One Weekend
7. Small Steps
The storm had dwindles from a sizzle to a patter by the time that Midori to cried herself quiet. My shirt was damp. At some point, I had stopped stroking her back and kept a loose arm around her. It was a little strange. Soon after quieting down, she pulled herself from around my body and settled with her ear on my lap, her head turned away from me. Her bedraggled hair obscured her face. From her regular breathing, she could have fallen asleep. I teased sweat encrusted locks aside; her hand closed lightly around the fingertips. I didn't pull away. Her red eyes stared out into space.
"Shinji," she began in a coated voice. She cleared her throat. "What is your surname?"
"Ikari," I answered.
"That explains a lot."
"About what?"
"The hiding."
"Oh," I replied.
We sank back into a thick silence. The wind had died down and left the air a little cooler than before, though the room was still uncomfortable. Midori's pale face glowed with the sallow blue light that trickled under the partly drawn shade.
"Shinji," Midori began again. She licked her lips. Her voice choked on the next few words. "I'm really sorry for what I did. I really fucked up. I really did, and I can't make it up to you. If you want to go, I won't stop you, but please listen for a little while."
Her body convulsed as she coughed. Her hand clenched on mine briefly. She cleared her throat and then closed her eyes. I waited for her to continue. She waited as if expecting me to leave.
"My father was a merc," she continued. "He fought in West Africa, the Balkans, and finally in the Manchurian Succession for the Russians. Business was booming after the Second Impact. Daddy never told me what happened or what he did, but I knew that he didn't leave it all behind, or maybe he left too much behind.
"He inhaled some mustard gas during attack; no one was sure who used it. It didn't matter, it ate his lungs, his health, and him. He was my best friend. But it wasn't enough, not two years ago, when he turned his gun on himself and ended it. That was the worst day in my life. Afterward, my mother bought me a puppy."
Tears welled up again. She laughed quietly with black humor.
"The puppy's name was Shinji. He was my best friend in the whole wide world. Well, I lost Shin-chan, too, right before we left Tokyo-3. He wandered away one day and never came back. That was the second worst day in my life.
"Last week was the anniversary of my father's passing away. My mother went on a date with her boyfriend. The probably checked into to a love motel somewhere. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't stand it. She didn't even burn any incense for Daddy. It was so awful that by the end of the day, I never wanted to feel that way again. I sat with Daddy's gun, ready to go. It didn't seem quite right though, but then I thought to go to Tokyo-3 to look for Shin-chan one last time. Once I found him, I would decide. If I didn't find him, I would finish what I had started. It wasn't a happy thought, but it cleared my head, and I was able to smile my way through Friday and Saturday.
"Today, I woke up early to go to Tokyo-3. I wandered around the city for a long time, the shopping districts that were left and the parks we used to go to. I was ready to give up. I had collapsed onto the bench when you found me."
A thought occurred to me.
"Was there anyone else there?"
"Anyone else?" she asked. "Yeah, a guy. He looked like a junior salaryman, the sort that has never smiled or jerked off in his entire life."
"Did he look young?"
"Twenty-ish."
"That would be him."
"Why? Did you know him?" she asked. Midori seemed tired. She stifled a high pitched yawn.
I explained that the human wall had told me to find an agent named BF and introduce myself. That set her off onto a small laugh; it was healthier than the one before.
"I really thought that your showing up was an act of fate. It meant a lot to me. I felt as if someone were watching over me, as if things were going to be okay.
"Shinji, dancing with you was wonderful, but then I saw Reiha. It was like a switch went off in my head. Reiha isn't a bad person, but I've always hated her, even before I moved back to Tokyo-2. She never thinks, she just accepts. When I saw her, a voice asked me: 'Do you really think anything is going to change?' It was a silly thought, but I couldn't answer it."
