Hanasanaide
Done with my shift at the Dairy Queen, I pulled into the driveway of my house. Switching off the car, I lazily got out and shut the door, intent on heading straight to the shower to wash off all the grease. This job meant extra cash in the summer months when I returned home from university, and it was easy and fun, so I wasn't complaining. I just desperately needed a shower.
Walking up the sidewalk, I stopped and turned at the sound of a racing car and tires squealing up the driveway. I stared in curiosity as my father leaped out of his car and charged at me.
"Hurry, son, get in the house," he said, his tone low and urgent.
"Dad, what's going on-"
"Kushina, we're here!" my Dad shouted as he forcefully ushered me inside, slamming the door behind us.
"Minato, I've got his bag and the papers," I heard my mother's voice from the back room. She dashed into the entryway with one of my duffel bags, packed so full it was nearly bursting at the seams.
I immediately knew something was wrong. My father is never nervous like this, and my parents were calling each other by their names, not "honey" and "love".
"Get the car started," my dad instructed her and grabbed me, pulling me into the office. He quickly walked to the file cabinet, opened the bottom drawer that I'd never seen him use. He pulled out a stack of brochures and a passport and shoved them at me. He kicked the drawer shut, grabbed a smaller bag and pulled me out of the office again, toward the garage.
"Naruto!" I turned around at the door. My younger sister came running up to me from the back bedroom, followed by our Granny. Marie reached up and grabbed the front of my shirt, pulling me down to kiss me on the cheek.
"Take care of yourself, Naruto," I heard my Granny say before my father pushed me out the door, running to the car where my mother was backing out of the driveway.
"Should I take highway 62?" my mother asked back to us in the back seat.
"Yes, that's a good idea," my father agreed, finally sitting back in the seat and letting out a deep breath. I sat still, shocked into silence at the speed my mother was driving and the urgency with which she maneuvered around the other cars.
After only a moment's rest, my father sat back up and began sorting the papers, organizing them into small stacks. He took the passport and put it in a pouch with a string around it. Leaning over to me, he hung the pouch around my neck and dropped it down my shirt. "Your identification and money is in here. Never take it off," he said, looking at me sternly as he patted the front of my shirt.
"Dad, why do I have a passport, what's going on-" I stumbled out, nearly frantic.
"I heard today at work that the feds finally issued a summons." my father said, not looking at me. Dad worked for the state government, as an advisor to the elected officials.
"The higher-ups will be buying their sons a ticket out of the draft," my dad explained, "but they think it will be around one hundred thousand at least. I can't come up with that." At this point Dad paused, staring into space. He suddenly looked ten years older than he was. The terrified yet weary look on his ever-optimistic face was what scared me more than anything he had just told me. "You're going to leave the country and lay low until they withdraw the draft, then you can come back. I'll apply for you to take the year off of school; I imagine that's how long we're looking at, at least. We've got to get you out now before the official orders are processed in the morning. I only just heard about it by chance." I was sitting next to him, and leaving for a year, yet my dad did not touch me, did not give me a hug or a pat on the shoulder or anything. It felt like I was a sick dog being taken to the vet to be put down, my owners too devastated to look at me.
I nodded, completely focused now that I was in soldier mode. It was like I was getting briefed before a training exercise during the many military summer camps that were mandatory for us. Except this time it was real. Dad explained that the online ticket printouts and directions to a guest house at my final destination were in the stack of papers.
We pulled into the drop-off at the airport. My dad got out immediately and opened the door for my mother. "I'll make a loop, Kushina," he said as my mother got out. He looked over the top of the car at me, his eyes locking onto mine, "Good luck, son."
"Yeah, Dad," I managed as my mother made it to the curb and he drove off.
We walked up to the counter and got me checked in. My mother led me in silence all the way to the security gates, then turned to me.
"Drink only bottled water at first, and watch the water in the food you eat. Give your body time to adjust. Sleep as much as you need to get over the jet lag you'll have," she put her hand on my shoulder, looking me in the eyes. "We'll leave updates on your sister's blog, and please let us know when you get there, since your phone can't make international calls. Don't say anything specific on the blog; Daddy's work will be watching him once they find you're gone. Just let us know you're okay." At this point there were tears in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. I was still at a loss for words, but looking back now, I wish I had said something, anything, that could help her deal with what lay ahead.
"Keep down and be a good boy," she said, pulling me into a hug, "I love you, Naruto."
"I love you too, Mom," I said, feeling her shake against me. She pulled back but quickly looked away so I could not see her tears. I watched her turn and walk back to the pickup loop.
I looked at my tickets, and resigned myself to a lot of flying. I took a one hour hop to the nearest international airport, then a thirteen hour flight to Tokyo, and a seven hour flight after that. I spent the flight across the Pacific Ocean staring blankly ahead, the cabin dark as everyone else slept. I managed to organize my documents and had everything lined up in my carry-on bag: my flight tickets, the directions to a guest house, and the small amount of money my parents gave me. We were always a little tight on money, even though both our parents worked. The amount my parents had to save up in order to burn on an immediate international flight must have been enormous. They had all of this paperwork prepared in the event that something like this would happen.
I had plenty of time to think on the flights. My country, in its many exhaustive fronts on the war on terror, finally issued a draft. Starting in middle school, all boys were required to attend federal summer camps that taught outdoor survival and battle tactics, but all those years passed without incident. I had never expected to be called to serve. Currently a college student, I was going to enter into my junior year this fall, having finished two years of general prerequisites. I didn't know what I wanted to major in, though. I guessed fleeing the country would give me some time to figure that out. Nothing like an impromptu visit to the complete opposite side of the globe to put things in perspective.
I landed in the destination my parents chose for me: Bangkok, Thailand. I gave the directions to the taxi driver and watched the city begin to spread before me while speeding across the highway on the left-hand side of the road. I stepped out of the taxi into the crowded tourist district and began looking for the guest house. The first thing I noticed here was that I could not see the sun. The sky was a light gray, almost white, that seemed as if a thin cloud was completely sealing us in. I felt the sun, sure, but here in this foreign place, after twenty hours of flying, I wanted to see sunshine that might remind me of home.
