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35 Millimeters II: Behind the Lens
by Lady Aishiteru
Chapter 11: Truth in Advertising
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I heard a knock at my door. "Maybe it's Usagi and Mamoru, here to cheer me up again." I shook my head at myself. Ever since Kunzite had left six months ago, I had been a miserable mope. Even Usagi's best efforts had done little to lift my spirits, and Mamoru's presence beside her served to remind me that I was still very much alone in the world.
Every face I saw reminded me of Kunzite, and occasionally something would happen to remind me of his brief and shining love. Well, actually, everything reminded me of him. I can hardly even go grocery shopping anymore. Whenever I saw a cart full of junk food, I'd think of him. It got so bad that I couldn't even look at a box of Lucky Charms without getting misty eyed.
I couldn't even listen to the radio anymore; every sappy love song would remind me of my loss. Instead, I listened to the messages he had left me on my answering machine, over and over again until I had memorized every word and I could almost "hear" his voice in my head. Hearing his voice made me feel like he was right there with me, telling me everything would be all right. I saw his face in the clouds and traced his shape on the window when I would sit and stare at the sky from my apartment.
What really got to me was that he was in my life one moment and gone the next. He had been so caring and kind that I thought he would be with me forever. Just when I was getting to know him, he vanished without a trace, or even a reason. A reason would have been nice. I could hold on to a reason, maybe use its logic to remind me why I was really better off without him.
It was sweet of Usagi and Mamoru to come, really, but I didn't want to see anyone. Maybe if I stayed in my apartment forever I would be okay. Artemis and I would live on Chinese takeout; he'd have chow mien and I'd have egg rolls and wonton soup. I'd operate some Internet business to stay financially solvent and watch reruns of Gilligan's Island. Nobody would ever see me or cause me any pain. I wouldn't feel anything at all. "Right, Aino," I thought, "and then you'll get mad because Gilligan keeps getting stuck on that stupid island." I laughed at myself, though it was probably true; it wouldn't work anyways. Man is not meant to be isolated forever, an island unto himself.
The knocking continued, and I knew I couldn't ignore it any longer. "Yeah, yeah, keep your shirts on," I mumbled. I opened the door and was face to face with a postal worker.
"Delivery for you," he said, shuffling his feet awkwardly.
"Thanks," I relied curtly. I signed for the package and I left. It wasn't even anything good, not flowers, chocolates or even slightly romantic. It was a package of makeup from one of the cosmetics companies that wanted me to endorse them. I wanted to toss it out the window, but that wouldn't be fair to anyone. Besides, it wouldn't do me any good.
Staring at the opened box, an idea occurred to me, a fiendish, brilliant idea from my Bible studies. Lately, I had been getting into the stories of women in Old Testament times. Far from being weak, these women kicked tail! A woman named Esther married the king of Babylon and saved her nation, while another, by cunning and trickery, killed the general of an opposing army. In the times before Israel had a king, a prophetess named Deborah ruled the country. My favorite story was that of a woman named Ruth. She was a stranger in a strange land, who trusted in God and her mother-in law, Naomi, and was later named amongst the lineage of Christ.
Maybe I was like Ruth, a newcomer in the land of faith, chasing after an impossible dream. I can still remember how lonely I felt after moving to Japan with nobody except my mother. I'd be willing that Ruth might have felt lonely at times. All she had was Naomi, the kindness of strangers and trust in the Lord God of Israel. She had guts, that Ruth, real guts. I could relate to her, and I prayed that I had her courage, for I would surely need it if my plan were to succeed. This was risky business. "Well, desperate times call for desperate measures," I thought, grinning. I might not win back his love, but at the very least, I hoped for an explanation. Maybe that would put my demons to rest. "Yeah, that seems reasonable," I thought. I took the makeup out of the packages and went to work.
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I took the key Mamoru had given me out of my pocket and turned it in its keyhole, granting me access to the apartment. I flicked the light switch to the "on" position and noted that there were boxes scattered sporadically throughout the main room, suggesting that Kunzite hadn't fully gotten settled in yet after his move. "I've seen his office; he's no slob. Maybe he was too busy with something," I thought to myself. Could that "something" have been me?
I tiptoed over to the bedroom, careful not to wake him. As silently as possible, I opened the door. I could barely make out his shape; the only light in the room came from the hallway. I opened the door a little further and sat down in front of the door. After what seemed like an eternity, the sun slowly rose, peeking through the Venetian blinds like a striped shirt.
Awed, I rose to my feet, and the view of the sleeper was well worth the wait. Kunzite was spread-eagled, flat on his back, his hair fanning out to his broad, uncovered shoulders. The way the light gleamed on his chest and his cheek was nothing short of spectacular; he looked like an angel. I listened to the sound of his breathing; he sounded so peaceful.
A sinking feeling struck my stomach, and I didn't feel so good about my plan, about even being here anymore. Would this even work? I hadn't prayed or even asked my friends for advice. Ruth was acting on her mother-in-law's advice and Boaz acted upon cultural tradition. As for me, I was acting on a silly whim, a stupid idea, really. This probably wouldn't even work. It was better to have my memories than to barge into his apartment like the obsessed idiot that I am. What was I thinking?
I blew a stray hair out of my eyes, pivoted on my heel and made my choice. "The heck with this; I'm going home." As silently as possible, I slinked out of the apartment like some kind of cat burglar, but once I was outside of the building, I put all subtleties aside. I stormed down the street, but it wasn't him I was mad at; it was me.
Somehow, this all seemed eerily familiar. Yes, I had done this before, when I was dead set on telling him to leave me alone forever. Now I had marched over here like some righteous army of one to tell him to...damn it, I don't even know any more. Did I want him to come back on hands and knees like some beggar? Did I want revenge? Closure? I passed my hand through my hair and let out a weak laugh. As usual, I had acted without thinking. Maybe I should have been a superhero or something...I sure acted like I was one.
I kept walking, not really caring where I was going. I guess I needed to think...to get away from there. Not only had I been impulsive, but I had also forgotten to seek God's will. I was so used to having no father or anyone to take care of me that I didn't know how to let go and let God. The sound of my pumps clicked against the pavement in agreement, and I knew it was true.
I had always thought of trust as a weakness; I mean, to trust someone, you put your faith in him or her, and then it hurts that much more when they let you down in the end. I smiled to myself, glad that God wasn't that way, and that He would forgive me. I remembered a particular passage I had come across in 2 John that says that God is bigger than my doubts, even my self-condemnation. I didn't know what the future would bring. Maybe God would choose to bring Kunzite and I back together, then again, maybe not.
Maybe I'd see him at Ami's wedding rehearsal. I guess things between Ami and Zoisite had gone even better than I had thought; after six months, he proposed to her. She said that he popped the question in a way that was totally romantic and spontaneous at the same time. It was a really great story, come to think of it. I practically had to force it out of her; she has this annoying little tendency to keep her love life private.
I can remember when she brought it up, accidentally, like she always does. We were sitting at the Soda Shoppe, sipping our milkshakes, just before Motoki had arrived with the bill. Honestly, I don't even know why he bothers; Ami already had the price figured out before she got there, right down to the tip. She had taken her credit card out to pay for the bill and a piece of paper fell out, one that was far too shiny to be any kind of paper currency. When I looked at it a little closer, I realized that it was a sepia toned, five by seven inch photograph of her. That struck me as being really weird. First of all, Ami was the photographer, so it was strange to see her on the other side of the lens. Also, the photograph was in black and white, not color. Ami always had this thing for vintage photography; she says it's something about values and contrasts. Her camera was completely manual; all of the tiny little adjustments that an average point-and-click camera does for the user, like how much light to let into the camera, for instance, she likes to do herself. Her camera doesn't have a timer. For those reasons, she couldn't have taken the picture herself. In the photograph, Ami was sitting on her desk, and she had this expression on her face that was completely surprised and exhilarated at the same time. Unlike me, Ami's not prone to being emotional; she's usually on a pretty even keel. It must have taken something really amazing to provoke such a reaction, and I wanted to know what that was.
"Wow, Ames, cool picture. Is that you?" I had asked.
She nodded, a telltale blush creeping into her cheeks. "Zoisite took it the other day."
"Wow. I didn't know he took pictures too. I thought he was leaving that up to you," I mused. Zoisite actually was one of Ami's clients at the time. What she did was to take an original picture and alter it in really cool ways. Zoisite had brought in a picture of himself, and she had altered it so many times that it looked nothing like the original. Also, as Ami loved to point out, it was costing him a fortune. Last time she named a price, it was about ¥132,460.
"Mm-hmm," she said, nodding.
"So...what happened?" I asked.
