Halfway done editing the final work plan for the Haiti Project, I finally put my laptop beside me on the bed, then turned to Emily who was engrossed in a book, sitting next to me against the headboard. “You want to tell me what’s bothering you, Ranga?” I asked the redhead when I noticed she was being uncharacteristically silent that Monday afternoon. Usually whilst reading, she would talk to me or ask me for my opinion on certain things or would be in the mood to play footsie. But an hour already passed and . . . nothing. It was beginning to worry me.
“Nothing,” she mumbled, still reading on, “absolutely nothing. I’m just reading. It’s entitled A Book of Silence.” With a clever little smirk, she briefly showed me the book cover. “It’s about silence, you know.”
I gave her my antibullshit look. “You do know you’re so shit at lying, don’t you?”
Emily flipped her book closed then dropped it into her lap. “Oh, would you like to tell me what’s bothering you?” She punctuated her words by poking herself, then me in the chest as she spoke.
“Don’t do that.” I shook my head at her. “There’s something going on in that pretty head of yours.”
This time when she looked at me, her eyes begged along with her voice. “Not now, okay?” She grabbed her pint-sized carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream from the bedside table and automatically took a spoonful.
I slid an arm around her and gently stroked her arm. It was meant as a comfort, but I sensed something was off. I felt her stiffen a bit.
Ever since I got here last night, things between me and my girlfriend felt a little weird and tense and . . . just plainly different—the romantic, intimate, mind-blowing hot tub midnight rendezvous aside. The redhead seemed unusually distant which bothered me a lot. Emily Fitch just wasn’t that type. In the course of our time together, Emily would be the one who’d always reach out. As shameful as it was to admit, Emily was the fighter and I was the runner in our relationship. But now . . . I don’t know . . .
Just when I had stopped my motion, Emily leant closer. That made me breathe again. With a smile, I tightened my embrace and let my hand slowly rub her back. Then I pressed a kiss into her lovely, sweet-smelling red hair.
“What about you, Naomes?” Emily asked, putting her free hand on my bare knee to rest. “Really, though, what’s been worrying you?”
I took a soothing whiff of her hair first. It smelled all kinds of wonderful. “I’m not worried,” I answered quietly, slowly leaning back against the headboard again. “I’m just thinking.”
“About what?” She held up a spoonful of rich, creamy ice cream in front of my mouth and I dutifully took it.
“I’m just thinking about Nana,” I told her, absently twirling a lock of her wavy hair around my finger. “If she were alive, you would love her. And Grandpa, too. If you meet him, you’d like him.”
Emily leant even closer, and I could smell her skin, too, fresh and candy-sweet and clean. “I’m sure I would,” she said, smiling sweetly yet obviously uncertain where the conversation was really heading.
“I was thinking about how Nana did it, you know—being in love with two things at the same time . . .” I looked over. Emily looked so adorable as she dipped her spoon into the ice cream like a kid.
She tipped her head up to look at me, the stainless spoon halfway to her mouth. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea to talk about your grandparents while we’re cuddling in bed, babe.”
“You’re right.” I smirked, and felt myself ease up at the thought that Emily was making light of it. If the redhead starts to over-think, that’s when the actual trouble begins. And shit would truly hit the fan.
Emily reached up a hand and began stroking my hair fondly with her fingers. “But I think it’s just knowing where your priorities lie,” she said sensibly. “I mean, it’s not so hard to choose between career or love, is it? I mean, I’d choose you over anything.”
I felt a vague current of guilt, and I leant in to nuzzle Emily’s neck to hide it. She then slipped her arm around my waist, her touch comforting in its familiarity.
I admired Emily’s balance. Despite her hopelessness at some things like handling chopsticks and calligraphy brushes or grilling or merely crossing a river with stone steps, the redhead was indubitably stable. She had her ducks in a row, while I felt as if mine were all quacking for attention at once. I’d never thought of myself as being unstable, but I was afraid of going on emotional overload if I wouldn’t be able to get my shit together right away.
I was drowning in responsibility.
“I suppose you’re right,” I murmured my reply, because I was afraid my voice would crack. Suddenly I felt Emily’s fingers crawling from under the hem of my loose pig shirt and upward. In seconds, her hand was completely cupping my boob. I swallowed back a loud gasp.
“Ems?” I breathed with a little surprise. Her thumb began to make these circular movements, teasing the crest.
“Hm?” she mumbled through a mouthful of ice cream.
“Emily,” I said as a quiet warning, but was sure it came out as a moan.
“Yes, babe?” Emily grinned, as she kept on teasing, torturing me with her gentle touch.
“You sneaky little minx,” I murmured into her ear then gave it a teasing flick of my tongue. It was as if I turned her body to Jell-O. She leant her head onto my shoulder and groaned.
“I know,” she murmured, feathering the side of my breast with trailing fingers that curved to the underside. “But I really missed your Ripley’s Believe it or Not-worthy boobies.” Once more, she covered the fullness of my lush, round flesh in the palm of her hand.
My head fell back and my throat arched when she began her erotic caress all over again. A low moan of pleading escaped my lips.
My head fell back and my throat arched when she began her erotic caress all over again. A low moan of pleading escaped my lips.
From his spot on top of a fluffy throw pillow on the couch, Oz stirred, letting out a soft groan. How he turned up at the scene? Let me tell you quickly. This morning, Emily dropped by Misaki’s apartment to pick Oz up whilst I was stuck here in the dorm room catching up on some lectures and working on my thesis.
“We’re embarrassing Oz,” Emily said with a sheepish chuckle, jerkily freeing her arm from my body and blushing a bit. For a second I only stared disbelievingly at the redhead as I breathed harshly, incredibly annoyed that she had left me with wet knickers. I couldn’t believe she was letting a dog ruin our momentum. Fuck’s sake.
I leant forward, straightened my shirt, then shot Oz a black look. “We should find him a wife.”
“Yea, we should,” she agreed, smiling at the prospect. “Like a really hot wife.”
“And from the care of someone we know so we’re sure that the babies will have awesome grandparents. Let’s see . . .” I put a finger over my pursed lips and thought about it. “Hm. How about Halo’s dog, Sparkles?”
Emily scowled. “No way. Sparkles is a Giant Schnauzer. She’s too big for our Baby Ozzy. She’ll eat him.”
“Anyone is too big for Little Ozzy. He’s not exactly the alpha dog type, you know,” I pointed out, as the redhead giggled. “Anyway, moving on. What about Karen’s dog?”
“Yea, but Rocco’s a boy, though,” Emily said, scratching her forehead. “How can they make babies?”
“They could adopt puppies.” I gave a nonchalant shrug. I was more focused on thinking of different ways to devour this delicious-looking redhead next to me.
Emily seemed to consider it for a heartbeat, but shook her head in the end. “Nah. We’ll find him a wife.” Then her gaze drifted down to the empty ice cream carton lying on the floor by the couch. Her eyes bulged a bit. “You fed him ice cream?”
I bit my lip. “Oz needs motivation in the afternoon, too,” I said as an excuse to me just actually wanting to spoil him.
She looked at the lump on our couch. “I’d say he’s found all the motivation he needs.”
I wrapped my arms around her and murmured coaxingly, “Me too. I’m suddenly feeling very motivated.” I shot her a wicked grin and wiggled my eyebrows suggestively.
“Not now,” Emily said, shifting uncomfortably in my arms.
“Why not?” I asked, pulling back a bit to look into her eyes.
“Oz is here.” She glanced sideways at the dog, frowning a little.
“I don’t think you have to worry about Ozzy,” I said, brushing my lips against her temple and glancing over at the Westie. “I’m not sure he’s breathing. Perhaps you should hold a mirror under his nose.”
The redhead didn’t allow a smile. “Naomi—”
“I could ask Jessica to babysit him for a while.”
She lowered her gaze at the half-finished carton of ice cream in her hands. “I’m just a little discombobulated right now,” she mumbled, shaking the carton absently.
Discombobulated didn’t begin to say it. She seemed even worse than that. And I discovered I was still awfully frightened of her when she acted like this.
I disentangled myself from her and my tone suddenly became sober. “Okay. I understand.”
Emily’s head came up. “Really?”
“No, but it seemed like the right thing to say.”
The redhead let out a little laugh then, and I found myself breathing again. Damn this girl and the things she could do to my respiratory system. It seemed as though she was always holding my heart in her hands.
“I’m sorry, Naomi,” she said. “It’s just that . . . I just—” She paused, then tried again, “I need to warm up to this having-a-girlfriend mode, you know.”
I nodded my head in understanding. “I know. And that’s the reason why I’ve reserved a table at Mama Luna’s for a romamtic candlelit dinner for two tonight.”
Emily drew back, a look of delighted surprise on her face. “Naomi Campbell, you are the cheesiest ball in the universe.”
“I forgot to mention the bouquet of blue roses and four-string quartet in the background,” I added.
Laughing, she pressed a kiss onto my smiling lips. “God, I love you,” she murmured against my mouth. “Such a hopeless romamtic, you.”
I slid my mouth up to rest on her forehead and dropped sweet kisses there. “I love you, too, my princess,” I said with soft earnestness, and for the first time, the corners of Emily’s mouth tilted into a genuine gentle and loving smile.
“What’s grad school like?” she asked out of the blue, settling the ice cream carton down on the bedside table.
“Complicated,” I answered. “Lots to do . . . classes, reading, research, teaching, dealing with professors from hell.” Emily brought a spoonful of ice cream into my mouth. I let the ice cream swirl around my mouth before swallowing. She was frowning, a little—focused. “Are you thinking of going?”
Her left shoulder lifted in a shrug. “Probably,” she said, reaching out to drop her spoon into the ice cream container. “I mean, I don’t know yet. I think I could deal with all of that—long evenings poring over dusty textbooks, more trips to the library, more lectures, teaching—so it’s something I could consider, yea?”
“Yea, that’s definitely an option worth exploring,” I said with fake enthusiasm. A heavy sensation suddenly sank down into my gut.
The redhead glanced up at me, grinning a little. “You think so?”
“Yep. You totally should, Ems,” I mumbled, hoping it sounded as encouraging as I hoped it would be.
“I know. I mean, I will still think about it.” She leant forward, her eyes wide with excitement, churning with ideas. “I don’t want to just grab the ALT job because it’s instant work and easy money. I want to actually teach a subject in a school, you know.”
“Here? In Kyoto?”
She nodded. “Yep. I think it’s just right to give back to the community, yea?”
“Yea, that’s awesome, babe,” I said, scrambling to my feet and dashing to the couch before Emily could go on about her future plans and I would have to fake more smiles in front of her. “Anyway, I’m sneaking Oz into Jessica’s room. I don’t think the dog appreciates seeing his mummies cuddling.”
Truth was, I had to get out of the room, and that was the only reason I could think of.
I scooped the sleeping Westie up off the couch and left the room. After closing the door behind me, guilt instantly tossed and turned in my stomach.
I wanted to go back into the room but hesitated, my hand on the doorknob. Tell her, my conscience urged. Tell her about your own plans. That you have your own dreams, too. And those certainly did not include being stuck here in Kyoto. The heavy sensation grew even heavier. There were words for people like me. Selfish bastard. Self-centered bitch.
I had vowed I would never break a promise, would never be the cause of someone else’s disappointment.
And yet I couldn’t turn around and tell Emily things. Things that needed to be talked about. Things that needed to be sorted out.
I knocked at Jessica’s door. Luckily, our next-door neighbour was only applying some funky nail polish on her toes whilst singing along to Nicki Minaj songs on her iPod.
Jessica eyed me, her moss-coloured eyes twinkling. “Must be quite a reunion last night, eh? Did you have a nice time?”
I felt my face heat up. A nice time. Oh yea, we’d had a nice time. Some of that niceness was still tingling inside my body whenever I looked at my girlfriend. My body wanted instant replay—
But my mind hit the stop button.
“We . . . had fun unpacking,” I replied, with a smile that trembled with embarrassment.
Jessica smirked. “Right. I didn’t know that emptying out a luggage could be that exhilarating, eh?” She laughed her teasing, husky laugh. “Oh, hello, porn actress, anyone?”
“Shut up, Jess.” I bit back laughter.
“All right, girl, you could leave the little cutie to me.” She excitedly took Oz from my hands and hugged him for all he was worth. “Don’t worry. I will pump up the volume. I’m sure you’re still down for Round 2.” She gave me a meaningful wink. “If you know what I mean.”
“Thanks, Jess,” I said, ignoring her joke and the heat that filled my cheeks. “And thanks for looking after Emily while I was gone. It means a lot to me.”
The teasing in Jessica’s face and tone disappeared then. “Yea, it made my chest hurt to see Emily missing you so much. It’s been real tough for her, you know.”
“I know,” I admitted sadly, biting my quivering bottom lip.
“What went wrong, Naomi?” she asked with genuine concern. “Everyone would agree you and Emily are totally made for each other. A perfect match. So where did it go wrong?”
I thought about it but chose not to open my mouth, and just folded my arms around my waist in a defensive gesture.
But Jessica wouldn’t let my answer settle into silence. “What ingredient are you two missing?” she probed.
I looked away, then forced the words out of my throat, “A shared view of the road ahead.”
Jessica only nodded in silence, probably clueless of how she should react. And I turned for the door.
As soon as I had stepped out into the hallway, I leant against the wall between Jessica’s door and mine and Emily’s door, inhaling and exhaling, working hard to bring my churning stomach under control.
My head was bombarded with new worries, new fears. Emily taking up graduate studies would mean that the redhead would be staying here for another two to three years. But I was sure that after I get my master’s degree, I don’t have a reason to stay here any longer. NorCamp would want me. NorCamp would need me. If Emily decides to stay here, that would be a massive problem for us, for our relationship. That would mean more time apart, more cold, lonely nights, more time wallowing in despair and what-ifs. And I knew I was going to need my red-haired princess. I needed to tell her. I couldn’t wait that long just standing next to her and waiting for her without me getting on with my life. Christ, that was like career suicide.
But right now I couldn’t afford causing Emily more heartache. The redhead had had her fill of emotional baggage for about three months, let alone one afternoon. Not today, I decided. I had just flown back and we had only started picking up the pieces. All I had to do for now was play the happy, supportive girlfriend and everything will come back to normal. So I fixed a cheerful expression on my face, moved to our door and opened it.
“And here she comes with a healthy dose of crazy bitch,” Emily muttered, a scowl darkening her brow as she stared grimly at something on her laptop screen.
“What?” I asked, rather alarmed, shutting the door behind me. “Who is it?”
She looked up then, and spun the computer propped on her lap for me to see. “Explain this, Miss Campbell.”
I looked at the screen. It was her Facebook wall, showing an indirect interaction between me and Emily’s psycho-stalker, Brooke.
I bit back a laugh. “Ems, c’mon,” I said, “it’s only a joke.”
She shot me a glare. “What was going through your mind? What are you, 8?”
I shrugged, grinning. “It was meant to be funny.”
“Naomi!” she exclaimed, putting her head in her hands in disbelief.
“I thought it was just funny.”
She removed her hands off her face and only kept on glaring at me. “You are unbelievable!”
“Babe,” I said, crossing the room back to the bed, “Brooke needs to know her limit.”
“Yea, but you don’t have to shove it in her face like this.”
I sat back down beside her and slipped an arm around her waist. “I’m sorry, okay?” I said in a coaxing voice, making sure I sounded genuinely apologetic. “I don’t always remember to play well with others. Especially with minxes who’d kill for a whiff of my girlfriend’s lovely red hair.”
Emily’s scowl transformed into a sweet, forgiving smile. “Apology accepted.” Then I heard a giggle work its way up her throat, and she finally burst out laughing.
“I don’t think Brooke even bothers to look at the posts on your wall, anyway,” I reasoned, trying to maintain a sober tone, as Emily shook with laughter. “She’d just go to your page and post all those fucking hearts and mwahmwahs. Go on an Alt+3 rage, you know.”
The redhead laughed some more. “You’re an over-possessive minger, Naomi Campbell. But I love you.” She leant forward for a quick kiss on the lips. “Anyway, I gotta go on Skype,” she told me, tapping on her laptop’s touchpad. “Katie has something important to tell me . . . us.”
I disentangled myself from her and let out a groan. “Oh, just leave me out of it, babe,” I said, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. “We both know your sister is an annoying blabbermouth. It’d probably be just another episode of The Katie Fucking Fitch Show. Yay.” After giving a little sarcastic applause, I grabbed my laptop again and started working on the Haiti Project work plan.
“Hey, Kates,” I heard Emily greet her evil twin sister.
Katie’s tone sounded serious. “Emz,” she said, “have you already apologised to Misaki about the—?”
“Katie!” Emily suddenly exclaimed tremulously, cutting her sister off. And my head whipped toward the redhead who was looking rather tense in front of her laptop. “Naomi’s already here, by the way,” she said, her voice sounding fearful. “Say hi.”
Awkward pause. There was something in Emily’s tone that made my nerves sputter.
“Oh. Blondie’s there?” I could sense the same alarm in Katie’s tone. But between the Fitch twins, Katie was certainly the better actress. On Emily’s laptop screen, I saw Katie grinning gigantically at me as if the moment of slight awkwardness didn’t even happen. “Hi, Naomi!”
I allowed a smile. “Hey, Katiekins,” I returned pleasantly, with all the self-control I could muster. Something in my heart began to thud and thud hard, like a metal detector pinging on a diamond ring.
“Since when did you get there?” Katie asked me. “Emily was just whinging about you a couple of nights ago.”
“Last night,” I answered.
“Okay. Good,” Katie said, the friendly smile still plastered on her face. “‘Cos, you know, listening to my sister snivelling over and over and watching her mooning around is a fucking pain.”
“I wasn’t mooning around,” Emily broke in, scowling at her twin.