The landlady spoke a little bit of English, and I was able to tell her I wanted to stay at least a month. She led me to a tiny partition, more like a large closet, on the fourth floor. The front wall expanded out a couple of feet to make a small balcony, caged in with a screen and metal bars. She pointed to a door down the hall that I assumed was a bathroom and then left. I looked at the empty room, realizing I didn't have any kind of mat on which to sleep. Opening my duffel, I pulled out some clothes and laid them on the floor, stripping down to my boxers and laying down, passing out almost immediately.
The next few days were full of small victories. By talking to some of the tourists milling about I was able to find a general store a few blocks away that sold bottled water and some dried food. I got only what I could afford to have stolen from me, though the guest house seemed pretty safe. I slept a lot and almost had a normal sleeping schedule by the fourth day. I found an internet cafe and sent a quick message to Marie's blog before returning to the room. I didn't have a worker's permit, but I would have to find income quickly before my savings ran out.
Late one evening after my first week in Thailand, the door to my room opened and admitted a dark figure who stepped into the room. I had been asleep, and upon seeing them assumed I now had a roommate. Seeing as how I was still half asleep, I figured introductions could wait until later. The next morning, I woke to find him asleep on the floor with nothing beneath him, using his small backpack as a pillow. He looked about my age, somewhere around eighteen to twenty, and was definitely Asian. I couldn't determine what exact nationality, only that he wasn't Thai. His jet black hair hung in his face as he slept, and I noticed he had unusually pale and clear skin, a rare commodity in a city so full of pollution and filtered sunlight. I thought it strange that he would be traveling alone. So far, it was only the Americans that were drafting like this. I could not think of many other reasons why a foreigner my age would be in Thailand by themselves.
We didn't actually get the chance to meet each other, as I was up and out for the day while he was still asleep and I would have already retired before he returned for the night. I put in a request at the embassy for a six month visa, the longest they would allow me. After that I spent the day wandering around that section of the city, looking for work and trying to desperately pick up the language as quickly as possible. I found that my two years of university and all the money spent amounted to nothing. I had my military training, and I could speak English, but not Thai.
After the first couple of nights, the roommate began having nightmares where he would shoot up from the floor with a muffled shout. He would then pace the room for a bit, usually with his arms crossed and muttering in a language I couldn't identify, before finally settling down again. One night he sprung out of bed and ran into the wall, hitting his head and slinking to the floor like a rag doll, clutching his face as if trying to claw the visions out of his skull. This time I'd finally had it, fully waking up and stumbling over to turn on the light. In the dim glow from the single light bulb in the ceiling I could see he was trembling, still mumbling something incoherent and nervous, unaware of my movements.
I crouched in front of him, saying a couple of sentences to see if he happened to know English, but he kept a blank look to show he didn't. I sighed, not sure how to comfort him when we couldn't communicate. I offered him some bottled water but he refused. In my own tired state, I decided he didn't need to understand what I was saying, I was going to talk to him anyways. I began talking about how everything would be alright, and walked back to my duffel bag and fished around for anything that might be helpful. I was already using all of my clothes for my own sleeping mat, but I took one layer off and laid it out for him, explaining and motioning that he should lay on this and maybe he'll sleep better. I offered him the water again, trying to insist, and was refused again. I then began lecturing him on taking care of himself, using the advice my mother had given me before I left. Going down the hall, I rinsed a rag in the sink and brought it back. He allowed me to press it against his forehead, and I motioned for him to wipe off his face. Once he finished, I took the rag and offered the water one last time, trying to show in my tone that I insisted he take it. He took it.
Rinsing out the washrag again, I returned to the room to find him standing, a haunted look in his eyes. I motioned for him to take his shirt and shorts off, trying to explain that since he will be laying on cloth, he'll overheat, so he needed to strip down. After giving me a confused look, he followed my motions. I gave him the wet washrag again, showing him he could fold it and place it over his eyes. The artificial light from outside, and the passing of car headlights flickering through our room no doubt helped contribute to the nightmares. Finally, he laid down again and I turned off the light, hoping we still had a couple of hours of darkness left.
I was sitting on the balcony looking over the street, enjoying the last rays of twilight before night set in. The roommate got home and I turned to him, seeing he had a newspaper. He walked onto the balcony and squatted down, unfurled it and starting to read. He had clearly dug it out of the trash, but as I looked over I noticed the language wasn't Thai. It looked like Chinese, but not exactly...
"Japan!" I exclaimed, pointing to him with bright eyes and a big smile. He looked up and nodded. "Amerika" he reciprocated and pointed to me, and I confirmed. Good, at least we could communicate, even if it did make us look like cavemen. I, Tarzan. We slid back into silence, and I watched the pink sunlight fade with a smile, glad that at least I had someone around my age here.
The next day, I was looking through the different newspapers in a bookstore in one of the malls, when I heard a small voice behind me, "You are American?"
I turned around and looked down to a boy that had to be around twelve or thirteen, just Marie's age. He was wearing a middle school uniform and had a backpack.
"Yes," I answered with a big smile, pointing to the ground, "I live in Thailand."
His eyes lit up and he smiled, "Please, can you help me for my English?"
"Sure!" I replied immediately, then toned down my enthusiasm. He waited as I put the newspaper back, then led me out of the store and to one of the tables in the food court. He showed me his workbook, and I walked through the pages with him and tried to explain the minor details he'd gotten wrong. The workbook was based on English from Britain, so some of the rules I didn't know, but for the most part understood. After an hour, the boy, Lek, tried to thank me and leave, but I asked him to stay longer. We continued working for four hours, until nine o'clock when he said his mother would pick him up. I finally let him go, realizing I had to get home before dark myself. Lek reached into his pocket and pulled out a five baht coin, giving it to me. I tried to give it back, but he insisted, before asking me to come back tomorrow.
I walked back to the guest house with a huge grin on my face. Lek was a cool kid, and just being able to speak my own language really helped my morale. Five baht was only about sixteen cents, but it was income, and not deficit. I was on my way up.
