My Yohji
I was sitting in my room last night when Omi came in to give me a message. He and Ken were on duty at the shop, and apparently there was an important phone call for me. The phone call itself is one of those things that starts a big thing but isn't a big thing in itself. Kind of like how Helen's face launched a thousand ships. Of course, Helen's face never really did launch a thousand ships, but you get the idea. Also, this is on a much much smaller scale than the Trojan War.
That was pointless. Ignore that.
So, I had recently finished my shift with Yohji at the Koneko and decided to take a nap. I hadn't been getting much sleep. Take it when you can get it, I thought. After Ken and Omi took over the job, Yohji headed straight for a bar, or club, or wherever it is that he goes to. He said he's been missing it. Sure, go ahead. That's none of my business.
Knock. Knock.
I sat up in my bed, thinking that it may be him, but that idea lasted for only a few seconds. Too early. "Yes?"
The door slipped open and Omi's head popped into my room. "I have a message for you from your," he paused and chewed on his lip. He obviously didn't know what to call my whatever. "Yohji," he finally finished, apparently satisfied with his solution.
My Yohji. Ha. "What'd he say?"
Omi leaned against my doorframe and looked as if he were trying to remember word-for-word. I was going to tell him that's unnecessary, but I realized I didn't care enough to exhort all that energy. He said, "He called from a pay phone and said that his car died so don't wait up for him because he's going to be coming home late." The whole thing came out in a giant run-on blob.
"Thanks," I said. He smiled and nodded and left.
Pay phone? No, phone in the lounge of the nearest motel. Car died? Ha. No, he takes care of that car better than most people take care of their children. That's not saying much. Some people leave their children on the side of mountains or the nearest, most convenient place.
Yohji would never do that to his car. He's kind like that.
I lay back down on my bed, determined to get to sleep. I don't know if you've noticed this, but the more determined you are to fall asleep, the less likely you are to do just that.
My Yohji. No, oh not even close. I can see why the kid didn't know where to go with that, though. If I were him, I wouldn't know either. In fact, I'm me and I still haven't the slightest clue as to what to call Yohji.
Boyfriend. Ugh, God no. Anything but that.
I don't know about you, but the word "boyfriend" makes my mind conjure up the image of a hormonal teenage girl almost half my age on the phone with her best friend. "Ohmigod you're NEVER gonna believe what my ADORABLE boyfriend did today!" That makes me want to curse, and I don't often do that.
There is also a certain familiarity connected with the word "boyfriend". You're thinking Valentine's Day, and flowers, and carnival rides, and movies, holding hands, ice cream, thoughtfulness, and so on. None of that. I don't think I could handle that, and I know for a fact that he never would. Something with the connotation for "assassin" and "Valentine's Day" just doesn't go together. All for the better.
Partner. What am I? A law firm? No.
Significant other. "Other" what?
I can live with "significant" though. There is definitely a certain significance to Yohji, a meaning, connotation, substance, implication, some sort of reason to acknowledge his existence. That's not saying very much. The little rubber stopper in my bathtub is significant.
Yohji is simply someone who happens to be alive at the same time that I am. We coexist, so to speak. So, what puts him apart from the billions of others who "coexist" at the same time as well? For one thing, he happens to coexist at a certain convenient distance for a good majority of the coexisting time. He lives a few steps over, works the same jobs, breathes the same air, feels the same blood on his hands. So perhaps he "coexists" with me somewhat more than I coexist with the rest of the world.
That, I figured, is the reason for the "significant". Not only does he "coexist" with me like the billions of others, but he "significantly coexists" with me. Puts him apart a bit, doesn't it?
Lover. That's probably the furthest one of them all. There is nothing that I can give Yohji or he can give me that will make either of us worthy of the word "lover". Love is a long way away and running in the opposite direction.
The operating word here is really more along the lines of "expediency", selfish and based on personal interests. Yes, that's what I was looking for all along. He doesn't care what I want, and I don't care what he wants. The fact that it happens to be the same thing in both cases is just a coincidence based on our significant coexistence.
All this contemplating made me turn and shift in bed, and all the turning and shifting in bed made me feel hot and uncomfortable. I threw the sheets off and got out of bed. As I walked out of the room, I felt almost immediately better. The air out in the hallway was so much cooler. I walked down into the living room and collapsed on top of the couch.
I listened for a moment to the quiet around me and figured that Omi and Ken must've closed up the shop already. That means I've been tossing and turning for a few hours now. I was certainly hoping this wouldn't turn into a serious case of insomnia. Yohji's not worthy to get insomnia over. Not all that significant.