“Oh, sorry, I have Tourette’s when it comes to my sister.” Katie rolled her eyes and snorted. “Emily wasn’t mooning about at all. She was only telling me about how she misses you so much and your pancakes and your blond hair and your smell and your skin and your body and that sort of mushy stuff. With tears in her eyes and breathing heavily through her clogged nose. Like she was about to fucking cry a river—”
“Katie . . .” Emily said in a warning tone, her cheeks turning red.
Katie nodded. “All right, all right. Shutting my cakehole now,” she said, making a motion like she was zipping her lips. Then she turned to me. “Anyway, Naomi, regarding your ridiculous Battle of Heart Symbols with my dear friend Brooke on Emzy’s wall, let me just say that—”
“Wait. Hold up.” I held up a hand. Katie was definitely just straying from a certain issue. “Let me ask someone to clarify something here.”
Then I turned to Emily and made sure she was holding my gaze. “Did something happen between you and Misaki? What do you have to apologise for?”
I could see the movement in Emily’s throat as she swallowed. “It’s uh . . . you know,” she mumbled, “because last week at Keith’s Pub, I . . . I, uh . . .”
“She stupidly puked all over Misaki’s Manolos,” Katie finished for her. “Bloody expensive shoes.”
I raised my brows, but didn’t argue. “Okay,” I said, yet still completely unconvinced. There was something fishy going on here. But I didn’t want to cause drama this early.
“Okay, so anyways,” Katie took the floor again, “I’ve got some good news and bad news. Which one do you want to hear first?”
“Bad news,” Emily answered.
“The £500 dress I bought for JJ’s wedding is a waste,” Katie said.
I couldn’t stop the sarcastic snort from escaping. “Okay.” With JJ’s wedding just round the corner, everyone seemed so pumped up.
“What? You’re not going?” Emily asked, her brow furrowed in alarm.
“No, it’s not that,” Katie said. “This is where the good news comes in.”
“What?” Emily and I asked in unison.
“JJ asked me to design Lara’s wedding gown!” Katie squeaked.
Emily looked truly happy for her sister. “Really?”
Katie’s brown eyes were big and twinkling with excitement. “Yes! Oh, my God! I cannot believe it either. Now I have to finish my sketches just before OK asks for it.”
That caught my attention. “What?” I blurted, crawling back on the bed next to Emily. “OK? OK Magazine?”
Katie nodded smugly. “Yep, there and in a bunch of Australian magazines too. OK phoned me this morning and said they wanted to publish the wedding plans as well as cover the wedding in Sydney in a special Collector’s Edition,” she blabbed. “They were extremely happy to hear that a young Brit designer is going to create the dresses and is actually one of the bridesmaids. So they’re going to interview me too. I told them I have a twin sister attending as well, but since you’re way over there in Japan, Emz, they’ll just settle for me. I’m going to be famous, bitches!”
“JJ’s wedding is going to be featured in OK Magazine?” Emily repeated, making a face.
“What’s wrong with OK Magazine?” Katie sniffed. “All the best people get their weddings in OK.”
“Footballers’ wives and soap stars have their weddings in OK, Katie,” Emily babbled blindly. “It’ll look tacky.”
Katie shot her sister a scowl. “The wedding of Prince William and Kate was featured in OK. And a royal wedding’s nowhere near tacky, you twit.”
“We’re really going to be in OK Magazine?” I said, staring at the laptop screen as the reality hit me hard. “Oh, God, the embarrassment.”
“I know,” Emily agreed miserably, giving me a back rub. “I feel you, baby.”
I scowled horrifically at the potential quagmire. “People will look at us and judge us shamelessly. And I’m going to look like a tit in the national press.”
Emily held up an index finger. “But OK does have a way of using twaddle to describe fat celebs: sensual curves instead of rolls of flab.” And the redhead and I both burst out laughing.
Katie only rolled her eyes at this. “JJ’s wedding is going to be a nationwide sensation. It’s the biggest wedding in Australia so far. We’re going to be week-long celebrities, innit?”
I scoffed. “No, I’m not,” I said dryly. “I’m going to wear a shit dress and carry a bunch of flowers.”
Katie raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at me. “You mean a shit dress that I’m going to design? For your information, JJ asked me to design the bridesmaids’ dresses too.”
“You’re going to make my dress?” I exclaimed, and Emily laughed. “Jesus Christ! This is definitely going to be a fucking disaster.”
“And here’s more delightful news, Naomes,” Emily said lightly, “the theme is—tada!—green, of course. It’ll make me look like a repulsive Christmas elf.”
“Um, babe?” I said, pulling back slightly. “What about me? I’m going to look like a fucking corpse. At least you’ve got dazzling red hair.” I ran my fingers admiringly down her gorgeous wavy locks. “You’ll look stunning.”
She kissed my cheek. “Aww, baby. You’re so sweet when you lie.”
The look on Katie’s face was priceless. “Okay. Ew. Stop.” She held up her hands. “Before you two get all kissy, let’s go back to me. My designs would become well-known to all, yea? Isn’t that brill?” She grinned widely, proudly, excitedly.
“That’s great, Katie,” Emily said, being the ever-gracious sister. “I mean, seriously, that’s fantastic news. But, erm, just a request. Don’t make it too slutty, okay? Just because it’s a beach wedding doesn’t mean we have to wear green string bikinis.”
Katie laughed. “I know, you silly cow. It’ll be sexy and elegant at the same time,” she said. Then she stood up from her chair. “Okay, so, I have to go now and look for the perfect fabrics. Bye!”
“Oh, Katiekins,” I called before she turned her back on us.
Katie raised her brows. “Yep?”
“No glittery ‘Pussy Slut,’” I said, grinning.
She grinned back. “You got it,” she said. Then added wickedly, “Pussy slut.”
As soon as she signed out of Skype, Emily flipped her laptop closed, grabbed the ice cream tub again from the bedside table and started scooping up some melted ice cream.
I studied her face whilst she ate quietly. Her mouth was drawn firm as she followed deep thoughts. I found that I get so alarmed when she looked like this. Fuck. What is it this time?
I studied her face whilst she ate quietly. Her mouth was drawn firm as she followed deep thoughts. I found that I get so alarmed when she looked like this. Fuck. What is it this time?
“Emily? Is everything okay?” I asked, quite worriedly.
“Yep,” she mumbled, her gaze fixed on the ice cream she was spooning.
I wasn’t entirely convinced so I took a plunge again, “Ems?”
Suddenly, Emily slid off the bed, padded over to the trash bin across the room and threw the ice cream carton.
I smiled, in spite of myself, at the sight of my lovely girlfriend. She was clad only in a pair of sexy, comfy pink boyshorts and a plain snug-fitting light grey tank, through which I could see the shadowed protrusions of her twin peaks. Her fiery red hair hung in waves to her shoulders, shining in the little sunlight inside the room. My breath caught in my throat and my eyes blurred. So fucking irresistible. Jesus, I want her.
I smiled, in spite of myself, at the sight of my lovely girlfriend. She was clad only in a pair of sexy, comfy pink boyshorts and a plain snug-fitting light grey tank, through which I could see the shadowed protrusions of her twin peaks. Her fiery red hair hung in waves to her shoulders, shining in the little sunlight inside the room. My breath caught in my throat and my eyes blurred. So fucking irresistible. Jesus, I want her.
“I just ate the last scoop of ice cream,” Emily mumbled, crossing the floor on bare feet, quiet as a cat. “Am I in trouble?” She sat back on the bed with a cute little sheepish grin.
“You’re in deep shit,” I said, sliding forward to her, inch by inch. I put an arm around her, then slowly, so slowly, I walked my fingers across the hem of her top.
She let out a giggle before slipping her own arm around me and hugging me close. I gave her nose a sweet, loving pinch. She giggled some more.
Then the easy, flirty mood between us slid away as I noticed the expression on Emily’s face changed. She was avoiding my eyes, her gaze going away from me and toward something far off. It might be the reality of our imperfect relationship hitting her the way it had hit me.
“Hey,” I said softly, placing a finger under her chin to lift her face back to me.
The redhead had wandered off on me. She was holding me snug against herself, but she was lost in thought. “Ems? You want to share those thoughts?” I asked again, feeling more and more bothered.
Emily let out a sigh, one that mirrored the pain in her eyes. Instantly, a sense of strong fear descended heavy and deep into my gut.
Then she opened her mouth at length. “Do you want to be here?”
Her soft, sad question caught me off-guard for a moment.
I snorted a chuckle. “Of course. What kind of question is this, Emily?”
I snorted a chuckle. “Of course. What kind of question is this, Emily?”
She lowered her head and fiddled with the silver chain of her necklace. “I don’t know. I feel like you’re not happy here.”
“I am. I love you,” I said, hoping it was the right response. She frowned and sighed and looked down again, but I wasn’t finished—so I reached out with two fingers and gentle pressed up on the base of her chin. “And I need you, Emily,” I added, softly. “I want you.”
Her gaze, so slippery a moment before, froze. I let my hand drop away, reluctantly.
“I don’t know. It doesn’t seem like it,” she said. It was almost a whisper. She didn’t believe me—couldn’t believe me—and it was my fault. I’d never been so angrier with myself than at the moment.
“I’ll show you, then,” I whispered, then pushed her down onto the bed. It took her by surprise.
The corners of Emily’s mouth twitched with an answering smile and she let out a giggle then. And I grinned broadly, thankful and quite relieved she was making light of everything, allowing both of us an easy way out. As if we could forget the whole long-distance drama, move on, and get back to being the ultimate, joined-at-the-hip lovers. Like the tense phone calls and moments of uncertainty didn’t happen at all.
“You’re in so much trouble now, Fitch,” I said, moving quickly to straddle her hips with my knees.
She almost squeaked in delighted surprise as I hastily tugged off my shirt and reached down to hold onto her shoulders. Those tall, leggy women in the Victoria’s Secret catalogues had nothing over how irresistibly sexy my tiny girlfriend looked beneath me right now, all soft and curvy, ready to be ravaged.
“What kind of trouble, ma’am?” she asked, grinning up at me like some crazed alien. She slightly bent one knee up to support me.
“Big serious trouble,” I answered just as playfully, wrapping my legs tightly around her as I began to slightly grind against her raised thigh.
“How big is big?” she deadpanned.
In the heat of the moment, I grasped the cool metal rail of the headboard in front of me for more support, hoping it would give me the strength I needed to contain this building fire in me. “Big massive mega mighty,” I murmured, as we slowly slid against each other, my other hand got busy stroking the smooth, pale skin of her neck, chest, and shoulder, “universal deep deep deep shit.”
Emily reached down to grab my hips and assist me as I rocked them. We could practically feel Nicki Minaj’s “Super Bass” from Jessica’s speakers pounding through the wall, and Emily and I shared fits of laughter at this.
Then as soon as we sobered, we got back to work. I leant over and dropped a hot, wet kiss onto the redhead’s curved lips, propping myself up on top of her with my arms. She looked up at me, looking enamoured and slightly hungry, and I smiled back. I bent over and let my mouth meet hers again.
She opened her mouth to me, darting her tongue in against mine, the desire rushing hard and fast within me. Her arms wrapped around my back, palms pressing against me, drawing me closer. The kiss heated even before I slipped my hands under her tank top, ran them up the sides of her body, then down again. I lowered my lips to savour and taste the tender skin of her chest. I felt, rather than heard, the moan that tore through the redhead.
With a sharp inhale, Emily wrapped my legs tightly around her hips, pressing her pelvis against the soreness and wetness of my crotch.
“Oh fuck, you’re perfect, Naomi,” Emily groaned, her eyes settled on my breasts. Her hands went up to cup my naked boobs, cradling the fullness there with her palms. I gasped, my hand clutching at her, tight—oh so tight, enough to nearly push her over the edge—my body arching toward her, asking, needing.
Still kissing her, I took my turn to please. I teased her crests between my thumbs and forefingers in sweet, agonising ecstasy, then rolled my touch over the sensitive tips. I slid down to follow my fingers and let my tongue taste her sweet, fragrant flesh. Christ, Emily Fitch tasted much sweeter than honey. I wanted her, Jesus, I wanted her. The Haiti Project be damned, I wanted Emily. All I knew, all I was aware of, was that she was in my arms, her breasts warm beneath my touch, and I’d be a fool to let her go.
Still kissing her, I took my turn to please. I teased her crests between my thumbs and forefingers in sweet, agonising ecstasy, then rolled my touch over the sensitive tips. I slid down to follow my fingers and let my tongue taste her sweet, fragrant flesh. Christ, Emily Fitch tasted much sweeter than honey. I wanted her, Jesus, I wanted her. The Haiti Project be damned, I wanted Emily. All I knew, all I was aware of, was that she was in my arms, her breasts warm beneath my touch, and I’d be a fool to let her go.
Emily moaned beneath the incredible torture of my hands on her breasts. Fire raced through her as I pressed my pelvis to hers, my fingers creating magic on her hardened crests. The sensations launched rockets within her veins, propelling a tidal rush that seemed to have been waiting there all along, waiting for that one final push into ecstasy. “Ah, shhhit, yes, baby,” she whispered to me, reaching up and grabbing my head to make me understand, “yes, yes.”
I ground into her pelvis, my kisses more heated, more demanding, my tongue in a frenzy inside her mouth. I reached a hand between us, cupping her through her boyshorts, rubbing her femininity.
“Oh, God,” Emily whispered against my lips. Her movements became frantic, as if shoving in my face her fiery need to have me inside her.
I pushed aside the remaining thin layer of cotton she was wearing and slipped a hand between her legs. I rested my fingers on the right spot, pressing down ever so slightly. I could feel the heat under my fingertips, the wetness coating them. “Jesus, Em, you feel so good.” I slipped one, then two fingers inside as my thumb went on with the circular motion.
Emily let out a low moan and her hands dug into my shoulders, pulling me close. “Oh, fuck,” she whispered raspily against my ear. And I continued to gently stroke her until she erupted with a loud cry.
And then the orgasm was rolling over her, waves crashing into her mind. Her eyes were hazy and she closed them for a bit, completely undone by the moment. She raised up to me, crying out huskily, breaking away only to release one long, shuddering breath. “Oh, my God,” she whispered. “Was that dessert?”
“Nope. That was only the second course, hun.” My voice was shaking, still laced with desire. I took one last look at her, then slid my hands down, replacing her top over her waist, withdrawing a few respectable inches. “There’s still a main course, then salad, and then dessert.” I placed a tender kiss on the soft skin of her abdomen and sat up. “The main’s the best.”
Emily laughed, the first genuine laughter I’d felt came out of her body today. It felt rich and full, as satisfying as the climax a moment before. “Fucking hell, Campbell,” she said, grinning. “You Pussy Slut!”
I picked up my fork and swirled it around in my penne, rearranging it on my plate so it appeared to be disappearing. I smiled tentatively at Naomi and hoped she didn’t notice I was behaving like a little kid who didn’t want to eat her vegetables instead of a girl on a date in an Italian restaurant.
I wasn’t sure how much longer I could pretend I was eating. What made me think I could fucking go through this? With every morsel I swallowed, my stomach seemed to be expanding dangerously. Soon I would reach critical mass and explode all over the place.
Why’d I have to devour three pints of ice cream earlier? Why’d I even entertain the thought of kissing Misaki last night? And why the hell didn’t Naomi give me a heads-up that she’d be coming back soon so that I could have stopped harbouring so much resentment toward her and just focused on being in love?
I glanced back up at my beautiful girlfriend, watching her face rather than actually listening to her talk. It had only been a few months since she’d gone forth to help out in her family’s honourable organisation, but somehow it seemed longer—as if I hadn’t set eyes on her for years.
What was wrong with me anyway? My girlfriend was finally here, and all I could do was mope and obsess about food.
I glanced around, suddenly aware of the total silence at our table. I had no idea why Naomi had stopped talking. Or how long I’d sat there, nodding along to nothing.
“So . . . ,” I said hurriedly. “The project was a success, eh? Even though it kept you totally swamped all the time.” My voice came out sounding somewhat sour and resentful, which I totally hadn’t intended.
Naomi looked down at her salad and shrugged. “Yes, well . . . I guess it could be worse. But you’re right about it keeping me so damn busy. Especially now that Grandpa’s added Vietnam, Costa Rica, and Kolkata on the list. You wouldn’t believe how fucking crazy I’ve been, babe.” She took a sip of Pinot Grigio and grinned. “Which is why I haven’t had time to answer your millions of messages,” she said teasingly.
My eyes narrowed, and my fork dropped to my plate with a loud clang. “Millions of messages?” I repeated in a hissing whisper. “I haven’t sent you millions of messages.”
“I know,” she said, her eyes wide with surprise. “I just—”
“What?” I asked, my body temperature rising. “So just because I actually take the time to call or text or write Facebook messages now and then makes me some clingy little girl? Is that it?”
“No.” Naomi grabbed my hand, but I pulled it away. “Ems, that’s not what I—”
“I mean, forgive me for interrupting your precious humanitarian time, Naomi,” I railed on. “God forbid you actually take one fucking minute to type a few lines of message and press send!”
“I did write back,” Naomi snapped.
“Yea, once,” I shot back. “It must have taken you a whole minute to compose that work of art.”
Naomi’s face went flat. Her lips pursed, and she gripped the sides of the table. I instinctively knew that she was waiting for me to calm down so she could try to reason with me. She always knew when I just needed time to vent.
A wave of remorse washed over me. For the last few months I’d been so afraid of losing Naomi, and now that we were together, I was being such a tit and practically pushing her away.
“Jesus, I’m sorry,” I said, closing my eyes and pressing my fingertips against my lids. “I didn’t mean to make a scene. I know you’ve been insanely busy with taking care of your grandfather and the organisation. And I understand that. Really. I just . . . I don’t know.”
Naomi let out a long, weary sigh and bit her lip. “It’s okay, Ems. You’re right.” She released the table and rubbed her hand over her face. She looked so tired and so sad. My heart responded with a pang. She must have been exhausted from the flight and the unpacking and the lack of decent sleep, and she’d still found the energy to get all dressed up and take me out. How fucking ungrateful could I be?