"Oh, he just proposed to me," she said in a way that was so nonchalant that I spit out the shake I was drinking.
"He WHAT?" I sputtered. She said nothing for a while, and her back was turned away from me. "Come on, you can't leave me hanging like this!" I whined, wringing my hands.
"Well, okay, it actually is a really cool story," she said, smiling wistfully. "He had come into the shop after closing time, and he was completely soaked. He asked if he could come in and towel off." I nodded, urging her to continue. By this time, we were walking out of the restaurant and towards her car. "I said he could, I mean, it wasn't as if I didn't want to see him," she said, grinning.
"This is getting good," I said, rubbing my hands together evilly.
"Come on, get your head out of the gutter," she said, giving me a playful smack. "It wasn't like that. He was the perfect gentleman, I swear."
"Sure he was," I said, knowing how much that kind of teasing bothered her.
"He was!" she exclaimed. "Anyways, he asked me if I could borrow my camera. It was a really weird request - by this time, I had long since closed. What could he have possibly needed it for? The he goes and sets up the camera in the corner. It was really cute, actually. He looked like he was having some trouble, so I asked him if he needed any help. Then he whirled around out of nowhere and took my picture."
"Did he say why?" I asked.
Ami nodded. "It was really romantic. He said his picture wouldn't be complete unless I was in it with him."
"So what did you say?" I asked. This was getting really good.
"I didn't say anything," Ami said.
"Nothing?" I asked.
"Well, actually, I fainted," admitted Ami. "When I woke up, I was in his apartment, with a washcloth on my head and a migraine the size of Tokyo. I didn't even know if he had actually proposed, or if I had dreamt the whole thing up. That's when I saw a large manila envelope sitting right there on his coffee table. I opened it up, and there it was, clear as day."
"There what was?" I asked, not quite sure where Ami was going with this.
"The photo. While I was still looking at it, Zoisite comes over to me with this big bowl of tomato soup and a huge smile on his face. I asked him if any of this was real, and then he showed me the ring."
"Annnd?" I asked, waving my hand for added emphasis.
"Well," she flushed, "the rest is...personal."
"Whoa," I thought, "Whatever happened after that must have been good to get her flustered like that."
The wedding rehearsal had been scheduled for next week. I wondered if Kunzite would come up with something as creative as his friend and sweep me off my feet...no, probably not. Besides, hadn't he already done that? Who doesn't want a really hot guy placing rose petals down the hallway that leads to her bedroom? Who wouldn't fawn over such a careful and downright sexy gesture?
Still, I'm nothing if not idealistic. It would be so sweet to be swept off my feet a second time, especially after such a lengthy absence. Who was I kidding, though? I doubt he even remembers that I exist. Guys like Kunzite don't stay single for long...but then again, one would think girls like me don't, either. I smiled at myself; I was being silly, fantasizing over the impossible once again, and I knew it. "Oh well," I thought. "I can always dream."
I know what it's like to dream. I once dreamt of being a model; now I dream of being a girlfriend, maybe even a wife. Heck, maybe that will even happen someday...I mean, you never know, right? I know one thing...I don't want to be a model anymore. Ever since Kunzite left, I'd been rethinking a lot of things, like where my priorities are, and what I'd like to do with my life now that he's not in it.
Still, Kunzite introduced me to another great guy, God. Yes, God. I'm not quite sure how to describe how I feel now that I've found Him. I still get sad sometimes, but underneath the pain is a sense of peace that I know wasn't there before. With each passing day, I find new reasons to believe in God's love. It was hard for me to find a church at first; like I said earlier, Japan's not exactly known for its Christianity. Believe it or not, I attend the same church as Levina.
I don't work with her anymore, though; or I should say I'm not going to be for long. I decided to quit Tokyo Inc last month. Things got too weird for me after all of that business with the yakuza and all. Seeing Rubina on a day-to-day basis would only serve to remind me of those hellish days I spent living in fear for my life. I never really liked fame anyways. Purchasing my fifth wig was a real wake-up call for me...I mean, I put so much effort into my disguises and staying out of the ever-watchful eyes of the media. Wouldn't it be better for me to direct that energy elsewhere?
I would have to be in the limelight one last time, though; it was time for me to make a graceful and unobtrusive exit. I'd scheduled a press conference for tomorrow morning, bright and early. I wanted to get this over with as soon as I possibly could, and I knew that the press would have a lot of questions to ask me. I'd respond to them as honestly and politely as possible, since I don't plan on them being my enemies. Even though I've never been nice to them in the past, I'd like to leave as a friend. "If I'm not going to be a star anymore, the media will have no interest in me, and I can go on with my life...right?" I thought, scratching my head. I could fake my own death...it would be easier than a press conference. Then again, it's probably not such a great idea.
It is pretty strange, now that I think about it; I'd be perfectly content to be a nobody. Actually, I'd never heard of anyone trying to stop being famous. People usually don't strive to be anonymous; I mean, who strives to be ignored? Most would rather be famous, to have their name in lights. It was quite thrilling at first, but it got old very quickly. The only people I want paying attention to me are my friends, and perhaps a certain tall and handsome platinum blond.
"Stop it, Aino," I thought. "It's not going to happen." I thought I heard a voice calling me, but I blocked it out and blinked the tears away. "Great," I thought. "Now I'm hallucinating. That's just swell." I sighed and blew a rogue strand of hair away from my eyes. Maybe I should seek professional help. Then again...that would be coming too close to home. I'd feel as if I was turning into my mother, which is precisely why I'm quitting Tokyo Inc. It's ironic, really; Mom was the reason why I worked at Tokyo Inc. for so long, and now I'm quitting for fear of becoming her. I don't know if manic depression is hereditary, but either way, I don't want to chance it.
I looked at the clock; to my dismay, it was only eight thirty. Well, it didn't matter. I had no reason to stay awake, and sleep was far easier than staying awake with my thoughts...well, in theory, anyways. After completing my nighttime ritual of washing my face, brushing my hair and cleaning my teeth, I walked over to the bedroom, pulled on my nightgown and settled into bed.
Sleep would not come so easily; the second I placed my head on the pillow, my eyes snapped open. My heart pounded frantically in my chest as if it was a bird trying to escape. What was wrong with me? Was I nervous? "Come on, Aino, you've held hundreds of press conferences. Why is this one so different?"
I shifted my body frantically under the blankets, but the only thing I accomplished was to dislodge Artemis from his customary sleeping spot beneath my feet. "Poor cat," I mumbled to myself. "It's not his fault I can't sleep." I beat the pillow a few times with my fist, but it was no use. It was a nice, expensive goose down pillow, but it might as well have been made out of bricks. I sighed and pushed the blankets off my body, then rose out of bed.
"Maybe if I arrange my outfit for tomorrow, I'll feel better," I mused to myself. I flicked on the light switch and trudged wearily to my walk in closet. I tried on outfit after outfit, finding satisfaction in none. After I reached the end of the last rack of dresses, I sighed in mental and physical exhaustion.
I wish I could be like a flower; they can look beautiful without any effort. A flower does not work on its appearance, apply makeup, walk in painful spiked heels or iron wrinkles out of skirts. I read a passage in the gospels where Jesus remarked on the lily. He said God clothed the grass with petals, and the lilies never put forth any effort to be beautiful. They simply draw their nutrients from the soil and stretch upward to the sun. Lilies are there one day and gone the next, passing without a thought. Who remembers something that is past its prime, its life energy long since extinguished? Who pays memorial to a phantom plant that disappears without a trace?
Maybe that was my problem. Maybe I was afraid I would be forgotten. Why should that bother me, though? Didn't I want to be forgotten? The two sides warred against each other in my mind, the desire to love and be loved versus the will to be left alone to my own devices. Did I really want either?
I knew that God loved me, and that my friends did as well. Somehow, it didn't feel like enough. I still felt hollow, empty, and painfully alone. I felt like I was missing a piece of me, like someone had walked away with a part of me. My pain was like a bullet, piercing through flesh, and bone, taking a chunk of me with it. I didn't have to think long to realize that it was Kunzite that had wounded me in this way.
Without my realizing it, Kunzite had worked his way deep into my heart. I was missing him so much that I was going crazy. Didn't I know better by then not to let people get too close? Didn't I realize that I would get hurt? I chastised my foolish heart; it was solely to blame. What good was a heart anyways when they are so easily broken?
"I'll stay celibate, Lord," I prayed. "I'll quit men forever. I'll say goodbye to the love between a man and a woman. What good is it to me now? You're the only guy I need." I felt my resolve harden within me like flesh covering a wound. I would put a wall around my heart, six feet thick and a mile high. Nobody would ever hurt me again. I walked out of the closet and shut the door, whistling "What's Love Got to Do With it" until I reached my bedroom again. I shut my eyes and pulled the covers over my body once more. Slowly, I drifted off, but even in my sleep, I knew I wasn't fully convinced yet.