I dug around the couch for the remote control and found it under the pillow by my foot. The remote always seems to somehow sink into the depths of that thing. I turned on the television and stared at it; rather, I stared in its general direction. My eyes were focused on the screen, an image of a reporter with a microphone in front of a burned-down building, but my thoughts were focused somewhere way past the television.
Not on Yohji, mind you. Not on my significant coexistent expediency.
I must've fallen asleep sometime after that. I don't remember anything of the news report. I don't remember even falling asleep. I might very well have just passed out the moment I hit the couch, but I find that unlikely for some reason.
I woke up because I felt the absence of the radiation from the television. That hum was suddenly gone, and so was that illumination from the screen. My eyelids heavily lifted open, and I was torn between the curiosity of what was happening around me and the desire to just not care.
"Always a light-sleeper," Yohji's voice said. I needed to blink him into my field of vision for a few seconds, and then the image focused. He was kneeling down next to the couch, smiling at me. There was oil smeared on his cheek.
"What happened to you?" I asked, my voice quiet from sleep.
"You didn't get my message?" Yohji's smile dropped. "I hope you weren't waiting up for me."
"No, I got it," I said and shook my head. "And I'm not waiting up for you." Am I?
"Then what are you doing?" He smiled again, and I felt his hand on my face. He was pushing the hair out of my eyes.
"I couldn't sleep. It's too hot in my room." Then I noticed a piece of grass in his hair, and I pulled it out. "Car broke down, huh?"
He laughed when he saw it. "Yea, that would be me crawling under the hood to see if it's leaking, and guess what," he said as he ran his finger along the oil on his cheek, "it was."
Should I have felt bad for mistrusting him when he was being truthful all along? No, I decided. One should feel bad for mistrusting one's boyfriend, lover, or even significant other, but not for mistrusting one's significant coexistent expediency.
"I bet," Yohji began, and he took on the look of someone who had just read a very good book, "I bet I could do this without getting you dirty as long as you don't move." He leaned in and kissed me, and I kissed back because I always do and I always want to. It felt nice and meaningful.
My Yohji. I laughed through the kiss, and he pulled back to watch me. "What's so funny?"
"My Yohji," I said as I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled myself up for another kiss.
I was sitting in my room last night when Omi came in to give me a message. He and Ken were on duty at the shop, and apparently there was an important phone call for me. The phone call itself is one of those things that starts a big thing but isn't a big thing in itself. Kind of like how Helen's face launched a thousand ships. Of course, Helen's face never really did launch a thousand ships, but you get the idea. Also, this is on a much much smaller scale than the Trojan War.
That was pointless. Ignore that.
So, I had recently finished my shift with Yohji at the Koneko and decided to take a nap. I hadn't been getting much sleep. Take it when you can get it, I thought. After Ken and Omi took over the job, Yohji headed straight for a bar, or club, or wherever it is that he goes to. He said he's been missing it. Sure, go ahead. That's none of my business.
Knock. Knock.
I sat up in my bed, thinking that it may be him, but that idea lasted for only a few seconds. Too early. "Yes?"
The door slipped open and Omi's head popped into my room. "I have a message for you from your," he paused and chewed on his lip. He obviously didn't know what to call my whatever. "Yohji," he finally finished, apparently satisfied with his solution.
My Yohji. Ha. "What'd he say?"
Omi leaned against my doorframe and looked as if he were trying to remember word-for-word. I was going to tell him that's unnecessary, but I realized I didn't care enough to exhort all that energy. He said, "He called from a pay phone and said that his car died so don't wait up for him because he's going to be coming home late." The whole thing came out in a giant run-on blob.
"Thanks," I said. He smiled and nodded and left.
Pay phone? No, phone in the lounge of the nearest motel. Car died? Ha. No, he takes care of that car better than most people take care of their children. That's not saying much. Some people leave their children on the side of mountains or the nearest, most convenient place.
Yohji would never do that to his car. He's kind like that.
I lay back down on my bed, determined to get to sleep. I don't know if you've noticed this, but the more determined you are to fall asleep, the less likely you are to do just that.
My Yohji. No, oh not even close. I can see why the kid didn't know where to go with that, though. If I were him, I wouldn't know either. In fact, I'm me and I still haven't the slightest clue as to what to call Yohji.
Boyfriend. Ugh, God no. Anything but that.
