Though there were only about 30 people in the house, it was a lively party. Mizuhara and I poked our heads into some of the other rooms. Outside, along the wraparound porch, a half-dozen people were still watching glow-in-the-dark limbo while drinking and having a good time. Down the hall, Kuri and Kawanaka were leading some people in the old party staple, "Truth or Dare." Kuri was busy acting like a chicken, so I'm guessing he had something to hide.
In the main room, however, karaoke had given way to dance music. Orange and yellow lights with bat and jack-o'-lantern patterns swiveled randomly, making it look like a whole bat colony had infested the house. The bass from the music was overpowering, so much so I was convinced it was pushing against my bones.
"Isn't this great?" Mizuhara said, her voice raised.
I leaned over, closer to her. "I'm sorry, what?"
She cupped her hand over her mouth, and she moved toward me. Her pinky pressed against my ear. "I said, isn't this great?"
It was something all right. She shot me an innocent look when she pulled back. God, I couldn't get over it. I'd never chalked her up to be such a tease. It wasn't fair for someone as smoking hot as her to have this kind of effortless skill. If we hadn't known each other, if we hadn't had so much history, I would've probably asked her out right then and there. I'd done something like that once, at a mixer back when I was in high school. I thought that girl could be into me, but she must've been just trying to keep up appearances not to ruin the whole event. I felt like an ass.
"What's the matter, Mr. Fish?" she said, putting emphasis on that nickname as she had all night, as if to play up the pretense that we were strangers. "You seem to be thinking pretty hard about something."
She was right. I was thinking pretty hard about it all right, about what she had gone to all this effort to show me so far and what it meant for us. Was all this the real her? Or was it another role for her, like the "perfect girlfriend" who loved wholeheartedly or the "iron lady" who wouldn't flinch at any amount of pain?
I knew I would get nowhere thinking about those questions. They were just hard to ignore, but if Mizuhara had planned this night to show me a different side of her, the only way to respect her wishes as to return the gesture in kind. And even if I could live with holding back, I didn't want to. I could feel the warmth radiating from her body, increased a thousandfold when she moved out of the way of some passers-by and her shoulder bumped against mine. It was the closest I'd ever felt to her, at least without the cloud of grief hanging over us. It was more than I'd ever felt, and yet… I wanted more. I wanted more, and even if it was just under these false pretenses, maybe she would indulge me, just this once.
I looked over to her, and her teasing smile faded slightly. "What is it?" she said, honestly, genuinely.
"I was just thinking," I began, trying not to shake in out of my slippers, "Miss Sugar Plum Fairy, would you like to dance?"
She broke out in the most electric smile I'd ever seen. "Yeah! Let's go!" And before I could mentally prepare myself, she'd dragged me out to the dance floor. Man, she was magical. She was into it before I'd even picked up the beat, but luckily, there were about 15 of us on the dance floor, all crowded around each other, so no one would care if I was still getting into it. I'd thought this could happen, too (dancing, I mean; that I was dancing with Mizuhara was a pipe dream!), so I'd studied and practiced my dance moves, hoping to conquer one of the thousand different things I'd embarrassed myself at over the past 21 years. Start small, they said on the Internet. Find a little bounce, then amp it up. I could do that much. Bouncing at the knees I could do. After that, they said do practice a simple set of steps, whatever you felt like, that you could repeat without thinking to music. I spent hours trying to find something that felt good to me, but eventually, I settled on what I call "The Train": you hold your right fist about head high and pump down two times to the beat, then air drum with both fists for two beats while spinning around, and repeat.
I'm sure in isolation it would look completely lame, but hey, it was a party, and nobody seemed to mind. Even Mizuhara got into it, starting to mirror my moves and spinning around in unison with me. For the first time, I understood that even a casual dance can be a performance of intimacy. When you dance with someone, everyone can see that you're a pair, and there are no words to explain what you are to each other, just the synchronicity of the two of you moving in step with each other. As Mizuhara and I moved to the music, perhaps, to an outside observer, we might've actually looked like we belonged together.
We were both feeling pretty wiped out after about half an hour like that, though, so when the set ended, I caught my breath and offered to get us some drinks. Mizuhara was looking a little winded, too, and she nodded and said she would find a place to sit so we could rest for a bit.
If things ended then and there, I already knew I would feel better about my relationship with Mizuhara. There was a place for me in her life as more than a neighbor or a client, and even if we didn't find the words for it right away, I was sure we would in time. For the moment, I didn't feel the need to stress out about it. There was no point in letting worries about shaping the future get in the way of all the fun we were having in the present.
So when I got to the punch bowl, I was in a good mood, so good that when I found Kibe there, I slapped him on the back. "Somebody having a good time?"
"Ah, Ka—I mean, 'Mr. Fish.'" Kibe made a face, looking glum. "I tell ya, man, you have all the luck. I thought I'd met someone, you know? But it turns out she's got a boyfriend."
"Oh… I'm sorry?" I said. "You're not usually a skirt-chaser. Did something happen?"
"I'm just trying to find some happiness of my own, okay?" He took his glass of punch and poured some liquor into it and gulped it all down in one go. "Ever since Nagomi's friend died, she's been distracted, and I've just felt a little lonely."