I woke up early the next morning, groggy and sluggish. Remembering last night, the mists of sleep cleared out of my brain. I remembered the promise I had made to myself then, to forsake love. Doubt crept into my bones and poured salt into my wounds. I couldn't just abandon my feelings; they were a part of me. All I could do was control what I did with those feelings. I'd always believe in love. Even if I never found it here on Earth, I'd still have the memory of it, what it felt like, what it did to me on the inside. It was silly, really; I felt like I was a long ago princess mourning for her lost prince. I forced a smile on my face and splashed some cold water on my face to perk myself up. This damsel refuses to be in distress.
I made one last sweep with the mascara wand and picked up a brunette wig. "What am I holding this thing for?" I asked myself. "It must be some kind of reflex." If all went according to plan, I'd never need to use any of my wigs anymore. Maybe I should donate them to charity; then again, there's always Halloween.
I laughed to myself and went into the kitchen. Artemis stalked up to my ankles confidently, his tail shaped like a question mark. "Yes, I know, little one. You're hungry, aren't you," I said, but I knew before I heard his plaintive meow that the answer was yes. Silly cat...if he had his way, he would be fed every time I came into the kitchen. I bent down and scratched between his ears, then he shook his furry little head as if he was shaking something off. "Silly kitty," I mumbled. His head seemed to be shrinking...nah; he's probably just gotten fat. I grinned down at him and ran my fingers across his silky back. It figures that he'd get a little chunky; I spoil that cat rotten.
I went over the questions in my head that would be asked at the press conference as I poured kitty kibble into Artemis's food dish. "Why would you do such a thing? Do you have any regrets? Seriously, why?" I shook my head at myself...I knew the questions would get very redundant after a few minutes. I gave Artemis one final pat on the head, but he wasn't paying me any attention. He was still eating. "Goofy cat," I said, shaking my finger at the chubby feline. "No wonder you're getting fat." I hoped that I wouldn't get fat; if I don't model, I don't have to look perfect. I can look like an ordinary young woman...but did I really want to? I frowned as I switched the last padlock on my front door. I really didn't know.
As I drove my inconspicuous little VW Beetle down the street, well, as inconspicuous as anything that's yellow can be, I saw a fancy blue car accelerating behind me. What was with this guy? I was going the speed limit, for heaven's sake! I laid into my horn a few times for good measure, and then switched to another lane. Who did this jerk think he was, anyways? And why did this seem so...familiar? I adjusted my rear view mirror slightly; yes, I had seen that car before...but where? Maybe it was even a newer model; then again, maybe not. I didn't know much about cars, but I still couldn't shake this deep-rooted feeling of déjà vu in the pit of my stomach. It felt like a lunch gone badly. I racked my brains for the last time I had seen a sky blue PT Cruiser, but an annoying sound coming from outside of my car jolted me out of my stupor. "Hey, you jerk! Can't you see I was in deep recollection?" I rolled down my window, prepared to shake my fist at the horn blaster as he or she pulled up beside me, then I sucked in my breath. Platinum blond hair, icy blue eyes, tan skin, muscular build...no, it couldn't be him...could it? "It has to be someone else," my frantic brain ground out, "It just has to."
"Hey," said Kunzite. "It's been awhile."
I ground my teeth and stared straight ahead, pretending I didn't recognize him. I wasn't about to give Kunzite the satisfaction of my time; I was far too upset with him. It seemed to take hours for the stoplight to turn green, but when it finally did, I pushed down on the accelerator hard. I had to get away from him, and fast! I clenched my hands on the steering wheel as I watched the odometer creep up. I didn't realize how fast I was going until I reached ten kilometers over the speed limit. Oops...guess I forgot about cruise control.
I relaxed my stiff muscles and eased back into the speed limit, trying to ignore the fancy blue car creeping up behind me. "Oh no, he is not following me. That's it, I'm going to park my car right here." I pressed the brake pedal gently and cruised into the parking lot. It was still early, so spaces were plentiful. I chose the one closest to the entrance and switched the car into park. "There, that was easy enough," I said, looking around. There were no blue cars in sight...good. That idiot finally found himself a clue.
I strolled into the building, where ten news stations, five newspapers and God only knew how many magazine reporters were waiting for me. I sucked in a deep breath and said a brief prayer. "Here goes nothing," I thought.
I stepped up to the podium, ignoring the steady flashing of camera bulbs blurring my peripheral vision. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen," I began, using my best speaking voice. "You're probably wondering why I called you all here today. I know you'll have a lot of questions, so I'll make this brief. I'm resigning from Tokyo Inc., effective as of today." I paused, relishing the collective gasp of the audience. A cub reporter even dropped their clipboard. I grinned to myself; this was exactly the reaction I had anticipated. "So, any questions?" I asked, flashing my trademark smile that had made me famous so many years ago.
"Yes, I have one," said a shrill female voice. I looked down imperiously as she pushed her horn-rimmed glasses up her bony nose. She held out a microphone that read "Channel 14 News." "Does your agency know about your decision?"
"I have informed Tokyo Inc. of my decision two weeks ago."
"Did anyone ask you to stay?" the channel 14 reporter pressed.
"Well, yes, and I understand where they're coming from. I couldn't have quit at a worse time," I admitted, smiling graciously. "Rising Sun just made the final bid on the Venus cosmetics line. They were not pleased," I ended. Well, actually, that was putting it mildly. They were royally pissed, and their agent called me every four-lettered name under the sun, none of them particularly nice. I smiled as I remembered his face turning red as he finally ran out of profanity.
"You're finished, Venus," he hissed through his teeth. "You'll never work in this town again."
"Well, that's the idea," I had said, flashing him a cool, confident grin. I felt his gaze burn into my back as I left the room.
"You can't do this, Venus! You'll regret it!" he shouted.
"Not likely," I thought, grinning from ear to ear. Softly and calculated, I shut the door, showing that blistering idiot that I was in control. I whistled as I cleared the hallway, drawing the interested glances of several coworkers. They hadn't seen me that happy in a long time, and they never would again.
"Have they given you any compensation?" asked a man from People magazine; pushing a microphone up to my lips and bringing my focus back to the present.
"Yes, actually," I said. "I've received 4.6 billion yen's worth of stock options." I knew that this was a gift from God; now I would have more than enough to support both my mother and myself. It was quite the little nest egg.
"How did you pull that off?" asked a reporter from USA Today.
"God only knows," I conceded, smiling. "Any other questions?"
"Yes, I have one," said a deep voice coming from the back of the room. "Do you have any regrets? I know I do."
I scratched my head. Well, this was getting rather personal, and I was about to say so when the owner of the voice stepped forward. "Dammit, Kunzite, you have the worst timing!" I heard the sound of multiple pencils scratching against papers. I smacked my head against my forehead, immediately regretting my outburst of emotion. Not only was this a press conference, no, the press conference, this was Japan, for heaven's sakes. Such outbursts simply aren't done in public.
"Tell me about it," he said, smiling that darned moronic grin of his that I loved and hated at the same time.
"Can't you see this isn't the time to talk? In front of the reporters?" I hissed, grating my teeth.
"I don't care," he said. "I have nothing to hide, and neither do you. I've been stupid, really stupid."
"No shinola," I mumbled, my body shaking with a strange combination of anger and hope. My emotions tore at my resolve; I didn't know whether to smack him silly or kiss the daylights out of him. Confused, my body stood still at a stalemate. "Why should I even be talking to you? You blew it big time, pal," I said, narrowing my eyes in a way that I hoped was convincing. "What do you have to say to that?" I put my hands on my hips, ignoring the clicking of many camera shutters. "Fine. Let them click away for all I care," I thought.
"Just this," he said, walking forward until he was behind the podium with me, standing off to my left. "I'm sorry. Can you forgive me?"
Tears welled up in my eyes, and I felt my control shatter. How could he do this to me? Where was my practiced calm, my smiling mask? He was destroying it with his honesty. I tried to stiffen my posture again, to work up the old anger, but it wasn't in me anymore. I wanted to stay mad at him, really I did. I just couldn't do it; it was no use. "You idiot," I said, giving him a wobbly smile and pulling him in. I planted my lips on his, right there, in the midst of all the nosy reporters and pushy photographers. I didn't care, and I kissed Kunzite for all it was worth, gently at first, then with all of the pent-up love I had been holding back for months.
"I take it you forgive me?" he gasped as I pulled away, his eyes shining with so much that I had to look away.
"Of course, you fool," I whispered.
