08.22.11
MOVING ON IS HARD TO DO
I can tell you a lot about the next few days. Things like what I ate for breakfast and how much homework I had; the crack in the sidewalk I tripped over on the way to school; the language test I forgot to study for and still passed. I might mention what was on TV during the week: a sappy drama about a single mother with breast cancer or that 'real ghost footage' show full of actors covered in paste.
As I type these words, I'm struck by how much I remember from that time. Most of the conversations I've transcribed so far are from memory. I like to think mine is top notch, but I know I've missed words and gotten sentences wrong. If I'd known then what I know now, I would've hung on to their every word, writing them down on used napkins if I had to. I would've splurged on a fancy tape recorder and let it run twenty-four seven. I would've done anything just to remember what they sound like.
I can tell you everything about that week except how I felt. There's no answering that question because the truth is, I felt nothing. Absolutely nothing.
At school, a gloomy gray cloud had descended over the female student body. Some were in tears, most were despondent and failed to answer any of the teacher's' questions. I still don't know what Ouran Co. told the school board to explain their absence. I only have the rumors my classmates spread. Stuff like 'they joined the French foreign legion' or more hilariously, 'they were super spies all along and their handlers sent them on a new mission to save the world.' I don't think even Tamaki could've dreamed up a story that crazy.
While the other girls wept, I raised my hand and answered every question thrown my way with perfect accuracy. I solved a complex mathematical equation after one girl burst into tears and ran out of the room. My teacher literally clapped when I finished writing down the solution.
"Excellent work, Fujioka," he beamed, relief heavy in his eyes. "Nice to see someone putting their education before romantic drama."
I thanked him for the compliment, but I still felt nothing.
At lunch, I returned to the roof, but on the opposite side from my usual spot. Three girls took my place. They chatted and gossiped as young girls do. They might've been the same ones who made fun of me that day with Hikaru and Kaoru. I ignored them as best as I could, until their conversation veered into familiar territory.
"I just can't believe they're gone!" The girl who said this had her knees up to her chest and tears in her eyes. "They only just got here. How could they transfer so soon?"
"And I had just found my grandma's special mochi recipe," wept her friend. "Now who can I make it for?"
I wanted to laugh, but if I had, they would've heard me. It was a small roof, and the last thing I needed was a trio of busybodies on my case for not caring about their suffering. I finished eating and got out of there as fast as my legs would carry me.
The next day was Saturday; food shopping day. I'd counted out all the money I'd need from my dad's most recent care package. It wasn't much—I'm neither a big girl nor a big eater—but I'd be coming home with bags full of meat and vegetables. I'd also run out of milk. I made a list and headed out in the early afternoon. I would've had lunch first, but the forecast called for scattered showers in the evening and I'm not big on walking in the rain.
I counted my steps from home to the grocery store. It's a four block walk there and back, factoring out to three hundred and twenty steps there and three hundred and sixty back with the added weight of food slowing my pace. If you think this was the most interesting part of my day, you would be right.
Actually, no. Adding up the prices of a pound of bananas and a half pound of tomatoes was slightly more interesting. The steps were a close second, though.
While I was shopping, I happened to enter the cooking supply aisle. I do this sometimes when I need to pick up rice flour or buy a new baking sheet. This day, I was looking for a whisk. My old one had some stains on it that wouldn't come off no matter how hard I scrubbed it. I was comparing the price of one brand name stainless steel whisk to another. This was just a ploy to kill time since I'd be going with the cheaper store brand anyway.
My eye landed on something shiny and silver. Not that there was a shortage of shiny silvery things in cooking supplies, but this new baking tin I'd never seen before had caught my attention. The label boasted a non-stick, easy to clean surface and multi-purpose functionality. That would've been impressive if it didn't look exactly like all the other baking tins, including the one I had at home. The only unique thing about this one was how overpriced it was. Four thousand yen! You've got to be kidding me.
Still, I read the list of features again and again, one thought niggling at the back of my mind, long before I was consciously aware of it.
'Hunny would destroy my kitchen baking a cake with this.'
