Calling The Shots: Chapter Three
Bold is English
It was a typical annoy-the-foreign-exchange-student day Allison knew all too well in the land of the rising sun. After a long afternoon of slinking in the background, Kiyoshi, the tall, ruggedly handsome boy she'd met three days ago, awaits her at the school gate. Ever smiling, he suggests showing her around.
Why not? Allison desperately needs a break.
"I don't know," she finds herself saying, regrettably.
Although she sees a boy who craves to become her close friend, who is kind, gentle; those were the same qualities Hanamiya possessed that intrigued her. In the end, she was too stupid to see the treachery inside him that left her bitter, distrusting others around her.
But Kiyoshi admires her, and understands all too well the distrust in her eyes. By the time he turns to leave and promptly utters, "Maybe next time," Allison hooks her arm with his, her heart yearning for his warmth, and her eyes begging him to be honest.
"I'm free tomorrow," she says, looking straight ahead now. He grins, then gives a playful bop on her nose. "We'll meet up tomorrow morning then, if you feel up to it."
Allison agrees, then crinkles her assaulted nose, mumbling, "I'm not a child," under her breath. He smiles, aware that the mere thought of spending a day with her ignites a flicker of warmth in his chest.
The following morning, Kiyoshi tries to quell the slow fire building within him, but the closeness of Allison's body against his makes his temperature rise. They stand huddled under his umbrella to keep out of the rain. A soft, steady, dewy rain that rolls off his umbrella and falls at their feet like silky, liquid petals.
The sudden rain doesn't stop the Japanese from crowding the streets, Allison notices. She sees Goth girls in their black garb vamping through rain puddles with their huge black and white polka-dotted umbrellas, as well as tough-looking guys with auburn-dyed hair wearing square-toed boots and long black jackets that extends down over their hips.
She draws in her breath when she observes a beautiful woman in a kimono with delicate white blossoms embroidered on her sash, text messaging on her cell phone as she walks past.
Her presence reminds her she's in a land of make-believe, where nothing is what it seems. It makes her head spin as she tries to understand a world so foreign, a world where anything goes; from pulsing neon lights everywhere to heated toilet seats to weird commercials and strange bathing habits.
Allison also has to deal with her own father who nods his head and says, "Hai, yes," when what he really meant was, "I understand." A polite way of saying no. Showing what he calls tatemae, face, instead of hone, his real feelings.
Although her father is gaijin, a foreigner like her, he follows the ways of the Japanese. Taking his time, not acting on impulse, conferring with his clients before making a decision. For her, trying to live in a culture she doesn't understand is making her lonely.
Very lonely.
Maybe Kiyoshi's the companion she needs.
"The rain let up," he says, putting his umbrella away, "so stop looking so depressed."
A swift pang contorts her face, and passes. "I'm not depressed. I'm just hungry," she answers.
"Then let's get something to eat."
Allison gazes up at him and, oh, great. He's smiling again. His smile has the same effect it always does. It makes her feel special, warm, cherished… and idiotic. She dips her chin once in what she hopes was a casual nod.
"I'm good with whatever's on the menu."
Tired and wet, they stroll into the Steak Bomber restaurant. Amongst the lively talk in the background, Kiyoshi and Allison start asking more personal questions to get to know each other better, sitting across from one another at a heavy, wooden table in a corner. It's hard to hear sometimes, with people always breaking out in loud laughter and shouting.
"Dono kurai seikyū sa remasu ka?" This time, Allison converses in broken Japanese. How much do you charge? He admires her perseverance and answers in his mother language—slowly, so she can understand more easily.
"There's no money involved. I teach you proper Japanese and you teach me English. That's really all there is to it."
He beckons a waitress and orders food in rapid Japanese. Allison can only point at what she wants on the menu. "Why do I have to pick up on a foreign language, anyway? I'm not staying for long." Her face darkens; for a moment her attitude takes a turn for the worst. "I hate it, the sense of pride, the people, the language. It's way different from "—she pauses—"Canada."
"You miss your hometown." She shrugs her shoulders. "But you came here anyway?"
"I didn't have a choice. Anyway, that's hardly important." She settles against the back of her chair. "Just tell me what you got planned."
"Okay. Right." He perks up with a dazzling smile. "First, I need to ask… did you join a club at school?"
"A club—no, not interested. Most of my schoolmates insist on ignoring or excluding me from their group, form secret pacts to humiliate me, call me names, and spread rumors about me, so it's impossible for me to join any club. Not like I want to join; they're all a bunch of—"
"That's your problem right there." He frowns, which he always seems to do whenever she messes up, and this irks her. "You're not even trying to adapt, or make friends. They see you as someone who thinks she's all that, and your holier-than-thou attitude only proves them right. Try to be nice. Period."
"Right," Allison smirks. "Maybe you should try and be mean for a change, and then we'll talk."
"There you go again, acting all superior and assuming the leader role. You'll have to work on that."
"As long as you work on getting rid of that creepy smile of yours."
Kiyoshi sighs. On the outside, Allison is a simple girl who seems to base her appearance on her natural beauty rather than trying to overcompensate with make-up, nail polish and the like. Unfortunately, Allison shows signs of a rotten personality.
He leans back from the table in mock fear as the waitress places down a precariously balanced pyramid of dishes. "Did you order all this?" His face falls open at the soup, salad, sushi appetizers, and a succulent piece of steak.
"Don't worry. I'll pay for my share this time." Allison feels considerably better than before. Hungry. A bit impatient. Excited. She knows the feeling of being stuck in a foreign country will creep back, but for now—she digs in.
"Anyway…" He stares. God, she can really pack it in for someone so tiny. "How about we start studying next weekend? You're free, I get that. But I have club activities to attend to, so…"
She puts her knife and fork (still can't get the hang of chopsticks) on the table, pushing back her plate. A silence falls between them, one that's instantly filled by the restaurant's clatter of dishes and rowdy voices.
She can't possibly wait till next weekend to meet up again.
After today, Allison found more to like about him. He is the epitome of cool. Gorgeous, too. His impressive height—despite him being somewhat sensitive and insecure about the subject—only makes him more fascinating. He's kind. Funny. Sensitive. He isn't bad, like Hanamiya.
"I've been thinking," Allison murmurs and glances upwards, after they pay the bill. "Can we start tomorrow?"
Surprise flickers in Kiyoshi's eyes. "You like me that much?" he teases, slipping his wallet into his pocket.
"Don't be stupid. The sooner I know the basics, the better."
"So saying you like someone is stupid in your eyes?" He turns serious. "I like having you around, Allison. Be honest with me and just say you like me too."
Standing close to her, his hot breath on her neck making her shiver with a tremor that extends down to her toes, he's explaining its normal to reach out for others, to be friends, always looking out for one another even if they're apart.
"I…" she hesitates, then closes her eyes against the naked free-fall. "I like having you around, too."
"There you go," he says, glowing with such intense happiness, Allison grows red from embarrassment. "You're an idiot, Kiyoshi," she manages to say.
"I told you to call me Teppei. It's easier to pronounce."
"Kiyoshi-san it is."
"Don't add honorifics! We're friends, aren't we?" Despite his whiny protests, Kiyoshi's tone is light, with the flavor of playfulness. Already, he's looking forward to tomorrow.