living with my Aunt Noriko, and her husband, Hitachi, along with my younger cousin, twenty-seven-year-old son Takeshi, who was a medical resident at one of the nearby hospitals. He was one of my favorite male cousins (his brother shared the title with him), and he and I were the fledglings who left home to acquire an education (he went to the US while I moved here), then he returned home and I never looked back.
My Auntie Noriko, my beloved oba-chan, who was my father's youngest sister loved having us around. She had been despondent while I lived at school and her two sons lived away. "So quiet and empty without any children," she used to moan when I visited her for dinner. "Your Uncle and I walk around like unsatisfied spirits in this house."
However, now that two of us were staying in her home, Oba-chan complained that Takeshi and I were sloppy, that our ever-ringing cell phones and late night disturbed her sleep, and that our erratic eating, bathing, and sleeping habits left the kitchen and bathroom in disarray.
Satoro, my older cousin, and Takeshi's older brother, was a successful stockbroker at thirty-four, and had his own home a few miles from his mom's own in Shibuya. But most of the time Satoro hung around our house, so he ate with us almost every night. His imported state-of-the-art refrigerator held nothing but beer, soda, and a fat jar of soy sauce. Despite having a shiny new washer and dryer in his home, he ended up doing his laundry at his parents' place. He saved on groceries and laundry just like Takeshi and I, but he had the nerve to label the two of us "cheapskates."
It's not as if I haven't considered moving out of my aunt and uncle's home, but rents were so obscenely high in Tokyo. And it wasn't for nothing that people denigrated Tokyo for being the most expensive city in the world. Things were not cheap here. How did ordinary people manage to make a living in this city? I often wondered.
Besides, Oba-chan and Oji-chan lived in my deceased grandmother's big, comfortable home right smack-dab in the middle of Shibuya—one of the busiest parts of Tokyo. Our house was such a white elephant among the tall skyscrapers that tourists seemed to think it was some sort of cultural novelty, and sometimes when I walked out of the traditional house, I'd find them taking pictures next to our front gate. Aside from the minor nuisance of a dense population and annoying visitors, Oba-chan was a superb cook. Takeshi and I were no fools.
Dropping my purse in my desk drawer, I strode over next door to my boss's office. It was dark.
"Alec's not in yet?" I asked with some surprise before heading toward the thermos of tea that she'd brought form home. Sniffing the wonderful aroma, I poured myself a cup. Alec was usually here before I was.
Kimi shook her head. "I hear there's a problem with the Chiyoda Line and getting people off the trains is a mess. He's probably stuck in that."
"But he would've called us. He has a cell phone."
"Alec's not late yet. And Shane already called twice to check on Alec." Kimi rolled her eyes.
Shane Montague was Alec's gay partner, and at times a minor aggravation for Kimi and me.
I looked at my wristwatch. "If Alec doesn't call soon, Shane's likely to call again."
As if on cue, the phone rang, and Kimi answered it. "Hello, Shane-san." She rolled her eyes at something he said, and then assured him between pauses that Alec would be fine. "Don't worry…I'm sure he'll arrive any minute…Not answering his cell? There was an accident near the Otemachi station this morning and the Chiyoda line has been temporarily halted…Oh, you already know…"
I stood close enough to her desk to be able to hear most of Shane's words. He sounded upset. No surprise there.
Kimi leaned back in her chair. "I'm sure Alec is not a statistic Shane…" She sighed. "You Americans always react with the worst possible scenario in mind…I'll tell him to call you the moment her gets here...You're welcome."
Hanging up the phone, Kimi gave a dramatic sigh. "I don't know how Alec puts up with the likes of Shane day in and day out."
"Alec actually likes it. He's got a doting mother, friend, partner, and lover all rolled into one extremely attractive package."
"Attractive yes, but I'm not so sure that that's one package I'd ever consider paying for."
"I know what you mean," I said
on a laugh, and took a sip of my tea. Kimi had an amusing way with words. "But he cares deeply about Alec. He quit his job in San Francisco to be with Alec in whole different country. Remember? It's quite touching."
"My husband cares deeply about me, too, but if he called me twice a day to ask about my blood pressure and my ovaries, I'd get annoyed."
"Hm." Shane was like a mother hen around Alec. He packed a healthy lunch for Alec each day with carefully prepared sushi or seaweed salad, fresh fruit, and a little side of herbal supplements to prevent every possible health risk, from elevated cholesterol, diabetes, and high blood pressure to and enlarged prostate and impotence.
From looking at all those pills, one would think Alec was a doddering old man, but he was only fifty-one and in good health. Granted he was overweight, and he was losing hair, but looked quite virile.
Nonetheless Kimi and I made sure Alec took all his supplements religiously. Keeping Alec in good health meant peace and quiet for the rest of us. Shane was fifty and going through a mid-life crisis. As long as things were going well at home, Shane's calls were usually limited to about two per day.
I disposed of my cup in one of the recycling bins and glanced at my watch again. Alec's unexplained absence was beginning to trouble me.