Which was true. Hunny had attempted to teach himself how to bake a cake just so he could ogle it like a golden Buddha statue or a hunk of jasmine. His one and only attempt ended in a spectacular mess we couldn't clean in one night even with everyone working their hardest. When I look behind my fridge, there's still a dried chocolate stain no one can reach.
I stared at this baking sheet, thinking this thought, until I remembered there was no Hunny to bake cakes anymore. Then I took out my shopping list and moved on to the condiments aisle to get chrysanthemum. I still felt nothing.
The rest of my list I found in canned goods. Can of peas, can of beans, can of tuna. Easy in and out in five minutes. When I got home, I put everything away and started on my homework. I had a few chapters of Sense and Sensibility to read for my Western Literature class, three pages of math problems, and a question sheet for human biology. I think we were on cell division that week.
It might sound like a full day's work, but I've always been diligent with my studies. I have to be if I want to be a lawyer someday. I finished in just under an hour and then got started on dinner. I had a sandwich that night. Grilled chicken I think. I prefer traditional food, but I didn't feel like cooking that night. I drank a glass of milk with it because we were out of tea. I knew there was something I forgot to put on my list.
I was in bed by ten and up at six the next morning. For the rest of the week, this was my routine. I ate, I went to school, I did my homework, I existed. I did it all alone, and I felt nothing.
I felt nothing because I was empty inside.
The next weekend, I had nothing to do. All the shopping was done, my homework was finished, I'd already eaten lunch and I doubted I'd be hungry again until dinner. I spent Saturday reading a paperback mystery novel I found with my mom's things. I don't remember what it was called, but it was a translation from overseas and it wasn't any good. I knew who the killer was by chapter two.
At quarter to four, I turned on the TV. Reading was boring for once, so maybe what I needed was a mind-numbing blockbuster filled with pointless violence and enough explosions to eat up half the budget. It did distract me for a little while. Sadly, this channel came with long commercial breaks. Just as the hero and the villain faced off in a final fight to the death, I'm suddenly being hocked potato chips by a man in a dog suit.
Not caring enough to wait and see the hero prevail, I switched stations. Nothing but more commercials for the next five or six channels. I remember one was for a laundry detergent, only because the mascot was this mutant flamingo looking thing with bright blue feathers and eyes pointing in radically different directions. What did this have to do with fresh smelling clothes? Good question.
Anyway, I found a news report on a robbery at the stationary store across town. It was an open and shut case, the perpetrators captured on the scene and no one was hurt. Still, it wasn't a monster bird squawking at me to feel how soft his bedsheets were, so I'd take it.
"We're being told the thieves had a third partner who fled the scene before police arrived. Fortunately, responding squad cars cornered him as he attempted to climb over a fence. All three are currently in custody-"
Kyoya would've scoffed and turned it off at this point. He thought TV was a waste of time. Internet was the only worthwhile technology and Hikaru and Kaoru's insistence on watching five-hour reality show marathons meant nothing except that he couldn't hear himself type. Not to mention Hunny's cooking shows and Tamaki's samurai dramas.
I would have to rethink TV as a distraction.
The robbery story ended and the 'entertainment' segment began. For those who don't know, the entertainment news in my area could be more accurately described as 'look at what rich people are spending money on this week'. And I don't mean famous rich people either. As long as you had a fat trust fund and way too much time on your hands, getting a news camera to follow you around was easier than breathing.
"We're here live at the official premiere of (insert movie I don't remember here)," said the glamorous reporter with shiny white teeth and a way too tight skirt. "Already, some of Tokyo's elite are arriving. I see (insert movie star here) and (insert other movie star here). Let's see if we can talk to them."
I tuned out the next few minutes. I'm neither a celebrity chaser nor a big movie watcher. I don't know any actors' names, hence the inserts. While I was thumbing through my book, random sentences reached my ears. Something about how amazing it was to work on this groundbreaking masterpiece of a film, how great it was working with the hottest new director in town. You know the drill.
They ran out of famous people at some point and started on the normals. Mostly fans lucky enough to get seats next to their idols. They screeched into the microphone until the reporter had the sense to move on. I was thinking about changing the channel when I saw him. Amid the sobbing of fangirls and preening of celebrities was a tall, dark figure casting a shadow over them all. He spoke not a word, but I'd know his face anywhere.