I experienced a strange lurch. I had been caught up in my fouled-up lunch date, and then the whole "Spies Like Us" bit. When Midori told me all of this, I momentarily saw myself as an extra and her as the lead actress. The series would continue after I had left. It was obvious, but the point hadn't hit home until that moment.
I looked down at her. She looked calm, but she had just held me at gun point a little while ago. It was unsettling.
Midori let go of my hand and shifted her weight. She pillowed the back of her head on my lap and looked up at me. My eyes met her red fissured eyes.
"After I saw her, everything seemed mean and ugly," Midori continued. "I came back here. I might have been thinking that I wanted to seal away what was good; so that, it wouldn't spoil. I'm not so sure right now, it isn't clear anymore. But if you had gone, no, if I had killed you, I would have followed.
"When I looked into your eyes though, I knew you wanted to live. It wasn't fair for me to do that, when you wanted to live. But I didn't want to go alone."
I was quiet, I didn't know what to say to that.
"What are you thinking, Shinji?" she pleaded. "I know that I'm being demanding, though I don't have a right to be. But please answer me."
"I don't know what I'm supposed to think," I admitted slowly. "And that's the truth. I'm not sure what to do," it was hard for me to lie to her when we sat so close.
"I know that you can't stay here," Midori said. "And I don't want to stay here, either. I can understand if you don't want me near you, but if you don't mind too much, I would really want to be near you."
Her soft words made me feel self-conscious. I looked away from her. At that moment, my leg jumped as pins and needles pierced from the thigh down. Midori jerked to a sitting position.
"Is something wrong?" she asked me.
"My leg is numb," I said. I changed my position to knead my leg.
"Here," Midori offered and then took charge. Her hands were firm and skillful. Sensation returned quickly.
I glanced at the top of her mussed hair and then at the gun. The fear was still fresh, but the memory of facing the ruby light quickly gave way to the sight of her face as she shoved the barrel under her chin. She had held herself at gun point far longer than she had held me. The edges were beginning to fade, but the image of her pulling the trigger was still sharp. Fear and worry warred; worry won. I can't say why the idea was so strong, but I didn't want to leave her here alone.
"Midori," I said.
"Yes?" she responded in a small voice. Her hands had come to stop as she watched me.
"My leg is fine, now," I said as I shifted into a half kneel.
"Oh," she replied and reluctantly pulled her hands away.
"I think that my best chance is to somehow get to a hotel and use my card. I think that NERV can find me if I charge a room on it. I'll be in one place."
"And the best way to get found if you're lost is to stay in one place," Midori concluded.
"Do you know of any decent places?" I asked.
Her face lit up, and she stood to throw her arms around me.
Midori released me quickly and approached her bag, which was still at the table. Her narrow back broke the stream of blue light.
"Why don't we just take our jackets and leave the rest?" I suggested
When I saw the black silhouette of the bag, it looked massy and forbidding. The gun had probably come from somewhere in its depths. Midori spun around, surprised. I felt childish, being afraid of a bag.
"OK, sure," Midori answer.
I was relieved that she agreed to leave the bag behind. She handed me my jacket. Midori pulled on hers and tucked a nylon wallet into her jacket pocket. She left the gun where it lay. The door swung open to admit a slab of white light. She stopped at the doorway to wait with her hand held out to me. I took it as we left the dim confines of her home.
We left by a fire escape that led to a back alley. Bikes, trash bins, and discarded appliances lay strewn across the long narrow corridor between the stretch of identical high rises. We crossed gates and even clambered over a chain linked fence; I went first. Midori had almost as hard of a time with it as I did. She was surprisingly strong for her thin build.
We eventually reached the mouth of the alley. Midori turned to me.
"Brace yourself," she said.