“Things are just crazy right now, Emily,” Naomi said slowly. “But as soon as they slow down, I swear I—”
“We can talk about this later, okay?” I interrupted. I reached out and took the hand I’d rejected moments before. “Let’s just forget about it, yea? At least during this fancy romamtic dinner.”
Naomi smiled and lifted my hand to her mouth, kissing it gently. I felt a new warmth spread over my skin. One that had nothing to do with anger.
“Did you miss me?” she asked sweetly.
“You have no idea.”
Her smile grew into a grin. “Good. Because I missed you like hell, too.”
I felt my anger properly thaw out. “Did you have fun there, babe?”
“Last week I ate a whole box of extra-large pizza in one sitting,” she said.
I laughed. “Regular rebel, aren’t you?”
“After I survive the middle stage of my thesis, we’ll have lots of time for fun,” she told me, mischief in her twinkling blue eyes.
“I think we should designate tomorrow as a fun day,” I suggested.
“I have to catch up on some lectures and work on my thesis, Ems.”
“Wrong,” I murmured, leaning forward over the table. “You can spend the rest of the week studying. Tomorrow you must have fun.”
The blonde cocked a suspicious brow at me. “And what exactly do I have to do to have fun, Miss Fitch?”
“It’s a surprise,” I said teasingly.
Her eyes brightened, excitement giving a new light to the light blue hue. “It’s not something kinky, is it?”
“Not unless you want it to be.”
Naomi blushed beet red. “No.” She leant forward and tipped a finger under my chin, smile number 437 taking over her face, giving her a teasing, happy look. “Anyway, I don’t think I could top last night . . . or this afternoon.”
I held her gaze, one side of my mouth curled up. “Don’t underestimate yourself, Campbell.”
It was 4:30 in the afternoon. The summer sun was preparing to bid us good-bye and our “Fun Day” was almost over.
“So,” I said, sweeping my hair into a ponytail, “your idea of a fun day is lazing in our room all day, just eating fondue and watching ridiculous YouTube videos of rapping ankle-biters and piano-playing cats?”
Emily had set up a chocolate fondue pot in the centre of a low wooden table surrounded by colourful floor cushions and presented an assortment of dippers on glass dishes around it—marshmallows, wafers, orange wedges, apple, watermelon and banana slices, and fresh strawberries. My laptop, complete with portable mini-speakers, was sitting there too with its sole duty to entertain. This cute, mushy Mexican song entitled “Choco-late” was lightly playing in the background, further giving our room a fluffy feel.
Grinning broadly, the redhead made a sweeping gesture around the room, indicating the whole romantic set-up. “Yep, just you and me and a lappy and fundue in our little hideaway. You said you’re looking forward to accomplishing my checklist. This is actually high on my list.” When she saw me glance around the room unsmiling, Emily’s arms slowly fell down and she frowned. “Why? You don’t like it?”
My face softened with a little grin, then. I moved to Emily and took both her hands. “Don’t be ridiculous, my little baby. I love it. It’s the chocolatiest thing, actually,” I said sweetly, tugging her slowly toward the couch. “Play that classic one with kick-ass little Nicki Minaj on Ellen once more. That was just epic hilarity.”
The dopey grin reappeared on Emily’s flawless face. “My date plan includes lots of chocolatey cuddling too, you know,” she said as we plopped down onto the couch. I took advantage of that and slipped an arm around the redhead. She leant into me, feeling snug against me, then took the laptop up from the low table.
“And chocolatey kissing,” I added coaxingly, gently cupping her cheek. “There should be plenty of kissing.” After exchanging a harmonious smile, our mouths met in a slow, thorough kiss. Emily’s kisses were long and silky on my tongue. I could taste her sweetness, a blend of the muted and sharp notes of chocolate and oranges. It was delectable.
“I love you,” I told her when I drew back, and she smiled at the three words. “And I’d love to kiss you some more, but I really want to see this silly video again, I’ll kiss you later.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” Emily happily tapped on the computer’s touchpad. The YouTube video clip played and fits of hysterical laughter soon filled the room.
“Oh, God,” Emily struggled for air as she laughed. “God, that kid!” Tears filled her eyes as she held her stomach. “I just want to kidnap her and make her pink balloon animals.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, too. “After ten years, I would bet a million quid, this girl would regret announcing she loves pink and fluffy dresses on television,” I said. “And seriously, who the fuck poured energy drink into her sippy cup?”
Emily laughed some more. “I know, right. Even Halo would bow down to her unreal superhuman hyperactivity.”
The two of us burst out laughing again.
“She’s so amusing, though,” I said, putting an arm around Emily’s shoulders. “I’ll get you pregnant right now if you promise to bear English kids like her.”
Emily’s brows rose with amusement. “Really?”
“No. Not really,” I quickly admitted to which the redhead laughed out loud. “I find her annoying, to be honest.” I speared the last piece of strawberry with a long-stemmed fork and dipped it into the fondue pot.
“Can’t blame the kid, though,” Emily said, putting back the laptop down on the table. “She’s from Essex.”
I offered the strawberry to Emily’s waiting mouth. “Why? What’s with Essex?”
“Think Jersey Shore without the style.”
“Oh,” I said, nodding grimly. “Yea . . . poor little thing.”
Then Emily suddenly got up to her feet, jumping and squealing and spinning around and around whilst singing at the top of her lungs. “Can’t you hear that boom, badoom, boom, boom, badoom, boom bass! Boy, you got my heartbeat runnin’ away!” Emily went on mimicking the little girl’s voice and facial expressions. She was so spot-on that I couldn’t help cracking up all the more. “Weeee! I’m the second Nicki Minaj!”
I was shaking with laughter already. “Oh, my God. You’re even way fucking hotter singing pop songs.”
“Really?” She grinned down at me winningly, cutely, and I laughed.
I nodded vigorously. “Yea, babe. You should sing like that more often.”
Immediately she did a flirty, bouncy Katy Perry impression. “Last Friday night! Yea, we danced on tabletops. And we took too many shots. Think we kissed but I forgot!” Then she was jumping on the couch, whipping her hair, shaking her booty, and punching her fists in the air. “Last Friday night! Do it all again . . . Last Friday night—” She stopped when she saw the sudden hard look on my face.
“Yea, well, that better not happen in real life, Fitch,” I warned, folding my arms over my chest flippantly.
I could swear I saw her stiffen and go pale for a second. Then assuming a waggish expression, she started singing and dancing again, “I won’t tell you that I love you, kiss or hug you. ’Cos I’m bluffin’ with my muffin. I’m not lying. I’m just stunnin’ with my love-glue-gunning—”
“Oh, God, Emily! Stop!” I doubled up, roaring with laughter, and staggered over to the door.
“—Can’t read my, can’t read my, no you can’t read my poker face!”
“Please stop!” I couldn’t control myself from laughing.
Emily settled down into a pillow on the floor, leant back against the couch and stretched her arms across the seat of the polyester couch, looking very smug and relaxed as she raised her brows at me. “Where you goin’, babe?”
“We might need more ammo,” I answered, still trying to catch my breath as I held onto the doorknob. “God, I can’t breathe. I gotta make something and get more strawberries. We’re running out of dippers.”
That was just partly the reason why I had to leave the room. It was also a comfortable excuse to make phone calls to Mum to see how the child aid project was going and to my professor to confirm that I will be meeting him in the faculty office tonight to deal with some R.A. job-related stuff.
I ambled into the kitchen and automatically got to work. I prepared all the ingredients needed – all-purpose flour, some eggs, baking powder, a can of milk, and some butter. Emily had done an amazing job with the Fundue Day; she deserved an equally amazing meal.
As I was working on the pancake mixture in a large bowl, I was on the line talking to my adviser, nodding along to everything he was saying. The conversation stressed me out, to be honest. I had just been informed that I would be all booked up this week with thesis meetings and research work. I had no complaints, though. I was motivated to kill it and get my degree. As far as I was concerned, there was no worse way to restart schoolwork than by getting caught unprepared by Professor Matsumoto. It wasn’t for nothing that Matsumoto Sensei was known as the best professor in the Graduate School of International Relations. And to keep up with the best, you have to quickly get down to business and work your butt off.
I had just finished with the mixture when I decided to give my mother a ring. I pulled out my cell phone again and called Mum up, cradling the iPhone on my shoulder whilst I flipped pancakes in a frying pan.
I had just finished with the mixture when I decided to give my mother a ring. I pulled out my cell phone again and called Mum up, cradling the iPhone on my shoulder whilst I flipped pancakes in a frying pan.
“Naomi darling, I’m glad you called! How’s my baby girl?” My mother’s voice, shouting into the phone. Mum had this idea that mobile phones were the equivalent of two Dixie cups and a string.
“Yea, I’m fine, Mum,” I replied, trying to recover from the god awful ringing in my ear. “Just checking up on the project. How’s it going?”
“Well, the 7 AM sun is absolutely hellish and I bet you have an idea,” she said. “I’m probably West Africa’s current leading producer of sweat. The place is . . . well, we’re in the middle of a savannah right now so it’s dry and barren and godforsaken—with some bushes and wild animals creeping around. The natives are—”
“Mum, they aren’t natives,” I corrected right away. “The people of Ghana are just like you and me, only less . . . fortunate. But never use that word. Call them locals instead.” Sometimes my mother could be so tactless by accident—a characteristic I was lucky not to have inherited. That much.
“Okay, ma’am,” my mother said, snickering. “Well, then, the locals are such lovely people. We had just come from an orphanage and hand-fed the children there. We’re on our way to another village to visit more orphanages and hospices. Also, there are four teams building a couple of schools around here. Hopefully in a few weeks they will be finished.”
“Excellent.” I dumped another ladle full of pancake mixture into the fry pan. “Good to know everything’s going well over there.”
“So, what’s my baby girl doing right now?” asked Mum curiously.
“Making pancakes for Emily.”
“Oooh, the Charm-Your-Way-Into-Her-Pants Pancakes?” she said with a teasing tone. “Remember to separate the yolks from the whites to give your pancakes a cloudlike consistency. And don’t forget to mix in some fresh blueberries, hunny. Gerty said you can use blueberries as an aphrodisiac.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t have blueberries right now,” I said dully. For some strange reason, perfectly fluffy pancakes were an art form most of the Campbell cooks ever mastered. And for some stranger reason, Aunt Gertrude had this idea that blueberries—food, in general—could do wonders.
“How about that wholesome Keep-Your-Priorities-Straight Broccoli Casserole? When your mind is wandering, yank it back on track . . .”
“Mum . . .” I groaned, but couldn’t help laughing inwardly. “I don’t need this right now.” I hated it when my mother gave emphasis to the fact that I was living an incredibly disorganised life and still having troubles with decision-making.
“Okay. How about that Mending-Broken-Fences Mac and Cheese recipe your aunt just taught you?” she asked. “Have you already tried that on Emily?”
“No, mother,” I said with a snort. “There are no broken fences to repair yet. I’m saving that emergency weapon for when the right time comes.”
“Speaking of which . . . how are you and Emily now?”
My light mood vanished instantly. “Honestly, I don’t know, Mum. I feel like she’s hiding something from me.”
An ice-cold sensation crept over me as I said the words. It was true. I could totally read Emily’s poker face. It was as readable as a Dr. Seuss book. She was keeping something from me. Something serious.
Mum was silent for a moment. “Yea, well listen, baby, that is unfortunate. But there’s got to be a solution, right?” she finally said. “You have to talk to Emily. You gotta start asking.” Her voice was gentle but firm.
“But . . .” I broke off, embarrassed to say the truth.
“But what?” Mum quietly prompted.
“It’s scary,” I finally admitted. “What if I don’t like the answers?”
“But what?” Mum quietly prompted.
“It’s scary,” I finally admitted. “What if I don’t like the answers?”
“It’s the only way for you to sail forward, hunny,” she said tenderly after a few seconds.
“I know,” I said quietly with a sigh. But true to form, I was being stubborn. “But I just can’t right now.”
“What do you mean you can’t?” There goes her same old question again.
“Everything’s so fragile at the moment, Mum. One wrong move, one wrong slip of the tongue could ruin everything.”
“It’s worth the risk, darling,” she said sensibly. “Love is a battlefield. It’s a bicycle ride down the hill. This is only a pothole along the way—just one of those challenges couples normally go through. It will test the strength of your relationship. But you’ll get through this. I know you will.” I missed the comfort of my mother’s assuring voice and Aunt G’s superb home-cooked meals during tough times like this.
I chewed my bottom lip. “Yea . . . I hope you’re right, Mum,” I reflected sadly. “But it’s been really weird lately. I feel Emily being disconnected sometimes. I can sense she’s been dealing with some things . . . And I just worry that she’ll explode once she decides to give vent to all of that. And I know how Emily becomes when she loses it. She gets so vicious.” I wiped my face with my free hand. “God, I’m just looking forward to getting us back on track, you know.”
“Well, that’s not gonna happen if you keep dismissing your relationship issues. It’s like thriving on rotten bacon. Soon you’ll see yourself throwing up maggots and Emily will be hurling with you.” Mum was on a roll—a poetic, philosophical roll. “In a relationship, keeping things from each other is like sharing a poisoned drink. In the long run, it will kill the two of you slowly, disastrously.”
“Yea, yea—Oh look! They’re fluffy already,” I exclaimed, abruptly steering the conversation away from the painful subject of my bumpy relationship with Emily.
But Mum wouldn’t let it go.
“Naomi, are you listening to me? Talk to her now. Burying things has a tendency to come back and bite you in the ass.”
I shovelled the final pancake onto the plate and started buttering it. “Yea, but isn’t it that some things are better left unsaid?”
“I thought you flew back there to fix things up with your girlfriend? Covering up your relationship problems by showering it with pancakes—as delightful as they may be—doesn’t seem a very sensible way to go about it,” she chided. “You’re screwing this up, sweetie.”
For a few moments I leant against the counter, my head down. Deep inside, I knew my mother was right. I’d made a hell of a mess of it. Somewhere along the line Emily and I had a severe break-down in communication. She had pulled away from me. My eyes grew a bit moist with unshed tears.
I pressed my lips together and concentrated on the pancakes again, drawing hearts all over them with maple syrup. “Mum, I’m not in the mood for an earbashing right now,” I said, making my voice strong. “And please, enough with the metaphors.”
My mother seemed to understand. “All right, okay. I’m just worried about you, sweetheart. You’ll—Will you look at that!” she gasped loudly with amazement into the phone, over the sounds of a sputtering engine—a Jeep or a bus—roaring behind her. “I’ll be a son of a gun! Good Lord, the bush elephants here are so huge. Look at their giant doodles flapping from side to side—”
“Mum, I don’t want to hear about any animal’s anatomy, okay?” I moved to the refrigerator and quickly took out a pack of strawberries, trying to banish inappropriate images in my head. Ew.
“Naomi baby, I’m serious.” My sane mother was suddenly back. “You need to start opening up to Emily and communicate with her. Okay? Promise me you’ll work it out.”
I slammed the refrigerator door closed and let out a long sigh. “I . . .” I trailed off.
“Promise me—! You—” My mother’s voice started to break up, and in the background, I could hear some calling Gi-Gi, the name by which most of the foreign people called her. “I have to go, sweetie. You take care over there, ’kay? And you know you’re welcome to call me anytime whenever you need some tender loving care. I love you, dear.”
And just like that, the line was dead. I blinked at the click when my mother disconnected.
I’m not going to lie, the phone call to my mother made me terribly miss Africa and my old job. It made me doubt for a split second whether I had made the right decision of returning here to Kyoto or ditching the projects meant turning my back on my real destiny. For an insane moment, I wanted so badly to fly back there, to see the buildings, the river, the people, the children I taught, the crops I helped plant, the homes I helped build, all those people I connected with.
After replacing my phone inside the tiny pocket of my cotton shorts, I brought my fingers to the bridge of my nose, pinched, then slammed my eyes shut. My head had started to throb.
After getting that call from Yolanda Bach a week ago, I was more or less convinced that I should accept the job offer. But then I’d made the mistake of calling Emily bearing the news and her reaction shook everything.
After getting that call from Yolanda Bach a week ago, I was more or less convinced that I should accept the job offer. But then I’d made the mistake of calling Emily bearing the news and her reaction shook everything.
The NorCamp projects were things I really did pour my heart and soul into, and this had sent me into another fit of confusion. What was I supposed to do? Turn down the possibility of saving thousands of other damsels in distress so I could hang on to one just because I felt like I should?
I leant weakly against the cold chrome refrigerator, placing my forehead on my folded hands. “Fuck,” I groaned under my breath. No. That wasn’t it. It wasn’t like I felt I was obligated to be with Emily. I loved her. She was my heaven on earth.
“Okay, okay, here’s what we know,” I said, flipping over against the refrigerator door, and shaking my hair out of my face. “One, I’m a fucking horrible person. Two, I really love being out there and getting to touch and inspire other lives. Three, I really, really, really love Emily Fitch. Four, I’m going to fucking have a nervous breakdown.”
So it had finally happened. I was surrounded by my fears. I was having this fucking dilemma again. And I couldn’t believe my grandfather’s lengthy pep talk and Aunt Gertrude’s words of wisdom didn’t get through. Maybe it was just me who’s to solely blame here. Maybe it was just the old lost little girl in me. I wanted at that moment to get out of the dorm, but I knew better than leaving Emily Fitch. Running away from the redhead never did me any good.
So I put on another happy face, grabbed the plate of pancakes and pack of strawberries, and opened the door into our room. “Baby, look what I made you,” I announced, crossing the room toward her. “Your favourite.” I sank into a floor cushion next to her and lifted up the plate of steaming hot pancakes with pride.
Emily looked up from the laptop and her face lit up. “Aww, baby cakes, you’re the best.” She gave me a grateful kiss on the cheek. “Mmm . . . They smell wonderful. As usual.”
