Roommates
His name was Zoro. Not the same person as Zorro, the swashbuckling swordsman, who rescued the poor and outwitted the tyrannical officials during the early period of California. Costumed in all black, which seemed oddly familiar to Nami, Zorro was a magazine serial that started in 1919 and ended in 1959. Somewhat like Batman, he had a duel life that very few people knew about. His real identity was Don Diego de la Vega, a rich and well-respected nobleman. Several television shows and movies were made about him, though she had only seen black and white television show a few times as a kid.
Nami could continue and iterate all the fascinating facts about Zorro from the internet, an infinite source of news and information, but that would have been a waste of time. Annoyingly, there was absolutely nothing about Zoro, who she was concerned about. Zoro was a mystery. She should have known she couldn't get all her information from the internet.
From the phone conversation with Robin, Robin was surprised to hear he was back, but wouldn't spill anything more to her other than his name. She simply told Nami she had to ask Sanji herself.
Easier said than done, she thought. Nami had tried to coax Sanji out of his room the day before with no result. The morning proved no better.
Nami knocked lightly on his door, "Sanji, do you want any breakfast? I got cereal and...Pop Tarts." Not exactly the most enticing food, but it was all she had. She waited for a response and then spoke again. "If you want to talk about something, you know you can talk to me about it." She winced a second later. Not exactly subtle either.
No sound. She wondered if he had left his room without her knowing. Glancing down at her watch, she realized she was running late for work. She had better get going. Aside from offering sustenance and giving him words of encouragement, there was nothing more she could do for him. It was better to leave him alone and not pressure him. When he was ready to come out, he'll come out.
But still, there was no reason to believe he needed a shoulder to cry on. Men and women were wired differently. They had their own way of dealing with difficult situations. She wasn't sure what category gay men fell in, but maybe Sanji didn't do the talking-and-sharing thing. And if he did want to talk about it, he might not necessarily want to talk to her about it.
Nami left feeling depressed.
Work was unproductive. Nezumi was distracting, frustrating and so critical of her, pointing out her tardiness and mistakes. Hachi didn't improve the situation by adding another load of paper on her desk. She couldn't wait to get out of there. When lunch came, she bolted to the elevator, nearly knocking down Kuroobi along the way.
Instead of a trip to the cafeteria, Nami headed out of the office building and scoured the streets for a fast food restaurant. She made up her mind and was going home to try again. She knew Sanji didn't eat anything yesterday and she was pretty safe to assume he wasn't going to eat anything today. She needed something better to offer than cereal and Pop Tarts. What Sanji needed was some good comfort food.
Carrying two plastic bags of takeout, Nami hurried back to the apartment and laid them out neatly on the table, making sure the kitchen door was left wide open. She gave some time for the aroma to settle in. The tub of fried chicken smelled so good, she was very tempted to start eating herself. She had ordered every kind of fried chicken the restaurant had: plain, crispy, garlic, and spicy. And as an afterthought, had included a bowl of coleslaw and mashed potato in case he wanted some vegetable and also a box of warm buttermilk biscuits.
If she knew anything about men, they loved meat. Sanji shouldn't be an exception.
Quietly she walked towards his door. She was about to knock when she noticed the door was ajar. "Sanji, are you there? I bought some food. You wanna eat lunch with me?" Hearing nothing, she pushed the door open and peered inside. Dark and empty, Sanji was gone.
Nami frowned and closed his door. He must have left after she went to work. Disappointed, she bought lunch for nothing. Of course, it was unreasonable to think he would still be at home. There was nothing wrong with him. He just had an off day. Nothing traumatic. Maybe he went to work.
Then she heard a muffled thud emitting from her room.
Alarmed she cautiously headed there. Inside she found Sanji. Sitting in front of her bed, he had on the same clothes he wore Saturday minus his coat and shoes. His necktie loosened, his shirt untucked and his hair disheveled, he was a mess. Beside him was an empty bottle of vodka, lying carelessly on its side. He looked really, really sad.
"Sanji?"