Entering the room, I found the roommate squatted on the floor, hovering over something in deep concentration. I walked up and saw that he had a small bowl-sized crock pot that was plugged into the single outlet in the wall. I knelt down and asked him where he found it in Thai. He looked at me and pointed to his eye, and I assumed he had maybe found another Japanese person to give it to him. Reaching behind him, he pulled out a bag of rice, scooped it and added it to the water in the machine. I watched in wonder as the machine cooked the rice. He watched silently too, staring at it as if it were a television relaying something much more action-oriented than the cooking of rice. But then again, there is very little more exciting than food when you're hungry.
He scooped me out some in a bowl and handed it to me. I accepted it and said, "Hi, I'm Naruto," in Thai. He looked at me and gave an eye-smile, and pointed at himself, "Sasuke."
The weeks that followed were complete joy. My six month visa was approved, and though I still didn't have a work permit, I had permission to stay. I began to love living in Thailand: the excitement of getting up to a bustling city, spending the morning wandering the busy places picking up words, and then at three meeting Lek in the food court to study until nightfall. He asked if his friends could come too, and soon I had a table of five boys asking me to check their homework each day. They gave me a collective twenty baht, around sixty cents, which I eagerly saved up and paid to the landlady. I knew I should have been more worried about money, but I was too excited about helping them get better grades. It became my daily mission. Sasuke apparently got a job as well, probably from the Japanese person who'd given him the old rice maker. We were slowly learning phrases in Thai, and would spend each evening sitting on the platform overlooking the sunlit street, mostly in silence, but sometimes we tried out different Thai words, and laughed when we couldn't pronounce them.
One day, Lek explained that his mother hounded him about how he managed to improve his grade on the quizzes in English, and he told her about me. That night at nine Lek's mother came to meet us, and explained through Lek that she wanted to personally pay me, since apparently the boys had been using part of their lunch money. I explained through Lek that I could not accept her money, but she begged me to take 100 baht, a little over three dollars, and asked if I could please tutor Lek on Sundays as well, making it an everyday thing. I agreed.
Triumphantly, I began paying the landlady in advance for the entire month, preferring to not hold onto my money in the event I get mugged. I started saving for an international call, and also for a small blanket the size of a beach towel I'd found cheap at the general store. If I could sleep on that, it would reduce the amount of sweat my clothes had to endure from sleeping on them and wearing them. Sasuke and I would snicker when we hung our clothes on the line that stretched from our balcony to the apartment across the street. As we pulled it through the simple pulley system to get to some free space, we had to bypass the other apartment person's clothes, and she apparently wore big granny panties.
We were sitting on the balcony one evening, and Sasuke pointed to a photograph in his newspaper. I looked to see an American solder, in full gear, walking past a car that had been incinerated. I acknowledged the picture but then turned away, unable to handle it without being able to read the text. I resolved to call home the next day.
After Lek and his friends left for the night, I went to a public phone and cashed in my savings, hoping to catch everyone at home before Mother and Father left for work.
"Hello," I heard Marie's voice.
"Marie! It's Naruto," I said in relief.
"Naruto! It took you long enough to call. You missed my birthday you know, I'm thirteen now."
"I'm sorry," I said, "I'm planning on getting you something really cool here." She seemed excited about that. It had only been three months since I last heard her voice, but she still sounded a bit older. "Are Mom and Dad home?"
There was silence on the line, then Marie's voice, now softer, "Dad's in prison. Mom's working a night shift as a manager at the grocery store in addition to her job. Granny died a couple of weeks ago."
I gasped in shock. For the longest time the line remained dead. I was unable to grasp at anything, "Oh..."
Suddenly a voice appeared on the line and kindly said something in Thai. I didn't know what they said but it was a warning, I maybe had two minutes of call time left, or maybe only thirty seconds.
"Maria, I'm about to run out of minutes," I said frantically, "Tell Mom I've found a job, and that I'm still staying at the same guest house."
"Wait wait, there's a list of things Mom wrote for me to tell you when you called," she interrupted and I heard shuffling. "Mom wants you to dye your hair, and not to try to leave Thailand. The government has released a list of defectors, and the main international ports have your passport picture. Remember to renew your visa, and-"
The voice returned, and the line cut off. I stood there with it to my ear for a moment more, as if Marie's voice would magically reappear on the line. I hung up the phone and stood there looking at it, then I realized my eyes were swimming with tears. "Dammit!" I hollered and started crying in earnest. Someone showed up wanting to use the phone, so I pushed away and scrubbed my eyes, trying to hide my tears as I began walking to the store to buy hair dye. Of all the things in that phone call that I could have been sad about, it was Marie's birthday that got to me. She was a teenager now, and her hero big brother was no where to be seen. Who was going to take her to the movies, now that she was old enough to hang out with her friends? Who would scare her boyfriends off? Who would drive her to the homecoming dance? Her older brother should be there for her. If the draft was recalled, I was going to withdraw from university and go to the local community college, so I could stay home, especially if Dad wasn't released. It was too wrong, too cruel, that my little sister was at home alone on a Tuesday morning, getting ready for school with no one else in the house.
Sasuke was already there and sitting on the balcony when I got in. I sat down on the other side, my hair now dark brown, after buying some dye at the store and using it in the store's bathroom. I looked out at the muted sunset sprinkling shadows down the street. We sat quietly for a while. I heard him say something in Japanese and thought that maybe he was mumbling to himself, until I felt him get up and walk over to me. When he sat down facing me I looked at him, and to my complete surprise, he took his hands and placed them on both sides of my face.
"Nakanaide, ne, iiyo, ne, wakariyo, ne," he was speaking softly, as if soothing a wild animal. He didn't look in my eyes, but instead was inspecting my face, pushing my hair out of the way. Then lightly with his fingers he began brushing under my eyes, as if there had been dirt left there that he was dusting off. He was telling me not to cry, but my gratitude at his compassion made me duck my head and break the contact.