"Mori…"
He was dressed to kill in black suit and tie, the jacket fitting perfectly over his broad shoulders. His hair behaved for once, combed out and gelled back to show off his eyes. The buttons on his shirt were ready to pop. Let me make one thing clear: I was not attracted to Mori. I never considered any of them as more than friends, but in that moment, I understood why all the girls surrounding Mori had hearts in their eyes.
"And who's this handsome fellow?" The reporter spoke not to Mori, but to the small, gaudily dressed woman on his arm.
Mrs. Fujioka, as red and bloated as ever behind a slather of make up, chortled. "Oh, this old thing? He's just something I had laying around the house."
The reporter laughed along with her. Mori said nothing. He stared straight ahead, as pretty as a doll on the mantle.
"So, Handsome, what's your name?" The reporter offered him the microphone. He stared at it, his lips barely moving. I don't think he could've spoken if he wanted to. He only had fifty words a day after all.
"Don't mind him, he's a tad shy," Mrs. Fujioka interjected.
"Ah, I see. So he's an excellent conversationalist, but only in private," the reporter said mischievously.
Mrs. Fujioka giggled. "Excuse me, dear, I do not kiss and tell."
Their laughter was so obnoxious, I felt like running to the bathroom and throwing my whole stomach up. I've seen a lot of stupid things in my life which made me want to break something, some I've previously talked about, but understand that I'm not a violent person in nature. I'm not confrontational unless I have to be and even then I use my words, not my fists.
In that moment, I wanted to wrap my hands around that foul woman's chubby neck and squeeze until she turned as red as her lipstick.
(Which looked awful on her by the way.)
"Stop it!" I yelled at the screen. "You can't treat him like that! He's not your toy, he's a person! He has feelings! You can't just use him like a… like a…"
The phone rang. I wanted to ignore it and scream until my lungs ached, but it was after six and only one person would be calling me this late. I walked backwards to the kitchen. The camera had yet to pan away from Mori, fueling my rage. I quelled it as much as I could before answering the phone.
"Hey Dad." I could hear music in the background. He was probably working a big party tonight. "How's work going?"
"Haruhiiiiii~" It seemed to be going well. "It's your loving and devoted father calling to check up on yooooooou~!"
If you think I'm exaggerating how he talks, you're wrong.
"Everything's fine, Dad. It's-" I look around at the empty space. The only sound below the roar of electronic music was the TV. They had gone to commercial. It was a trailer for a movie coming out next week. Hikaru and Kaoru would've loved it. "It's quiet around here. Real quiet..."
"Oh, I miss you so much, my sweet daughter. I wish I could be with you right now! I miss hugging my little girl."
"You can give me the world's biggest hug when you come home," I said. "Only a month to go, right?"
Dad was momentarily silent. "That's the other reason I called. There's been a slight change of plans. I'm going to be here an extra week."
The tiny spark of joy my father's voice ignited in my heart died, no more than a pathetic wisp of smoke now. "Oh, I see."
"I'm sorry sweetie, but I was offered a job at twice my rate and I simply cannot refuse that kind of money. Just think, a brand new laptop for your birthday! Wouldn't you like that?"
'I'd rather have you,' I thought. Being without my dad had never hurt so much. "That sounds great. Have a good time."
"I can only hope," he said dramatically. I could see him in his room at Karuizawa, laid out on the bed in a swoon, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. "I'm glad you've been doing so well on your own. I was worried leaving you for so long, but you've never looked happier in all those pictures Kyoya sends me."
"Yeah, Dad, I… did you say Kyoya?"
My dad laughed, and I didn't know if it was my perplexed response or something at the party he found so funny.
"Has he not told you? We've been exchanging emails for weeks now. Ever since the night I came home to visit. He's such a charming young man. Handsome too, but I'm sure I don't have to tell you that."