"Dude," I said, "that's my grandma you're talking about."
"I know, and I know she would never satisfy me as a man, but there's more to life than catching tail, all right? I'm looking for more!"
He was drunk. Oh man was he drunk. I tried easing him to a table since he looked unsteady, but he wasn't having it.
"And you!" he said, pushing a finger into my forehead. "You've been all cozy with Miss Sugar Plum. You have a girlfriend, dude! You can't lead someone on like this!"
"C'mon, it's not like that," I insisted, showing him to a seat near the garden. "She's just being a good host."
"Bullshit," he muttered as I laid him into a chair. "Anybody could tell she's got her sights set on you." His eyes went glassy, and he shook his head. "Can't believe it. First Mami, then Chizuru, now this girl—are you catnip or something?"
Not a chance of that. Really, what was he thinking? Mizuhara and I had just had a good time, and while she was being a bit of a tease, it was just for the sake of keeping me on my toes.
I came back to my seat with Mizuhara, drinks in hand, and she didn't wait a full second before quenching her thirst. "Thanks, I really needed that," she said. "Worked up a sweat out there!"
See? Innocent as could be.
"It was really great, wasn't it?" she said, and underneath the table, she took my free hand while continuing to sip her punch.
Okay, maybe it wasn't completely innocent. Mizuhara had taken my hand in such a way that no one could see what we were doing. This was private—between us. It was… dizzying, intoxicating, even more so than the punch, and Mizuhara seemed to take some pleasure in our secret intimacy, looking extremely satisfied.
"You're enjoying this!" I remarked.
"Of course I am," she said, beaming. "I'm here, with you, and there's nothing coming between us right now."
God, she was so beautiful in that moment, and what she was saying was music to my ears, so heavenly I could hardly believe it. I'd been holding my feelings in for so long—over a year—the sight of her smiling so contentedly while holding on to me was just too much to bear. I really thought she could never feel something like that for me, and that someday, even though I would support her always, I'd have to accept that there was a distance we'd never close between us. To have that dread wither under the power of her dazzling smile and the warmth of her hand in mine was so startling to me that I couldn't hold it all in. Even though I was smiling, I shed a tear—one, and then another—and my whole body started to shake.
"Hey!" she said, rising from her seat. "Are you…?"
"It's okay!" I assured her, tensing my chest to try to hold it in. "I'm just so moved, I just…"
"Geez," she said, and she sounded more like the real Mizuhara than the Sugar Plum Fairy. "Here, here." She brought some napkins over to me and moved her chair closer, wiping at my eyes, and suddenly I was overwhelmed with a different feeling entirely. I could see reflections in her eyes. Her breath was on my lips. "I didn't realize you'd get so emotional," she said, not realizing what I was feeling in that moment. "We can take it easy."
No, I didn't want to take it easy. My heart was all over the place. My feelings may have been inappropriate, but really, I loved Mizuhara. I loved her in so many ways. She was a wonderful person, someone I admired, respected, and treasured. She'd been a great friend to me. She was a joy to be around, and I wanted to see her smile, laugh, and ultimately succeed with her acting dreams.
But in that moment right then, with her nose practically touching mine, she was the hottest woman on the planet.
I reached out to her. There was a strand of hair that had come undone. I caught it with the edge of my finger, and I tucked it behind her ear, but I didn't stop there. My fingers lingered behind her ear, and I pressed the palm of my hand lightly to her cheek.
Her eyes went wide, and she caught my hand with hers. I wanted to explain, but her stare was so intense; I just couldn't say anything. Finally, she relaxed, closing her eyes and pressing her hand upward to hold mine against her cheek. She let out a breath, for a moment, I wasn't sure what was warmer—her hand or her cheek.
And then, it was over. Her eyes snapped open, and she put my hand down, looking around to see if anyone had noticed. If anyone had, they weren't doing anything about it.
She turned her body away from me; I couldn't see her face. Had she been teasing the whole time and didn't expect I might take it seriously? Or had she not expected that she would like it?
"Couldn't resist, could you?" she said.
I almost had a heart attack. "Huh, what?!"
She checked my reaction from the corner of her eye, and her voice took on a sing-songy lilt. "Couldn't resist, could you? I didn't think you had it in you, Mr. Fish. I have to say, I'll need to make sure all the girls take you seriously from now on."
The tension left my body so fast all I could do was laugh and try to come back with a feeble retort. "Not all the girls," I said.
"That so, huh?" She stared at me for a time—that cool, penetrating stare I was used to by then. The wheels were turning in her mind, but what they were driving to I couldn't say. "Well," she said at last, "as much as I'd like to keep probing at your dangerous tendencies, I should get back to my duties. We're free to party down here, but I need to make sure no one's getting up to mischief upstairs."
"Ah, of course," I said, and I started sloshing my drink around in my cup.
She rose from the table and slid her chair in, but rather than head for the staircase, she kept her hands on the back of the chair, holding on to it so firmly her knuckles were white. She leaned toward me, lowering her voice. "Do you want to tag along?" she asked.