"Well, I think I need more convincing," he returned, cupping my jaw in his hands. There were no reporters or photographers, at least not anymore. There was just Kunzite and I, and it was enough.
"Feel better?" I asked, smiling with my eyes this time. I looked deep into his; I could see forever in the resplendent blue orbs, like clear skies and sunny days. He nodded, and I heard the sound of clapping all around us. I wanted to stay there in his arms for the rest of my life, and I realized that I could. Nothing would ever separate us again.
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"Are you sure you want to do this?" Kunzite asked.
"Yeah, I'm sure." He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze, and I smiled. He eased his car into park, and I looked up at a large flat that had haunted me for years. I clenched my jaw and strengthened my resolve. Together, we walked up the stairs until we reached apartment 20B. I sighed; this wasn't going to be easy.
"You okay, Minako?"
"No, but I will be," I said, giving him a shaky grin. I had to do this, or I would never be free. I knocked tentatively on the door, then waited for the inevitable.
A tall, skinny blonde answered the door, still in her stocking feet. "Minako?" she asked unsteadily, her gaze wavering.
"Mother," I said, nodding curtly. I sucked in a deep breath, and Kunzite gave my hand another squeeze.
"Who is this young man?" Mom said, smiling. "He's quite a dish."
"This is Kunzite Feldspar," I said. "But that's not why we came here."
"Well, it must be important for you to come all the way over to England. Come in, have some tea," she said, motioning to the inside of her home. It was the same flat she had lived in when I first started Tokyo Inc.; she had never left.
One glance into the living room that lay straight ahead told me that nothing had changed. Rumpled blankets dotted the floor and half empty cups of coffee lined the couch. All of the painful memories came rushing back in a tidal wave; Mom making me tea and cookies, mom reading the paper, mom watching TV with her eyes glazed over, mom drinking her vodka until she passed out on the couch. My throat constricted, and I couldn't breathe.
"No, I'll be fine out here," I said after a long, awkward pause.
"Are you sure?" she asked, frowning, her true self coming to the surface.
"Yeah," I said, shifting my feet and looking at the floor, anything to avoid her accusing eyes or the sight of her sloppy apartment. I could smell the alcohol on her breath. "I've come to tell you that you're moving to America." I paused, waiting for the other shoe to drop. "I've arranged for you to live in River Knolls. It's nice; you'll like it there."
"And what kind of place is this River Knolls?" she asked, and I could feel her eyebrows arching in question.
"It's a...rest home," I stammered.
"You're sending me to a mental institution?" she yelled.
"Shh, you'll disturb your neighbors," I said, knowing that it was useless to admonish her at that point. Fine. Let her be mad. "You'll pack your bags tomorrow; the plane will leave at four thirty, just after tea time, with you in it," I said, finally looking her in the eye.
"But I'm your mother," she said, clasping my hands. "You can't do this to me."
For a moment, I wavered. Hadn't there been good times? My mind took me back thirteen years ago, and I remembered the good days, when the liquor was far from her. I saw Mom and I watching Partridge Family reruns, telling ghost stories, laughing in the dark, like the shadows couldn't hurt us. But they did; slowly, but surely, Mom's mental illness swallowed us whole. I couldn't pretend like it didn't affect me anymore.
"You're not my mother," I said, gathering courage, "and you never were. Sure, you gave birth to me, but your parenting stopped there. I don't hate you; you couldn't help yourself. Besides, you'll be safe in River Knolls. I think you'll like it there," I said, smiling stiffly.
"Bloody hell," she swore, stamping her feet. "That's gratitude for you."
"Indeed," I said, grinning. Finally, it was over. "Well, I'll send men to help you along in the morning." I pivoted on my heel and left. I didn't want to hurt her, but she was only hurting herself by staying in this dilapidated flat. At least she would be well supervised in River Knolls; I had done some research on it. It was one of the best mental institutions in the world. Maybe there she would find peace.
"Wait," she said. "You never told me exactly who this Kunzite fellow is. Is he your boyfriend or something?"
I smiled, and I knew everything would be okay. I would finally be able to put my past behind me, behind us. I gave Kunzite a quick peck on the cheek, and he wrapped his arm around my waist. I smiled genuinely, the first time I was able to do so in her presence for years. I turned around, and then said casually over my shoulder like it didn't matter what she thought, "He's my fiancée."
It was true; Kunzite proposed last week. We're getting married in a month and a half. I know it might sound rushed, but I knew I was going to marry him at the press conference. There was no way I was ever letting that man out of my sight again.
It was just the right occasion for a proposal. Ami and Zoisite had just gotten married, and we were ushered into a huge, fancy ballroom for the reception. A huge but tasteful crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, reflecting the light like a disco ball. There was an ice sculpture of two lovers, a knight from long ago and his beautiful princess. They sat amongst the reflections, the knight embracing the woman, and the woman looked out contentedly. The sculpture was so well done that it was hard to believe they weren't real people.
Surrounding the sculpture was a lavish collection of fruit tarts, baklava, miniature chocolate éclairs, strawberries dipped in chocolate and a cheese ball with bell shaped crackers. I hovered there for a while, taking it all in and reveling in the fact that I could actually eat the hors d' oeuvres, instead of just gawking at them. I happily grabbed a plate and got started on the strawberries.
My gorging was interrupted by a deep voice saying ahem very loudly. "Hello, Kunzite," I said, smiling. We had just started dating like normal couples do, without being interrupted by the yakuza. He was about as close to the perfect boyfriend as was humanly possible. He sent me roses, fragrant orange ones with velvety petals. He was consistently on time for our dates, and he always took me to someplace special, no casinos, of course. We've been to art films, operas, poetry readings, miniature golfing, arcades, go carting, and he even took me horseback riding, something I'd always wanted to try. We'd also attend church together with Levina. Every time he took me out, he'd tell me how much he loved me and how beautiful he thought I was. I had never felt so loved, so special, so happy.
"Hey yourself," I said, grinning. "What do you think of this spread, huh?"
"It's almost as beautiful as you," he replied, taking my hand.
"Oh, stop, you're going to give me a swelled head," I said, blushing.
"Then it would be the loveliest swelled head in all of Tokyo," he returned.
"You mush ball," I said. "Want to dance?"
A slow waltz played in the background, and he nodded. I rested my head on his shoulder and smiled. "This is so nice," I murmured in his ear.
"Mm-hmm," was the reply that I felt from within his chest. I closed my eyes and swayed with the music. I never wanted this moment to end.
After a long, comfortable silence, he whispered, "I have a question I want to ask you, Minako."
"Mmm?" I mumbled dreamily.
He drew back slightly, and my body cried out for his warmth. He fished for something deep within his pocket, and my heart beat faster in anticipation. "Kunzite, what are you doing?"
He didn't answer, at least not in words. He pulled out a small, black box and got down on one knee.
I didn't even give him a chance to answer. "Yes," I said quietly.
He arched his eyebrow. "But I haven't even said anything yet," he pouted.
"Okay, fine," I said, grinning.
"Minako, these past few months without you have felt like an eternity. I thought I could leave you, but it proved impossible. I can't bear the thought of us being apart again. I want to see your face every morning, for all of my days. Will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?"
Tears welled up in my eyes, and I smiled tremulously. "Of course. Do you really think I'd let you get away?"
He shook his head and stood to face me. "Minako?"
I wondered what question he could possibly have; hadn't he already asked the most important one? I arched my eyebrows and waited for the other shoe to drop.
"Can I kiss you?" he asked.
That was all I needed. I yanked his body to mine and planted my lips on his. He gave out a little gasp in surprise, and then he joined right in. With every second, I felt his growing confidence as well as my own, that this was so right. He drew back, his eyes clouded with passion. "I love you, Minako Aino."
I couldn't say anything against the lump that had risen up my throat, but I didn't have to. My eyes gave me away.
We walked slowly out of the flat, and I let out a grateful sigh when we left. "Are you okay?" asked Kunzite, bringing me back to the present. "You've been awfully quiet."
"Yeah," I said, and I meant it.
As he opened the passenger side door for me and I slid into the car, I felt really lucky, no, blessed, to have him in my life, to share all of my days, both good and bad.
I still have Artemis. He has a little kitty bed next to the fireplace, where he sleeps most of the time. The little furrball had really grown on me; after all, if it weren't for Artemis, I would have never met Kunzite. Then where would I be? I don't know, but where I am now is so brilliant and filled with rainbows and light that I wouldn't go back for the world. I look forward to the future. Maybe I'll have his children someday, God willing. They'd be beautiful, well, if they looked anything like me, anyways...just kidding. No matter what, I knew that we'd have each other, a blessing from God. I couldn't ask for more.