"It's bad," I said, struggling to find the Thai words, "My grandmother... is dead, my family..." I started shaking.
A moment passed and then my attention was diverted when Sasuke stood up, reaching down to help me stand. He began walking out of the room and I followed. We slipped our shoes on at the door and descended the stairs to the street. I followed Sasuke's back through the end of the block and around the corner. He stopped at one of the shrines, that of the Hindu god Brahma, but the shrine was structured as a Buddhist one and decorated accordingly. I followed as he kicked his shoes off and stood in front of the shrine, with the others who were passing by and decided to stop and pray. I closed my eyes and placed my hands together, but then was startled when I heard Sasuke clap loudly twice. I looked at him, but he for all the world had his eyes closed in prayer, as if it were a normal thing he just did. The other people looked at him curiously for a second before deciding to ignore it. We prayed for a few minutes, and then returned home.
As we shook off our shoes in front of the door in the room, I thanked him. "Kam kun kruhp, Sasuke."
He looked at me with a kind of smirk, then grabbed my shoulder and pulled me into a hug. I reciprocated immediately, catching him off guard a little by hugging him tightly. We separated and went to our separate mats, pulling our clothes off down to our boxers and settling down to sleep. I listened to the night sounds of the city below us coming through the screen, grateful that despite everything, I knew I had a friend.
Life continued on this way. I was picking up more of what was happening in America and in the war by the Thai newspapers and television. Lek and his friends continued with tutoring, and apparently their grades improved on their term examinations. Sasuke was making money assisting a Japanese professor at one of the universities. Whenever I had extra money, I would go to the internet cafe and check on Marie's blog. Her updates were frequent but cryptic. Dad apparently had not been released yet, but otherwise things were okay. I applied for a work permit, but was also prepared to accept an extension on my current tourist visa if necessary. I turned twenty. Lek gave me two yellow bracelets everyone wore, reading "God Save the King" in Thai. He said one was for me, and the other for my roommate. Sasuke and I splurged at the 7/11 on a six pack, sitting and drinking the beer on the balcony, trying to sing the popular Thai songs we heard everywhere and failing miserably.
New Year's Eve rolled around, and I wandered through the streets and soaked up the charged atmosphere of the festivities before retiring for the night. It was customary to stay up until midnight, but I felt no need. Instead I chose to sleep so I could be up early to study a Thai grammar book I'd bought for cheap.
We were up and out for another training exercise, and I knew I was dreaming, or rather reliving a memory. The summer sun beat down on us in our sand-colored uniforms. Our rifles filled with paint bullets were slung over our shoulders, fake grenades hung off the belt loops at our sides. We made it to one of the obstacle courses, and our group leader told us to be at the ready. Bales of straw were stacked in different places, supposedly representing walls of buildings and cars and other obstructions one might find in urban warfare. The group leader led us into the course, and we walked quietly behind. Once we got fully in, a snapping sound we all recognized cut through the air. As we had been taught, we scrambled, jumping over straw stacks and getting out of sight. We could hear the group leader screaming the location of the sniper, and orders for a couple of the boys nearby to maneuver around. Another movement from the opposite direction and we saw another officer shooting at us, surrounding us on both sides by enemy fire. I ducked and ran to the next stack, not willing to give away my location until I could get a clear shot. In the distance, we heard a boom from one of the training grounds. They must be practicing at the throwing site for grenades. Checking my weapon, I kept an eye on the stack where the officer was hiding, debating whether I should charge it and guarantee a 'kill' or wait for him to try to run to a new stack.
Suddenly my eyes shot open and I felt something behind me. I was lying on the floor of the room in Thailand, facing the screen that covered the balcony. There was loud activity going on in the streets, and it seemed nervous. People were frantically running and some were shouting. There was another boom and Sasuke gasped and grabbed me from behind, holding me tight and burying his head into my shoulder. I focused my mind, trying to think. That had been the sound in my dream, but it wasn't a car backfiring. That was the sound of a bomb, any American would recognize that, but it was too weak to be a real bomb. The intensity of that sound couldn't even blow up a car. Even if there were more of them, we were not in danger.
Sasuke was still holding onto me, and shaking violently. I rolled over in his grasp. He kept his head down so I couldn't see his face, he gripped me like a lifeline and whispered to himself harshly. The poor thing, I thought, things like this didn't happen in Japan. Sure, there were Japanese self-defense force soldiers assisting Americans in the war, but the average civilian knew nothing about things like this. As I looked down at him, something yanked at my heart, and a feeling burned in my chest that I couldn't quite identify. I looked down at my friend, but felt something exclusive about him. I felt that he was precious, but that I wanted him to be only my precious thing. This guy held onto me, his jet black hair hung in front of his eyes, his perpetually pale skin made him almost beautiful enough to be a girl, but his masculine muscle tone and features clearly proved otherwise. I didn't want anyone else to get a chance like this, to get to be near him when he was scared, and get to hold him and be intimate with him. These things, I decided, were mine, and I would defend them viciously.
I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him in, one hand on the back of his head kept him tucked into my chest. He continued trembling and making frightened noises and I strengthened my embrace. I tightened my muscles protectively around him, and stayed that way for a long while until I felt him begin to relax.
I awoke to the sounds of dawn, for once not facing the misty sunlight filtering in through the screen. Instead I opened my eyes to see Sasuke's sleeping face resting on my arm, so close I could smell his morning breath. With his eyes closed like this, his face relaxed in sleep, he looked the part of a spoiled child, and I couldn't help but wonder again what he was doing all the way out here. Carefully, I moved my wrapped-up clothes to slide under his head, easing out of his slackened embrace and leaving him on my mat. I found a TV reporting the news of the attacks from last night. A group had stationed seven trash can bombs that went off sequentially at midnight on New Year's in different parts of the city. No one was killed, and only four people sustained minor injuries. The group had already admitted to the police. They were apparently more interested in making a point than causing real damage.
