I don’t go out for three days. Dad mostly leaves me alone after he has his say, which involves a lot of yelling. Telling me how disappointed he is in my behavior. He thought he could trust me. He wanted to trust me. Blah, blah, blah. I nod at all the appropriate places. Even when he tells me he doesn’t want me seeing Finn again because
I violated his trust. Timeframe undefined. I agree because it’s irrelevant really. I was hoping for a celebration once Finn was off the hook. The girl dismissed him quickly. He was back in five minutes. He shook the lawyer’s hand, then my dad’s. A nod to Eloise and then he finally looked at me.
His eyes stayed flat, empty. “I’m so sorry. You’ll never have to do this again.” He kissed me on the forehead.
I burned that into my memory, too.
Then he walked out and I didn’t stop him.
I didn’t even try.
I didn’t cry until I got home and walked into my room. It had been twelve hours since he’d knocked on the door, maybe to the minute. My pillow had still smelled like him. That’s what did it.
I haven’t cried since Sunday, although that’s not a measure of anything. I know Dad’s worried, even if he’s also not-so-secretly relieved things seem to be over.
What are you going to do when he breaks your heart, Zosia?
He’s watching me for that slide into lethargy, like he thinks he could stop it this time. But I don’t have the words to tell him this is different. Mom is gone. Finn left. There’s a world of difference between the two.
It’s coffee that finally drives me out the door. I have a pounding headache and used up the last of the instant yesterday. At first I intend to hit the vending machine across the street for a can of coffee, which isn’t as disgusting as it sounds and will do in a pinch. But once I’m outside, I walk the extra two blocks to Starbucks. And once I’ve had two sips of my scalding venti Americano, I can’t bear the thought of going back to the apartment.
I slouch against the wall outside and text Amelia. I haven’t texted her since Monday night when she sent me a message asking if I wanted to meet her at the gym. I sent her a message back that I wasn’t feeling well and she sent me a <3 and asked me to let her know when I’m feeling better.
I’m not feeling better, but I need a girlfriend. Tell me you can blow off work.
Her reply less than a minute later: Can’t. A probably can tho.
Of course Akihiro can blow off work. He’s leaving Japan in three days. But I can’t imagine hanging out with him without Amelia or Finn. We’d just end up talking about one or the other, and I’m not up to either.
Finn for obvious reasons, the most obvious being Akihiro doesn’t know what happened. At least not from me.
And Amelia because, well, they hooked up that night in Roppongi after all and are hot and heavy. Emphasis on hot. We double-dated with them last week, and I couldn’t say exactly what they were doing in that darkened movie theatre, but I’m pretty sure it gives PDA a whole new level of meaning.
I don’t bother to reply to Amelia and scroll through my texts. I have two hundred from Finn, at least. He borrowed my phone one day and teased me for keeping them all, but it still didn’t make me delete them. Even pre-Kamakura, I saved almost all of them.
Scanning through, there are at least thirty exactly the same: Sweet dreams. Sleep well. He thought it was dumb when I insisted the first time he walked me home that he let me know when he got back. He could more than take care of himself, he said. I didn’t doubt that. But I still felt better knowing. And it would take two seconds to save me the worry.
“My mother doesn’t even worry about me, Zosia,” he’d said.
“I’m not your mother.” I hadn’t meant it as a judgment on Eloise, but he took it that way. And he texted me that night and every night after without me asking again.
I arrow down through the rest of his texts. The last one, Saturday at 1:24. Just woke up. Sorry. Be there by 2. LU.
My response from the locker room at the gym. No problem. LU2.
Love you. Love you, too. The first time he wrote it, I hadn’t known what it meant. I still have that exchange, too, from the day after Roppongi.
LU?
I love you, Zosia. Just like that, even though it was so new.
I love you, too. But the feelings weren’t new. Just voicing them.