THE END
35 Millimeters II: Behind the Lens
by Lady Aishiteru
Chapter 11: Truth in Advertising
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I heard a knock at my door. "Maybe it's Usagi and Mamoru, here to cheer me up again." I shook my head at myself. Ever since Kunzite had left six months ago, I had been a miserable mope. Even Usagi's best efforts had done little to lift my spirits, and Mamoru's presence beside her served to remind me that I was still very much alone in the world.
Every face I saw reminded me of Kunzite, and occasionally something would happen to remind me of his brief and shining love. Well, actually, everything reminded me of him. I can hardly even go grocery shopping anymore. Whenever I saw a cart full of junk food, I'd think of him. It got so bad that I couldn't even look at a box of Lucky Charms without getting misty eyed.
I couldn't even listen to the radio anymore; every sappy love song would remind me of my loss. Instead, I listened to the messages he had left me on my answering machine, over and over again until I had memorized every word and I could almost "hear" his voice in my head. Hearing his voice made me feel like he was right there with me, telling me everything would be all right. I saw his face in the clouds and traced his shape on the window when I would sit and stare at the sky from my apartment.
What really got to me was that he was in my life one moment and gone the next. He had been so caring and kind that I thought he would be with me forever. Just when I was getting to know him, he vanished without a trace, or even a reason. A reason would have been nice. I could hold on to a reason, maybe use its logic to remind me why I was really better off without him.
It was sweet of Usagi and Mamoru to come, really, but I didn't want to see anyone. Maybe if I stayed in my apartment forever I would be okay. Artemis and I would live on Chinese takeout; he'd have chow mien and I'd have egg rolls and wonton soup. I'd operate some Internet business to stay financially solvent and watch reruns of Gilligan's Island. Nobody would ever see me or cause me any pain. I wouldn't feel anything at all. "Right, Aino," I thought, "and then you'll get mad because Gilligan keeps getting stuck on that stupid island." I laughed at myself, though it was probably true; it wouldn't work anyways. Man is not meant to be isolated forever, an island unto himself.
The knocking continued, and I knew I couldn't ignore it any longer. "Yeah, yeah, keep your shirts on," I mumbled. I opened the door and was face to face with a postal worker.
"Delivery for you," he said, shuffling his feet awkwardly.
"Thanks," I relied curtly. I signed for the package and I left. It wasn't even anything good, not flowers, chocolates or even slightly romantic. It was a package of makeup from one of the cosmetics companies that wanted me to endorse them. I wanted to toss it out the window, but that wouldn't be fair to anyone. Besides, it wouldn't do me any good.
Staring at the opened box, an idea occurred to me, a fiendish, brilliant idea from my Bible studies. Lately, I had been getting into the stories of women in Old Testament times. Far from being weak, these women kicked tail! A woman named Esther married the king of Babylon and saved her nation, while another, by cunning and trickery, killed the general of an opposing army. In the times before Israel had a king, a prophetess named Deborah ruled the country. My favorite story was that of a woman named Ruth. She was a stranger in a strange land, who trusted in God and her mother-in law, Naomi, and was later named amongst the lineage of Christ.
Maybe I was like Ruth, a newcomer in the land of faith, chasing after an impossible dream. I can still remember how lonely I felt after moving to Japan with nobody except my mother. I'd be willing that Ruth might have felt lonely at times. All she had was Naomi, the kindness of strangers and trust in the Lord God of Israel. She had guts, that Ruth, real guts. I could relate to her, and I prayed that I had her courage, for I would surely need it if my plan were to succeed. This was risky business. "Well, desperate times call for desperate measures," I thought, grinning. I might not win back his love, but at the very least, I hoped for an explanation. Maybe that would put my demons to rest. "Yeah, that seems reasonable," I thought. I took the makeup out of the packages and went to work.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I took the key Mamoru had given me out of my pocket and turned it in its keyhole, granting me access to the apartment. I flicked the light switch to the "on" position and noted that there were boxes scattered sporadically throughout the main room, suggesting that Kunzite hadn't fully gotten settled in yet after his move. "I've seen his office; he's no slob. Maybe he was too busy with something," I thought to myself. Could that "something" have been me?
I tiptoed over to the bedroom, careful not to wake him. As silently as possible, I opened the door. I could barely make out his shape; the only light in the room came from the hallway. I opened the door a little further and sat down in front of the door. After what seemed like an eternity, the sun slowly rose, peeking through the Venetian blinds like a striped shirt.
Awed, I rose to my feet, and the view of the sleeper was well worth the wait. Kunzite was spread-eagled, flat on his back, his hair fanning out to his broad, uncovered shoulders. The way the light gleamed on his chest and his cheek was nothing short of spectacular; he looked like an angel. I listened to the sound of his breathing; he sounded so peaceful.
A sinking feeling struck my stomach, and I didn't feel so good about my plan, about even being here anymore. Would this even work? I hadn't prayed or even asked my friends for advice. Ruth was acting on her mother-in-law's advice and Boaz acted upon cultural tradition. As for me, I was acting on a silly whim, a stupid idea, really. This probably wouldn't even work. It was better to have my memories than to barge into his apartment like the obsessed idiot that I am. What was I thinking?
I blew a stray hair out of my eyes, pivoted on my heel and made my choice. "The heck with this; I'm going home." As silently as possible, I slinked out of the apartment like some kind of cat burglar, but once I was outside of the building, I put all subtleties aside. I stormed down the street, but it wasn't him I was mad at; it was me.
Somehow, this all seemed eerily familiar. Yes, I had done this before, when I was dead set on telling him to leave me alone forever. Now I had marched over here like some righteous army of one to tell him to...damn it, I don't even know any more. Did I want him to come back on hands and knees like some beggar? Did I want revenge? Closure? I passed my hand through my hair and let out a weak laugh. As usual, I had acted without thinking. Maybe I should have been a superhero or something...I sure acted like I was one.
I kept walking, not really caring where I was going. I guess I needed to think...to get away from there. Not only had I been impulsive, but I had also forgotten to seek God's will. I was so used to having no father or anyone to take care of me that I didn't know how to let go and let God. The sound of my pumps clicked against the pavement in agreement, and I knew it was true.
I had always thought of trust as a weakness; I mean, to trust someone, you put your faith in him or her, and then it hurts that much more when they let you down in the end. I smiled to myself, glad that God wasn't that way, and that He would forgive me. I remembered a particular passage I had come across in 2 John that says that God is bigger than my doubts, even my self-condemnation. I didn't know what the future would bring. Maybe God would choose to bring Kunzite and I back together, then again, maybe not.
Maybe I'd see him at Ami's wedding rehearsal. I guess things between Ami and Zoisite had gone even better than I had thought; after six months, he proposed to her. She said that he popped the question in a way that was totally romantic and spontaneous at the same time. It was a really great story, come to think of it. I practically had to force it out of her; she has this annoying little tendency to keep her love life private.
I can remember when she brought it up, accidentally, like she always does. We were sitting at the Soda Shoppe, sipping our milkshakes, just before Motoki had arrived with the bill. Honestly, I don't even know why he bothers; Ami already had the price figured out before she got there, right down to the tip. She had taken her credit card out to pay for the bill and a piece of paper fell out, one that was far too shiny to be any kind of paper currency. When I looked at it a little closer, I realized that it was a sepia toned, five by seven inch photograph of her. That struck me as being really weird. First of all, Ami was the photographer, so it was strange to see her on the other side of the lens. Also, the photograph was in black and white, not color. Ami always had this thing for vintage photography; she says it's something about values and contrasts. Her camera was completely manual; all of the tiny little adjustments that an average point-and-click camera does for the user, like how much light to let into the camera, for instance, she likes to do herself. Her camera doesn't have a timer. For those reasons, she couldn't have taken the picture herself. In the photograph, Ami was sitting on her desk, and she had this expression on her face that was completely surprised and exhilarated at the same time. Unlike me, Ami's not prone to being emotional; she's usually on a pretty even keel. It must have taken something really amazing to provoke such a reaction, and I wanted to know what that was.
"Wow, Ames, cool picture. Is that you?" I had asked.
She nodded, a telltale blush creeping into her cheeks. "Zoisite took it the other day."
"Wow. I didn't know he took pictures too. I thought he was leaving that up to you," I mused. Zoisite actually was one of Ami's clients at the time. What she did was to take an original picture and alter it in really cool ways. Zoisite had brought in a picture of himself, and she had altered it so many times that it looked nothing like the original. Also, as Ami loved to point out, it was costing him a fortune. Last time she named a price, it was about ¥132,460.
"Mm-hmm," she said, nodding.
"So...what happened?" I asked.
