extreme poles & worlds alone
I don't own the Bullet Train Movie. Alternative Setting.
The Prince looked at the window. The sun was almost down. It was going to be a very long night. The endless skyscrapers. The city lights. They just gave it away her thoughts. There was no night time in Tokyo. The sepulchral silence of the dark wasn't a thing in geisha town. It never was.
The long way to the airport bought Prince time to think about herself. About her failures. About her dreams, fantasies and illusions she kept holding on far too long. As she was immersed in thoughts, thinking about all the wrongs she did in her life, her brother was having fun. He was looking at the mirror of the car as he clutched the pedal brusquely, turning the steering wheel snaking the car through the paved avenue, almost crashing and colliding onto other cars like a kamikaze plane. -HORN HORN MEEP MEEP-. Turning on the signal indicator, he took a left route, crossing a bridge fast and fatally, passing over the speed limit, as always. White Death Junior didn't give a damn about safety. One could say he had an avoidable habit of living on the extreme edges of life.
Leaving the neon lights and the asphalt jungle behind them, he hit his slender and tattooed hands on the steering wheel as he clutched it with force as he listened to the radio song that played. His wavy locks were disheveled like a river of ink on his face as he was shaking his head repeatedly, forward and backwards as he sang. He was doing a horrible karaoke of the song. The Son clutched the radio bottom, turning the volume up of his BMW car: War, huh, yeah! What is it good for?! Absolutely nothing, uhh! War, huh, yeah! What is it good for?! Absolutely nothing! Say it again, y'all! War, huh (good God)! What is it good for?! Absolutely nothing!!"
" Are you liking my karaoke?"
" I DO suppose replacing the singer would be much more reasonable, don't you think, darling brother?"
" Nope."
" Whatever, Logan." She huffed, rolling her eyes upwards and casted her stare at the passby scenery deciding that in order to be less irritated with him, looking away was the best option.
" Amen, sister." He replied, fixing his brownish locks behind his pierced ears. She ignored him, again. Anyhow, he changed the song, picking another radio station; "GODDAMN I LOVE THIS SONG! I'm on my way from misery to happiness today! I'm on my way from misery to happiness today! I'm on my way to what I want from this world! And years from now, you'll make it to the next world!"
The Prince just took a long deep breath, rubbing her tired eyes with her well-polished white manicured fingernails as she slid her body downwards on the car seat, leaning her head back further, before closing her eyes. Glancing at her from the sideways, Logan said: " Do you know what I desire most, sis?"
" Suicide?"
" You out of our father's life."
"And you licking his hands like a puppy."
" I already got his love, don't I?"
" Only mother had his love." Their parents were like black vultures because these types of birds are the most faithful pairs in the animal kingdom. Daddy was faithful to Mama. And Mama was faithful to Daddy. Those birds, monogamous by nature, search for a mate for life and the pairs remain together forever. Like the birds, Her parents valued loyalty and companionship above all else. However, there was also the other side of the black vultures that her parents also had: Joey's parents prayed over rotten carcasses, making them unclean and deathly. In a way, that also made Joey and Logan children of death and very dangerous to outsiders.
" Don't you remember how he treated you?"
"I don't remember anything."
"You don't recall or you don't want to remember? They are two different things, Joey."
Little bit of both. Thought Joey, narrowing her eyes as she rested her clenched chin on her hands. She was like a diamond. She fit the unbreakable type of woman category.
" Mm-mmm, that was ages ago, I don't quite recall much of anything else. Sometimes the past feels like a dream, like it never happened."
" Lying has always been your forte, huh?"
" Being helpless is your favorite pastime, isn't it? Always the princess to be rescued. You never change."
" You never returned mom's calls."
" Why should I? She never wanted me close by."
" There was a logical reason for that, Joey."
" There was no reason. She just didn't want me around. She never did."
"Mother was always worried about you. Besides, you never called us back in all these years you were away in London. But now, she is dead. So, there is no way you will ever be able to make amends. No need to worry anymore, Joey."