I drew back and gave her a look of disbelief. “I just left you for ten seconds and you already got marshmallow in your hair?”
“That’s what you’re here for, babe,” she said, as I removed the sticky marshmallow goo from a wavy lock of her red hair with a free hand. “That’s why I need you here with me all the time.”
I smiled, but I guess it came out so forced because Emily’s forehead creased up with worry.
“Are you okay?” she asked, scrutinising me. “You seem bothered by something.”
I smiled again, and made sure it looked believable this time. “No. Everything’s fine,” I lied, setting the plate of pancakes down on the table.
Emily’s face remained sober. “Yea, that’s very convincing. What happened back there?”
I bit my lip and hesitated for a moment. “I gave my mum a ring just to check up on the project and make sure it’s going according to plan.”
“Oh. Gina’s over there in Africa now?” Emily studied the stack of steaming hot pancakes and inhaled them with ecstatic bliss.
“Yep, she arrived yesterday in Ghana. Actually, they had started village-hopping already upon landing. And . . . Mum told me everything’s been progressing smoothly.”
“Sounds like good news to me. So why the unhappy face, babe?” She stabbed a fork into a huge slice of pancake, then shoved the whole bite into her mouth.
“I just miss it a bit, I guess.” I gave a nonchalant shrug and reached for a fondue fork.
“Oh. Gina’s over there in Africa now?” Emily studied the stack of steaming hot pancakes and inhaled them with ecstatic bliss.
“Yep, she arrived yesterday in Ghana. Actually, they had started village-hopping already upon landing. And . . . Mum told me everything’s been progressing smoothly.”
“Sounds like good news to me. So why the unhappy face, babe?” She stabbed a fork into a huge slice of pancake, then shoved the whole bite into her mouth.
“I just miss it a bit, I guess.” I gave a nonchalant shrug and reached for a fondue fork.
“Okay. Are you sure there’s nothing more?” she said, looking at me intently.
“Yep. Nothing more.” I stabbed up a team of banana and watermelon slices and popped them into my mouth in one swift motion.
Emily gave a shrug and dived in for a second bite. “Okay. Whatever.” Then she mumbled through a slice of pancake, “Holy fuck, Naomi. These are really incredible. I don’t think I will ever get enough of these, you know.” After giving me a sweet, greasy kiss on the cheek, the redhead got busy consuming bite after bite and turned her attention back to the laptop.
I let out a sigh, thankful at how easily I’d made my escape. I was about to reach for more dippers when Emily’s head suddenly whipped to me again, daggers in her eyes.
“Babe, what the fuck?” She pivoted the laptop on the table to face me. I looked at the screen.
It was my Facebook News Feed.
“I told you, she’s not learning,” I said with not a shred of remorse in my voice. “I think you should report her.”
Emily shook her head in disbelief. “You’re un-fucking-believable.” She typed a reply with a little grin on her face. I knew she enjoyed seeing me in this green-eyed state. She just loved this bitchy side of me.
“Obsessions are not healthy,” I said in a neutral tone. “I thought you already set Miss Mwahmwah straight.”
“I did. And I don’t think a dozen or so sappy posts over a month constitutes an obsession. It’s a little spooky, but it’s not threatening.”
“I don’t like it.”
Emily’s head came up, her lip twitching in amusement. “It’s just your over-protective girlfriend instinct working on overdrive. Of course, if you want to be a little jealous . . .”
I maintained a stiff expression. “I’m just taking the necessary steps to protect my interests.”
Her eyes were laughing at me. I smiled back and stuck out my tongue at her. She giggled. And I realised that even until now, her chocolate-brown eyes twinkled in a way that never failed to make my pulse speed up. Being with Emily felt particularly special that day, because our awful near break-up conversations were safe in the past. I hope. And I was not going to risk starting another conversation that could just very well be the bomb that would ultimately destroy us. I didn’t want a talk. I didn’t want to talk.
“Gosh, you are adorable,” she husked. After giving my chin a light pinch between her fingers, Emily got busy on the laptop—looking for stuff to gossip about on Facebook or nerdy website-hopping, I’m guessing. I took that chance to throw myself into research work. God knows I had a lot of catching up to do.
I reached for the switch of the goose-neck lamp propped nearby. It had become dark in the room already—the faint light of dusk streaming through the windows gave the room a bleak atmosphere. I clicked the switch until the light reached full brightness then grabbed the long-abandoned, ultra-thick bound periodical from the floor and started reading. I was just ready to move on to another issue when I heard a soft gasp of “Whoa” from Emily. I cast a sidelong glance at my girlfriend, who seemed to be liking what she was seeing. I saw her scroll down and watched as her eyes travelled then fixed—no, “feasted” was the operative word—on a page.
I reached for the switch of the goose-neck lamp propped nearby. It had become dark in the room already—the faint light of dusk streaming through the windows gave the room a bleak atmosphere. I clicked the switch until the light reached full brightness then grabbed the long-abandoned, ultra-thick bound periodical from the floor and started reading. I was just ready to move on to another issue when I heard a soft gasp of “Whoa” from Emily. I cast a sidelong glance at my girlfriend, who seemed to be liking what she was seeing. I saw her scroll down and watched as her eyes travelled then fixed—no, “feasted” was the operative word—on a page.
I couldn’t resist taking a peek.
I froze a little. I would be the biggest liar if I say I didn’t feel insecure. Misaki looked breathtaking, the epitome of femininity, in the picture thumbnails.
“Is that Misaki?” I just had to comment. “Wow. She has some spectacular shots.”
“Yea, she looks amazing,” Emily murmured without removing her gaze from the laptop screen. “She’s been practicing the poses, you see. Like last week we went to Nara just to prepare her for the actual shoot. I see now we’ve been successful . . .”
I stifled an insane impulse to ask more about their trysts and fought off a stab of intense jealousy. I knew there was no need to overreact. Emily and Misaki were ancient history. Period.
But I couldn’t help but notice this look on my girlfriend’s face as if her heart was swelling with happiness and sheer admiration. “Misaki has the type of face that doesn’t need computer enhancements, you know. And she has this amazing ability to convey a lot of emotions through her eyes,” Emily said thoughtfully. “In this photo, for instance, you can see how they crinkle at the corners, giving her a look of innocence and simplicity. It’s like the simplest things could make her happy.” She clicked on a thumbnail. “It’s captivating, yea?” She finally turned her head to acknowledge me.
“I see you noticed,” I said through stiff lips.
Emily studied me for a moment then grinned wickedly. “Oh, someone’s getting jealous again.”
“I’m not.” I glanced down at the open periodical in my lap and pretended to read, faking nonchalance. I suddenly spotted a splat of chocolate on the page. I let out a grunt of irritation and slapped at the smeared page with the edge of a paper towel.
Whack!
Splat!
Slap! Slap!
Whack!
Splat!
Slap! Slap!
“Jesus, Campbell, could you be any more subtle?” Emily snorted a chuckle. “Why don’t you just jump up, wave your arms, and scream, ‘Oooooga! Oooooga!’?”
I lifted my head then slammed my book closed, biting back a smile. “Okay, Emily. If it’ll make you happy, I admit. I’m jealous.”
Her teasing grin was back. “You’re so hot when you’re jealous, babe. You turn into this gorgeous grumpy crank of a She-Kraken I first fell in love with,” she said, finally eliciting a laugh from me. Then she glanced again at the laptop screen and her eyes widened with excitement. “Oh, you better take a look at this, Naomes. Karen wants a Rocco-Oz face-off!” She let out a husky peal of laughter. “Oooh. So Rocco’s Mr. Testosterone, eh?”
I tick-tocked a finger. “Yea, but don’t they be snubbing our baby,” I said cockily. “Oz’s charm is off the charts.”
“Like her owner?” Emily arched her brows smugly.
Smiling, I nodded. “Yep. Like her Mummy Emsy.” I leant back against the edge of the couch, stretched an arm and Emily willingly slipped into it. I hugged her close and she buried her face in the back of my neck.
“I love it when you wear your hair up,” she mumbled against my skin. “I get to kiss your nape all the time. And it makes you look sophisticated.”
“Mmm . . .” I murmured, loving the feel of her soft lips nipping my neck.
“And I really, really love your lotion,” Emily added, dropping soft kisses all over. She drew back just enough to look me in the eyes. “So are we on tomorrow? Dinner at Mama Luna’s?” Her big brown eyes were twinkling at me with expectation.
“I can’t tomorrow night, Ems.” I squeezed her, then let her go. A little of the sparkle left Emily’s eyes. “Again, I had just started with my R.A. job again and there’s a lot to make up for.”
“But it’s summer break.”
“And it doesn’t change the fact that I still have some compensating to do. I left some unfinished tasks when I disappeared, you know.” I held up the thick book and stared glumly at it. “Look at this killer volume.” My face scrunched up with a nonverbal eww.
“But you already cancelled today, Naomi,” Emily protested. “I felt like a prick calling up the restaurant five times this morning to make sure our table’s been reserved and insisting for them to have this special veggie soup on the menu tonight only to phone again thirty minutes later that we wouldn’t be able to come. I still hate you, you know.”
“And still, babe, I’ve got work to do tonight and tomorrow. More work.”
Emily’s shoulders sagged. “If you and your pancakes didn’t look so yummy today I would’ve been so annoyed.” She stuck her lower lip out in a well-practiced pout.
“I think it’s one of the curses of my life and my pancakes to be so appetizing.” I laughed, and she joined in. Then I stood up and went over to the low cabinet next to the fridge and poured sake into two crystal goblets. “But I could squeeze in some time to make a toast.” I sat back down beside Emily on the floor and handed her a goblet, then I lifted my own glass in the air. “To a day well done.”
“To fun,” Emily chimed in happily, raising her drink.
“To fundue.”
“To tiny Nicki Minaj wanna-bes,” she added with a cute laugh.
“To our popstar careers,” I concluded then we clinked glasses and sipped our rice wine.
“Ugh,” Emily grunted. “This stuff is scalding my stomach and making me feel very friendly.”
I smiled at the adorable look on her face. “It’s supposed to relax you, babe.”
“It’s making the backs of my knees sweat.” She put her goblet down on the table. “It’s not good.”
After placing my own glass on the table, I moved closer and wrapped an arm around my girlfriend. “It is good,” I murmured, softly gliding my free hand down the smooth skin of her thigh. “So . . . you’re feeling motivated, huh?”
Emily screwed up her face and gave me a thumbs-down sign. “Do you have time to feel motivated now, though?” she said with obvious reluctance.
I nodded vigorously like some demented, horny weirdo.
“Naomi, don’t you think we need to—?”
I nodded vigorously like some demented, horny weirdo.
“Naomi, don’t you think we need to—?”
“Yes,” I broke in. “I do have time to feel motivated.” I quickly leant in and pressed my mouth to the side of her neck, my fingers still stroking her thigh.
She gave a little giggle then gently pushed me back. “That’s not what I’m talking about—! Naomi—!” I yanked her into my arms and continued to attack her neck with ticklish kisses. “Stop! No!” she squealed, twisting in my arms, then she dealt me a harder shove.
I drew back, scowling, pretending to rub my shoulder she just shoved. “What?”
Emily sat upright and straightened her top. I felt a jolt of fear when I saw the change in her expression. The redhead shifted on the floor cushion nervously, her eyes downcast. I could see the way her throat moved as she swallowed.
I could feel my pulse accelerating. Oh, Jesus, no. She was going for the talk.
The redhead exhaled slowly then spoke, “It’s just . . . I don’t know,” she looked down at her hands, her voice dropping, “It’s just that . . .”
My eyes narrowed briefly but I waited quietly for her to continue on her own.
Emily seemed to steel herself then raised her head to look at me. “I’m just not comfortable with how we never t—”
I drew back, scowling, pretending to rub my shoulder she just shoved. “What?”
Emily sat upright and straightened her top. I felt a jolt of fear when I saw the change in her expression. The redhead shifted on the floor cushion nervously, her eyes downcast. I could see the way her throat moved as she swallowed.
I could feel my pulse accelerating. Oh, Jesus, no. She was going for the talk.
The redhead exhaled slowly then spoke, “It’s just . . . I don’t know,” she looked down at her hands, her voice dropping, “It’s just that . . .”
My eyes narrowed briefly but I waited quietly for her to continue on her own.
Emily seemed to steel herself then raised her head to look at me. “I’m just not comfortable with how we never t—”
My moby suddenly rang inside my pocket, stopping Emily midsentence. It was Yolanda Bach—the representative from Koepsell-Fleig Corporation. Ever since I had dropped the news that I was going back to Japan and giving up the project head position, she had been constantly ringing me mainly to torture me with guilt.
“Christ, this is hopeless,” I heard Emily mutter with a roll of her eyes.
After a few seconds of hesitation, I answered Yolanda’s call and padded over to the balcony to talk to the woman privately. It had been a brief yet pretty intense phone call. Mrs. Bach was firm on saying that I should take the job and concentrate on the mega-project and that doing otherwise would be a big mistake and just plainly nuts. I had been lucky today that she had to get off the phone quickly because of other appointments; I had escaped another session of her irksome prodding and equally overused blasphemies. Just as I had disconnected, I heard Emily gasp loudly. “Oh, my God!” Her shocked exclamation echoed in the room. “You’re not serious.”
After seeing the expression on Emily’s face—with her hands pressed against her pale cheeks—I rushed over to her and looked at the laptop screen to see what she was gasping about.
There, freshly posted in the News Feed, was our good friend Pandora Moon’s latest status.
There, freshly posted in the News Feed, was our good friend Pandora Moon’s latest status.
“Oh, God. No fucking way.” It was my turn to be alarmed.
We both became quiet for a while, obviously sharing the same wave of shock.
“This is bad, Naomi,” Emily finally said bleakly, her big brown eyes filled with sorrow. “It’s not April Fools’ yet, is it?”
I shook my head, the shock still overwhelming. This was horrible. This could not be happening. I thought the two were going strong.
Emily’s face reflected panic too. “Panda and Thomas broke up, Naomi. Panda and Thomas,” she repeated with emphasis. “You know what this means, babe? It means no one is safe. If it can happen to them, it can happen to anyone.”
I shook my head sadly. “I should’ve known. I had seen some sort of a sign,” I told the redhead as awareness dawned. “I mean, you wouldn’t quote Adele if it’s not that serious, yea?”
Emily cocked her head. “What are you talking about?”
“Here, look.” I took over the laptop and clicked on Thomas’s Facebook profile page. “This was Thom’s last status update. Then a few weeks ago I saw him quote another Adele song. I should’ve known it was leading to this . . .” I hovered the cursor downward. “Let us ‘Like’ Effy’s comment . . .”
“Oh, God . . .” Emily frowned at the quote, and I couldn’t agree more. It was the saddest line of that Adele song. It was definitely serious and indubitably headed for disaster.
I turned to the redhead. “Do you know a potential reason why the two would split up?”
She was pensive for a moment. “Actually, yea . . . Effy mentioned a bit about it—about Thom’s dilemma—some months ago—I can’t honestly remember very clearly,” she told me. “But it was something about Thomas wanting to follow Obama’s footsteps. I mean, now that he’s so busy with law school and interning at the White House, he wants to focus on his career first, his ‘destiny,’ and just chuck out all distractions. And Panda’s apparently a distraction.” She heaved a sad sigh before continuing. “But I thought they were working on that. I didn’t know it had gotten so serious. So serious that they . . . fell apart.”
“But that’s just stupid,” I said, feeling a bit of a hypocrite. I completely understood where Thomas was coming from. I put on a first-class show of being gutted by Thomas’s moronic ways.
“I know. And foul,” Emily agreed. “I just feel bad for Panda. The girl would be willing to give up everything for Thomas, you know.”
I swallowed and reopened the periodical I was supposed to be studying. “I know. Let’s just hope they sort it out soon. It would be so sad not to see them together on JJ’s wedding.”
“Yea, that would be really tragic. Not to mention awkward. And I could really see Panda painting the White House pink . . .”
“She’ll definitely do great things,” I agreed.
“It’s just really heartbreaking, you know. They were the Wonder Couple,” Emily reflected unhappily.
I reached out, laying a hand on her shoulder, and squeezed gently. “Yea. But, babe . . . they’re not the Ultimate Couple.”
Emily quirked an eyebrow and smiled at this. “Oh, yea?”
“We are the Ultimate Couple,” I stated. “Panda and Thomas, they what—they fell in love cuddling in Thomas’s bed because Panda was mourning over the loss of her salamander and Thomas just felt sorry for her?”
“There’s more to that, Naomi,” she replied. “Panda needed strength and comfort and Thomas willingly gave it to her. I think that’s really special. They were bonded by—”
“The fact that the one needed the other, yes. But we,” I insisted, “we fell in love because we changed each other. We changed each other for the better and I think that’s really something else. Something way more special.”
Emily smirked. “Wrong. I fell in love with your blond hair and ten-mile-long legs.”
“Shut up, Ems,” I said, fighting off laughter. “I’m trying to make a point.”
“I know, I know. And I agree with you.” Smiling tenderly, Emily gave my hand an affectionate squeeze. “We’re just perfect for each other.”
That made me scrunch up my nose.
Emily pulled back, her eyes widening. “What? You don’t like perfect?”
“I just think that perfect is a word that gets a lot of abuse,” I told her. “And attaching the adjective to a person can be dangerous.”
“Not even me?”
“Not even you,” I said. “You’re not the perfect girl, Emily. But I’m not one either. This is why we still have fights. We still hurt each other. We still do stupid things.”
She looked down at her hands and nodded, looking guilty. “Right.”
Gently I tilted her chin up so her gaze met mine. “But you know what we can do?” I said in a soft voice. “We can both change in the right ways and, after a while, try to perfect our relationship. Maybe that’s as close as it gets. People should forget perfect as an adjective. Perfect as a verb is much more doable.”
