The apartment was small and sparsely decorated with purchases from thrift stores and yard sales. It had two rooms: The bedroom contained a queen-size with inherited sheets and a small chest of drawers on which sat the alarm clock and the clothes they laid out for the mornings, and the kitchen was a cozy space with just enough room for two. There was a communal bathroom for the complex down the hall, so they kept their toiletries in a plastic bin near the front door. Youko always cooked, except when they felt like splurging a bit and going out, and her skills were limited but growing. Sei often complained of hunger and always expressed her gratitude for the meals. They were both struggling with college bills, and though their parents dedicated some of their savings to the effort, both women wanted to pay their cost of living without any help. Independent lives lived together. They couldn't afford the luxuries they sometimes desired, but they were happy. They woke up together and found each other at the end of every day. Material needs seemed pathetically trivial when they were so blessed.
Sei called her "baby" and whispered that she loved her, and they were physically intimate every night. They fell asleep naked in each other's arms, their breath mingling together, their bodies comfortably warm. When Youko's alarm sounded in the morning, she would begin getting dressed while Sei grumbled about her turning on the light, but before long her arms were draped over Youko's shoulders as she kissed her ear and helped her button the collar of her shirt or clasp her jewelry. Youko wore lipstick and eyeliner and straightened her hair to match her black pencil skirts. Sei simply pulled on jeans and solid-color shirts or sweatshirts, depending on the weather. Though only Youko applied the rose perfume, its scent extended every day to Sei through long goodbye hugs before Youko left home, usually about half an hour before Sei.
Her laptop's background was a front-camera image of the two of them in their pajamas, she smiling contentedly and Sei wildly, their arms around each other. As someone with ample concern for her appearance, Youko often questioned her own choice: She wore no makeup, and her hair was far from its usual perfection. Not to mention how she compared to Sei, who was sexiest at night no matter what she hadn't done to improve her looks. The excitement of being in bed, perhaps even being with Youko, brought color to her cheeks and sparkle to her eyes.
Then again, perhaps that was the explanation. She did love to see Sei really smiling. When she smiled now, there was no force behind it. There was no darkness lingering in her eyes. There was no shadow of the long-haired, angelic girl who had broken her heart. Only the reflection of the loving woman who had mended it.
It was their perfect domestic life. Of course it wasn't real.
The apartment was Youko's alone. The bed was so achingly lonely that occasionally she used her reasonable charm to fill it with stubbly local men or voluptuous tourists whom she always asked to leave before either could fall asleep. She always hated herself a little more on those nights, but the brief feeling of another body against her own was too hard to give up.
She cooked only for herself, ate in silence, and immersed herself in her studies.
Sei's life was something of a mystery, though they emailed on occasion. She had heard from an angry Sachiko that Sei's drunken appearance at Yumi's door was not uncommon past midnight on weekends. It pained Youko to explain to her vehement petit sœur that she could do nothing to stop it. That she hadn't even been granted the courtesy of being on the receiving end of such visits.
The last time they'd seen each other in person had been Sei's twenty-second birthday. She'd gotten gifts in the mail from Yumi and Shimako but had only invited Youko. That was the third time they had sex. Giddy from expensive champagne and being alone with Sei, Youko had let herself speak too honestly. She'd said she loved her, and Sei had asked her to leave. A short, apologetic email the evening after had explained that she had been feeling ill and didn't want to make Youko sick.
She hadn't opened the present yet when Youko left, and she never mentioned it afterward. Among the champagne and luxurious homemade chocolates was a genuine gold chain holding a tiny pink rose. Though definitely not something Sei'd have picked for herself, it spoke to Youko in a way that didn't allow her to leave it behind. Pathetically, she often wondered if Sei ever wore it. But she couldn't have. Though Sei appeared to be the first thing on her mind, Youko and her embarrassing gifts had to be the last things on Sei's. The thought was laughable, but try as she did, Youko couldn't even bring herself to smile.