" A free passage to liberty."
" What the fuck, sis?"
" She deserved better than daddy."
Silence reigned from the moment on. Each wanting to cut each other's throat. He arrived at the airport, thinking that his father should have hired a driver or some shithead to take her there, instead of forcing him, his sole heir to the family's business, to dispatch her. What a humiliation. Logan didn't deserve this kind of shit. Joey got out of the car, heading over to the trunk to get her stuff, before going over to the window of the car's front passenger seat, knocking on it hoping Logan would open it.
"Bon Voyage to you, you crazy-ass bitch. I hope you die in America."
" Do svidaniya, Brother."
" Goodbyes my ass! I don't need your goodbyes, Joey. I stopped caring for them a long time ago."
She said nothing, just looked at him one last time. He was a mixture of their mother's and father's physical appearance. On the other hand, people say that Joey took more of her mother's side. Was that true? She hoped it was. Somehow, her mother was an important and central figure in Joey's life. In all their lives. Mother was the backbone of the family. She was the center of their little cosmos. Their divine light. And Joey, Logan and Father were just mere stars.
"You know what. Let me tell you something: I hope I will never see you again, Joey."
" You don't need to worry about that because you won't be hearing from me anymore. I am DONE. I moved on."
" Amen, sister. God has heard my prayers. Have a nice trip to America." He said while still in the car. He didn't have the energy to get out of his comfortable position that he was in and give her a brotherly hug. Joey didn't deserve his respect nor his love. He turned the motor on, accelerating the car, speeding up the motor - VROOM VROOM VROOM- He drove away, not with a slightest remorse as her figure became smaller and smaller on the rear-vision mirror of the car.
Joey felt she was on a dreamboat of misery. On a ship of sorrows. Like the Titanic, except that was no sinking disaster. The saving-your-soul tragedy didn't need to happen to make her life more miserable. Prince has always hated airports for a number of reasons. Mostly because it was always overloaded with people. She was disgusted by the unpleasant smell of humane odor that was mixed with the emanated musty scent that poured from the hordes of the fixed air conditioners that was spread all over the moder. building. As she strolled across the shaded marble hallway, carrying her traveling gears; traveling lightly was the best solution to all of life's problems. With a touch of practicality, one could feel the heaviness of the world being washed off of one's shoulders. Prince learned this simple lesson from father, while watching him afar as he dealt with the family's business. Even though she had longed for him to teach this esoteric secret to her, he never did. Somehow, his indifference broke her heart a little bit everyday.
Before maneuvering her way to the check in, the woman decided to make a quick stop at Starbucks. It was located on a secluded spot, very far off from the usual food halls where waves of international people perambulated, hopping from one restaurant to another, like raccoons digging the trash can searching for leftovers. Prince, as she entered the global coffeehouse, walked towards a table that faced the windows, sitting down, resting her bags onto the floor. She grabbed her purse in a very unladylike manner, taking out her foundation to retouch her makeup: she puffed the cotton candy like powder on her cheeks and nose, later on, she pressed her beige lipstick on her lips, outlining them like the ice capped mountains that separated the skies with their natural firmaments.
After she was finished, Joey stood up from the seat, stretching the front part of her navy blue wraparound dress, just to make sure it was still impeccable and not puckered nor frizzled. On top of her dress, she put on an almond colored overcoat to match her leather high boots that made a lot of noise as she walked towards the service desk. She clutched her pearl pierced earrings, playing with them with an impatient grip, wanting to pluck them off her ears. It was her mother's. She shouldn't be wearing them. Her father wouldn't have liked it. Was he ever going to find out that she took mother's earrings from the coffin? From her mother's corpse? She didn't want to know. Raving mad and with a brusque force, she, instead of plucking the gold-framed earrings off, pressed her fingers on her dark purple velvet choker on her pale neck, pulling it off, leaving her slim neck completely exposed to the icy atmospheres she hated so much. Prince looked at the necklace, her piercing blue eyes roamed it, analyzing every detail of the cheap material she had bought at dawn, after leaving a nightclub, in some obscure drugstore in the outskirts of Tokyo city. She slipped them into the pockets of her coat. Still awaiting on the line to order her iced-caramel latte:
"Miss? Are you going to order?" The employee watched the whole bizarre shitshow from behind the counter, black eyes full open and mouth almost dropping on the floor in awe. The Japanese employee noted that her eyes were stuck on his rounded face.