A wide smile spread across her beautiful face. “Aww, baby. I love it when you get so philosophical. You make me want to grab you by the head and bombard you with more kisses.”
My gaze wandered back to the laptop screen where Panda’s status was displayed. “I still can’t believe they broke up, though. They’re like the last couple on earth I would assume would split, you know. After us, I mean. So we’re like the lastest.” I placed my hand on her bare thigh.
“I don’t think there’s a word such as ‘lastest’. But I agree,” Emily said, putting her own hand on top of mine, “If we break up, it’s like the end of the world.” She nestled her head in the crook of my shoulder.
I closed my eyes, enjoying the candy-sweet scent of Emily’s shampoo. “Break up is even a foreign term in our joint dictionary.”
Emily giggled huskily. “I know. And sexy time isn’t,” she murmured, nuzzling my neck, sucking gently on the skin at its base to elicit a moan.
I threaded my fingers through Emily’s hair. “Mmm . . . I love how you segue into romance, Ems. You’re so smooth.”
“I know,” she said softly, her breath a hot breeze in my ears. Sweet merciful God on a yacht, she was brilliant at foreplay.
Emily moved her mouth over my neck again in a series of slow kisses. Toying with my earlobe with her teeth, she eased her fingers beneath the edge of my cotton shorts and smoothed her palm up the inside of my thigh. My breath caught at her touch.
“Em?” I said, my voice reedy.
She stopped and pulled her hand away, withdrawing and turning toward the stack of pancakes on the table. “I’d kiss you now, but the pancakes smell great and I’m still hungry, I’ll kiss you later,” she teased, echoing my words.
I raised a brow. “What if I change into my glittery Pussy Slut lingerie?”
“No.”
“What if I pour you some more sake?”
“No.”
I slipped my arms around her waist and brushed my lips against her cheek, nibbling at the corner of her mouth. “What if I serve you the main course now? Hm?” She moaned in surprise as I slid a hand under her too-short shirt.
“No.” She managed to escape my hold and dipped her fork into a pancake. God, she was the biggest tease. “Keep your hands to yourself.”
“Ems, come here.” I stretched my legs out in front of me.
She turned to me, a teasing smirk on her luscious lips. “Come where?”
“Here,” I said, motioning across my lap.
Emily shook her head vehemently. “No, Naomi. I’m busy ea—Agh!” she squeaked.
I quickly reached out and forcefully pulled Emily into my lap, then drew her into my arms in a tight hug. Emily squealed and giggled huskily as I buried my nose in her sweet-smelling curls. We remained in this sweet, G-rated position just giggling and tickling each other until Emily straddled me.
Emily shook her head vehemently. “No, Naomi. I’m busy ea—Agh!” she squeaked.
I quickly reached out and forcefully pulled Emily into my lap, then drew her into my arms in a tight hug. Emily squealed and giggled huskily as I buried my nose in her sweet-smelling curls. We remained in this sweet, G-rated position just giggling and tickling each other until Emily straddled me.
Emily slid close and put her arms around my neck, the pancakes forgotten. My arms wrapped around her back, drawing her closer, and I nibbled on her upper lip. I could sense she felt sparks of electricity between her legs each time I did that. She sucked on my lower lip and pressed harder against me.
“Ready for the main course?” I murmured against her mouth.
“God, you’re going to kill me, Campbell,” she gasped, trying to get her breathing under control.
Suddenly Emily’s mobile phone rang, shattering our drive, ruining the moment.
Emily started to gently pull away, but I grasped her hips, holding her. “Let it ring, baby,” I whispered, before capturing the redhead’s lips in a wet, hot, hungry kiss.
The iPhone kept ringing and dancing wildly on top of the bedside table.
“It might be an emergency.” Emily then moved to get her phone but not before adding, “Hey, Campbell.” Her voice was an octave or two lower than usual. “I’m not done with you.” Her tone carried a hint of threat that sent a wave of excitement up my spine.
When Emily saw the caller’s name on the screen, she seemed to hesitate for a second before answering. And this struck me as quite alarming.
“Oh, hey . . . Uh-huh . . . Uhh, I’m . . . Yea, yea . . . What?” she was stammering a bit, “Yuka-chan did what?” she exclaimed, and my tummy tightened at once.
It was Misaki. I sat up with my spine as stiff as a broomstick.
Emily sat back down next to me. “Oh, my God. That is just ridiculous!” She was chuckling, a bit uneasily. And why was her voice tremulous? She cleared her throat. “You gotta make her stop watching American TV, like, seriously . . .”
It was Misaki. I sat up with my spine as stiff as a broomstick.
Emily sat back down next to me. “Oh, my God. That is just ridiculous!” She was chuckling, a bit uneasily. And why was her voice tremulous? She cleared her throat. “You gotta make her stop watching American TV, like, seriously . . .”
If I hadn’t known better, I would have said it was terrifying that she looked like she was being tugged in two different directions.
I was positive that Misaki and Emily were ancient history, that they were only best friends now and nothing more. And yet that didn’t stop me from getting slightly jealous. I looked away, still listening but pretending not to. Just then, Emily reached over and placed a hand on my leg. My muscles tensed beneath my shorts as she ran her hand along my thigh.
“Oh, that’s great,” she was saying to her friend. “I’m glad you got that offer. I mean, they must be blind to reject a face like yours . . . Yea, I actually just saw that set. Your photographer is genius and, of course, you were amazing . . .”
I watched as Emily talked to Misaki, bothered by her expressions. Emily was one of those people whose expressions were a window to their every feeling. It was a rare quality these days. I often felt that too many people lived their lives acting and pretending, wearing masks and losing themselves in the process. Exhibit A: me. Emily, I felt certain, would never be that way.
“How’s Oz? . . . Oh, that’s good he’s starting to eat real dog food.” She paused, as the girl on the other line chattered. “I’m sorry to hear that. It must have been a pain . . . Yea, I think I’m done with that phase. No more lady in distress.”
A lump rose in my throat. The redhead seemed ill at ease like she was indeed hiding something from me. But I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know what it was. Emily and I were doing okay now. I didn’t want to do anything to spoil our moments together. I already missed out on a lot. I owed her that much. I picked up my book again and loudly flipped the pages. I refuse to watch and hear Emily giggle with another girl. But I couldn’t stop. It’s like a car wreck. You hate yourself for watching, but you can’t help yourself.
“Maji de (Really)? Wow. I mean, I’d love to see her perform live but I’ll have to get back to you on that,” she went on. “I’ll, uh,” she hesitated and gave me a cautious sideways look, “I’ll have to ask Naomi about it first . . . Okay . . . All right . . . Yea, bye.” She tapped on her screen and placed her phone down on the table.
“That was Misaki,” she finally said, pushing a lock of wavy hair out of her eyes.
“I figured,” I said flatly.
“She’s inviting us to watch Ayumi Hamasaki’s concert at Osaka Dome with her and Yuka. It’s next next Saturday.”
I closed the book in my hands and tossed it onto the table. “Emily,” I said, turning to face her completely, “you know very well how much I fucking hate those Japanese female pop stars. They sound like a bunch of newborn kittens fighting over a nipple.”
She gave an uneasy grin. “Okay. I’ll just tell her—”
“But if you want to go, then go. I don’t mind,” I lied, stabbing up some strawberries with a fondue fork. Fear was creating a cavern in my tummy.
Emily shook her head. “No. If you won’t go then I won’t go.”
“Okay.” I dipped the fork into the gooey melted chocolate mixture. I just needed something to fill the emptiness expanding within me. And the chokkie-dipped strawberries looked satisfying.
“And . . . uh . . . Misaki got a modeling gig for Oggi magazine.”
“Good on her.” I bit off a strawberry and ate it ever so casually.
Again, a thick silence descended between us. I swallowed hard, the taste of bile thick in my throat instead of the sweet dessert. Weariness filled me. We’d wasted enough time playing the perfect, happy couple. It was time to reassemble the broken pieces one by one. Delaying it would only make matters that much worse.
I decided to plunge ahead, “You and Misaki seem to have spent an awful lot of time together while I was away, huh?” I said, with all the casualness I could muster.
“Yea, well,” Emily began a trifle shakily. Peripherally, I saw her swallow with difficulty. “I mostly hang out with her and Jessica and Yuka-chan. The problem child had grown on me, you know.”
Emily’s iPhone went off again. I was able to glance at the name of the caller and something in my chest panged hard.
Misaki. Again.
Emily reached for it and when she saw who it was, put it back down on the table with shaky fingers and just stared at it.
I was told plenty of times by many people, including Emily, that I sucked at being subtle. Well, folks, I don’t give a fuck if it meant protecting my interests, if it meant keeping my girl. Fuck. I was so jealous, I felt like pushing someone’s face in the dirt—not necessarily Misaki’s ’cos, you know, I would probably rot in hell messing up one of God’s most exquisite creations like that. It’d be like a mortal sin.
I picked up my goblet and swirled the pale liquid around. Not gonna lie, this Misaki situation was really making me tense. I didn’t want to be catty and vile, but how could I help being catty and vile? I had to admit that Misaki Ueno could probably give me a run for my money in a Win-Emily Fitch’s-Heart contest. Don’t get me wrong; Misaki was a nice girl and a fantastic friend and I liked her. Unfortunately, she was my girlfriend’s ex and she was competition. For that, she’d automatically won the top spot on my list of Threats To Look Out For.
For a long while now the Japanese girl and I had maintained a normal friendship—hanging out and being pleasant toward each other. But, still, it was sickening to know that despite the two being ex-lovers, Misaki had attached to Emily like a barnacle—a fucking desirable, fine-looking barnacle that could easily take my princess away from me. Nice was nice, sweet was sweet, BFF was BFF, but the girl seemed to be going overboard. What reason, I wondered, could she possibly have for lavishing so much attention on Emily up until now? If it wasn’t undying love, what was it? If it wasn’t to lure the redhead back then what? To emphasise my growing resentment, I drained my glass in one gulp and set it back down on the table with a resounding thump.
I looked away to the window, my mouth in a line. “Why won’t you answer it?” I asked, as the iPhone rang on and vibrated on the table.
“We just talked. Seconds ago. I’m sure it’s nothing important.”
Her phone kept ringing. Another wave of unsettling quiet filled the room.
“Answer it,” I said tonelessly. I speared another strawberry and chewed on it ferociously.
My girlfriend’s voice wobbled. “I don’t think it’s—”
“I think I need some fresh air,” I cut in, standing up and dropping my fork on the table, the strawberries in my stomach no longer feeling comforting, but more like a lead weight. “I lost my appetite all of a sudden.” I made my way to the sliding glass door and stepped outside on the balcony.
Emily made her way out the door and joined me against the rail. In the moonlight, her skin was pearly, her eyes darkly luminous.
I knew I could be facing a truth that would crush my heart, but I still went for it. “So . . . Anything interesting that happened while I was gone?” My fingers were absently plucking at the spindly spider plants that hung in the balcony.
It took her a few heartbeats to answer. “Nothing. Just the usual,” she mumbled, but didn’t look at me when she said it. She was hiding something and I knew it. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Really? Nothing unusual?” I asked, my eyes daring her to lie to me.
She bit her lip, obviously nervous.
I eyed her, watching the flicker in her brown eyes. Emily really stunk at lying. Something on her face always betrayed her, so her usual plan of action was to look away and utter whatever the person across from her wanted to hear. “Nothing the mouse would do while the cat was away?” I probed, my voice taking on a harsh edge.
What I saw made the blood halt in my veins. I noticed the redhead struggle, her eyes avoiding meeting mine. “Well . . .” she was stalling. “There was this . . . one . . . drunken snog. But that’s just about it,” she said a bit shakily, and it felt a little like being stabbed. Hard.
“I don’t even remember doing it,” she went on, her voice high and tearful. “I mean, the last thing I’d think about doing if I were sober was to kiss another girl.”
“Who’s this other girl?”
She looked down, shuffling her feet. “Misaki.”
I felt my chest tighten. Every time I hear this chick’s name and reminded how my girlfriend’s used to be hers, it was accompanied by those sharp, sledgehammer blows to my heart. “When were you planning to tell me about this?”
Her lips quivered and she pressed them together. God, was she trying so hard not to cry. “I wasn’t.”
My jaw hardened. “Right.”
The redhead’s gaze went back to me. “I just didn’t think it was worth mentioning,” she reasoned, still in that meek, high voice. “I mean, it didn’t mean anything. It meant nothing.”
Despite her saying that it was nothing, a ball of lead sunk to the bottom of my stomach.
“How many times did this happen?” I asked after a studied moment.
“If I told you it only happened once, would you believe me?”
“Just tell me.”
“Only once. Just one drunken kiss. That’s it.”
I froze a little inside. Was this the truth?
Feeling my withdrawal, Emily stared at me hard. “I’m not lying,” she said seriously. “I never cheated on you. Not with anyone. Not with Misaki. Okay?”
I stared at her through the darkness, fascinated and frustrated at the same time. Judging from the edgy flicker in her eyes and her quivering lips, I was sure she was waiting for me to tell her to get out of our room and out of my life or that classic line: ‘You can kiss my eye,’ but I couldn’t. I knew I could never do it. I was too enamoured with her right now to spoil the beauty of the moment so I settled for a quiet yet audibly upset, “I just couldn’t believe you did that.”
“I was an emotional mess, Naomi,” she said. “I was so hurt. I felt abandoned.”
“So when you feel abandoned, you just go run into the arms of another girl. Is it that easy for you, Emily? Is it that easy for you to throw away our relationship?”
“Don’t you turn tables on me. You were the one who threw us away, remember?” she reminded me, her eyes reflected hurt and anger. “You made me feel alone, Naomi. When you left it was like you ditched me. And don’t expect it would all be forgiven simply because you showed up now.”
“You know I would’ve moved heaven and earth just to spend time with you.”
“Yea, but you didn’t, did you?” she burst out. “Because everyone else in the world was more important to you than your own girlfriend!”
I took a step back, the words coming at me like a slap. I couldn’t believe we were resorting to mud-slinging games.
In a voice full of hurt, I told her, “That’s not true.” My voice cracked. “And don’t do that, Ems.”
“Don’t do what? Don’t tell you how I really feel?” Furious tears came rushing down her cheeks.
“You’re still angry, Emily, and you’re entitled to that.”
“Damn right I am,” she bit out huskily.
I drew in a deep breath and stepped closer to her. Something hot stung at my eyes, but I refused to give in to it.
“I know I’m not nominated for ‘Girlfriend of the Year,’ but I’m not as heartless as you portray me to be, Emily. I’m here, fuck’s sake. I chose you. What else do you want from me?”
Her words were ice. “So now I’m supposed to thank you for ‘choosing’ me?” She made scornful air quotes. “Was I supposed to bake you cupcakes now? Was that it?” The moonlight cut her face into lines of granite. “Was I a charity case or something?”
I looked at her. Her face was immovable.
“No,” I said helplessly. “That’s not what I’m trying to—”
She cut me off with a low, calm voice. “I don’t have energy for this right now,” she said, stalking back inside the room and toward the closet to grab a towel. “I’m gonna take a shower. All this futile talk is wearing me out. Have fun with your professor tonight.”
“Ems—” I called to her retreating back when I heard the hopelessness in her tone. “Are we okay?”
She stopped walking then turned around. “Of course,” she said, silent tears leaving small tracks down her cheeks, “we’re okay.” She turned and stalked out the room, shutting the door behind her. My breath caught in my chest when I heard the click on the doorknob.
We’re okay, Emily has told me, in spite of those tormented brown eyes that made my stomach plummet. I had never seen her look so timid and discouraged and unsure.
We’re okay.
Could it be true? Could be, yet it was a lovely, seductive thought, and I suddenly so wanted it to be true that it almost hurt.
We were not okay. We were far from okay.
One week later . . .
I stepped back into the room, closed the sliding glass door of the balcony, and moved shakily toward the tiny refrigerator to pour myself a huge mug of icy cold chocolate milk drink.
My heart sagged. I confess, what I did was totally foul. I couldn’t believe I could say such hurtful things to Naomi like that. But I couldn’t help it. It was like I was possessed whenever I let my anger get in the way. If Naomi had her She-Kraken nasty ass moments, I had my She-Hulk ones.
Leaning against the refrigerator, I took a soothing sip of my choco drink. The night-light in one corner of the room created a warm glow. I looked sideways at Naomi’s unmade and empty side of the bed. The blonde had been at school all day doing research and working on her thesis just like she’d been the entire week.
Arse. I had thought that my girlfriend coming home would mean plenty of making-up-for-lost-time bonding moments or ample time for serious talks, but I was mistaken. I was dangerously beginning to feel lonely and a little hopeless. There was a part of my heart that I sensed I was losing bit by bit as our relationship started to go downhill. I wonder how long will we keep this exasperating charade going . . .
With a mug of chocolate milk and a laptop in my hands, I plopped down on the floor in front of my partly-opened closet, sitting Indian style. Then I propped the computer on top of a tall stack of floor cushions and flipped it open. Good thing there was a three-way Skype video chat waiting for me. I hadn’t realised how much I missed my loony girlfriends until I saw their faces on my laptop screen.
“GNG reunited!” The hundred-decibel greeting came from Halo this time. Halo and I had an unspoken understanding that this emergency Skype session was meant to cheer up our beloved friend Panda. Panda, who just got out of an almost three-year relationship with Thomas. Panda, who was in a bit of a fix. Just like me.
“How are you holding up, Pandapops?” Halo got right to the point.
Panda tried to speak, but her emotions got the best of her, all she could do was gurgle incoherently. Something that sounded vaguely like “Gllloo Bbbbb Gackkk!” escaped her throat. Then sobs of misery overtook her body and she started bawling loudly.
I shook my head sympathetically, understanding her anguish. “Panda . . . everything’s going to be okay in the end. If it’s not okay then it’s not yet the end, yea?”