Traffic must have been stopped. Pedestrians walked on the four lanes of asphalt plus pavement. I had been surprised by the kissing teens at the dance, but their innocence had not prepared me for the nightlife of Tokyo-2. Neon lights lit the night almost as bright as day. Garishly green salarymen reeled and freely spilled their emerald bottles of sake onto the pavement. The rice wine joined the recent rain to reflect the signs. Blue and green couples stopped against store fronts to grope and make out. Hands slid beneath each others' clothes. Orange and pink teens sucked on joints of pungent weed. Cans of beer and bottles of wine cooler promiscuously exchanged between hands and lips.
"What's going on?" I shouted to her. She didn't answer, and instead boldly towed me through the crowd.
In the crush, a teenagedgirl extended her tongue from between her darkly painted lips and licked my ear. It made me feel more sick than anything else. She nearly spilled from her tight bikini top. The girl smiled at me. She would have been beautiful except that her eyes were as empty as those of a beached fish.
Bars, strip clubs, live sex shows, gambling parlors, and all-you-could eat buffets lined the street, each with its own overly bright name. The streams people entering and leaving the places buffeted us. We rode the currents to a side street, where the glare of the neon lights was lessened. The side street was blessedly cool and quiet.
Midori led us from the pavement, down a set of stairs bounded by a wrought iron railing. An imposing metal door stood at the bottom; it bore the sign: "The Corral." Midori rapped three times on the heavy door. A slot open, and a pair of eyes peered around, and then down at us. The door opened. In the next room, an American country song played in the next room. A muscular figure stood in front of us. I could not tell if the bouncer in the duster and jeans was a man or woman until she spoke.
"Hello, Midori," the bouncer said. "It's night you know."
"I know," she said. "We're just passing through."
"1,000 yen a head," the bouncer said. "Sorry, no exceptions."
"It's fine," Midori said.
I pulled out my wallet and pulled out a pair of bills.
"You okay, Midori?" the bouncer said. "Your eyes are red. He wouldn't have anything to do with this?" she said jutting her manly chin at me.
"No, just a black dog of a day," Midori answered sheepishly.
"Hold out yer hand," the manly woman ordered.
I complied. She pulled out a foot long rod with a stamp at the end. It looked like a miniature brand. The bouncer immobilized my hand in hers and rammed the stamp firmly into the back of my hand; it left the red imprint of a pair of linked circles with parallel arrows jutting from the circles. Midori's hand was branded too.
We walked through a pair of saloon doors into a dimly lit room. A ceiling fan lazily circulated cool air. Cigar smoke floated in the air. The men wore chaps, duster jackets, jeans, and other wild west gear. A few women circulated through the crowd; they wore frontiers clothes as well. We clung to a wall to avoid the dancing pairs of cowboys. When we walked close to a woman, I noticed that she was a man as well. He winked at me.
My stomach flip-flopped. I looked away and walked closer to Midori. I nearly ran into a jukebox.
Midori waved to the saloonkeeper; he waved back. We walked through another pair of saloon doors and past the restrooms. One was for men, the other was unisex. We exited by a door out the back, which was near a a garbage bin. The door slammed close, leaving us in a dimly lit parking lot.
"Surprised?" Midori asked. The vast space seemed to eat her words.
I nodded.
"Me, too, the first time."
The cavernous lot was three-quarters full. Sports cars and SUVs populated the tight spots. Water dripped down the monotonous concrete columns and uniform deep ridges hanging from the ceiling. Our footsteps echoed through the lonely place. I was glad for the warmth of her hand.
We passed countless rows of cars before reaching the far end of the lot. We stood in the lee of a column as a black, low-slung machine roared up the ramp. The glare of the headlights blinded me for a moment. The car pulled to a stop, and then zoomed on.
We stepped around the column. The driver had stopped at a brightly lit display. We looked both ways and crossed quickly. We released hands as we reached the sign.
The display held a grid. In each square was the image of an ornamented bedroom. Scrollwork labeled each picture.
The Sherwood Suite
Sleeping Beauty's Bedroom
The Chamber of Prince Charming
At the bottom read: "Ask about our newlywed discount."
"You pick," Midori offered. "It's your card, dear."