Bleary-eyed, he lifted his head and grinned weakly at her, but didn't say anything. A moment later, his head fell back down again and he slumped lethargically against her bed. "What are you doing back home? Shouldn't you be at work?" he slurred.
"I-I was worried about you." She hesitated before continuing in a quiet voice. "You want to talk?"
He took a deep breath and sighed. "Pathetic. I'm pathetic."
"You're not pathetic," she said sternly. She moved over to where he was and sat down next to him so that their shoulders touched. "That man...Zoro...he was your..."
"My last roommate before you moved in," he finished soberly.
Stunned, Nami had expected him to be his boyfriend. She had no idea he use to live here. In her room no less, now that she thought about it. It never occurred to her to wonder if Sanji had previous roommates. Before she moved in, the room was unfurnished. There was no evidence to indicate anyone had lived here before her.
"The nerve of him. He thinks he can waltz up to me and act like nothing happened. He was always an inconsiderate jerk."
"So you two were-"
"A couple? Is that what Robin told you? You must have talked to Robin."
"She didn't tell me anything. Only his name."
Sanji twisted uneasily. "We fought all the time. Like cats and dogs. I don't understand how he ended up as my roommate in the first place."
"But...you two got together eventually, right?"
He nodded once and chuckled. "I guess it helped that he had a hot bod. He was such an exercise freak."
She giggled a little at that, but stayed serious. "So what happened, if you don't mind me asking?"
He raised his head and stared out the balcony window. "He had an accident."
Nami sucked in her breath real fast, but realized it wasn't that shocking. It was not like the man had an accident and died, because he was very much alive when she saw him last Saturday and healthy as well. So he didn't fall into a coma either. And it wasn't like people didn't have accidents. It would be extremely lucky if a person never had an accident in his or her entire life.
Noticing the look of confusion on her face, Sanji explained, "The accident messed up one his leg. He couldn't walk, not without a lot of pain."
A thought suddenly occurred to Nami. "Do you blame yourself for his accident? You shouldn't. After all it was...an accident."
"No," he said, shaking his head. "It was nothing like that. It was after the accident, after he got out of the hospital, the problems began. He started drinking-"
"He hit you! He was abusive!" she interrupted. That scoundrel. If she ever saw that man again, she would give him such a tongue-lashing. Then Sanji gave her a flat look that told her it wasn't the case. "Sorry. Go on."
"I thought I could make things easier for him. I thought I could take care of him. But I made things worse for him." His gaze dropped, falling to his hands on his laps. "Our usual fights. They became bitter, resentful, spiteful. It was simpler to just leave him alone than to deal with him."
"Was it the pain? He had trouble adjusting? I hear that pain can change people."
He shrugged. "Maybe. It doesn't matter now. He's gone. Out of my life."
"I see. So it didn't work out so you broke up with him? You kicked him out then?"
"No," Sanji paused, wearing a doleful expression. "No, he left on his own. Packed up and took off right before the holidays."
"The holidays? He left you? That's so sweet of him," she said sarcastically. It wasn't the first time she heard of breakups occurring during the holidays. St. Valentine's Day was a popular choice. Either it was a cruel ironic joke or it was an unfathomable way to ease the pain. Nami was inclined to go with the former.
"How can anyone leave and disappear like that without saying a single word? No note. No phone call. Nothing." Sanji heaved heavily and dropped his head on her shoulder. "Did he hate me that much?"
Nami suddenly put her arm around him and quickly turned him towards her. Sanji wouldn't meet her eyes, so she cupped his chin and lifted it. "Listen to me, Sanji Kun. You are handsome, kind, funny, smart. You are a lovable guy. If he left you, that's his loss."
He turned his head away and laughed out loud. "Nice try. I almost believed you."
Annoyed, and perhaps a little pissed that he didn't believe her, Nami grabbed his head and yanked him to her. Then she covered his mouth with hers.
Sanji stiffened, but quickly relaxed as she clung to him. Nami pressed forward, deepening their kiss. His lips were deliciously soft with a hint of alcohol. His body heat, his smell, the way his hair brushed against her face, she didn't know it could be as good as this. It was way better than any of those dreams she had.