The Swedish girl only went on sobbing uncontrollably, beating the wooden table in front of her with her fisted hands. It wasn’t a nice sight, to be honest. Panda was an ugly crier. One would choose to cover their eyes rather than watch the girl turn on the waterworks. Unlike Naomi Campbell . . . Naomi was a beautiful crier. Heartbreaking to look at yet very, devastatingly beautiful. Only a rare few possessed that ability.
Halo gave an exasperated sigh. “Pandora, please calm down. You’re dripping all over your keyboard.”
The blonde snapped to attention and sat up straight, her sobs giving way to soft hiccups. “Okay. I’m calm. I’m calm.” She did a very eccentric breathe in, breathe out motion which left Halo and me gaping at her as if she had grown a beard. “I’m caaaaalm.” She blew her nose on a weird-looking knitted face towel.
There was silence for a moment. Halo pressed her lips together and breathed through her nose, her nostrils flaring. “Now, back to business,” her tone was suddenly dead serious, “Thomas is obviously a stupid prick. I wish I could say something to make it all better, Panda, but getting over Thomas is going to take some time. Right now all you can do is go about things as usual and just realise that your awesome friends are behind you.”
Panda made an effort to smile. “Thanks, girls. That’s really sweet.” It was noticeable how much tears the girl had shed already. It was as if she had been crying for a whole week now. Her disheveled blond hair, puffy, red-rimmed eyes, and red nose gave it away. The dark circles under her eyes and the sad, drawn expression on her face attested to the fact that she hadn’t slept a wink in days, too. My heart hurt a bit. I felt really sorry for my unhappy friend.
I took another route. People around me would say I was the most trusting person in the world they knew, and I wouldn’t deny it. It had always been my course of action to give a person the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps Thomas had his acceptable reasons for breaking up with Panda. Perhaps.
I tried a softer approach. “Look, Panda,” I told the emotional girl, as we got deep into the sensitive issue-slash-drama, “maybe Thomas is just confused at the moment. I mean, he’s been juggling work, track, chess, and law school. He’s got a lot on his mind. You know men—they get as grumpy as circus bears when they have to think about more than one thing at a time.” I offered a little grin.
Halo laughed. And Panda managed a tear-filled titter, too.
It was Halo’s turn to cheer our broken-hearted mate. “Thomas will crawl back into your arms. Actually, make that beg to be back in your arms. He loves you too friggin’ much.”
“You think so?” Panda asked, her face glowing a little now.
“I don’t think so. I know so,” Halo answered firmly.
“You’ve got so much more, Pandapops,” I put in.
“Accurate,” Halo sang out her agreement, nodding her head. “You’re sweet, you’re funny, and you’re just plain good.”
Panda lowered her head and nibbled on her ragged thumb cuticle. “But I’m not as super smart and sensible as those U-Dub law students,” she mumbled. “I . . . well . . . the only thing I’ve got going for myself is that I’m the clown of the town. By accident, of course.”
“You’re an idiot, Panda,” Halo scolded affectionately. “You’re putting yourself down, and I don’t like it.”
“No, I’m not.” Panda sniffled.
“Yes, you are!” Halo said emphatically, thrusting her hand out at her webcam. This made Panda lift her head up again.
“You’re a great girlfriend, Panda, and you give awesome one-liners,” I chimed in sweetly, flashing her a tender smile.
“And you’re the bestest best friend in the whole world,” Halo added assertively. “And we love you.”
Panda seemed to lighten up and her eyes brimmed with delight. “Oh, guys!” she gushed. “That’s really nice of you to say! Jag älskar er!”
Halo tossed her hair behind her shoulders. “Well . . . don’t take it seriously. I might change my mind tomorrow,” she said dryly, and Panda and I cracked up. “Now, here’s what you should do, Pandora Moon. You should get your hair cut – it’s too long for your face. And you should go out and get yourself some funky going-out clothes.”
“Why?” Panda questioned, a bit uncertainly.
“Well, first of all, that shirt is hideous,” Halo replied with good-natured disgust. “If you continue wearing that cotton garbage bag, I’d have to disown you as a best friend.”
I laughed a little at this, but Panda kept a miserable face.
“But no, that’s not my actual argument,” Halo continued grimly. “My point is . . . boy dumps girl, suddenly she looks fab, has new hair, clothes – boy regrets everything he ever did. It’s a classic Get Over Him and Win ritual. And it’s 99.9% proven, hunny.” She gave a smug wink. Then she rubbed her hands excitedly. “Gosh, I can’t wait to plan some crazy nights out when we get to Sydney. I heard there’s this really cool nightclub and bowling bar there . . .”
I leant back against the closet door and took a big swallow of my chocolate milk, merely listening to Halo as she babbled.
I couldn’t help but admire Halo’s loyalty as a friend. There she was, in front of her computer in her full-on business attire in her New York hotel room on a very early Wednesday morning, squeezing in a considerable amount of time just to comfort a friend. She was there for ad:tech—an advertising conference and exhibition, apparently. I knew that ridiculous young lady could move mountains with her creativity and socialising skills and oomph.
“I cannot believe it’s over, though.” Aaah, the record started up again. “I mean, nearly three years just wasted. I feel so sick and stupid . . .” Time for more tears, but no, Panda didn’t. She just stared down at the tear-soaked towel in her hands. “I just don’t understand where it all went wrong . . .”
I figured it was time for mature and wise Emily Fitch to come out. “Panda, there really is no point picking over the carcass of your relationship,” I told her gently. “Get on with your life, okay? Maybe Thomas will wake up one morning and realise that he can’t live without you in his life. He’ll run back to you, I swear.”
Panda picked up a carrot stick—her own version of comfort food—out of nowhere and started chewing. “I’m thinking of following him to law school,” she mumbled.
An awkward pause followed. I could totally imagine mine and Halo’s mental face-palm moment. How could the girl deal with the complexities of mitigating and aggravating factors when she couldn’t even distinguish a dolphin from a whale?
“You’re not going to do that,” Halo finally reacted, tactful as ever. “Are you crazy?”
“I thought it was a good idea, it meant I would see him there.” Panda blew her nose on the towel again. Noisily. “And I’m also thinking of joining the track team and chess team there so I could be with him even during training hours.”
Another pause. Another face-palm moment. Chess involves lots of thinking, right? The sound of Panda munching her carrot was deafening.
Again, Halo was the one who bothered to respond. “Yea, but it’s also the kiss of death, Pandora Moon. My friend Kristen went to the same med school as her boyfriend and she never made any friends ’cos she hung out with him all the time. Then he freaking dumped her at the end of second year and she hardly knew anyone. Imagine that?”
“Yes, but it wasn’t going to be like that,” Panda choked. She looked dangerously close to snivelling again.
Halo closed her eyes in frustration. “I can’t believe you’re even considering this,” she muttered through her clenched teeth, echoing my thoughts. Our friend indeed sounded a little desperate and martyr-like.
Panda put her unfinished carrot down on the table with shaky fingers. “I just hope Thommo and I can sort this all out, you know.” Then she put her head down on the table and burst into tears properly. “I miss him . . .”
“Jeeeeeeeeez!” Halo waved her hand in a gesture of frustration, a pair of thick gold bracelets on her wrist glinting in her bright hotel room.
I could only stare at the crying girl on my screen helplessly. “Panda . . .”
Panda sat upright and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “We just talked on the phone yesterday,” she went on with watery eyes. “He was really upset. Saying he missed me and that he thought of me every day. But he’s sorry he just couldn’t make it work right now. I wish I could see him . . .” Her voice rose again, signalling another round of tears, but she choked them back when she saw the hard look on Halo’s face.
Halo’s hazel brown eyes burned with intensity. “Don’t even go there. He fucked up. It’s over, end of story. You might meet someone else out there. There’s a lot of fish in the sea,” she said. “I say, don’t let one guy cramp your style, Panda.”
“Only ’cos you’ve probably dated about a hundred men and got rid of them faster than you could change your Facebook profile picture,” Panda retorted good-naturedly, wiping her eyes with the corner of her towel. “You’re a dark horse, Heaven Lopez.”
Halo turned crimson—Panda was probably right. Halo didn’t talk about men much, whenever we asked her about guys on the scene, she just shrugged and said they were a distraction. Panda said it was ’cos her mum got preggers so young and had to give up any chance of a career as a TV commercial actress. Halo was scared of the same thing happening to her, I guess. And, yes, the girl changes her profile photo every bloody millisecond. “I’ll neither confirm nor deny reports that I’m a saucy little minx and an absolute disgrace to this holy earth. You’ll just have to use your imagination.”
Panda and I cracked up at this. Trust Heaven Lopez to turn a conversation to a one-woman comedy show.
Then Halo snapped back into serious mode. “Hunny, what I’m tryin’ to say is, you cannot let this thing put your life on hold. You’re a great girl, Panda. And if Thomas failed to see that, he’s so not worth it. You deserve better.”
“But I don’t want any other guy. I only want Thommo!” She slammed her hands against the table for emphasis, causing both Halo and me to jump a little and squeak.
Halo clicked her tongue and shook her head in frustration. “Oh, Panda sweetie,” she moaned. “You should seriously find something to get your mind off Thomas . . .”
“Oh, I do. I have someone to distract me,” Panda answered with a little grin.
Halo looked dumbfounded for a moment. “You do?”
Panda nodded. “Yup. I bought a new salamander. His name is Salami II.”
Halo gave a weirded-out smile. “Okaaaay . . .” Then she planted her hands on the desk in front of her and flashed a wide grin. “Oh, never mind. Well, that’s a good start, ey? Now, here are more awesome ways . . .”
And then off they went once more with the discussion about how Panda should move on, blah, blah, blah. I leant back against the closet door again and stretched out my legs, planning to disengage myself from the conversation when Halo shifted her attention to the other upper corner of her computer screen. “Emily, I forgot to ask,” she called, “why on earth are you sitting in front of your closet?”
“Because I’m out of the closet,” I joked lamely. “Get it?” Halo scrunched up her face and flashed me a thumbs-down sign.
“I know—bad one.” I rolled my eyes flippantly. “I’ve been pondering for about four hours already on what I’m going to wear for my date with Naomi tonight . . .” I reached up to flip listlessly through a thicket of my hangered mini-dresses.
Halo squinted her eyes thoughtfully. “But isn’t it half past 7 there already? You still have to put on some nice clothes and take the bus, yea? Late dinner, I suppose?”
“Yep,” I replied glumly, “Naomi won’t be free ’til 8:30. She’s still at uni and she’s just going to meet me at the restaurant. Fucking R.A. job.”
Halo made a face. “Ugh, that is a bitch. I tried working as a teacher assistant for this one tough prof and I didn’t last a week. They could get so irritatingly demanding, you know. And they are not easy to please.”
“Tell me about it.” I ran a hand through my hair, not wanting to think about the implications a very busy girlfriend was going to have on an already bumpy relationship. I wanted the same attention Naomi had been giving her job and projects and grad school-related stuff. “I can tell Naomi’s been pushing herself really hard. You know Naomi, when she gets her mind set to something, you can definitely expect her to perform.”
“Like when her mind was set to burying this Hammond chick? Yea, I heard she definitely performed,” laughed Halo.
“Definitely,” Panda echoed, snickering. “The super duper wick slap that was heard even by Martians.”
Then Halo and Panda got to talking. I couldn’t tell what it was about; I wasn’t really listening. I was too consumed on my own trouble in paradise, too busy trying to blink away the tears blurring my vision.
I have to be honest, this week had been one of the toughest weeks of my entire life not so much because it was bitterness-laden—Heck, by some miracle, Naomi and I didn’t even have a single fight the whole week—but it was more ’cos we both could see our relationship was gradually going south and we weren’t even motivated to do something about it. I admit, we had been lucky to have survived a week without mentioning anything about the drunken snog or our loss of communication or any of our problems in our chit-chats and have managed to sail through smoothly despite everything. However, I was sure that stuff was going to hit the fan at any moment. And it was that paranoia I’d been having that was infinitely tormenting.
“Ems!” Halo’s usual loud voice sent me back to Earth.
“Huh?” I said, straightening up.
“Chrissakes, where’ve you been?” Halo said, half-annoyed, half-amused. “You just went Amelia Earheart there.”
“Yea, I’m sorry.” I pushed my hair behind my ear guiltily. “I, uh, I just have a lot on my mind right now.”
“Like what?” Halo probed, narrowing her eyes.
“Nothing,” I mumbled, sipping on my mug. “Nothing unfixable.”
Halo’s face was suddenly fierce as if she was looking me in the eye. “It might be 5:30 AM over here and I’m probably still experiencing a bit of R.E.M., Emily, but I can tell that you’re giving us B.S.”
Panda cocked her head and tucked her hair behind her ears. “Tell us what’s wrong, Emsy,” she said softly.
I assumed my best unyielding expression. “I told you I have a dinner with Naomi. And . . . I haven’t taken a shower yet.”
Halo smirked. “Wow. Emily Fitch showers now?” She clapped her hands comically. “Woot woot.”
“Piss off, Halo,” I said moodily.
“Really, Ems, I’m so proud of you for finally paying attention to your hygiene,” Halo jibed lightly. “But, do we look like a couple of dummies?” She moved her hand in a rolling motion. “Come on. Out with it, Fitch.”
Their stares triggered an upswell of self-pity, and I glanced down, tracing the rim of my mug. “I suppose I do need to talk to someone about it,” I hedged.
Halo and Panda leant forward, ready to devour my every word.
“It’s just that . . .” I hesitated for a moment, “Naomi and I are just going through a weird period.”
Halo raised her hand to her head in agony. “Oh, my Lord, get me a freaking lifeguard,” she bemoaned. “That 2012 End of the World premonition must be true. Two of the most solid, inseparable, indestructible couples are having trouble. Holy fuck. There’s something seriously wrong now.”
Panda’s light blue eyes widened with worry. “Weird period?”
“I mean, you know,” I mumbled, lowering my mug before taking the next sip, “like a rough patch.”
“Oh, Jesus.” Halo let out a snort and scratched her head. “Could you be any more vague?”
I twirled the huge white mug between my palms and decided to let it all out. “Ever since Naomi got here, things just seem to be weird and tense between us. It’s like we’re in two different worlds right now. It wasn’t the same anymore, you know what I mean. I feel like she doesn’t need me like she used to.”
A slight teasing smirk crossed Halo’s lips. “Maybe you should find somebody your height, Emsy, so you can see eye to eye. Someone as tiny as you.”
I couldn’t help rolling my eyes. “Was that supposed to be funny? Because I’m not laughing.”
Halo was quick to retract. “I know, I know.” She held up her hands in a chill out gesture. “Take a chill pill, will ya, Em? My, you’re touchy.”
I scowled at Halo on my screen. “How can I sit back and relax when my love life is in fucking shambles?” I burst out jokingly.
“Okay, okay, okay,” Halo groaned, putting her hands over her ears, and chuckled. “But my goodness, freaking shoot me in the face, you two and your games!”
“It’s not a game, Halo.” My sober mood was back. “A dance is probably a better term for it. A maddening dance.”
“What’s exactly happened, Emily?” Panda asked.
A lump rose in my throat. “Should I pretend it’s all wonderful and gee, baby, aren’t I glad you came home to me when I’m sitting in the middle of a pile of shit? And, hey, Naomes, let’s pick up where we left off, if either of us can remember where that was.” Thinking about our loss of communication was like igniting a bad case of acid reflux.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Panda opening her eyes wide—sending Halo the universally recognised “do something” signal.
Halo got it and instantly snapped into serious, concerned friend mode. “You’re angry, Emily, and you’re completely justified. But you know the only answer for this is communication.”
“You two should talk,” Panda echoed, plopping her chin into her hands.
“Talk?” I scoffed. “Talking to Naomi is like pulling nails out of a pig’s arse. Impossible.”
“Emily,“ Halo said soberly, “I know I’m the least experienced in the love department, not much good at that sort of thing. But what I can tell you is that you and Naomi have to pause and reflect and do some serious RTR.”
“RTR?” I repeated blankly.
“Redefine the relationship,” Halo filled in. “See, Emily, if the relationship is abandoned then it’s like that John Mayer song. You two are slow dancing in a burning room and it’s really in deep shit. Like abyss shit. If you want to salvage it then you have to start working on it now.”
I reached back and massaged the bunched muscles in my neck. “I know. But the thing is, there’s like no time for that. Ever since Naomi came back, she’s been super busy with her thesis and her part-time job and she’s still monitoring the projects, and whenever we’re alone together I just couldn’t bring it up because I was afraid it would ruin the moment.”
“If the relationship is a bit wobbly, it’s either you try and adjust yourself to make it better or if it’s beyond your superpowers, you ask the other one for help and the two of you work things out,” Halo explained, her voice sober with concern. “This is a relationship, Emily. It involves two people. I hope you two realise that.”
My lip trembled. “That’s the thing. I think Naomi’s not drawing out her sword and I’m alone in this fucking battle. And sometimes I feel like,” I choked, a little surprised at myself for what I was about to blurt out, “I feel like raising the white flag already, you know.” A tear ran down my face and I hastily wiped it.
Across the miles and internet connection, I could practically feel the telepathic hug from my friends.
Panda shook her head sympathetically, her blond hair swinging from side to side. “Aww, my poor Emsy,” she crooned, tears filling her own eyes. “Don’t give up. You said so yourself, yea? Everything is going to be okay in the end . . .”
“Oh my God, you two!” Halo exclaimed with a laugh, watching the two of us in amusement. “Always going through the same relationship drama and raw girlie emotions, aren’t you? Do something about it or get over it and stop being such freaking emotional wrecks. Stop PMS-ing now, will you?”
“Halo, it isn’t a tap, you know,” I said, my voice low and feeble. “You just can’t turn off how you feel instantly. You can’t just drop it like a hot potato.” I paused, drew in a breath. “Especially if you’ve built your whole life around that person.” My bottom lip quivered, and the silence that followed only proved that they knew I was right.