"Oh, he just proposed to me," she said in a way that was so nonchalant that I spit out the shake I was drinking.
"He WHAT?" I sputtered. She said nothing for a while, and her back was turned away from me. "Come on, you can't leave me hanging like this!" I whined, wringing my hands.
"Well, okay, it actually is a really cool story," she said, smiling wistfully. "He had come into the shop after closing time, and he was completely soaked. He asked if he could come in and towel off." I nodded, urging her to continue. By this time, we were walking out of the restaurant and towards her car. "I said he could, I mean, it wasn't as if I didn't want to see him," she said, grinning.
"This is getting good," I said, rubbing my hands together evilly.
"Come on, get your head out of the gutter," she said, giving me a playful smack. "It wasn't like that. He was the perfect gentleman, I swear."
"Sure he was," I said, knowing how much that kind of teasing bothered her.
"He was!" she exclaimed. "Anyways, he asked me if I could borrow my camera. It was a really weird request - by this time, I had long since closed. What could he have possibly needed it for? The he goes and sets up the camera in the corner. It was really cute, actually. He looked like he was having some trouble, so I asked him if he needed any help. Then he whirled around out of nowhere and took my picture."
"Did he say why?" I asked.
Ami nodded. "It was really romantic. He said his picture wouldn't be complete unless I was in it with him."
"So what did you say?" I asked. This was getting really good.
"I didn't say anything," Ami said.
"Nothing?" I asked.
"Well, actually, I fainted," admitted Ami. "When I woke up, I was in his apartment, with a washcloth on my head and a migraine the size of Tokyo. I didn't even know if he had actually proposed, or if I had dreamt the whole thing up. That's when I saw a large manila envelope sitting right there on his coffee table. I opened it up, and there it was, clear as day."
"There what was?" I asked, not quite sure where Ami was going with this.
"The photo. While I was still looking at it, Zoisite comes over to me with this big bowl of tomato soup and a huge smile on his face. I asked him if any of this was real, and then he showed me the ring."
"Annnd?" I asked, waving my hand for added emphasis.
"Well," she flushed, "the rest is...personal."
"Whoa," I thought, "Whatever happened after that must have been good to get her flustered like that."
The wedding rehearsal had been scheduled for next week. I wondered if Kunzite would come up with something as creative as his friend and sweep me off my feet...no, probably not. Besides, hadn't he already done that? Who doesn't want a really hot guy placing rose petals down the hallway that leads to her bedroom? Who wouldn't fawn over such a careful and downright sexy gesture?
Still, I'm nothing if not idealistic. It would be so sweet to be swept off my feet a second time, especially after such a lengthy absence. Who was I kidding, though? I doubt he even remembers that I exist. Guys like Kunzite don't stay single for long...but then again, one would think girls like me don't, either. I smiled at myself; I was being silly, fantasizing over the impossible once again, and I knew it. "Oh well," I thought. "I can always dream."
I know what it's like to dream. I once dreamt of being a model; now I dream of being a girlfriend, maybe even a wife. Heck, maybe that will even happen someday...I mean, you never know, right? I know one thing...I don't want to be a model anymore. Ever since Kunzite left, I'd been rethinking a lot of things, like where my priorities are, and what I'd like to do with my life now that he's not in it.
Still, Kunzite introduced me to another great guy, God. Yes, God. I'm not quite sure how to describe how I feel now that I've found Him. I still get sad sometimes, but underneath the pain is a sense of peace that I know wasn't there before. With each passing day, I find new reasons to believe in God's love. It was hard for me to find a church at first; like I said earlier, Japan's not exactly known for its Christianity. Believe it or not, I attend the same church as Levina.
I don't work with her anymore, though; or I should say I'm not going to be for long. I decided to quit Tokyo Inc last month. Things got too weird for me after all of that business with the yakuza and all. Seeing Rubina on a day-to-day basis would only serve to remind me of those hellish days I spent living in fear for my life. I never really liked fame anyways. Purchasing my fifth wig was a real wake-up call for me...I mean, I put so much effort into my disguises and staying out of the ever-watchful eyes of the media. Wouldn't it be better for me to direct that energy elsewhere?
I would have to be in the limelight one last time, though; it was time for me to make a graceful and unobtrusive exit. I'd scheduled a press conference for tomorrow morning, bright and early. I wanted to get this over with as soon as I possibly could, and I knew that the press would have a lot of questions to ask me. I'd respond to them as honestly and politely as possible, since I don't plan on them being my enemies. Even though I've never been nice to them in the past, I'd like to leave as a friend. "If I'm not going to be a star anymore, the media will have no interest in me, and I can go on with my life...right?" I thought, scratching my head. I could fake my own death...it would be easier than a press conference. Then again, it's probably not such a great idea.
It is pretty strange, now that I think about it; I'd be perfectly content to be a nobody. Actually, I'd never heard of anyone trying to stop being famous. People usually don't strive to be anonymous; I mean, who strives to be ignored? Most would rather be famous, to have their name in lights. It was quite thrilling at first, but it got old very quickly. The only people I want paying attention to me are my friends, and perhaps a certain tall and handsome platinum blond.
"Stop it, Aino," I thought. "It's not going to happen." I thought I heard a voice calling me, but I blocked it out and blinked the tears away. "Great," I thought. "Now I'm hallucinating. That's just swell." I sighed and blew a rogue strand of hair away from my eyes. Maybe I should seek professional help. Then again...that would be coming too close to home. I'd feel as if I was turning into my mother, which is precisely why I'm quitting Tokyo Inc. It's ironic, really; Mom was the reason why I worked at Tokyo Inc. for so long, and now I'm quitting for fear of becoming her. I don't know if manic depression is hereditary, but either way, I don't want to chance it.
I looked at the clock; to my dismay, it was only eight thirty. Well, it didn't matter. I had no reason to stay awake, and sleep was far easier than staying awake with my thoughts...well, in theory, anyways. After completing my nighttime ritual of washing my face, brushing my hair and cleaning my teeth, I walked over to the bedroom, pulled on my nightgown and settled into bed.
Sleep would not come so easily; the second I placed my head on the pillow, my eyes snapped open. My heart pounded frantically in my chest as if it was a bird trying to escape. What was wrong with me? Was I nervous? "Come on, Aino, you've held hundreds of press conferences. Why is this one so different?"
I shifted my body frantically under the blankets, but the only thing I accomplished was to dislodge Artemis from his customary sleeping spot beneath my feet. "Poor cat," I mumbled to myself. "It's not his fault I can't sleep." I beat the pillow a few times with my fist, but it was no use. It was a nice, expensive goose down pillow, but it might as well have been made out of bricks. I sighed and pushed the blankets off my body, then rose out of bed.
"Maybe if I arrange my outfit for tomorrow, I'll feel better," I mused to myself. I flicked on the light switch and trudged wearily to my walk in closet. I tried on outfit after outfit, finding satisfaction in none. After I reached the end of the last rack of dresses, I sighed in mental and physical exhaustion.
I wish I could be like a flower; they can look beautiful without any effort. A flower does not work on its appearance, apply makeup, walk in painful spiked heels or iron wrinkles out of skirts. I read a passage in the gospels where Jesus remarked on the lily. He said God clothed the grass with petals, and the lilies never put forth any effort to be beautiful. They simply draw their nutrients from the soil and stretch upward to the sun. Lilies are there one day and gone the next, passing without a thought. Who remembers something that is past its prime, its life energy long since extinguished? Who pays memorial to a phantom plant that disappears without a trace?
Maybe that was my problem. Maybe I was afraid I would be forgotten. Why should that bother me, though? Didn't I want to be forgotten? The two sides warred against each other in my mind, the desire to love and be loved versus the will to be left alone to my own devices. Did I really want either?
I knew that God loved me, and that my friends did as well. Somehow, it didn't feel like enough. I still felt hollow, empty, and painfully alone. I felt like I was missing a piece of me, like someone had walked away with a part of me. My pain was like a bullet, piercing through flesh, and bone, taking a chunk of me with it. I didn't have to think long to realize that it was Kunzite that had wounded me in this way.
Without my realizing it, Kunzite had worked his way deep into my heart. I was missing him so much that I was going crazy. Didn't I know better by then not to let people get too close? Didn't I realize that I would get hurt? I chastised my foolish heart; it was solely to blame. What good was a heart anyways when they are so easily broken?
"I'll stay celibate, Lord," I prayed. "I'll quit men forever. I'll say goodbye to the love between a man and a woman. What good is it to me now? You're the only guy I need." I felt my resolve harden within me like flesh covering a wound. I would put a wall around my heart, six feet thick and a mile high. Nobody would ever hurt me again. I walked out of the closet and shut the door, whistling "What's Love Got to Do With it" until I reached my bedroom again. I shut my eyes and pulled the covers over my body once more. Slowly, I drifted off, but even in my sleep, I knew I wasn't fully convinced yet.