That night I expected things might be weird, since Sasuke would have woken up on my side of the room and realized what had transpired. He got home later than usual but I stayed on the balcony, communicating by my body language that there was absolutely nothing wrong and nothing different from normal. He lingered longer in the room, washing the rice maker and needlessly folding up his mat, but then eventually he made it out to sit on his side of our platform, and we stared into the street as we always did.
Things returned to normal. I began to master conversational Thai, and was working up the courage to ask Lek's English teacher if I could possibly sit-in on some of his classes. I would need a nice set of clothes in order to approach him, so I was saving to buy a new shirt and pair of slacks, hoping to heaven they wore slippers in school so he wouldn't see my ruddy shoes. I had been doing a good job of recycling my three outfits for the six months I'd been here, preferring to use my extra money to pay rent ahead of time, buy rice with Sasuke, disposable razors, and other such things.
I sat on the balcony, running through my conversation with Lek in my mind. He told me the name of the high school he wanted to apply for in a year. I was trying to figure out if I could find an old copy of the entrance examination, or at least a study guide, but wasn't sure if that was allowed. Sasuke got home and I continued thinking. I was only slightly interrupted when I noticed he walked onto the balcony, and instead of sitting on the opposite side, came to sit close to me. My thoughts returned to that practice test, and I stared blankly across the street, my mind whirring in action despite the heat. I felt Sasuke's fingers touch lightly under my chin.
I flicked my eyes to the side, and wondered why he was touching me instead of talking. I looked at his eyes, but he was looking at my face. His arm still outstretched, he kept his fingers under my chin. Slowly and almost timidly, he hooked his index finger around the curve of my jaw and turned my face toward him. Sasuke leaned in, touching his forehead to mine and looked down at my face. I sat there, letting him, as his touches were in no way demanding, and it didn't bother me to be that close to him. It was like having a brother leaning in to tell you secret, the brother I never had. Over the months, I had noticed that our body language became slightly possessive. We were the only two people in our world. Living in this big city, as complete outsiders, we made a sphere within this room, and within each other's presence in public, that excluded all outsiders besides us.
He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. The fingers that were under my chin moved up until his entire hand was spread along my jaw. He brought his left hand up from the floor to hold the base of my neck. These measures were to keep me, one hand securing my face and the other my upper body, but I made no attempt to move, and that did not scare me. It seemed quite natural, despite all logic, that he would be this close. I had a firm conviction that he was allowed to do this to me, and that I wanted him to. His nose was almost close enough to brush my cheek. I tilted my head in, nuzzling my face into his to show that I wouldn't run, and in one swinging movement he tilted my face up and kissed me.
When I recovered from the shock, it felt like Sasuke was pressing his lips against mine like he was looking for something, some answer he couldn't find on his own. I was in no mood to entertain such fantasies, and if he was he going to occupy my attention with a kiss, then I was going to get kissed, dammit. I heard him inhale a sharp breath of surprise when I launched back, conquering his lips easily and challenging him. He pushed back harder and began kissing earnestly, seemingly amazed at my audacity and guts. He pushed me back a couple of inches until I was off center. I tightened my stomach muscles and hissed, reaching back to steady myself, but Sasuke wrapped his arm behind my head and back and twisted me, guiding me down to the floor on the balcony.
We kissed like two war-torn lovers reunited, battling for dominance and using our strength like this was some kind of test to see who could discover the most first. Sasuke's legs were stretched out between mine, helping him keep balanced. My legs were folded up by his hips, and I squeezed my knees in to capture him and keep him in place, eliciting a sort of growl. I gave up trying to submit to him, and wrapped one arm around his shoulders. The other I hooked behind him, my hand on the back of his head to give him no room to escape.
Our kiss was athletic, like we were trying to somehow suffocate each other to death in some kind of vicious sport. My jaw began to ache and my lips burned and threatened to go numb. Sasuke tore his lips from mine with a strangled moan, tilting his head to the side as we both gasped for air. I laid my head back down and tried to relax, looking out the screen of the balcony at the building across from us.
We lapsed into silence once our breathing calmed, neither one of us willing to try to talk through our language barrier about this. As I lay on the balcony floor, I stared off and watched the sun set through the shroud that covers the city. Sasuke moved to sit alongside me, keeping himself propped up on one arm. We relaxed and looked out, as if this is what we did every night. When Sasuke leaned in again a few minutes later, I kissed back gently, like it was the most normal thing in the world for us.
The second kiss was emotional, loving, and Sasuke broke it easily after a moment. We continued watching the shadows creep across the ledges of the buildings. The tourists and natives talked in their different languages, completely oblivious to us. He leaned in a third time and the kiss was athletic again, still desperate but not as intense as before. Laying back again, I relaxed until he was ready to decide on the next time, taking notice of the twisted and warm feeling in the pit of my stomach. Minutes passed. We kissed a fourth time, this time not wanting it to end, taking sneak seconds to breathe so we could continue making out, making love to each other with our mouths. After the fifth time, Sasuke looked back out at the setting sun again. I finally growled and decided to say something, in English, "Stop snogging me Sasuke, you're driving me crazy." I knew he didn't understand what I'd said, but my tone made it clear. I was lying right there with a hard on, visible through the light fabric of my shorts. I no longer cared that it felt nice, he needed to quit teasing me to death and let me be.
As darkness fell and claimed us, I reached and used his shoulder as leverage to get up, having softened enough that I could walk. We stripped down and turned the light off, falling into our beds as if we hadn't just sucked face the whole evening. Once on my mat, I whipped myself out and frigged into oblivion, not caring if Sasuke was awake or not.
The next morning, I awoke before dawn. Getting up, I realized I felt more rested than I had since leaving the States. I pulled on my lightest t-shirt and shorts, and was lacing on my shoes when Sasuke woke up. He looked at me curiously and I made the motions of running. He quickly got up and pulled on some lightweight clothes as well. As the first sign of the sun began creeping through the streets, I began running, and Sasuke followed. I let my speed loose, relishing in the feel of the air whipping past my ears. This almost, almost felt like home. It almost felt like I was I was jogging around my old high school, with all the students in our mandatory morning fitness. I remember the sun rise being so vibrant back then: black faded to blue, then to purple and lavender, then pink and orange shot through the sky, before finally the sun made its entrance to the day.