Panda buried her face in her hands, groaned, then mumbled, “Why is life like a poo on a stick sometimes?”
There was a heartbeat of complete awkward silence that fell over our threesome before we burst into peals of hysterical laughter.
“God,” Halo exclaimed, “I really can’t wait to see you two!”
Thirty minutes later, I stepped into my lavender mini-dress and fastened the row of tiny buttons that ran up the back. I went over to the closet again and selected a pair of black peep-toe pumps. Tonight was a special night, I thought, as I slipped my feet into my high-heeled shoes. Maybe tonight, over Pinot Grigio and Italian pasta, Naomi and I would be able to have a decent talk and start afresh. I just so want us to be okay. Back to normal, back to the way we used to be. No secrets, no lies, no awkwardness, no mud-slinging games, no drama—just the plain, insane joined-at-the-hip freak of nature. I supposed there were tons of things we needed to discuss and figure out.
Then it dawned on me. I realised that being Naomi Campbell’s girlfriend indeed required endless patience and understanding. I wondered if it was me who would always have to push. I wondered if it was me who would always have to linger in a fucking limbo and take the crap. I wondered if I had really made any progress with the blonde or was I simply in a relationship with a brick wall—a fact that I would have to ultimately come to terms with. Will it always be two steps forward and three steps back for Naomi? Because I seriously was beginning to feel like I was working on my own here and my girlfriend just sort of pops out whenever she feels like it. I found that unfair, selfish. And disheartening.
What if I kick off these shoes and just hit the sheets? Naomi hadn’t replied to my text messages nor was available to talk on her phone, anyways. Perhaps she was flaking out again. Just like she had done a few times this week already. I had been let down so many times, shrugging it off and not giving a toss was almost a reflex.
No, I told myself sternly. You’ve got to give her the benefit of the doubt. After all, just last night she swore to make it up to you and take you to another romantic dinner. I tried ringing Naomi’s mobile phone again. Still busy. Perhaps she was talking to her mum or her grandpa or some other important person. You gotta cut your girl some slack and give her a chance.
After putting on a pair of tiny gold hoop earrings, I surveyed myself in the full-length mirror. Yep, I decided, we were going to be okay. Maybe this time she would meet me halfway.
Thirty minutes later, I stepped into my lavender mini-dress and fastened the row of tiny buttons that ran up the back. I went over to the closet again and selected a pair of black peep-toe pumps. Tonight was a special night, I thought, as I slipped my feet into my high-heeled shoes. Maybe tonight, over Pinot Grigio and Italian pasta, Naomi and I would be able to have a decent talk and start afresh. I just so want us to be okay. Back to normal, back to the way we used to be. No secrets, no lies, no awkwardness, no mud-slinging games, no drama—just the plain, insane joined-at-the-hip freak of nature. I supposed there were tons of things we needed to discuss and figure out.
Then it dawned on me. I realised that being Naomi Campbell’s girlfriend indeed required endless patience and understanding. I wondered if it was me who would always have to push. I wondered if it was me who would always have to linger in a fucking limbo and take the crap. I wondered if I had really made any progress with the blonde or was I simply in a relationship with a brick wall—a fact that I would have to ultimately come to terms with. Will it always be two steps forward and three steps back for Naomi? Because I seriously was beginning to feel like I was working on my own here and my girlfriend just sort of pops out whenever she feels like it. I found that unfair, selfish. And disheartening.
What if I kick off these shoes and just hit the sheets? Naomi hadn’t replied to my text messages nor was available to talk on her phone, anyways. Perhaps she was flaking out again. Just like she had done a few times this week already. I had been let down so many times, shrugging it off and not giving a toss was almost a reflex.
No, I told myself sternly. You’ve got to give her the benefit of the doubt. After all, just last night she swore to make it up to you and take you to another romantic dinner. I tried ringing Naomi’s mobile phone again. Still busy. Perhaps she was talking to her mum or her grandpa or some other important person. You gotta cut your girl some slack and give her a chance.
After putting on a pair of tiny gold hoop earrings, I surveyed myself in the full-length mirror. Yep, I decided, we were going to be okay. Maybe this time she would meet me halfway.
I didn’t know how long I’d stayed staring down at stagnant dark liquid in my cup. I only knew that it seemed to take forever before I could move. The ebbing emotions kept me on edge.
Uncle Gary had phoned me, repeatedly telling me how I was heaven-sent for saving his arse from the potential bollocking from Grandpa. I admit to have had manipulated the Congo project results a little to his favour. Uncle Gary had vowed to change his slothful ways, anyway. I just hope I had made the right decision by giving him another chance. I suppose it was my girlfriend’s influence on me. Somehow the lovely Emily Fitch had taught me how to forgive and have faith in people.
Aunt Gertrude also sent an e-mail about being nagged and grilled by Yolanda Bach. She said the annoying woman was driving her mad and she needed more time to take it all in and handle the problems coming at her left, right, back, and front. I should’ve expected that. My aunt had the attention span of a goddamn squirrel on crack.
In addition to all that hassle, Yolanda Bach had called right after, reminding me of my stupidity. “You can put the damned master’s degree behind you, missy, and take this dream project you’ve worked so hard to achieve.”
“I told you, Yolanda, Aunt Gertrude will be running it,” I asserted, my voice firm. “I gave her all the necessary documents and a schedule and a checklist. She knows what she’s doing—I mean, she’ll know, believe me.”
“Are you insane? This is Koepsell-Fleig Corporation we are dealing with, Naomi, not some rinky-dink two-shade lipstick company. You get your butt in their offices on the 18th.” She let out a curse, then inhaled some smoke.
“I’m really sorry,” I told her ruefully. “I just can’t do it right now. I’m sure Aunt G will do just fine. She was born three decades ahead of me, you know.”
“I phoned Gertrude yesterday and she told me that she’s still getting a hang of it. To be frank, I’m not convinced. She doesn’t know this project like you do.”
“I check up on the progress of the final project planning whenever I can. It’s not like I’m abandoning it. And so far everything’s been going smoothly and on schedule. No need to worry about a single thing.”
“Naomi, are you hearing me? This is Koepsell-Fleig. The big time, for crying out loud. They’re talking multiyear sponsorship. If you screw this one up, it will have not-so-very nice consequences.” Yolanda drew in another lungful of smoke. “Oh, shit. My minutes are almost up. I’m gonna be disconnected in a bit, sweet pea.”
“Yolanda, I’m in the middle of my thesis. The fall semester starts in a month. I can’t leave now. I have—”
“Screw the M.A.,” the woman interrupted. “It’s just a line of words to add to your résume. You are always too good for that anyway.” Before I could get another word out, the line went dead and Mrs. Bach was gone.
So here I was, plopped on the living-room sofa, gobbling tasteless crackers and drinking my sixth cup of coffee, feeling a little less-than-at home inside Matsumoto Sensei’s house. For the past week I had been staying here in my professor’s house. It’s not what you think, okay? His wife was in Yokohama for a business trip and he had to cover for her for two weeks so I was asked to just work in the living room whilst he took care of some domestic stuff like making dinner and grocery-shopping and going to the laundry shop and paying bills and such.
Reaching for another cracker, I suddenly noticed the SMS alert on my phone screen. I opened my inbox to see the string of messages from Emily. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I glanced at the phone clock. 9:00 PM. Fuck. My dinner date with Emily! I had lost track of time with the juggle of phone calls.
Swiftly I slammed closed all the open periodicals on the table and flipped my laptop closed. After hurriedly shoving the lappy inside my bag, I quickly moved toward the doorway.
My stomach muscles jiggled as panic gripped me. I was terrified that Emily was going to bite my head off.
I was just about to press Call to inform my girlfriend that I was on my way when Professor Matsumoto marched into the living room, looking slightly stressed and apprehensive. “Naomi-san . . . Ano ne . . . onegai koto ga arun dakedo (I’ve got something up) . . .”
I stood in attention, a bit wary. “Hai (Yes).” Uh-oh.
“I just received an urgent call from a colleague. He called for an emergency meeting downtown. Could you stay here a little longer and watch over my kids while they sleep? Please.”
I was absolutely ready to decline. “Sumimasen (I apologise), Sensei. But—”
“Onegaishimasu (Please),” he repeated.
“But, Sensei, I’ve made dinner plans with my girlfriend tonight,” I protested in the most polite way I could.
He frowned. “Please, Naomi. My son often has nightmares and panic attacks and I just want someone to be with him in his room. Jama shite gomen (I’m really sorry I bothered you), I just really need to take care of this. I hope you understand.”
“Well . . . taihen desu ne (That’s tough) . . .” I said with slight reluctance, but we were dealing with a child here. A helpless eight-year old boy. Helpless people were my weakness. Fuck.
“It won’t take long, I promise,” my professor said imploringly. “I’ll be back after an hour or two.”
“An hour or two?” I exclaimed. Shit.
“I promise to come home as soon as I could. I’m really sorry for putting you through this.”
I pressed my hands against my cheeks, distressed. “Oh, Jesus . . .”
“Onegaishimasu, Naomi.” He took both my shoulders as he begged on. “I need my kids to be watched over. Please. You can have dinner here. Cook anything you want in the kitchen, make more coffee, turn on the TV if you please. I’ll even pay you double for the extra hours.”
I sighed, thinking that this was hopeless battle. “All right, sir.”
Professor Matsumoto released my shoulders then. “Honto ni doumo sumimasen (Thank you), Naomi-san. You are an angel.” He breathed gratefully, walking backward to the doorway. “Just give me a call when something comes up, okay? Yoroshiku!”
I fought a snort of laughter and cringed upon hearing his words. An angel?
I doubt that’s the sort of image Emily will have of me when I let her know that I will be a no-show tonight at the dinner table.
I plopped back down on the sofa and secured my hair into a ponytail. Then I rubbed my hands over my face as if I could massage away the panic. Emily didn’t even know I was in my professor’s house. She wasn’t aware that the whole week I had been working in Professor Matsumoto’s house and not at school. I just didn’t want to add unnecessary strain in our already-strained relationship. Emily Fitch could be in control of her emotions and discreet with jealousy, but once she starts to display her resentment toward something, she could get so fucking ferocious.
I had no choice but to press Call and drop the bad news.
“Hey, where are you? I’m on the bus already.” Emily's voice was honey-sweet, but I could sense her tension and impatience and worry.
I chewed my lower lip. “Yea, listen, before you throw a bitchfit I want to say that I’m really, really sorry and I didn’t expect this to happen but—”
“You’re stuck in uni.” Her tone sounded so distant, and I felt a chill.
“Yes. I’m so, so sorry, baby,” I said ruefully. “I swear, I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“Okay,” she said stonily. Her honey-sweet voice transformed into honey-sour.
“Just eat ahead. I’ll make it up to you later, okay?” I said with all the sweetness I could express. “Cream of potato soup, perhaps?”
“I think I’m going to bed early tonight,” she replied, her voice growing tight. “It’s been a long day.”
“Okay. Well . . .” Damn. She was making me really nervous. “Let’s just resched the date tomorrow, okay? Same time, same place, same cheesiness. You can deny my existence if I don’t show up.” My words tumbled out in a tense rush, but I hoped they somehow made her smile.
But there wasn’t a hint of amusement in her voice. “’Kay,” she said in a less-than-enthusiastic tone.
“All right. I love you, my princess.”
“Yea.” Before I could wish her sweet dreams, the line went dead and Emily was gone.
I sat back in the chair, staring at the phone in my hands. There was like a dozen elephants in my stomach. I was really worried. Emily’s reaction bothered me a lot. She didn’t react violently or bargain with me like she would normally. Instead, she sounded so ominously defeated.
Slumping further into my seat, I felt my heart sink in tandem. Emily must really hate me now. But not any more than I hated myself.
I whipped my head at the sound of a boy’s cry. I rushed into a room and found out my professor’s son had a nightmare. I gave him a teddy bear and put him back to sleep. I sank into one of the beige chairs beside the bed, leaning back, eyes shut. I was slipping. Nothing seemed to be going the way I’d planned since I’d left for Japan. I was in charge, yes, but there was so much to do. So many demands, so many, many ways to fail.
Later that night I watched by the lampshade as Emily stirred in the bed, her breath exhaling on a sigh. I placed a box of mint chocolates and a stem of blue rose by her pillow. Climbing onto the bed, I just watched her sleep.
Suddenly, I had a flashback of an event from last week. It had been haunting me every day.
“Well . . . There was this . . . one . . . drunken snog. But that’s just about it,” Emily confessed.
“I don’t even remember doing it,” she went on, her voice high and tearful. “I mean, the last thing I’d think about doing if I were sober was to kiss another girl.”
“Who’s this other girl?”
She looked down, shuffling her feet. “Misaki.”
Suddenly, all the sour feelings came back in a rush. Images of Misaki and Emily giggling, laughing, candy-dueling, and kissing popped into my mind like a nightmare. I refused to believe that there was more to that drunken kiss, more to those giggles they shared whenever the two were together, more to that sickeningly-sweet and perfect friendship they had. I refused to believe, but that didn’t stop the sharp, sledgehammer blows to my heart from killing me inside.
Thinking about what was happening to us made me feel anxious and unhappy; there were just so many things I would like to change. I let my fingers lightly glide across her forehead, wondering whether they were all repairable.
I wanted to make it right, make it work. I came back with that purpose, but I wound up blowing it all the same. It had always been like this with Emily Fitch. When it came to the redhead, I just couldn’t get it right. I was such a dick.
I brushed the hair off of her face. In the darkness, I still could not deny that every feature of her face still entranced me—her delicately winged brows, her red sweet-smelling hair, her soft lips. I felt ugly and awkward and hideous before her fresh beauty. I put my hand around her back, hugging her close and I felt her flinch a little. Her heart beat heavily beneath my palm. Her skin was hot and smooth, inviting my fingers to curl into it. “I love you, Ranga,” I whispered, dropping a soft kiss on her temple.
Abruptly Emily drew away from my arm, turned on the bed facing the other side, then tugged the covers securely around her. I fought back a saddened round of tears. For a second I felt jealous of that silky piece of cloth. I wanted to drag Emily back to safety, too. I wanted to wrap myself around her, too. I wanted to keep touching her, too.
I reached out my fingers to her shoulder but stopped before touching her. Instead, I turned to look at the ceiling. Instantly, tears flowed from my eyes.
Guilt was coming at me like a thousand huge fists. I’d dedicated my life to caring for the poor, the hungry, and the needy all over the world, but left the person I value the most to fend for herself. Lately I’d been everyone else’s knight in shining armour but Emily’s.
Just as I was going to roll over to my side, Emily turned and snuggled next to me. Instinctively I turned gently on my side and circled her waist with my hand, pulling her close to me. Her eyes were still closed when she quietly murmured, “I love you, too.”
Pressing my cheek against her forehead, I squeezed my eyes closed. My heart hurt. Emily just told me she loved me yet her words sounded empty. We were in the same room, in the same bed, and she was in my arms but it felt as if we were a hundred worlds apart.
But on the heels of that thought came another—one I kept locked in a distant part of my brain. The tears fell down from my eyes silently as the worst and deepest cut finally struck me: The S.S. Naomily had hit an iceberg.
A frown curved my lips as I stared at my laptop screen. I gobbled up mint chocolate balls to get rid of the slight bitterness I was feeling. I was happy for JJ. I really was. His fairytale seemed to have a happy ending. However I couldn’t help but wonder if mine had one too. It had just been tough being around Naomi lately—despite her being nothing but extra-sweet and extra-caring to me all day yesterday and today. I knew she was acting like this to compensate for last Wednesday night.
I still couldn’t believe she blew me off again. I was really trying, you know. I was trying to be patient and understanding—just like I’d been throughout the entire course of our relationship. And we all know a person’s patience could only stretch so far.
But what aggravated me further was the fact that Naomi was starting to tell lies in my face. Two nights ago I bumped into our dorm mate Marina, who was also Naomi’s colleague in grad school, on the bus and asked her about my girlfriend’s possible whereabouts. She told me that Naomi was most likely in Professor Matsumoto’s house because that was where Naomi often heads to after school. That felt like a low blow.
From the bed I glanced across at Naomi who was sprawled across the couch, busy flipping through files and reading over some papers whilst innocently eating red grapes. Naomi was nearly exceeding the limit, to be honest. And my patience and understanding were being stretched thin. I felt like if she messes up one more time, I would snap. I was human, after all. I had feelings, too. I had a breaking point, too. A headache started at my temples, my throat began to throb, and I felt my body temperature shooting up, but I resolutely refused to succumb. I had to give my girlfriend the benefit of the doubt. It was my standard operating procedure.
I wonder what explanation could Naomi possibly have for lying to me? What was she hiding from me? That struck me as purely sad and unwarranted and tragic. Tears were close, dangerously close. I battled them back and chewed the chocolate balls like they were medicine.
The idea that Naomi and her professor were having an illicit affair burst across my mind. I almost cringed and cried out at the thought of it. No fucking way. Gross. It couldn’t possibly be. I felt so sick to the stomach at the possibility of my girlfriend cheating on me with a middle-aged married bloke that I began to feel slightly woozy.
Keep calm, Emily, I ordered myself, holding my anger and jealousy in check. These things have to be handled delicately.
I closed my laptop and called with all the casualness I could muster, “Naomes?”
“Hmm?”
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Work,” she mumbled, penciling in some lines on a typed page. “Work . . . Thesis . . . Research . . .”
“Do you have craploads of work?” I popped the last mint chocolate ball into my mouth and set the box down on the bedside table.
“Mm-hmm . . . tons . . .”
I crawled off the bed then shuffled towards the couch. “Babe, I think I’m coming down with fever,” I announced.
“Hmm . . .”
I plopped down on the arm of the couch. “I have a sore throat and I can see birdies and stars dancing on the walls when I swing my head in a circle.”
Naomi ran her index finger down a page, focused. “Mm . . .”