I woke up early the next morning, groggy and sluggish. Remembering last night, the mists of sleep cleared out of my brain. I remembered the promise I had made to myself then, to forsake love. Doubt crept into my bones and poured salt into my wounds. I couldn't just abandon my feelings; they were a part of me. All I could do was control what I did with those feelings. I'd always believe in love. Even if I never found it here on Earth, I'd still have the memory of it, what it felt like, what it did to me on the inside. It was silly, really; I felt like I was a long ago princess mourning for her lost prince. I forced a smile on my face and splashed some cold water on my face to perk myself up. This damsel refuses to be in distress.
I made one last sweep with the mascara wand and picked up a brunette wig. "What am I holding this thing for?" I asked myself. "It must be some kind of reflex." If all went according to plan, I'd never need to use any of my wigs anymore. Maybe I should donate them to charity; then again, there's always Halloween.
I laughed to myself and went into the kitchen. Artemis stalked up to my ankles confidently, his tail shaped like a question mark. "Yes, I know, little one. You're hungry, aren't you," I said, but I knew before I heard his plaintive meow that the answer was yes. Silly cat...if he had his way, he would be fed every time I came into the kitchen. I bent down and scratched between his ears, then he shook his furry little head as if he was shaking something off. "Silly kitty," I mumbled. His head seemed to be shrinking...nah; he's probably just gotten fat. I grinned down at him and ran my fingers across his silky back. It figures that he'd get a little chunky; I spoil that cat rotten.
I went over the questions in my head that would be asked at the press conference as I poured kitty kibble into Artemis's food dish. "Why would you do such a thing? Do you have any regrets? Seriously, why?" I shook my head at myself...I knew the questions would get very redundant after a few minutes. I gave Artemis one final pat on the head, but he wasn't paying me any attention. He was still eating. "Goofy cat," I said, shaking my finger at the chubby feline. "No wonder you're getting fat." I hoped that I wouldn't get fat; if I don't model, I don't have to look perfect. I can look like an ordinary young woman...but did I really want to? I frowned as I switched the last padlock on my front door. I really didn't know.
As I drove my inconspicuous little VW Beetle down the street, well, as inconspicuous as anything that's yellow can be, I saw a fancy blue car accelerating behind me. What was with this guy? I was going the speed limit, for heaven's sake! I laid into my horn a few times for good measure, and then switched to another lane. Who did this jerk think he was, anyways? And why did this seem so...familiar? I adjusted my rear view mirror slightly; yes, I had seen that car before...but where? Maybe it was even a newer model; then again, maybe not. I didn't know much about cars, but I still couldn't shake this deep-rooted feeling of déjà vu in the pit of my stomach. It felt like a lunch gone badly. I racked my brains for the last time I had seen a sky blue PT Cruiser, but an annoying sound coming from outside of my car jolted me out of my stupor. "Hey, you jerk! Can't you see I was in deep recollection?" I rolled down my window, prepared to shake my fist at the horn blaster as he or she pulled up beside me, then I sucked in my breath. Platinum blond hair, icy blue eyes, tan skin, muscular build...no, it couldn't be him...could it? "It has to be someone else," my frantic brain ground out, "It just has to."
"Hey," said Kunzite. "It's been awhile."
I ground my teeth and stared straight ahead, pretending I didn't recognize him. I wasn't about to give Kunzite the satisfaction of my time; I was far too upset with him. It seemed to take hours for the stoplight to turn green, but when it finally did, I pushed down on the accelerator hard. I had to get away from him, and fast! I clenched my hands on the steering wheel as I watched the odometer creep up. I didn't realize how fast I was going until I reached ten kilometers over the speed limit. Oops...guess I forgot about cruise control.
I relaxed my stiff muscles and eased back into the speed limit, trying to ignore the fancy blue car creeping up behind me. "Oh no, he is not following me. That's it, I'm going to park my car right here." I pressed the brake pedal gently and cruised into the parking lot. It was still early, so spaces were plentiful. I chose the one closest to the entrance and switched the car into park. "There, that was easy enough," I said, looking around. There were no blue cars in sight...good. That idiot finally found himself a clue.
I strolled into the building, where ten news stations, five newspapers and God only knew how many magazine reporters were waiting for me. I sucked in a deep breath and said a brief prayer. "Here goes nothing," I thought.
I stepped up to the podium, ignoring the steady flashing of camera bulbs blurring my peripheral vision. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen," I began, using my best speaking voice. "You're probably wondering why I called you all here today. I know you'll have a lot of questions, so I'll make this brief. I'm resigning from Tokyo Inc., effective as of today." I paused, relishing the collective gasp of the audience. A cub reporter even dropped their clipboard. I grinned to myself; this was exactly the reaction I had anticipated. "So, any questions?" I asked, flashing my trademark smile that had made me famous so many years ago.
"Yes, I have one," said a shrill female voice. I looked down imperiously as she pushed her horn-rimmed glasses up her bony nose. She held out a microphone that read "Channel 14 News." "Does your agency know about your decision?"
"I have informed Tokyo Inc. of my decision two weeks ago."
"Did anyone ask you to stay?" the channel 14 reporter pressed.
"Well, yes, and I understand where they're coming from. I couldn't have quit at a worse time," I admitted, smiling graciously. "Rising Sun just made the final bid on the Venus cosmetics line. They were not pleased," I ended. Well, actually, that was putting it mildly. They were royally pissed, and their agent called me every four-lettered name under the sun, none of them particularly nice. I smiled as I remembered his face turning red as he finally ran out of profanity.
"You're finished, Venus," he hissed through his teeth. "You'll never work in this town again."
"Well, that's the idea," I had said, flashing him a cool, confident grin. I felt his gaze burn into my back as I left the room.
"You can't do this, Venus! You'll regret it!" he shouted.
"Not likely," I thought, grinning from ear to ear. Softly and calculated, I shut the door, showing that blistering idiot that I was in control. I whistled as I cleared the hallway, drawing the interested glances of several coworkers. They hadn't seen me that happy in a long time, and they never would again.
"Have they given you any compensation?" asked a man from People magazine; pushing a microphone up to my lips and bringing my focus back to the present.
"Yes, actually," I said. "I've received 4.6 billion yen's worth of stock options." I knew that this was a gift from God; now I would have more than enough to support both my mother and myself. It was quite the little nest egg.
"How did you pull that off?" asked a reporter from USA Today.
"God only knows," I conceded, smiling. "Any other questions?"
"Yes, I have one," said a deep voice coming from the back of the room. "Do you have any regrets? I know I do."
I scratched my head. Well, this was getting rather personal, and I was about to say so when the owner of the voice stepped forward. "Dammit, Kunzite, you have the worst timing!" I heard the sound of multiple pencils scratching against papers. I smacked my head against my forehead, immediately regretting my outburst of emotion. Not only was this a press conference, no, the press conference, this was Japan, for heaven's sakes. Such outbursts simply aren't done in public.
"Tell me about it," he said, smiling that darned moronic grin of his that I loved and hated at the same time.
"Can't you see this isn't the time to talk? In front of the reporters?" I hissed, grating my teeth.
"I don't care," he said. "I have nothing to hide, and neither do you. I've been stupid, really stupid."
"No shinola," I mumbled, my body shaking with a strange combination of anger and hope. My emotions tore at my resolve; I didn't know whether to smack him silly or kiss the daylights out of him. Confused, my body stood still at a stalemate. "Why should I even be talking to you? You blew it big time, pal," I said, narrowing my eyes in a way that I hoped was convincing. "What do you have to say to that?" I put my hands on my hips, ignoring the clicking of many camera shutters. "Fine. Let them click away for all I care," I thought.
"Just this," he said, walking forward until he was behind the podium with me, standing off to my left. "I'm sorry. Can you forgive me?"
Tears welled up in my eyes, and I felt my control shatter. How could he do this to me? Where was my practiced calm, my smiling mask? He was destroying it with his honesty. I tried to stiffen my posture again, to work up the old anger, but it wasn't in me anymore. I wanted to stay mad at him, really I did. I just couldn't do it; it was no use. "You idiot," I said, giving him a wobbly smile and pulling him in. I planted my lips on his, right there, in the midst of all the nosy reporters and pushy photographers. I didn't care, and I kissed Kunzite for all it was worth, gently at first, then with all of the pent-up love I had been holding back for months.
"I take it you forgive me?" he gasped as I pulled away, his eyes shining with so much that I had to look away.
"Of course, you fool," I whispered.