7. Small Steps
The storm had dwindles from a sizzle to a patter by the time that Midori to cried herself quiet. My shirt was damp. At some point, I had stopped stroking her back and kept a loose arm around her. It was a little strange. Soon after quieting down, she pulled herself from around my body and settled with her ear on my lap, her head turned away from me. Her bedraggled hair obscured her face. From her regular breathing, she could have fallen asleep. I teased sweat encrusted locks aside; her hand closed lightly around the fingertips. I didn't pull away. Her red eyes stared out into space.
"Shinji," she began in a coated voice. She cleared her throat. "What is your surname?"
"Ikari," I answered.
"That explains a lot."
"About what?"
"The hiding."
"Oh," I replied.
We sank back into a thick silence. The wind had died down and left the air a little cooler than before, though the room was still uncomfortable. Midori's pale face glowed with the sallow blue light that trickled under the partly drawn shade.
"Shinji," Midori began again. She licked her lips. Her voice choked on the next few words. "I'm really sorry for what I did. I really fucked up. I really did, and I can't make it up to you. If you want to go, I won't stop you, but please listen for a little while."
Her body convulsed as she coughed. Her hand clenched on mine briefly. She cleared her throat and then closed her eyes. I waited for her to continue. She waited as if expecting me to leave.
"My father was a merc," she continued. "He fought in West Africa, the Balkans, and finally in the Manchurian Succession for the Russians. Business was booming after the Second Impact. Daddy never told me what happened or what he did, but I knew that he didn't leave it all behind, or maybe he left too much behind.
"He inhaled some mustard gas during attack; no one was sure who used it. It didn't matter, it ate his lungs, his health, and him. He was my best friend. But it wasn't enough, not two years ago, when he turned his gun on himself and ended it. That was the worst day in my life. Afterward, my mother bought me a puppy."
Tears welled up again. She laughed quietly with black humor.
"The puppy's name was Shinji. He was my best friend in the whole wide world. Well, I lost Shin-chan, too, right before we left Tokyo-3. He wandered away one day and never came back. That was the second worst day in my life.
"Last week was the anniversary of my father's passing away. My mother went on a date with her boyfriend. The probably checked into to a love motel somewhere. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't stand it. She didn't even burn any incense for Daddy. It was so awful that by the end of the day, I never wanted to feel that way again. I sat with Daddy's gun, ready to go. It didn't seem quite right though, but then I thought to go to Tokyo-3 to look for Shin-chan one last time. Once I found him, I would decide. If I didn't find him, I would finish what I had started. It wasn't a happy thought, but it cleared my head, and I was able to smile my way through Friday and Saturday.
"Today, I woke up early to go to Tokyo-3. I wandered around the city for a long time, the shopping districts that were left and the parks we used to go to. I was ready to give up. I had collapsed onto the bench when you found me."
A thought occurred to me.
"Was there anyone else there?"
"Anyone else?" she asked. "Yeah, a guy. He looked like a junior salaryman, the sort that has never smiled or jerked off in his entire life."
"Did he look young?"
"Twenty-ish."
"That would be him."
"Why? Did you know him?" she asked. Midori seemed tired. She stifled a high pitched yawn.
I explained that the human wall had told me to find an agent named BF and introduce myself. That set her off onto a small laugh; it was healthier than the one before.
"I really thought that your showing up was an act of fate. It meant a lot to me. I felt as if someone were watching over me, as if things were going to be okay.
"Shinji, dancing with you was wonderful, but then I saw Reiha. It was like a switch went off in my head. Reiha isn't a bad person, but I've always hated her, even before I moved back to Tokyo-2. She never thinks, she just accepts. When I saw her, a voice asked me: 'Do you really think anything is going to change?' It was a silly thought, but I couldn't answer it."