" Don't stare." Her husky voice grumbled as she crossed her hands together, on her chest.
" Miss? Is everything alright?" Babbled the little employee, in a sweetened but frightened voice that softened Prince's rampage streak.
" Why the question?" She asked, pressing her fingers, thoughtfully on her chin, her eyes flashed her cautiousness, wrinkling her forehead attenuating her makeup lines even further. She looked like a cheap matryoshka doll. She was a very cheap woman. Her family didn't have any pedigree. Both of her parents were Russians born on the wrong side of the tracks. Daddy met her mommy in the Port of Macau. They married in a Russian expatriate colony in China. Then, they moved to Tokyo, where Joey and Logan were born. You couldn't expect more than a ruffian mindset and bad manners from Joey and Logan. When your parents are dirty poor, you will also carry the dirty poor genes in your DNA, whether you like it or not.
" Well, I mean, nothing, miss. It's not my place to ask."
" One iced-caramel latte. No cream on top."
" I am writing it down."
" Sure you are." She opened her purse, looking for her wallet to pay him.
Minutes later her order was ready.
" Have a nice flight." Said the young man.
" Watch it, honey." Replied her as she grabbed her iced coffee on the counter.
" Eh?"
" Next time, I'll cut your tongue out." Joey, with a sullen face, casting a daunting stare at the pushy young man.
" I was just being nice." Argued the baby-faced employee, inky eyes wide open as he searched any sight of anger on Joey's pretty face.
" I don't like niceties." She replied, walking off. Drinking coffee was the best way to ease her wild and explosive streaks. Be that as it may, a 12 hour flight wasn't going to be easy for Joey.
It was a cold day in Godzilla's city. The sushi capital that never sleeps. Kimura glanced at the car window, seeing the bleak view that passed by. The view of the cars, the silvery skyscrapers, the streets crowded with working-bees with their expensive suits and shoes, waltzing on the smoky scenario on their way to work. Their eyes gave way their thoughts. Those monotonous grayed people went on about their daily business, either worried about the apartment rent they must pay or worried about those piled-up papers assignments that rested on their work desks that they must give to their bosses the next day. It was always these two major things that happened in their boring miserable life that made them act like waking mummies. Kimura's voided life wasn't much different as well. He was going to arrive late at the airport, as usual. In fact, Kimura was always late for life. He either was on the wrong dance floor or at the wrong party. And he didn't know why. He was always behind schedule in that department. Kimura knew that he didn't deserve the father award of the year. Boozing was his favorite hobby. Not even his child was on the list of his top life priorities: First position was boozing. The second position was paying the rent and the third was working his butt off to be able to do the two firsts properly. He was on board the I-Don't-Give-A-Fuck-Express train. At parenting, he was below stage 01 and that saddened him, still, he wouldn't do anything about it. He was going to miss the flight. Damn. He needed the job in the U.S. It would be dreadful to waste this lifetime opportunity. A life changing opportunity that he got hold on to the moment he saw and heard. He buried his face on his dry hands, breathing sorrowfully, trying to hide his weeping from the taxidriver, but still, teardrops glided on his pale face. His eyes were like Niagara Falls, water rolled downwards, onto his cheeks and neck, sliding below, soaking the clothes he wore, actually, the only clothes he was taking with him to the other side of the Pacific: a brown leather double-breasted jacket, underneath it, he wore a light gray vest and a blue shirt under it. His smoke colored pants hid from eyesight his worn out oxford shoes. It was at the last minute he decided he would buy all the things he needed along the way. Kimura shook his hands, clutching them together, tossing and turning his body on the passenger seat. He had dark red circles under his eyes. He felt like shit. He twitched his hair, pulling his locks and scratching his face with his nails, leaving red scratches and grazes on his colorless face. His migraine intensified, throbbing his skull pushing his head into a muscular contraction. He felt his head was about to explode as if something from the inside pushed his brain, busting it, squeezing it hard. His blood rose up. DING DING DING!!! Kimura jumped from his seat in awe, not expecting a phone call. Afterwall, no one calls him. Nobody ever called. He picked up his phone with great difficulty because his hands were shaking really badly and his whole body was trembling and shivering. All of the sudden, he felt shivering cold down his spine to the soles of his feet:
" Who is this?"