I don't know about you, but the word "boyfriend" makes my mind conjure up the image of a hormonal teenage girl almost half my age on the phone with her best friend. "Ohmigod you're NEVER gonna believe what my ADORABLE boyfriend did today!" That makes me want to curse, and I don't often do that.
There is also a certain familiarity connected with the word "boyfriend". You're thinking Valentine's Day, and flowers, and carnival rides, and movies, holding hands, ice cream, thoughtfulness, and so on. None of that. I don't think I could handle that, and I know for a fact that he never would. Something with the connotation for "assassin" and "Valentine's Day" just doesn't go together. All for the better.
Partner. What am I? A law firm? No.
Significant other. "Other" what?
I can live with "significant" though. There is definitely a certain significance to Yohji, a meaning, connotation, substance, implication, some sort of reason to acknowledge his existence. That's not saying very much. The little rubber stopper in my bathtub is significant.
Yohji is simply someone who happens to be alive at the same time that I am. We coexist, so to speak. So, what puts him apart from the billions of others who "coexist" at the same time as well? For one thing, he happens to coexist at a certain convenient distance for a good majority of the coexisting time. He lives a few steps over, works the same jobs, breathes the same air, feels the same blood on his hands. So perhaps he "coexists" with me somewhat more than I coexist with the rest of the world.
That, I figured, is the reason for the "significant". Not only does he "coexist" with me like the billions of others, but he "significantly coexists" with me. Puts him apart a bit, doesn't it?
Lover. That's probably the furthest one of them all. There is nothing that I can give Yohji or he can give me that will make either of us worthy of the word "lover". Love is a long way away and running in the opposite direction.
The operating word here is really more along the lines of "expediency", selfish and based on personal interests. Yes, that's what I was looking for all along. He doesn't care what I want, and I don't care what he wants. The fact that it happens to be the same thing in both cases is just a coincidence based on our significant coexistence.
All this contemplating made me turn and shift in bed, and all the turning and shifting in bed made me feel hot and uncomfortable. I threw the sheets off and got out of bed. As I walked out of the room, I felt almost immediately better. The air out in the hallway was so much cooler. I walked down into the living room and collapsed on top of the couch.
I listened for a moment to the quiet around me and figured that Omi and Ken must've closed up the shop already. That means I've been tossing and turning for a few hours now. I was certainly hoping this wouldn't turn into a serious case of insomnia. Yohji's not worthy to get insomnia over. Not all that significant.
I dug around the couch for the remote control and found it under the pillow by my foot. The remote always seems to somehow sink into the depths of that thing. I turned on the television and stared at it; rather, I stared in its general direction. My eyes were focused on the screen, an image of a reporter with a microphone in front of a burned-down building, but my thoughts were focused somewhere way past the television.
Not on Yohji, mind you. Not on my significant coexistent expediency.
I must've fallen asleep sometime after that. I don't remember anything of the news report. I don't remember even falling asleep. I might very well have just passed out the moment I hit the couch, but I find that unlikely for some reason.
I woke up because I felt the absence of the radiation from the television. That hum was suddenly gone, and so was that illumination from the screen. My eyelids heavily lifted open, and I was torn between the curiosity of what was happening around me and the desire to just not care.
"Always a light-sleeper," Yohji's voice said. I needed to blink him into my field of vision for a few seconds, and then the image focused. He was kneeling down next to the couch, smiling at me. There was oil smeared on his cheek.
"What happened to you?" I asked, my voice quiet from sleep.
"You didn't get my message?" Yohji's smile dropped. "I hope you weren't waiting up for me."
"No, I got it," I said and shook my head. "And I'm not waiting up for you." Am I?
"Then what are you doing?" He smiled again, and I felt his hand on my face. He was pushing the hair out of my eyes.
"I couldn't sleep. It's too hot in my room." Then I noticed a piece of grass in his hair, and I pulled it out. "Car broke down, huh?"
He laughed when he saw it. "Yea, that would be me crawling under the hood to see if it's leaking, and guess what," he said as he ran his finger along the oil on his cheek, "it was."
Should I have felt bad for mistrusting him when he was being truthful all along? No, I decided. One should feel bad for mistrusting one's boyfriend, lover, or even significant other, but not for mistrusting one's significant coexistent expediency.
"I bet," Yohji began, and he took on the look of someone who had just read a very good book, "I bet I could do this without getting you dirty as long as you don't move." He leaned in and kissed me, and I kissed back because I always do and I always want to. It felt nice and meaningful.
My Yohji. I laughed through the kiss, and he pulled back to watch me. "What's so funny?"
"My Yohji," I said as I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled myself up for another kiss.