I experienced a strange lurch. I had been caught up in my fouled-up lunch date, and then the whole "Spies Like Us" bit. When Midori told me all of this, I momentarily saw myself as an extra and her as the lead actress. The series would continue after I had left. It was obvious, but the point hadn't hit home until that moment.
I looked down at her. She looked calm, but she had just held me at gun point a little while ago. It was unsettling.
Midori let go of my hand and shifted her weight. She pillowed the back of her head on my lap and looked up at me. My eyes met her red fissured eyes.
"After I saw her, everything seemed mean and ugly," Midori continued. "I came back here. I might have been thinking that I wanted to seal away what was good; so that, it wouldn't spoil. I'm not so sure right now, it isn't clear anymore. But if you had gone, no, if I had killed you, I would have followed.
"When I looked into your eyes though, I knew you wanted to live. It wasn't fair for me to do that, when you wanted to live. But I didn't want to go alone."
I was quiet, I didn't know what to say to that.
"What are you thinking, Shinji?" she pleaded. "I know that I'm being demanding, though I don't have a right to be. But please answer me."
"I don't know what I'm supposed to think," I admitted slowly. "And that's the truth. I'm not sure what to do," it was hard for me to lie to her when we sat so close.
"I know that you can't stay here," Midori said. "And I don't want to stay here, either. I can understand if you don't want me near you, but if you don't mind too much, I would really want to be near you."
Her soft words made me feel self-conscious. I looked away from her. At that moment, my leg jumped as pins and needles pierced from the thigh down. Midori jerked to a sitting position.
"Is something wrong?" she asked me.
"My leg is numb," I said. I changed my position to knead my leg.
"Here," Midori offered and then took charge. Her hands were firm and skillful. Sensation returned quickly.
I glanced at the top of her mussed hair and then at the gun. The fear was still fresh, but the memory of facing the ruby light quickly gave way to the sight of her face as she shoved the barrel under her chin. She had held herself at gun point far longer than she had held me. The edges were beginning to fade, but the image of her pulling the trigger was still sharp. Fear and worry warred; worry won. I can't say why the idea was so strong, but I didn't want to leave her here alone.
"Midori," I said.
"Yes?" she responded in a small voice. Her hands had come to stop as she watched me.
"My leg is fine, now," I said as I shifted into a half kneel.
"Oh," she replied and reluctantly pulled her hands away.
"I think that my best chance is to somehow get to a hotel and use my card. I think that NERV can find me if I charge a room on it. I'll be in one place."
"And the best way to get found if you're lost is to stay in one place," Midori concluded.
"Do you know of any decent places?" I asked.
Her face lit up, and she stood to throw her arms around me.
Midori released me quickly and approached her bag, which was still at the table. Her narrow back broke the stream of blue light.
"Why don't we just take our jackets and leave the rest?" I suggested
When I saw the black silhouette of the bag, it looked massy and forbidding. The gun had probably come from somewhere in its depths. Midori spun around, surprised. I felt childish, being afraid of a bag.
"OK, sure," Midori answer.
I was relieved that she agreed to leave the bag behind. She handed me my jacket. Midori pulled on hers and tucked a nylon wallet into her jacket pocket. She left the gun where it lay. The door swung open to admit a slab of white light. She stopped at the doorway to wait with her hand held out to me. I took it as we left the dim confines of her home.
We left by a fire escape that led to a back alley. Bikes, trash bins, and discarded appliances lay strewn across the long narrow corridor between the stretch of identical high rises. We crossed gates and even clambered over a chain linked fence; I went first. Midori had almost as hard of a time with it as I did. She was surprisingly strong for her thin build.
We eventually reached the mouth of the alley. Midori turned to me.
"Brace yourself," she said.