But as fast as it came, it ended, crashing down on her like a bucket of icy water. Sanji struggled against her and shoved her away. Nami fell back, breathless and dazed. She saw Sanji staring uncomfortably at her, looking disoriented. He blinked several times, his body wavering unsteadily.
Suddenly the full implication of what she did dawned on her. It hit her like a ton of brick. She opened her mouth to say something or anything. "Sanji-Sanji, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to-."
At the sound of her voice, Sanji focused his gaze back to her. He seemed confused as if he was seeing her for the first time. "Nami?" He only uttered her name once before his eyes rolled back and he collapsed on the floor.
"Sanji!" Nami scrambled to her feet and raced to his side. She checked his pulse and breathing and found them normal. He was only passed out. Her head drooped down as she tried to calm her nerves. He gave her a good scare. Then she noticed the empty bottle of alcohol. She picked up the bottle to examine it. She suppose this was enough to knock him out. Sanji was never a heavy drinker.
Now what was she suppose to do? Lunch was over. She should get back to work. Not that she could concentrate after this mess. But then did she really want to stick around to see Sanji awake? No, definitely not. Her heart was beating so fast at the thought of that. How was she suppose to explain herself? She tripped and her mouth accidentally fell on his. She wanted to cry at the stupid excuse. What was she thinking? Why did she kiss him? She needed to relax, clear her head and think. Better do it at the office.
After making sure Sanji was in a comfortable position on the floor, she draped her bed comforter over him and shut her bedroom door.
Back at Arlong Park Inc, she couldn't concentrate. She certainly didn't get any work done. The best she could do was to look busy, staring at a piece of paper that she doodled on every so often. Nezumi had luckily disappeared to whatever thing he did.
Nami didn't know what to expect when she finally got home. She quietly closed the front door and headed to her room. The door was still closed so she carefully cracked it open to peep in. She didn't see Sanji. She walked in, looking for any sign of her roommate. The comforter was back on the bed and the bed was neatly made. She tried his room next and saw his door left ajar. He wasn't in there either.
The kitchen was her last stop after checking the bathroom and the living room. The takeout she left on the table was gone. She searched the refrigerator and found them packed away in her Tupperware. She noticed some portion of it missing. At least he ate some of it.
After snacking on the rest of the fried chicken, she went to bed. They weren't as good reheated in the microwave, but she was use eating like that. She washed up and changed her clothes and climbed into bed. She didn't know how long she laid in bed, waiting and listening. Was he coming home anytime soon? If he did come home, should she get up and greet him? And say what? Eventually she fell asleep and it was morning again.
Groggy, Nami wandered around her room, her mind still not fully awake. She managed to find her bathroom and rinsed out her mouth before heading to the kitchen. When she entered the kitchen, she almost dropped dead from the sudden fright.
"Good morning."
"Oh my god!" Nami stepped back and nearly tripped over the chair. "Don't do that! You scared me."
"Sorry. I made you breakfast," Sanji said. He indicated to the frying pan on the stove. "I hope you like Spanish omelette.
"Oh, that's nice of you," she replied, trying to slow her breathing. She was panting. She should have known he was cooking. Why didn't she notice the smell?
"I want to apologize."
"Huh?" Nami almost didn't hear him because she was panicking. The moment she was dreading was here. What was she going to say to him?
"For going into your room yesterday. I was shocked to find myself on the floor in your room," he continued while flipping the egg over in the pan. "I was quite inebriated and a little upset."
"That's all right. You were having a bad weekend and it's understandable." She waited and then asked hesitantly, "So is everything all right with you? Anything else on your mind you want to talk about?"
He grinned. "No, but I'm feeling much better today. Thanks for asking. I better take out the trash. I missed trash day yesterday." He took off his apron and set a plate of omelette on the table before he left the kitchen.
Nami could only gawk at the door he went through until she realized how late the time was. Then she sat down at the table and glanced at the omelette. It was expertly made.
Was it possible? Was there a benevolent God watching over her?
She started on her breakfast, feeling a little easier. The more she thought about it the more she was convinced. Sanji was too drunk to remember anything. She was off the hook!