"Well, I think I need more convincing," he returned, cupping my jaw in his hands. There were no reporters or photographers, at least not anymore. There was just Kunzite and I, and it was enough.
"Feel better?" I asked, smiling with my eyes this time. I looked deep into his; I could see forever in the resplendent blue orbs, like clear skies and sunny days. He nodded, and I heard the sound of clapping all around us. I wanted to stay there in his arms for the rest of my life, and I realized that I could. Nothing would ever separate us again.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Kunzite asked.
"Yeah, I'm sure." He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze, and I smiled. He eased his car into park, and I looked up at a large flat that had haunted me for years. I clenched my jaw and strengthened my resolve. Together, we walked up the stairs until we reached apartment 20B. I sighed; this wasn't going to be easy.
"You okay, Minako?"
"No, but I will be," I said, giving him a shaky grin. I had to do this, or I would never be free. I knocked tentatively on the door, then waited for the inevitable.
A tall, skinny blonde answered the door, still in her stocking feet. "Minako?" she asked unsteadily, her gaze wavering.
"Mother," I said, nodding curtly. I sucked in a deep breath, and Kunzite gave my hand another squeeze.
"Who is this young man?" Mom said, smiling. "He's quite a dish."
"This is Kunzite Feldspar," I said. "But that's not why we came here."
"Well, it must be important for you to come all the way over to England. Come in, have some tea," she said, motioning to the inside of her home. It was the same flat she had lived in when I first started Tokyo Inc.; she had never left.
One glance into the living room that lay straight ahead told me that nothing had changed. Rumpled blankets dotted the floor and half empty cups of coffee lined the couch. All of the painful memories came rushing back in a tidal wave; Mom making me tea and cookies, mom reading the paper, mom watching TV with her eyes glazed over, mom drinking her vodka until she passed out on the couch. My throat constricted, and I couldn't breathe.
"No, I'll be fine out here," I said after a long, awkward pause.
"Are you sure?" she asked, frowning, her true self coming to the surface.
"Yeah," I said, shifting my feet and looking at the floor, anything to avoid her accusing eyes or the sight of her sloppy apartment. I could smell the alcohol on her breath. "I've come to tell you that you're moving to America." I paused, waiting for the other shoe to drop. "I've arranged for you to live in River Knolls. It's nice; you'll like it there."
"And what kind of place is this River Knolls?" she asked, and I could feel her eyebrows arching in question.
"It's a...rest home," I stammered.
"You're sending me to a mental institution?" she yelled.
"Shh, you'll disturb your neighbors," I said, knowing that it was useless to admonish her at that point. Fine. Let her be mad. "You'll pack your bags tomorrow; the plane will leave at four thirty, just after tea time, with you in it," I said, finally looking her in the eye.
"But I'm your mother," she said, clasping my hands. "You can't do this to me."
For a moment, I wavered. Hadn't there been good times? My mind took me back thirteen years ago, and I remembered the good days, when the liquor was far from her. I saw Mom and I watching Partridge Family reruns, telling ghost stories, laughing in the dark, like the shadows couldn't hurt us. But they did; slowly, but surely, Mom's mental illness swallowed us whole. I couldn't pretend like it didn't affect me anymore.
"You're not my mother," I said, gathering courage, "and you never were. Sure, you gave birth to me, but your parenting stopped there. I don't hate you; you couldn't help yourself. Besides, you'll be safe in River Knolls. I think you'll like it there," I said, smiling stiffly.
"Bloody hell," she swore, stamping her feet. "That's gratitude for you."
"Indeed," I said, grinning. Finally, it was over. "Well, I'll send men to help you along in the morning." I pivoted on my heel and left. I didn't want to hurt her, but she was only hurting herself by staying in this dilapidated flat. At least she would be well supervised in River Knolls; I had done some research on it. It was one of the best mental institutions in the world. Maybe there she would find peace.
"Wait," she said. "You never told me exactly who this Kunzite fellow is. Is he your boyfriend or something?"
I smiled, and I knew everything would be okay. I would finally be able to put my past behind me, behind us. I gave Kunzite a quick peck on the cheek, and he wrapped his arm around my waist. I smiled genuinely, the first time I was able to do so in her presence for years. I turned around, and then said casually over my shoulder like it didn't matter what she thought, "He's my fiancée."
It was true; Kunzite proposed last week. We're getting married in a month and a half. I know it might sound rushed, but I knew I was going to marry him at the press conference. There was no way I was ever letting that man out of my sight again.
It was just the right occasion for a proposal. Ami and Zoisite had just gotten married, and we were ushered into a huge, fancy ballroom for the reception. A huge but tasteful crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, reflecting the light like a disco ball. There was an ice sculpture of two lovers, a knight from long ago and his beautiful princess. They sat amongst the reflections, the knight embracing the woman, and the woman looked out contentedly. The sculpture was so well done that it was hard to believe they weren't real people.
Surrounding the sculpture was a lavish collection of fruit tarts, baklava, miniature chocolate éclairs, strawberries dipped in chocolate and a cheese ball with bell shaped crackers. I hovered there for a while, taking it all in and reveling in the fact that I could actually eat the hors d' oeuvres, instead of just gawking at them. I happily grabbed a plate and got started on the strawberries.
My gorging was interrupted by a deep voice saying ahem very loudly. "Hello, Kunzite," I said, smiling. We had just started dating like normal couples do, without being interrupted by the yakuza. He was about as close to the perfect boyfriend as was humanly possible. He sent me roses, fragrant orange ones with velvety petals. He was consistently on time for our dates, and he always took me to someplace special, no casinos, of course. We've been to art films, operas, poetry readings, miniature golfing, arcades, go carting, and he even took me horseback riding, something I'd always wanted to try. We'd also attend church together with Levina. Every time he took me out, he'd tell me how much he loved me and how beautiful he thought I was. I had never felt so loved, so special, so happy.
"Hey yourself," I said, grinning. "What do you think of this spread, huh?"
"It's almost as beautiful as you," he replied, taking my hand.
"Oh, stop, you're going to give me a swelled head," I said, blushing.
"Then it would be the loveliest swelled head in all of Tokyo," he returned.
"You mush ball," I said. "Want to dance?"
A slow waltz played in the background, and he nodded. I rested my head on his shoulder and smiled. "This is so nice," I murmured in his ear.
"Mm-hmm," was the reply that I felt from within his chest. I closed my eyes and swayed with the music. I never wanted this moment to end.
After a long, comfortable silence, he whispered, "I have a question I want to ask you, Minako."
"Mmm?" I mumbled dreamily.
He drew back slightly, and my body cried out for his warmth. He fished for something deep within his pocket, and my heart beat faster in anticipation. "Kunzite, what are you doing?"
He didn't answer, at least not in words. He pulled out a small, black box and got down on one knee.
I didn't even give him a chance to answer. "Yes," I said quietly.
He arched his eyebrow. "But I haven't even said anything yet," he pouted.
"Okay, fine," I said, grinning.
"Minako, these past few months without you have felt like an eternity. I thought I could leave you, but it proved impossible. I can't bear the thought of us being apart again. I want to see your face every morning, for all of my days. Will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?"
Tears welled up in my eyes, and I smiled tremulously. "Of course. Do you really think I'd let you get away?"
He shook his head and stood to face me. "Minako?"
I wondered what question he could possibly have; hadn't he already asked the most important one? I arched my eyebrows and waited for the other shoe to drop.
"Can I kiss you?" he asked.
That was all I needed. I yanked his body to mine and planted my lips on his. He gave out a little gasp in surprise, and then he joined right in. With every second, I felt his growing confidence as well as my own, that this was so right. He drew back, his eyes clouded with passion. "I love you, Minako Aino."
I couldn't say anything against the lump that had risen up my throat, but I didn't have to. My eyes gave me away.
We walked slowly out of the flat, and I let out a grateful sigh when we left. "Are you okay?" asked Kunzite, bringing me back to the present. "You've been awfully quiet."
"Yeah," I said, and I meant it.
As he opened the passenger side door for me and I slid into the car, I felt really lucky, no, blessed, to have him in my life, to share all of my days, both good and bad.
I still have Artemis. He has a little kitty bed next to the fireplace, where he sleeps most of the time. The little furrball had really grown on me; after all, if it weren't for Artemis, I would have never met Kunzite. Then where would I be? I don't know, but where I am now is so brilliant and filled with rainbows and light that I wouldn't go back for the world. I look forward to the future. Maybe I'll have his children someday, God willing. They'd be beautiful, well, if they looked anything like me, anyways...just kidding. No matter what, I knew that we'd have each other, a blessing from God. I couldn't ask for more.
THE END