" Your father."
"Something happened?" Kimura's voice was so monotonous that it sounded mechanical, almost devoid of humanity.
"Wataru needs you."
" I know."
" Humph. He wants to talk to you."
" Uhhuh. Ok."
" Papa? Papa? Huh?"
" Wataru." The letters and syllables coming out of his lips were like the dried autumn leaves.
"When will you be coming back?"
" Soon, I promise." He wrinkled his face when talking on the cell phone with his son, running his long fingers through his dirty hair. The greasiness of his hair and beard were irritating him. Kimura hadn't trimmed his beard for months and hadn't washed his hair for weeks, not because he didn't have time, but because he didn't want to. With desperate grip and a hopeless agony, the young man pulled the collar of his shirt because he felt so suffocated by his clothes and his smell. His hands scrambled, tugging the collar of his shirt, that loosened it so much that the vest he wore over his shirt mussed up.
" I miss you, papa."
" I miss you too." Kimura held his heavy breath. The words got stuck on his throat as he cried silently, trying to stop his trembling. He thought of his only child. His baby boy. Of how a negligent father he was.
" I love you, papa."
"I will come back for you. We will have a good life in the U.S. I promise you, Wataru. We will have a big house. A dog and a garden for you to play in with your toys."
"I want a big room with lots of toys! Couldn't we have two puppies? Can I name them?"
" You will have everything you ever wanted. If you want the moon, I will try and give it to you, Wataru."
"I gotta go now, grandpa says it's my bedtime. I'm really tired. Goodnight, papa."
" Sweet dreams. I love you, Wataru."
" I love you too, papa."
" Son?" Now it was his father speaking: " I can't do this anymore. You are his father. He needs you."
" Father, trust me, I am doing the right thing. Trust me. Trust me on this. Just this time. Just one last time. Please, father. I beg you." He said, desperately, holding back his tears.
" I don't think I can, Kimura. I am too old to raise him and you need help. Professional help. Do you think I turned a blind eye to your weakness? I know where you go at night. In those ghettos, walking at night like a dead man. In those disgusting houses. In these places a respectable man doesn't go too."
" I am not a weak man. You have got to believe me! Have faith in me. Why don't you trust me?". Kimura tightened his lips to contain his sobs. It would be humiliating for him to let his old man overhear his cries over the phone.
" How can I trust you if you are running away from life."
"I am trying. Believe me when I say I try."
" When was the last time you went to your son's birthday party? Do you know his favorite color? His favorite animal? His favorite teacher? His favorite food? Do you know what he wants to be when he grows up? Do you have any idea?"
" Father, I gotta go.I can't do this. Not now."
" When you get back, we talk things over, do you hear me? We need to put an end to this, once and for all, Kimura."
" You have my word."
" Do I? Ah, or will it be like those other moments of promises that you never fulfilled. With you it is just words, nothing but words."
Even though Kimura's face was unchanging, his monochrome onyx eyes showed his many regrets and sorrows. Things he did that hurt his father. Kimura ended the call right at his father's face because he couldn't take it anymore. Hearing the truth was tough. " Ah phew." Kimura sighted in relief, leaning his forehead on the car window. He just needed a drink and a long day of sleep.