That’s the kicker. Reading it still makes my heart turn over, and I can’t remember Saturday night without the rest of my insides turning to jelly. And that’s before I even think of the way we touched each other. That definitely makes it worse and not just because of the obvious. But because everything about it, starting with our huge fight in the love hotel, was the complete unvarnished truth. All tens all around.
Mom would tell me to call him. To stop being an idiot and just do it. Because he’s not going to call me. Or text. Or stop by. That’s clear.
Everything that happened from the minute we woke up on Sunday to the minute he walked out of that police station just proved what he’s believed all along. And my silence confirms it. Like I’m shouting it from the top of Tokyo Tower.
In between my moping, I did a lot of reading online about children of abuse. Not that it makes me an expert, but I understand a little more now and I recognize Finn in some of the things I read. Like the trust issues. Self-esteem. Anger. The worst thing someone can do who’s involved with a victim of abuse is think they can make it better. Make up for it. The thing is that never occurred to me. Not once. I wonder if maybe it should have. Maybe things would be different now.
I drain the rest of my coffee and stand up, tapping through the contacts on my phone until I get to the right one. I listen to the ringing at the other end and then the sleepy, “Hello.”
“Hey, Min. Why are you sleeping?” I check my watch. “It’s not even midnight there.”
“I know. We did this damn nine-mile hike today. I’m exhausted. What are you doing? Why are you calling me on my cell phone?”
“I just wondered how your date went with Dan the Man? I was thinking of you.” I hear rustling through the phone and then crickets. “I’m guessing it went well since you had to go outside to answer.”
I haven’t told Mindy anything about what happened with Finn. Not after she Skyped me early Monday morning about her pending date. Dan asked her out completely out of the blue. She hadn’t noticed him all summer because he was working with the day camp kids. And he wears preppy black glasses and plaid shorts, which frankly would make him invisible to her anyway. But he likes Jane’s Addiction and the Sex Pistols. And Mindy, apparently.
“Shut up.” I can tell by her voice she’s smiling.
“So?” I start walking away from the main street.
“He’s kind of incredible.” She pauses for effect but doesn’t let me ask. “We went to the Mexican place in town and then we broke into the golf course.”
“How and why do you break into a golf course?”
“We climbed the fence so we could see the stars. He knows, like, a zillion things about astronomy. You’d be proud of me. I even learned a few constellations.”
“I bet that’s not all you learned.” I smile for the first time in three days.
“He kissed me goodnight, but the rest of it was pretty innocent, thank you very much.”
“Ah, but how was the kiss?”
“Oh my God. Seriously.” Her voice drops. “Unfucking-believable.”
“Wow. Good for you.” I kick an empty Coke can to the side. “So when are you seeing him again?”
“Tomorrow. I have a half–day, and he’s taking the afternoon off so we can do something. He’s totally not my type. I mean, seriously, he was on the debate club in high school. Who does that?” She laughs, and I’m sure she’s rolling her eyes.
“So he’s an Andrew Krempa clone? You know, Min—”
“Shut up. Andrew Krempa is a pompous ass. Dan’s about as far from that as you can get. He, like, volunteers at a soup kitchen every Friday. And he wants to be a teacher.” Mindy extols Dan’s virtues for another good three minutes before she says, “Anyway. We’ll see. How’s Finn? I assume you two kissed and made up the other night?”
She’s so offhand in her asking and on such a high from talking about Dan I can’t bring myself to tell her. “Yeah, yeah.” It’s true. We did kiss and make up. And then there was the rest of it.
“What are you guys doing today?”
“I, um, I don’t know.” I turn the corner, barely missing a woman pushing a stroller, and gomen nasai her five times before going back to Mindy. “God, I’m a hazard.”
“Walking and talking was never your strong point.”
“Go to hell.”
Mindy laughs. “Meet you down there. Should I let you go? This is costing you a fortune.”
I sigh. “I know. Probably. Email me.”
She promises a juicy email, and we hang up. I mouth a silent thank you to my phone. At least talking to Mindy helped me get out of my head for ten minutes.
Which is good because I’m about to dive right back into it. And then some.