Kyou
“Come out, Nakajima. You’ve missed your shift anyway.” It was Shay’s voice from the lounge. Kyou’s phone said it was sometime around 23:00. She lifted herself off the futon enough to open the door to her room, then collapsed face-down again. The movement made her cough. It ripped at her throat and left her lungs burning miserably.
Shay tilted her head to match the orientation of Kyou’s. “Yasu covered for you,” she said. “Missed you these last few weeks.”
“Nn,” Kyou said.
“Getting up?” Shay prodded. “C’mon, Nakajima. Can’t be that bad. This isn’t you. You’re a supernova sex machine.”
“Poetic.”
“Weed?” Shay offered.
Kyou accepted. It was the first Friday night in a long time that she had spent in a vest and track pants. Only losers did that. Appropriate. She got up onto the couch beside Shay, who promptly made herself comfortable, dropping a cushion into Kyou’s lap and tucking her head onto it.
Shay passed the joint. “Ladies first.”
Kyou grunted and lit up.
“That chest isn’t sounding any better,” Shay said. “You should let me take a listen.”
“You’re a doctor now?”
“I still have my stethoscope from health sciences. I thought I was going to be a nurse.”
“Hot,” Kyou said, then laugh-coughed.
Shay’s reciprocal giggle shook the pillow in Kyou’s lap.
The TV was quietly playing a countdown of boy band hits. A Korean group seemed to be dominating; Kyou couldn’t keep up with the subtitles, but the dancing was pretty good. How long would they remain on top? What was the survival rate of a boy band member? How many went on to adulthood and how many overdosed?
“You like these guys?” Kyou asked, feeling the beginnings of relaxation spreading down her back.
“Hm?”
“Market research.”
“Ah,” Shay exhaled. “Are you ever not working?”
“I’m here with you.” Kyou stroked Shay’s messy hair. “You’re like a cat. A little cat in my lap.”
Shay made a sound like a purr, which was inordinately hilarious.
“I like the ones where the girls dress as boys—have you seen ‘em?”
“Not sure. Is that a trans thing?”
“No.” Shay snatched away the joint. “Not everything is ‘a trans thing’.” After breathing in, she put the stub back between Kyou’s lips. “Anyway. I’m into everything.”
Kyou took the last hit and dropped it in an ashtray.
“Sounds nice.” She stroked Shay’s head again. “Your hair is amazing.”
“Yeah.” Shay touched her fringe. “Amazing.” After a while, she got up and disappeared into the main bedroom. Kyou watched boy bands flipping and dropping at frenetic speeds and wondered if they ever stopped working. Did they like the jackets they were wearing? Did they choose the colours of their hair dye? Did someone else manage their correspondence? Was Antoinette watching this with her husband?
Her musings were interrupted by Shay’s reappearance, which set them both falling about laughing. She was in some kind of Halloween nurse outfit with a snake-like stethoscope draped around her neck. It was only made funnier by her half-lidded expression. No way that Shay the slow-talking American could have made it in an emergency department. She approached the couch unsteadily, still in fits of laughter, then stood over Kyou.
“Ms. Nakajima, please disrobe.”
“It’s ¥50,000 for the night.”
“Now, please,” Shay said, pulling up the hem of Kyou’s vest. “Let’s keep this professional, ma’am.” The vest was removed. Shay put the prongs of the stethoscope in her ears with some difficulty then suggested, “I think if you lie back?”
“Heard that one before,” Kyou laughed. She stayed upright.
“Very well.” Shay cocked her head and—quite unashamedly—straddled Kyou’s legs, trying intently to twist the silver piece that looked like an emblem stamp to the correct orientation. “Please take off your—oh, we already did that.” She smiled goofily. Kyou became conscious of their proximity then. That Shay’s thighs were bare and warm. She winced at the cool feel of the metal somewhere above her heart. What could a stethoscope pick up in a heart? Could it hear the cracks that had formed? Could it penetrate the chambers and find what had been left empty?
“Breathe in,” Shay said. “Deep breath.”
Kyou complied shakily.
Shay’s brow furrowed. “Crackly,” she said. “Again.” She moved the chest-piece. “Again. Again.” She reached around Kyou’s back and pressed there, settling into a posture like an embrace. Her chest pressed into Kyou’s.
“Breathe,” Shay whispered, her voice much closer than it should have been.
In the dim light, with her wavy hair, the intensity of her look, Shay looked almost like—
Someone leaned in first. It was hard to say who.