POV Midorima
Halfway across the world, Takao and my parents packed up our possession as Quentin helps me think about the transition on this side. The apartment across the hallway from his family is for rent, and it is in my price range, I think. American currency is still confusing and I consult my currency converter with every purchase. Quentin makes an appointment with the realtor and the place is nothing like his.
Well, it is like their apartment in that it has two floors. The comparison end there. From the front door begins a long corridor with a closet. I like the amount of room above my head and the opportunities to put shoes inside the door. The kitchen is at the end of the hallway. Roxanne is snapping pictures with her phone as she follows me. The kitchen is open and bright, with stainless steel appliances. An opening on one side of the kitchen leads out into the dining area, there are two stools at the ledge. I think a long table will fit perfectly with resting chairs. There is much potential for a traditional Japanese living space, as one half of the room is sunken. I can picture a low couch facing the window that takes up the whole wall. I imagine having breakfast on the balcony. If I close my eyes I can almost fell Takao waiting there for me with a cup of steaming green tea.
"What do you think? Will your boy like it?" Roxanne asks.
"He said we must have a bath tub," I mumble.
The realtor shows me the bathroom downstairs, which does not have a tub, but it does have a washing machine and dryer included in the price of the rent.
"The master has a whirlpool bath," she says, but I am not ready to walk up the stairs that bisect the first floor. The wall that is formed by the architecture of the staircase has been portioned off into shelves. I follow the hallway and find two additional rooms. The apartment is on a corner, so each room has at least one window. It is a lot of space for just the two of us.
"You could make one a spare room and the other an office.Takao will need room for his school work, right?" Quentin asks.
"Hai," I answer. His semester ends soon, and he's already done the paperwork to do the next year as study abroad. He will begin at NYU in August. I am incredibly proud of him.
I finally walk upstairs to the grand open space that will be our bedroom, if I sign the lease. Elizabeth is playing on the open stairs, but they are carpeted and Roxanne is close behind her so I don't worry overly much.
The walls are pale yellow, the color of courage, beauty, and cheerfulness. The room is massive. Our futon will only take up about a third of the space, maybe it is time to upgrade to a bigger one. There are three doors, two of them on the wall behind where the futon will go. The other is opposite the large window with another balcony. The two doors on the one wall lead into a closet that runs the whole length of the room. It has compartments for hanging clothing, as well as cubbies, and a built in shoe racks. There is a tie caddy in one section. I come out the second door with Elizabeth trailing behind me.
The next door is the bathroom is split into three separate spaces. The first has two sinks, both of which are blue glass bowls resting upon pedestals. There are plenty of cabinets and storage. The door I assume is a closet, is actually the toilet stall. There is a phone mounted on the wall. Takao will love that. There is a separate shower and a tub that looks big enough to fit both of us.
"What do you think?" the realtor asks again. The price is $200 shy of my entire housing allowance.
"Tell me about water, lights, such as that?"
"Included. The utilities that aren't included are cable, satellite, phone, but there are some good bundles. I'm sure your friends will help you find those."
"Sure will, we can get a referral bonus too," Quentin says.
"A moment please," I ask, and they all leave me to make the call as I gaze out into the New York sky from what might be our bedroom.
"I think I've found the place. I can send you a video –"
"If you think it's right, it is perfect. You remembered the tub, right?"
"Yes, it's huge."
"Do it. Call me later, and we'll talk about all the stuff you want me to pack. I'm having a hard time figuring it out.
"Yes, I will do this and once I get back to the dorm, we'll discuss the other. I love you, Takao," I say and realize this is probably the first time I've said it to him unsolicited. He has always been the one to say those words first; I must make an effort to make sure this is the first of many times.
"Love you too, Shin-chan."
"I'll take it," I say as I turn back to the room
When I get my first pay check, I want to send it immediately to Takao, but he is insistent that I wait, and buy furniture for our apartment, at least the most basic of things that we cannot afford to ship across the world. He's picks up as many shifts as he can at the Aida Sports Complex and Kise arranges for two more modeling jobs. He says he will soon have the money for the ticket and promises that all this extra work has not affected his school work.
"I want to know there will be somewhere for me to sleep when I get there," he teases. "It would be awesome to be able to sit in our living room, have somewhere to eat, you know, like normal people."
He's not exaggerating, he knows that I am sitting in an empty apartment as we speak. Most of my off time, I spend at the Quentin's home, practicing my English, or accompanying Roxanne to local stores to learn my way around.
"Every day you spend away from me is painful," I argue.
"But I can't leave until the semester is over and I finish packing all your crap."
"Let Kaori have whatever she wants out of the shed, and then sell anything else you can. We'll use the profits for your school books. Give the rest away," I say. "That will help you finish quicker, and maybe get you here sooner.
"No lucky items? There's nothing you want to keep?"
"I don't need them as long as I have you, you know that."
"I do, but I kind of like that frog," he laughs.
"Keep what you want, but use good judgment. Don't waste space in the container. It is far too small for such things."
"I've bought compression bags for all the clothing and soft items. Okasan has been working on folding and packing it all away while I'm at school."
"Tell her I love her," I say.
"I tell her every day."
"Good."
"She's also put together a package of things she swears we will need in the kitchen."
"Like what?"
"Dishware, rice cooker, utensils, chopsticks. She thinks America is a savage place where such things don't exist."
"Take only what will we actually need."
"I checked, your kotsu will fit, if I put it on its side, and remove the legs for transit."
"Excellent, I won't have to buy a table then."
"Lazy!" he accuses.
"You're not wrong."
"I'm concerned that the futon will take up too much room," he says.
"Don't worry about that, I had to buy something to sleep on," I tease back. I don't want to tell him about the California King futon I have purchased for us. It is big enough that I can roll over four times. If I lay in the middle, I cannot touch the outside and even better, my feet do not hang over the end. I sleep in it every night, but it will not be our bed until we make love in it.
Roxanne teaches me to cook, when she realizes I am sustaining on Ramen noodles and rice.
"Did your boy do all the cooking?" She always calls Takao 'your boy.' I think this is because she is as uncomfortable speaking Japanese names as I am with English. She does not mention the fact that I have never uttered her name and she doesn't baby me by peppering our conversations with bastardized Japanese like Quentin does. It is good, in a way, that I am forced to speak only English with her. She gives me a look every time I slip into my native tongue, and I find myself eager to make myself understood while in her company.
I'm no great chef when she is done with me, but I can make some very basic meals. I can heat up canned soup, make tuna salad sandwiches, and microwave most things I find at the market. She also teaches me to shop at her favorite market. She says the prices are good and she introduces me to the people behind the counter each time we go in. She explains my inability to communicate, and they all speak slowly and loudly to me, but they are welcoming.