Sasuke was able to keep pace with me throughout the city, though he was considerably more winded. I myself could not believe the toll my body had taken from the move to Thailand and not working out. When we circled back around to the entrance of the guest house, I turned to face Sasuke and held my hands up in front of him. He looked at me confused, but when I started punching at him, he blocked. He punched and kicked, then push ups, sit ups and pull ups. By the time we had finished our round of calisthenics I was ready for another run, but Sasuke grabbed my arm and forcefully dragged me inside. We piled into the tiny shower at the end of the hall, then washed our clothes in the sink and ambled quietly (and nakedly) back to the room to cook rice for breakfast. This became our morning routine.
That evening, as we sat watching the shadows sing dirges to the fading light, Sasuke tried to kiss me again, but I stopped him. He looked at me, his eyes asking a question, and I found I couldn't keep eye contact and instead looked back out into the street. I tried to explain in Thai, "When I go back to America, I'll graduate college and find an American girl to marry. We shouldn't do this." When I looked at Sasuke, he refused to make eye contact this time, but he made no protest. Things didn't really change between us. Our body language in public and private was always a bit obsessive and close, but we didn't kiss again after that first time.
Several months later, Lek's mother spoke with an administrator at a local college about possibly admitting a foreigner without a student visa. By pulling some strings, the administrator worked with me to get a permanent green card in Thailand, and I resumed my education, studying English and Thai. I graduated after three semesters, and then went on to get a Masters in literature after another three semesters. I had no way of paying for my education, so the administrator arranged for me to teach classes and hold tutoring sessions for free, effectively paying my way through school. Sasuke got into a different university where he had been assisting the Japanese professor, and graduated with a degree in Japanese Linguistics. I had been teaching at a local middle school while pursuing my masters, with the hopes of eventually getting a PhD and obtaining an assistant professorship at a university, and Sasuke too was teaching at a local vocational center and wanted to go on and get a masters.
As happy as things were in Thailand, the same could not be said for the situation at home. My father was accused of treason in aiding my escape, the punishment for which is a death sentence in my country. Mother sold our house and she and Marie moved into an apartment. They used the money from the house to buy a lawyer, who by the grace of God, was able to convince the courts that I had managed to escape on my own. Dad's sentence was ten years, but they were trying to get it absolved on the condition that he relinquish his citizenship and leave the country. Even today it was still tied up in the courts, and my mother made it clear that I would never be able to return to the United States.
When last I spoke with Mother, she sounded older and tired, and Marie did not want to speak with me. Apparently, her high school sweetheart had been drafted and killed, and she hadn't been herself since then. Mother was paying for therapy, but she was trying to minimize the treatment in order to save some of the money that had put away for Marie's college education. If they were leaving Dad to go to Greenland, they were making it so that I could return to them, and honestly it sounded like they needed my income to replace Dad more than anything.
Sasuke and I became lovers, living together in that tiny room in the guest house of the tourist district. I never would have imagined it, mainly because I know I'm not gay, it just so happened that I fell in love with my best friend, who is a man. For Sasuke's part, he considers himself a homosexual, and he pursued me despite my insistence that I wasn't gay. As we became fluent in Thai, we were able to actually speak to each other for the first time, finally adding that layer to our relationship. Although things were in no way perfect, we have only ever had one big fight. When Sasuke started teaching, I noticed the way other men looked at him on the streets, and indeed, in his nice clothes and an elitist Japanese physique that stood out, he looked like a god walking among men. One day I asked him whether he had ever considered another man's offer, saying that one should play the field while they're still young.
My friend may be gay, but he is also an extremely exclusive, conservative man. Suffice it to say that Sasuke proceeded to beat the shit out of me, and I let him, until he launched my argument back in my face, accusing me of the same thing. At that point I retaliated, furious that he would think I would even let a man touch me the way he does, make me scream the way he does. If I wasn't with him, I was getting a nice and complacent American girl as my wife, and to hell with all the trouble of men with men. That night I made it clear that I wasn't gay, not really, and Sasuke made it clear that he considered our relationship an exclusive marriage, or as close to one as we could legally manage. He told me that our rings were a binding engagement, and that once my father was free, Sasuke was going to ask permission to be forever bonded to me. One night as we finished making love, Sasuke said from over me, "No matter how many times I sleep with you, you will never give me a child." I turned around at the sad tone in his voice, and looked at his face. For an American man, I was still ten years off from considering such things, but for a Japanese man, Sasuke was passing those years by on purpose, so that he could stay with me.
One afternoon Sasuke came home with a paper certifying his Thai citizenship. Setting it down, he looked up at me and said immediately, "He asked me to do it, Naruto."
I looked over at him, wondering what he was talking about, and surprised at the haunted look on Sasuke's face. He motioned to his citizenship certificate, and I realized he was going to tell me something serious. Now that he was safely a citizen here, he was going to finally tell me why he came to Thailand. He continued, "My older brother, he asked me to kill him, begged me."
I stared in shock as he explained. "Itachi, he was too smart, and had already graduated university when most kids hadn't finished high school. My father hired him out to the government, and even though Itachi wanted to quit and become a teacher, our father wouldn't let him, obsessed with the attention he got for having a genius for a son. One day I was sitting on the porch with him, and Itachi said to me, 'I did it, Sasuke, that's my product. You know the thousands of people that got water poisoning up in Sapporo? That's my product I'm working on, they were testing it to see if it worked.'"
Sasuke's eyes were glazed as he stared at nothing in particular. He was looking into a world that clearly terrified him. "Itachi would come to me and tell me things, saying that what they were making him build would be a weapon that could kill thousands of people on site, and continue to spread as biological warfare. He was afraid the government might actually use it, or sell it to a nation that would. He came to me with our father's gun, saying there was no other way out and he wanted to die in my arms. He'd bought an international ticket for me to escape. So I killed him, and I ran."
