There're more
broken hearts in this world than the stars above…
Sometimes all it takes is an
understanding word or a gentle gesture to forbear conflict. I hoped the two of them would learn it. The young man especially. As much as I could see that they cared for
each other, they were far too guarded.
Such is the way of youth, I guess, although I can't remember it being
that way with me. I've always been a
sensitive, understanding, caring…
Oh
REALLY? A voice deep inside of me
countered. A memory of a certain trip
to a well-known theme park sprung to mind, one that began with Alisha and I
having the time of our lives and ended with us saying hardly a word to each
other. A memory of her pleading face
overshadowed by darkness on the bus the last night we were there.
"Vic,
we really need to talk," I heard, half-asleep, worn out from the day's events.
"Yeah,
okay," I heard myself muttering before drifting off.
So much for being sensitive.
What started the
whole downhill slide was a playful hit with a pillow. She stood up, confused, and slapped me, thinking I was trying to
embarrass her in front of my friends. I
should have realized she was just nervous being around other people on the trip
she didn't know.
So much for understanding.
I
could have saved myself years of grief afterwards by taking the simple step of
apologizing, of telling her that I only meant to get her to lighten her mood
because she was so nervous. I wanted
her to have a good time. Instead I got
angry. I decided I had had enough of
her games; she would pay for it this time, and pay dearly. What an idiot I was. When I think of deciding moments that
altered my life forever, that is one of them.
Tears began to sting my eyes.
So much for caring.
Alisha
forgave me for what happened, and I think I could have salvaged things from the
damage I had caused, but I only made it worse.
I wanted her to step beyond her doubts, her constant wavering about
whether or not to commit to a relationship.
Upon someone else's advice, I gave her an ultimatum. Either we grew together or we grew
apart. I thought it was sound
advice. Maybe it was. Perhaps the time wasn't a sound time to do
so. But it may be the last time I take
someone else's advice. She chose the
latter. My heart broke that day into
more pieces than I could count. I
didn't talk to her again for months. I
needed time to heal, and perhaps she would come around after having time to
think it over as well. By the time I
talked to her again, she had met someone else.
On that day my heart sank into a rift that tore into my soul and
disappeared…for a long time.
I
wiped back tears that had begun to flow freely during the solitude of my
introspection. Looking up, I was surprised
to see the young couple actually kissing.
I half-smiled, part of me happy for them, that they could see past their differences; the other part of me wondered why I couldn't have done the same
with Alisha. My Best Friend. My Darling Beloved.
Oh, Alisha…
I
exercised discreet scrutiny and turned away; the two deserved their privacy and
not being spied upon by me. I also
needed to turn my attention to the circumstances at hand. Alisha would be waiting in that special
place in my heart when I returned.
Strengthening my resolve, I stood and walked to the edge of the cliff
and surveyed the vast expanse of water before me.
So. This was
Japan. Not at all as I remembered it
during my brief stay in Okinawa some years back, I pondered. My mind
was still struggling with the mystery of how I got here. Somehow, though, I wasn't terribly
worried. I didn't have so much as a
suitcase or a travel bag. I wore a
comfortable pair of khaki shorts and a white knit polo shirt. Calf-length gray socks, a black leather
belt, and white leather deck shoes completed the ensemble. I decided to take stock and see if I had any
other resources on hand. My left pocket
revealed the existence of thirty cents in change and a small pocketknife. A set of slightly familiar keys on a
keychain in my right pocket. I reached
around to my rear right pocket and withdrew my wallet. My eyes widened as I opened the wallet. Let's just say I found sufficient cash to
get by on…in both dollars and
yen. To my surprise I also found several
platinum credit cards. In my
name, no less. This was especially a
shock since I don't own any and haven't used one in years. Oh, well…gift horse and all that jazz.
There
was also a business card for some hotel in a place called Nerima; I did a double
take. Nerima? Wasn't that the
name of the area near Tokyo that the Ranma
½ story took place?
Boing! My face suddenly did something that made it
hurt quite a bit. I've heard of one's
jaw hitting the ground but what I experienced felt like a far greater
exaggeration, more like stretching in several directions at once. A
facefault, perhaps?
A
brief second later the pain ebbed and I rubbed my face. It felt normal, except my beard felt like it
needed a trimming. When I finished
coming back to my senses, I considered the business card again. Three Kanji
characters adorned the top of the card.
I flipped it over and saw "Room 210" written on it – in my own handwriting. I checked my key ring again. There was a key with that number stamped on
it on one side, and three Kanji
characters stamped on the other. The
characters were identical to those on the card. Curiouser and curiouser. Maybe
I can find some an…swers…there…
My
mind suddenly went into overload and I felt a strange, almost electrical, surge
go through my head. Shaking it, I
looked around. I saw the couple. They were picking up their things from the
picnic. When they were finished, they
walked hand-in-hand toward the pavilion.
I looked closer at them as they walked off. In their wake the remaining students had walked up the path and
headed toward the pavilion themselves.
They were talking excitedly and gesturing wildly at the couple. I heard the name again. Lanma. Things began to click. I remembered a friend of mine telling me
that spoken Japanese reversed the pronunciations of the letters "R" and
"L." That means Lanma was actually Ranma. Another name stood out. Akane.
Holy Sh…
