A special thanks to editor JapleinViera for his time and insight.
All persons and characters featured in this story are 18 years or older. Please do not copy, reuse, or reproduce without explicit written permission of the author.
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July 6
We fucked for the first time last night. I didn't see it coming so fast. This morning I told A I wanted him to use me. "Yes, I'll use you," he said.
July 21
I begged him to tie me up and blindfold me yesterday, but he wouldn't do it. Every time we hang out in his room it's all I can see. At the head of the bed... a thick black boat cleat.
He says nothing but I know it's because he doesn't want that to be the reason we're together. I hate that he talks about how he used it, and the expensive linen rope, on his last girlfriend... but wouldn't use it for me.
July 25
Last night he said, "Eventually we would have to be apart, and soon. But you're crazy about me, aren't you."
I don't know why I started crying. I couldn't stop. He kept asking me what was wrong, but how could I tell him? I couldn't tell him that I actually despised him. I couldn't tell him that I despised myself even more for thinking that I felt otherwise.
Brooklyn
Aug 28
Eyes sullen, Aiko leafed through the pages of her leather-bound journal, then shut it.
The sound of teenagers bantering drifted in through the second floor window of her parents' Brooklyn brownstone. She released a shallow sigh from her lungs and eyed the full suitcase lying open next to her on the bed. Sitting up a little straighter, she reached beneath a thick pile of neatly folded shirts and tugged out her one triumph from Japan. She turned the bottle carefully in her palms, feeling its heft, inspecting its beautifully painted blue and white porcelain surface. She tipped it ever so slightly and savored the sound of its liquid contents gurgling and shifting shape against the inner contours of its neck. With a practiced gesture she circled the cap with her left hand, bracing herself for the sweet, pungent aroma.
***
The next evening, Aiko stood the empty bottle neatly next to the trash bin.
What a waste,
she thought of its pretty shape and color.
If it weren't a gift from him I'd take it with me.
She ran her face under the cold tap in the bathroom, then dried off on a white towel as she watched herself in the mirror. She seemed pale, sallow somehow.
"Aiko, where you going?" her mother called out from the kitchen as she padded downstairs and towards the front door.
"I'm going to go see Hannah," she said, stepping into pair of bright yellow flats, "I'll be home for dinner, don't worry."
"Okay, don't forget. I'm making your favorite tonight."
Through the glass of the front door, the shady street was captured and distorted in a series of swirling circles. Aiko opened it with a loud creak and glided down the steps towards the sidewalk.
*
Three avenues away, Hannah's door swung open. She was almost shaking, her face brimming with joy.
"Aiko! Oh my god!" She flung her arms around Aiko, heaving a satisfied sigh. "It's been too long, lady."
Aiko returned her embrace in full, taking in her familiar scent. Hannah's wispy brown hair tickled her nose.
"I know, I've been totally MIA."
"Yeah, for like a hundred years!" Hannah stood back to appraise her. She could hardly stand still.
"More like two," Aiko said matter-of-factly.
"Two, ten, whatever. It was forever." Hannah motioned wildly, "Come in!"
Aiko stepped tentatively into the hallway of a house she had spent a good deal of her teenage years in. Its subtle musty scents and woody odors took her back to a time that was hardly past, yet felt like ages ago. She fought back a sudden and unexpected rush of tears.
"How long are you back in town for?"
She looked behind her into the soft shadows of the narrow hallway, finding Hannah's silhouette moving towards her.
"Five days. Then I go back to Providence."
"Five days?!"
"Yeah, I just came back too late from Kyoto. And school starts in a week," Aiko replied lamely.
Hannah gently escorted her out of the hallway, past the living room and into a modest but elegantly lit kitchenette.
"Well, at least I can come visit you. You won't be a twenty hour flight away," she laughed. "Let me fix you a drink. You want sangria?"
*
Most sangrias don't come with ice, but Hannah's did. The cubes were now melting at the bottom of her and Aiko's glasses.
"You know, I sort of don't get why you were so fixated on Japan that you had to stay an extra year," Hannah remarked, pulling a tupperware box full of cut watermelon out of the fridge. "I mean, aren't there a ton of awesome photo programs and internships here in the city?"
"There are..." Aiko shifted her weight against the counter. "I just wanted to see other cities. That's not so hard to understand."
"I guess," Hannah said. "Maybe it's different because I haven't been in the city as long as you have."
She pulled the lid off the container and produced two forks.
Aiko watched her silently.
Practical, thoughtful Hannah.
Hannah's family was too closely knit for any of its members to stay far apart for too long.
"I bet it's a boy," she said suddenly. Aiko flinched.
Hannah looked back at her, lips cocked in a half-grin. "I know you. It's a boy."
She was still momentarily stunned.
"Come on, out with it." Hannah stabbed at a chunk of melon. "I know you well enough to know you wouldn't tell me unless I asked."
Exhaling softly, Aiko wrung her hands. "I did meet a guy out there..."
Hannah popped the melon into her mouth, not even looking at her. A brief silence passed between them.
"He was from Finland," Aiko continued. "The foreign exchange students just sort of hung together, you know. And we hit it off pretty early in the semester. I didn't think he was hot, initially. I didn't really think much of him. But then..."
"Then..." Hannah trailed off for her.
"He also did some photography, but mostly video... When I got to know him better, he just— I just— I can't really talk about him right now."
"It didn't end well?"
"No. Not at all."
"Well... how did it end?"
Aiko struggled to find words out of the ocean of novels she'd already written in her mind about the breakup. She failed miserably.
They heard the front door of Hannah's house click open—then shut. The sound of heavy footsteps reverberated in the hallway.
Hannah's younger brother strolled into the kitchen, eyes never leaving Aiko's face. His short dark hair was matted against his head, shiny and damp. He walked with a swagger that can only ever be observed in a teenager.
"Hey, Aiko," was all he said. She thought she could almost see him holding back a grin. Or a grimace?
Ignoring Hannah altogether, he yanked open the fridge door, a dusty basketball still tucked between his hip and other hand. After several seconds of burying his face in the fridge, he resurfaced with a mostly empty jug of milk. He flicked off the plastic lid with his thumb and drained what was left of its contents down his throat. Aiko detected a hot blush spreading furiously all over his sweat-slicked face.