The silence grew between us. Sasuke was staring into a different place than our room, seeing a different time than now. "I don't care what you did," I told him firmly. "I am your friend and that means that I am on your side. Don't ever question that, Sasuke."
It was Friday, which meant we could leave once class ended, and didn't have to stay for a staff meeting. On my lunch break, I quickly grabbed a rice ball at the 7/11 down the street, having forgotten to grab the lunch Sasuke made for me this morning. I heard an exclamation down the street and walked over to see a small crowd watching the public TV. To my complete astonishment, I heard English coming from the TV, and ran the remaining distance to catch it.
"Thank God, we're so grateful," an American woman was balling on screen, speaking with the reporter as she held her young child on her hip. "I've been praying for this day."
I read the text at the bottom of the screen. Canada was opening its borders to American refugees. Quickly, I jogged down the street to the internet cafe and checked Marie's blog. The post she made that morning talked about planting Niviarsiaq in the garden. I quickly searched: the flower of Greenland. They were going to escape to Canada, and continue on to Greenland, where I might have a chance of entering while dodging the American warrant for my arrest. But there was no other news in the post; Dad had not been released. They were going to leave him.
I felt a tightening in my chest as I logged out and quickly made my way back to the middle school where I taught English, phoning the airport and couple of embassies on the way. I taught my last two classes, and when I made it back to the staff room my boss was already standing by my desk, waiting to sign my resignation papers. I thanked him for everything, and he promised to help me find work should I ever return to Bangkok. I promised him that I would. Stepping into the street from my school, I bypassed the bus and opted to walk home, knowing Sasuke wouldn't be home yet either, and this would be my last day in the city.
I finally made it home, taking much longer than usual because I chose to walk. Sasuke wouldn't be back for a couple of hours, leaving me enough time to pack in peace. When we were both offered teaching positions, we decided to move out of the room in the guest house and rent a condominium in a high rise closer to our side of town. The place was new and bright, with huge windows that couldn't keep out the sun even when we wanted them to. Although there weren't separate rooms, the space was structured in a way that divided the kitchen from a living area and our bed nook off to the side. We took special care to buy a futon big enough for the both of us, and to put it on risers so we would never again sleep on the floor. We have been here almost two years now, and this has become my home, the place where I envision staying with my partner, and one day adopting a child.
The door opened shortly after six, and Sasuke came in, hanging his suit coat on one of the hooks by the doorway. Looking at me as he loosened his tie, he gave me a look that asked if I'd seen the news, and what I'd thought about it. My throat clenched when I saw his eyes flicker over my suitcases, comprehension and a momentary look of hurt crossing his face before he immediately looked away, getting his answer.
"Please come with me," I whispered, tears pooling in my eyes. Sasuke softly shook his head no. We had had this conversation before, of what I would do if I could ever return, and he said that he could not leave Thailand, because he truly could not speak English. After all of his training to teach Japanese to Thai students, he would really have to start all over in a new country.
"I have to go," I said, turning to check my tickets and Thai passport one last time in my carry on bag.
"How long will you be gone?" he asked, his voice muted and quiet.
"As long as it takes," I answered, not really knowing how many years that would be. Until Dad got out of prison, I was the man of the house, and Marie had to get through college. Only then would I be at any liberty to consider coming back.
"I'll be here then," Sasuke said resolutely, stepping out of his shoes in front of the door and entering the apartment.
I looked at him, trying to discern any meaning in his pained expression. I started crying, standing there in our entryway, because I felt like this was it. No matter of the bond we shared, or all our promises and the rings we each wore; this was it. I was going to leave, and I would never see him again.
"Naruto," Sasuke rasped and pulled me into him, hugging me tightly as I sobbed. I gripped the back of his shirt desperately, smelling his scent, feeling him and knowing I wouldn't get to have this anymore. "You come back home to me, promise me that, okay?" he said, and I promised, crying like a child. We stood there in each other's embrace, in the middle of our home, in our city, in the silence of the world that was only ours, until I had calmed. Then slowly, he pulled back from me, and with one last look into my best friend's eyes, I broke contact, grabbing my things and leaving.
As the plane took off, we passed through a thin veil of cloud, and for the first time I looked out the window and saw the clear sun, shining over the Earth as if ignored. Looking down I saw where Bangkok should be, completely covered in the haze that never broke, a lone sky scraper peaking out through the cloud. On a lower floor of that building, was Sasuke. No matter what severed the bond between us, no matter what came and took us away from each other, I knew that I just couldn't let go, and never would.
The truth is, it didn't come easily for me or my family. When I arrived in Greenland, my mother was dragging my little sister out of the house, and with only so much as a "hello" toward me, drove her away and didn't return for two hours. When my mother came back, alone, she explained that before they had left the US, that Marie had attempted suicide. The therapist had asked for her to be institutionalized, but mother had refused, that is until that day when she finally caved. I slept off my jet lag and then went to live with Marie in her room at the hospital. The two of us have always been able to heal each other, and although it took considerably longer this time, Marie was eventually discharged and allowed to move back home with us.
Despite our tight budget, our mother insisted we continue school. Marie enrolled in undergraduate studies and I in a doctoral pursuit at the University of Greenland. I graduated after three years with a PhD, and a minor in Japanese. I was halfway through my year of postdoctoral work when things fell apart. I came home one day to find my mother crying on the couch beside the phone. I had not seen her weep since I was whisked off to Thailand all those years ago. Her news was not good: an official had called to let us know that the government had passed legislation requiring prisons to make room for the influx of war criminals. This meant anyone sentenced to life in prison or less was released, and anyone sentenced to death or awaiting appeal for said sentence would be executed promptly. The executions were to begin the following Monday, three days from now.
I had only taken two steps into the house before I turned around and walked back out. I drove to the nearest pay phone and called our attorney in the States. He told me that he was desperate. The government workers that had worked with Dad had all tried to pull strings, but when the time came for them to skip town they had fled, and now their words meant nothing. I asked him what kind of conditions would be necessary for Dad's release and deportation. I then offered to turn myself in. We hung up so he could make some calls. After a couple of hours, I called him back. He told me that if I could prove my identity and testify that I escaped on my own, my father would get an unconditional release and deportation. I left on the next flight to the States.