"I don't really think of him that way," I said, holding the phone with both hands to keep it from slipping. My palms were suddenly sweaty. "But it… it's nice of him to keep you updated…"
"Oh, it's more than nice. I've been sharing all of his stories with my co-workers. Mizuzu especially just loves hearing about your misadventures. He cried like a baby when you professed your love for them at the dodgeball game. I think he might be a tad jealous but you didn't hear it from me."
"No problem…"
"I haven't heard from Kyoya this week, though. Normally he messages me between Thursday and Friday. It's Saturday and I've heard nothing! Oh dear, I hope he hasn't forgotten little old me."
"It's probably just school starting up again, Dad. We're all busy…"
"Hmm… yes, I suppose you're right. He'd better not make me wait much longer. I need new photos for my bulletin board!"
I nodded, not caring that Dad wouldn't see. My throat had closed up. The only coherent thoughts in my head were how Kyoya did this without me knowing and how many details of our 'misadventures' he'd let slip. Everything else was too difficult to describe, but you guys are smart. I think you understand.
"Haruhi, have I ever told you how proud I am of you?"
The non-sequitur came at just the right time for my general emotional state. I rubbed my dry eyes just in case. The pressure behind them had yet to alleviate.
"Only every day since I learned to walk," I said.
"I mean it, Haruhi. When you have children of your own, you'll understand." My dad's voice grew soft, losing the feminine edge he used for work. "When I left, I was so scared. I had nightmares thinking about how sad and bored you must be, all alone in that cramped apartment for months."
"Dad, I've been home alone before," I said. "You know I don't mind."
Dad sighed. "Yes, you've always been so independent, just like your mother. But you know, I think you've finally learned that it's okay to rely on others sometimes. You've formed a powerful bond with those boys. The kind most people only dream of."
"Dad..."
"I admit I was apprehensive of them at first. Especially Tamaki…" Dad grumbled a few curses, "but I see now I was wrong. They really are wonderful boys. Hold on to them, all right? Hold on to them as tight as you can. Even Tamaki."
I smiled, like I never thought I could again. "Thanks Dad. I love you."
When we hung up, the commercials had long since ended. Though Mrs. Fujioka was no longer the center of attention, she and Mori lingered in the background, just in sight of the camera. While Glamorous Starlet Number Three was interviewed, she preened and mugged it, her two inch fake nails digging into Mori's arm. I found a whole new respect for him that night. Pulled and prodded, manhandled and objectified, he took it all in stride. Never once did the pain in his eyes reach the rest of his face.
"That's all for tonight's red carpet show here at the premiere of (insert movie I don't remember here)," said the reporter as the guests filed into the theater for the movie to start. Mrs. Fujioka ran to the front of the line, dragging Mori with her. "Join us next week at the premiere of (insert other movie I don't remember here) and stay tuned for our official coverage of the after-party here on BS11, but first, a look at tomorrow's weather."
"The after-party…" The wheels in my head weren't just turning, they were in overdrive.
See, I knew that theater. It's next to a high end dance club, ROCK. ROCK is the kind of place everyone knows about even they've never been inside. If there's a big event in Tokyo involving famous people, you can bet it'll be held at ROCK. One hundred percent.
You can only get into ROCK one of three ways:
1. If you're obscenely rich, which I'm not.
2. If you're a celebrity or a supermodel, which I'm definitely not.
3. If you work there.
That last one is key. The year they opened, my dad had just started taking jobs at tranny bars. ROCK had a 'special interest' event going on (I neither know nor want to know what that meant) and my dad was hired for the week. We had dinner a few times with the general manager, this guy Tobei who I always thought was way too down to earth to be in his line of work.
Him and my dad have kept in touch. I had Dad's address book with Tobei's number in pink sharpie with hearts around it (my dad had a bit of a crush before he found out Tobei is married). If I called, I knew he'd tell me the after-party was happening at ROCK. Just like the one for the big premiere next week.
From there, my logic was simple. Where there are celebrities, there will be cameras. Where there be cameras, there will be Mrs. Fujioka. Where there is Mrs. Fujioka, there will be my friends.
Mrs. Fujioka was going to be at the party next week.
And so would I.
posted by Haruhi at 11:27 pm 0 comments