Traffic must have been stopped. Pedestrians walked on the four lanes of asphalt plus pavement. I had been surprised by the kissing teens at the dance, but their innocence had not prepared me for the nightlife of Tokyo-2. Neon lights lit the night almost as bright as day. Garishly green salarymen reeled and freely spilled their emerald bottles of sake onto the pavement. The rice wine joined the recent rain to reflect the signs. Blue and green couples stopped against store fronts to grope and make out. Hands slid beneath each others' clothes. Orange and pink teens sucked on joints of pungent weed. Cans of beer and bottles of wine cooler promiscuously exchanged between hands and lips.
"What's going on?" I shouted to her. She didn't answer, and instead boldly towed me through the crowd.
In the crush, a teenagedgirl extended her tongue from between her darkly painted lips and licked my ear. It made me feel more sick than anything else. She nearly spilled from her tight bikini top. The girl smiled at me. She would have been beautiful except that her eyes were as empty as those of a beached fish.
Bars, strip clubs, live sex shows, gambling parlors, and all-you-could eat buffets lined the street, each with its own overly bright name. The streams people entering and leaving the places buffeted us. We rode the currents to a side street, where the glare of the neon lights was lessened. The side street was blessedly cool and quiet.
Midori led us from the pavement, down a set of stairs bounded by a wrought iron railing. An imposing metal door stood at the bottom; it bore the sign: "The Corral." Midori rapped three times on the heavy door. A slot open, and a pair of eyes peered around, and then down at us. The door opened. In the next room, an American country song played in the next room. A muscular figure stood in front of us. I could not tell if the bouncer in the duster and jeans was a man or woman until she spoke.
"Hello, Midori," the bouncer said. "It's night you know."
"I know," she said. "We're just passing through."
"1,000 yen a head," the bouncer said. "Sorry, no exceptions."
"It's fine," Midori said.
I pulled out my wallet and pulled out a pair of bills.
"You okay, Midori?" the bouncer said. "Your eyes are red. He wouldn't have anything to do with this?" she said jutting her manly chin at me.
"No, just a black dog of a day," Midori answered sheepishly.
"Hold out yer hand," the manly woman ordered.
I complied. She pulled out a foot long rod with a stamp at the end. It looked like a miniature brand. The bouncer immobilized my hand in hers and rammed the stamp firmly into the back of my hand; it left the red imprint of a pair of linked circles with parallel arrows jutting from the circles. Midori's hand was branded too.
We walked through a pair of saloon doors into a dimly lit room. A ceiling fan lazily circulated cool air. Cigar smoke floated in the air. The men wore chaps, duster jackets, jeans, and other wild west gear. A few women circulated through the crowd; they wore frontiers clothes as well. We clung to a wall to avoid the dancing pairs of cowboys. When we walked close to a woman, I noticed that she was a man as well. He winked at me.
My stomach flip-flopped. I looked away and walked closer to Midori. I nearly ran into a jukebox.
Midori waved to the saloonkeeper; he waved back. We walked through another pair of saloon doors and past the restrooms. One was for men, the other was unisex. We exited by a door out the back, which was near a a garbage bin. The door slammed close, leaving us in a dimly lit parking lot.
"Surprised?" Midori asked. The vast space seemed to eat her words.
I nodded.
"Me, too, the first time."
The cavernous lot was three-quarters full. Sports cars and SUVs populated the tight spots. Water dripped down the monotonous concrete columns and uniform deep ridges hanging from the ceiling. Our footsteps echoed through the lonely place. I was glad for the warmth of her hand.
We passed countless rows of cars before reaching the far end of the lot. We stood in the lee of a column as a black, low-slung machine roared up the ramp. The glare of the headlights blinded me for a moment. The car pulled to a stop, and then zoomed on.
We stepped around the column. The driver had stopped at a brightly lit display. We looked both ways and crossed quickly. We released hands as we reached the sign.
The display held a grid. In each square was the image of an ornamented bedroom. Scrollwork labeled each picture.
The Sherwood Suite
Sleeping Beauty's Bedroom
The Chamber of Prince Charming
At the bottom read: "Ask about our newlywed discount."
"You pick," Midori offered. "It's your card, dear."