After turning myself in, I demanded that I pay witness to a phone call between my father and mother, proving that he was indeed released. I was surprised that the police seemed to grant my every request, and I soon figured out why. I was a hot commodity to the military, and would be immediately commissioned an officer and shipped to the front lines. After I had left for Thailand, the younger generations that couldn't escape desperately tried to gain weight to the point of obesity in order to avoid the draft. Thus, the camps were forced to work on physical fitness nearly the entire time before sending them to battle. There was close to no one that had my level of training for combat, both in technique and conditioning against shell shock.
Before I could blink twice, I was in another city, one where children blew themselves up like human bombs, and American teenagers fell prey to IEDs on a daily basis. All the haystacks had turned into schools, hospitals, and shops. All the forced practice I'd had in killing strays from the animal shelter was now being utilized to kill humans. Everyday, it was hiding and raiding, destroying families' houses to search them and then continue on through. One day, one of my men was looking for evidence in a pile of rubble, and he pulled up a metal cross that had been hanging on the wall and showed it to me. Anyone thinking this was still a religious war needed to take a good hard look.
A year passed. Marie sent me letters, but I rarely responded. I insisted in staying on the front lines and denied any temporary leave that was offered to me. The kids filling the enlisted ranks were too young, too green to be out there with an inexperienced officer. I felt like I could minimize the deaths by staying immersed, both in protecting my own men, and also in keeping them reeled in, and not allowing them to let loose and kill masses of people.
On a Tuesday morning, I was heading up the rear as we raided a neighborhood, when destiny paid me a call. I was sprinting in front of an old post office when the car next to me blew up. I woke up some minutes later, and confirmed the explosion, both by the look of the car and my temporary loss of hearing. My legs had deep scratches but were still functioning, so I quickly judged my balance and got to my feet. With the timing of that bomb, someone most certainly had pinned me as an officer and was watching me individually, so I had to get going or I was dead. As I ran out of the partly demolished post office, I noticed some shred of something bloody off to the side on the ground, and wondered what it was.
As soon as I caught up with one of my men, I hollered at him to find the medic and sat down. My right side was bleeding significantly, and I was beginning to feel lightheaded from blood loss. My troubles accumulated when my right lung collapsed. By the time the medic got to me I was breathing short and rapidly and desperately reaching out to him, trying to find a syringe in his vest. He quickly saw what was happening and stabbed me in between two ribs with the syringe, allowing my chest cavity to de-pressurize and my lung to fully inflate again.
"Haa, oxygen. Today must be a good day."
"Griffin," the medic ordered one of my men, "Go back to the building and see if anything can be salvaged-"
"It's not necessary, there's nothing there," I interrupted him. It was true that I had seen my right arm back there, but Griffin going back to that post office would ensure his death.
The medic continued, "If that's the case, then we need to get you to the hospital immediately."
"It's fine," I argued, flashing a grin against the rising pain. "Just clean me up and put a band-aid on it."
"Lieutenant Uzumaki," the medic's tone turned grave, "the fact that I can see the side of your brain right now means that you're going to the hospital immediately."
"Well, hot damn."
Two weeks later, I was back in the States. I was granted, against my will, an honorable discharge and was told I would be receiving a medal for my injury, whether I wanted to accept the medal or not. When the officer pinned the medal onto my uniform, I think I mentally, finally, snapped.
"Give it back," I said softly.
"...Excuse me, son?" the older man asked.
"Give me my arm back."
He looked at me sympathetically. "We're going to fit you with a prosthe-"
"I don't want it," I interrupted him, stunning everyone in attendance. "The money you would spend on fitting me a plastic arm could build an elementary school over there. I am a teacher, and now I cannot write. I want my arm back."
He looked at me blankly, because he could do nothing. I allowed them to lead me off the stage, because now, I too could do nothing.
I returned home to Greenland to many tears and a full house. My dad was home and had been nursed back to health after nearly a decade in prison. Marie had graduated with her bachelor's degree and was awaiting acceptance to graduate school, and mother was smiling again. We ate lunch together and talked about all the things I'd missed in the last year. Marie kept stealing glances at me, and she had a suspicious smile on her face.
That evening we were cooking dinner when the doorbell rang. I walked to the front room to answer the door and noticed Marie following me, and my mother and father trying to discreetly look in from the kitchen. I swung the door open, and was faced with him. I froze.
On our front porch, in a full-length, black trench coat, stood Sasuke. His eyes widened and we gasped in unison. He was a little bit taller, but other than that, he looked exactly the same. I angled my body to hide the loose sleeve on the right side of my sweater. We stood there in shock for a moment, and then Sasuke was hugging me, encircling me in his arms. I started crying softly, completely forgetting that my family was standing behind me in the doorway. Sasuke ran his hands up and down my back. I felt him stiffen and gasp when he ran his hand up my right side. I ducked my head into the crook of his neck, refusing to face him and confirm it. He wrapped his arms around me again and hugged me tighter, whispering into my ear, "Aishiteruyo." I smiled. This time I knew what it meant.
"How did you know?" I asked the people behind me.
"I found the ring and pictures in your wallet," Maria explained. "Mom called Sasuke after you left for the States. He's been living with us ever since."
"There's someone I want you to meet," I heard Sasuke whisper to me privately, in almost-perfect English. So he had been learning too. As we sat around the dinner table, my family passed around pictures they had taken with Sasuke throughout the year, and Sasuke showed me one of his own pictures. He was crouched on the ground, next to a little Thai girl.
"She lives at the orphanage just east of Siam Square," he told me. "She tried to sell me gum one day right after you left Bangkok." I looked in his eyes and understood his ambitions. He loved this child, and hoped to adopt her with me when we returned home.
Smiling, I looked at the table full of people I loved, knowing how many people in the world didn't get to have this. My father and mother, my sister, my husband, and soon our daughter. As the sun began to set, I thanked the heavens, and promised that as long as I lived, I would never let go of this feeling.