Feeling irritated now, I rested my bare feet on the cushion of the couch and stared hard at my girlfriend. “I’m thinking of changing my future plans. I could have a special job. I could be like a library-official lady and go around shushing people.”
“Mhm . . . Good . . .” She kept on writing which annoyed me further.
“Or some cafeteria inspector, making sure all the workers have their hair nets properly on and stuff.”
“Hmm . . .” She reached into the bowl of grapes, popped three in her mouth.
“I think I’m going to start spiking rat piss into the water tank and I’m going to have Sugiyama’s classic moustache inked on my butt cheek.”
“Mmm . . .” she murmured, chewing on some grapes.
“I think I’m just adopted. Like, my biological parents are Count Dooku and Batman and I was born from a rainbow-coloured egg on a mountain top. Plus, did you know I was raised with Ebonics as my first language? And, oh, babe, I’m starting to show signs of early baldness.”
“Hmm . . .”
“Maybe I should start looking for another girlfriend?” I said irritably, throwing a pillow at her.
That finally caught her attention. “What? What the hell, Emily?” She sat up.
“Naomi, I just told you that my head hurts like a bitch.” I shot her a malevolent glare.
She hurriedly put down her pencil and the typed pages on the low table in front of the couch. “Oh, yes, yes. Do you want a massage—?”
“And I just told you that I’m going to fucking start an epidemic here in the dorm and that I have two dads.”
Baffled, she shook her head. “What? What the actual fuck?”
After shaking my head in disappointment, I slid down on the couch to argue closer. “Naomi, you never listen and you’re always so distracted nowadays. I don’t know why I even bother to tell you things.”
“What are you talking about, Em? Of course, I listen to you, baby.” She grasped my hands. “There’s just a lot on my mind right now.”
“Oh, Christ. I knew it.” I sprang up to pace the room. “You weren’t paying any attention to me. I was talking about my future plans and my dream family and blurting out about my terror plots and my girlfriend doesn’t give a shit. I feel like an idiot right now. I feel like a ghost. I feel like an idiotic ghost.”
Naomi frowned. “That’s not true. C’mon, babe.” She patted the space next to her on the couch. “Okay. Sit down and talk to me.”
“I can’t talk to you standing up?”
“Nope.” Naomi snagged my hand and yanked me down onto the couch. “Okay. I’m sorry. But I’m all ears now. What’s up?” She placed a hand on my thigh and started to stroke consolingly.
“Tell me, what was the last thing I said?” I asked.
“That I’m always so distracted.”
“Okay . . . So tell me what I said before that.”
“That I never listen?”
“And before that?” I lifted a brow.
She grinned winningly, giving my thigh a gentle squeeze. “Then you said that you said you’re going to start an epidemic and you have two dads and you have a headache. And you’re thinking of looking for another girlfriend.”
“Well, I’m seriously considering that last one since my current girlfriend sucks balls.” I yanked the pillow from my back and hid my face behind it, hugging it tight. “Aaagh,” I groaned.
Naomi leant in and spoke cajolingly into my ear. “Ems, I love you. I’m sorry, okay?”
“No.” My reply came out muffled.
“Emily, my princess,” she cooed, putting her arms around me. “C’mon. I’m sorry. Forgive me?”
I shook my head from behind the pillow. “No.”
“I love you,” she repeated. “I just have other responsibilities.”
Removing the pillow from my face, I rolled my eyes and puffed a goaded breath. “I’m starting to hate the word responsibility.”
She pressed a soft kiss on my cheek. “Well, I’m sorry, okay? If I could just ditch all of it.”
I looked at her, deadpan. “Would you really?”
“I would,” she answered, reaching for my hand and giving it a little shake. But she sounded unsure, and somehow empty. “I don’t know. It’s just that I feel like I owe my family this and I just don’t want to let them down,” she added sadly. “Uncle Gary and Aunt G had been screwing up and, you know, I . . . I just . . .”
On her face was the faraway expression that I had seen so often in the past week. I realised that my girlfriend was thinking about the organisation again.
I might be a long way from getting an Oscar when it came to my acting, but like my mum, I was a trained observer. Even had that not been the case, I could judge Naomi’s moods by the flick of an eyelash.
I hadn’t questioned her about the tension I sensed, hoping she would tell me on her own. As the day wore on, I accepted impatiently, that I would have to push. Perhaps I would always have to push.
I watched Naomi pick up her pencil with her other hand and start writing again, a smile on her face as she kept on holding my hand. Unhappiness in her eyes.
God, the girl frustrated me. Fascinated me. For two and a half years we had been together, as physically intimate as it was possible to be. Yet no matter how open she was, how honest, she managed to tuck away little pieces. Closing them off from me, locking them tight and hoarding them.
She was doing it now, I realised.
Her hand might reach for mine, holding it with comfortable familiarity. But her mind was elsewhere, methodically working through something she refused to share.
Her problem, she would point that out in a reasonable way that by turns infuriated and amused me. Nothing she couldn’t handle on her own. Nothing she needed me to deal with. She didn’t have to always treat me like a child who couldn’t deal with problems. I mean, I wanted to share her burden, too. I wanted to know what was going on with her, too.
“Do you need a hand with anything?” I offered earnestly.
“Nope.” There you go.
Then seeing the miserable look on my face, she took it back. “Okay. There’s something . . . So we both know you’re the articulate one between us two. How do you express working on a limited budget in such a way that it doesn’t sound so horrible?”
“What’s that for?” I sneaked a look at the paper.
“I’m rewriting the job description for Child Aid Development Instructors.”
I drew back, scowling a little. “Wow. Even here you’re still being bugged by that? I thought you’re here to focus on your M.A. and me?”
“I’m not bugged at all, okay? I enjoy doing this. And this is for the organisation.”
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like a cock,” I withdrew. “Give me the context so I can fully grasp the idea.”
“Well, basically,” Naomi began, mindlessly tapping the eraser end of her pencil to her chin as she pondered, “I just want to say that working for Child Aid isn’t a bed of roses and that projects operate with inadequate funding . . . And then I want to add that, therefore, the staff and volunteers have to be ready for challenges like god awful miles of walking on foot and sometimes riding bicycles—stuff like that,” she said, then turned to me. “So, how would you rephrase all that, Little Miss Genius?”
I thought she looked so breathtaking that I suddenly had an urge to kiss her and carry her back to bed. “Hm.” I scratched my chin pensively in a dramatic way, a devilish smirk curling up one corner of my mouth. “You might have to unlock it first.”
“How?” Her bright blue eyes twinkled with amusement.
“A kiss.”
Naomi smiled, but dutifully took my head in her hands, leant over, and gave me a kiss on the lips. It was gentle and sweet and lingering, almost leaving me out of breath.
She drew back, watching me sway a little bit. “Well?”
I nodded, still trying to recuperate from the aftershock of her kiss. “All right.” I cleared my throat. “Well, first, you start with: Working in Child Aid often means being in a rural area with little access to basic amenities,” I replied. “Then you proceed to: Child Aid projects usually operate with very little funding, so every pound is stretched to its limits, and money is not readily available. You will be required to be resourceful in many ways in this regard. You will transport yourself by walking a lot, using a bicycle and using public transport, etcetera, etcetera . . .”
“Got it.” She grinned, giving my chin a loving pinch. “Thanks, baby. You’re just brilliant.” She started jotting down on a paper again. “Don’t worry, I’m almost done with this.”
I stood up, walked back to the bed, and plopped on it. I aimed the remote control at the television. “Too bad you have to study and work. There’s a show coming on now about giraffes. I’ve been waiting all week for this show. Someday I’m going to Africa with you to see a legit giraffe.”
Naomi looked up from her paper, a huge, thrilled smile on her beaming face. “Someday? We could go now, if you want.”
I thought about it for a second then shook my head. “Nah. I have a career to build here in Kyoto. The wandering and the African giraffes could wait until . . . someday.”
The blonde continued smiling, but something left her face. She looked down at the paper again, began scribbling down stuff, and suddenly became oddly quiet. I tried so hard not to over-analyse our situation and not to over-think about all of it—the doubts, questions, weirdness, agitation, fears, and just focus on the TV screen and the giraffes that were sleeping stood up.
Fifteen minutes later Naomi whistled through her teeth and closed a file folder. She got to her feet and came climbing to our bed. Then very slowly, she crawled toward me predator-like, playful hunger in her eyes. “Can we get the main course now?” she purred.
Despite having God’s finest creation beg for some sexy time right in front of me, I refused to succumb to my own desire. I needed to be reasonable and stop delaying dealing with things that needed to be sorted out. “Can we talk?” I croaked out.
Naomi paused, her face merely six inches from mine, and arched a teasing brow. “A little more conversation, a little less action, huh? Do I have grape in my teeth or something? Does our comforter smell bad? Because I swear, I used Downy this time.”
I tried to maintain a straight face. “I’m serious, Naomi.”
She nodded her head. “Okay. But can I kiss you first? We can talk after, I promise.” She leant forward to kiss me, but I pulled back.
“There’s a catch,” I said.
Naomi smiled. “I’m not surprised.”
“I will need time to think. I don’t know.” I gave my forehead a little rub. “I’m still mildly discombobulated.”
“You want me to apologise again?” She stroked a hand over my hair. “Baby, I’m really sorry for flaking out last Wednesday night. I didn’t choose for it to happen, Ems, I swear.”
“No, no, that’s not it.” Wow. How could she be so thick? Until now she wasn’t aware that my rage had stemmed from something really deep. Something that had piled up and had been repressed for so long. Something beyond standing me up on dates or lonely nights or empty inboxes or weird-smelling fabrics. “After the talk I’m sure I’m going to wind up being more discombobulated. You, too. So after tonight my body is off-limits to all of your sneaky, subversive maneouverings.”
Naomi pulled back a little and bit her lower lip. “Sounds like a dreadfully serious talk. I’m scared now.”
“I just think we need this.”
“So this is like a last meal for a condemned man?”
“Something like that.”
Naomi grinned, but there was a flicker of fear in her bright blue eyes. “I’ll take it.”
The sound of wilderness coming from the TV show echoed in the background. Naomi pulled me tighter and we stared at each other. I felt my defences falling away. I was so Campbell-whipped, it’s insane.
Suddenly Naomi’s phone went off, ruining our semi-sweet moment. She ignored the first set of rings. But when it seemed to be unstoppable, she grudgingly reached for the iPhone that was dancing on the bedside table.
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” the blonde groaned irritably, squeezing her eyes shut. “Leave me alone! Can’t I have one fucking minute of peace and quiet here?” She glanced at the screen and scowled all the more. Then she turned to me with an apologetic face. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Ems. It’s Mrs. Bach from Koepsell-Fleig. Very important and private call. I have to get this.”
I turned away and just stared at the telly. I had no other choice but to reply with a lame-sounding “Okay.”
Naomi toyed with a wavy lock of my hair teasingly, and in a very sultry, low voice, warned me, “You’re safe for now, Emily Fitch, but you and your sexy red hair are in a lot of trouble later.”
I pressed my lips together and kept on staring at the television screen but not really watching. “I bet.”
I was definitely in a lot of trouble, I couldn’t deny that. Actually the two of us were in trouble. Our relationship was in trouble. And will face more troubles. Especially after the big talk.
Naomi rolled off the bed quickly and loped toward the balcony as her phone rang wildly. She pulled the curtains and the slid the door closed. Okay. So this was probably a very important call. A call I had no business with. It had always been none of my business.
I had to talk to someone myself. And fast.
I grabbed my laptop, went over to the desk, and opened it again. Activating my Facebook chat, I knew exactly who I needed to talk to. Luckily she was also online.
When I found her name on chat, I already felt better. The Great Elizabeth Stonem would definitely help me sort some things out. And with her blunt manner it would take about two-point-five seconds. I opted for a Skype video call.
Effy appeared with her usual smirk onscreen. Even at an ungodly hour and with very poor lighting, she still looked alluring.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey,” I returned, biting the hell out of my cuticles in anxiety.
Effy tilted her head to the side. “You okay?”
I could barely meet my friend’s eye. “Yep. I just missed you.”
The brunette was wearing her bullshit detector. “Emily . . .” she said. “You know I could hear the lie in your voice and I could see it in your eyes. You sound more unhappy now than you did when you informed me that Cook was possibly only one step away from successfully being your brother-in-law.”
I swallowed with difficulty and kept on nibbling at my cuticles. “I’m fine,” I mumbled.
“Emily, you could never lie worth a shit. Is this about Miss Peroxide? Are you two still in crisis?”
Part of me just wanted to shrug it off and tell her that everything’s okay with me and my queen but I knew I had called her for advice. And I really needed her voice of reason. Two heads are better than one, anyway.
I straightened up in the swivel chair and finally met her gaze. “Honestly? I don’t know,” I answered quietly. “I thought everything was going to change when she gets back but . . . I don’t know, it’s just not working. And I’m kind of worried about her. Naomi’s under so much stress right now . . . between—I don’t know—some things . . . Well, she doesn’t talk about it much, but you can tell it’s tearing her apart. And then there was this other thing.” I paused briefly. “She found out that I snogged Misaki while I was intoxicated. I mean, she didn’t just find out. I fessed up.”
Silence.
“Well, Misaki’s certainly an interesting diversion to the endless pity fest you’ve been on, huh,” Effy commented at length.
I gritted my teeth, offended. “That’s not how it is.”
The brunette’s brows became creased. “I don’t understand you, Emily. I thought you’re over Misaki now. I thought you’re done playing games now.”
I brought my fingers to the bridge of my nose and pinched. “I am, I am. But—”
“But you just had to kiss her,” Effy said stonily. “You’re obviously much weaker than I thought.”
I clasped my hands together, trying to fight back a wave of anger. “Naomi’s the one who threw us away. She’s the one who ditched me, remember?” I reminded her. “I can’t exactly talk to her if she won’t even get in touch with me, if she won’t open up to me.”
There was hardness in Effy’s eyes. “Well, she’s here now. And you have to talk to her. That’s all I’m going to say to you.”
I drew back, my chest heaving with deep, angered breaths. A thick silence fell over us.
Effy closed her eyes. “I’m sorry," she said, her tone softening a bit. "I know people like Naomi. I know how hard it is to get them, to deal with them, to be with them. But hooking up with Misaki is an all-time low, Emily. I know that what’s done has been done and you can’t take it back anymore. But . . . it’s not just unfair to Naomi; it’s also unfair to Misaki. Think about the poor girl, Ems. She probably still has feelings for you and this just made matters worse. Don’t tell me Misaki’s back in the picture.”
“She’s not, okay? I mean—I know I messed up. And if I were thinking straight I should know that if I were to mess up, Misaki should be the last choice ‘cos of, you know, our history. And Naomi will fucking slit our throats.”
“You have to start thinking about Misaki and the repercussions of your actions. Misaki doesn’t deserve any of this. She’s not your comfort woman.”
“I know that, Ef. It’s just that I can’t help it. I just lose all use of my senses when I’m vulnerable and you know that. I don’t like this. Seriously, I don’t. I don’t particularly enjoy hurting Misaki or messing with her head. I guess I’m just the World’s Weakest Link.” I gave a shrug then looked away.
“What is going on in your head, Emily? I just know there’s something you’ve been struggling with . . .”
I forced back tears. My face darkened as I recalled the drama from last week. “I can see the look on Naomi’s face when she talks about Africa and the projects. She wants it so much, Effy. She wants to be there. And it kills me when that happens, you know. It’s like I feel like a fucking baddie. Like I’m chaining her up here . . . I talked myself into thinking I could keep it up, but I couldn’t.”
“I don’t think she means to make you feel like that.”
I leant forward. “Yea, but that’s how I feel!” I clenched my jaw, determined not to cry. Why does everyone keep on making excuses for Naomi’s behaviour?
“Emily, if a person can make you go mad just as she can make you feel euphoric, she’s the real thing. She makes you laugh, she makes you cry, she fucks with your head, and yet she makes your life and those eight other lives worth breathing and wishing for. Because it’s worth it. She’s worth it.”
I wrapped my arms around myself then leant backward in the seat. “I don’t know what to do anymore. But what I’m sure of is that I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I feel like I’m the only one invested in this relationship.”
“She might only be protecting you.”
“From what?”
“From the truth. From making a tough choice. From upsetting you,” Effy answered. “Look, Naomi might be dealing with things that she couldn’t tell you because you might not be able to handle them.”
“I don’t need to be protected. I want people to stop looking at me as if I would crumble. I’m not that fragile or weak or delicate, fuck’s sake.”
“I’m just putting it out there. I mean, frankly, Ems, you’re the type of person I'd rather lie to or keep things from than upset your delicate mental and emotional balance.”
“Well, if she thought this was working, she thought wrong. It’s done the exact opposite. This is only making me feel more like shit.”
Effy studied my sad, lonely face. “Emily, I don’t want to make your life any tougher than it is right now,” she said sympathetically, “but I just have to ask, what are you going to do about Naomi?”
It took me a few heartbeats to respond. It was a tough question, and I didn’t know what the answer should be.
“I don’t know,” I said. “But I’ll figure it out.”
The brunette leant back and looked me in the eye. “And what are you going to do about Misaki?”
“I don’t know,” I repeated. “But I’ll figure it out.”
“All right.” Effy gave a dismal, slow nod. She looked down and fiddled with the mouse, stroking it as if in deep thought. I waited until she lifted her gaze back to me. When she did, her blue eyes were serious yet compassionate. “But PS: Remember what you told me?” she continued, “‘Even the greatest love can—does—hit walls that seem undefeatable at times, but you can’t give up. Ever.’”
I closed my laptop, feeling more drained and dizzy, and shambled back to the bed. I thought about Misaki and the guilt I felt seconds earlier. I shouldn’t have put us in this position again. I shouldn’t have weaved another web of complications. I knew we have to have our own talk too.
I thought about Naomi and our great love that had been hitting walls far and wide. The thought of what might happen later left me with a feeling of dread. But I knew we had to face this somehow.
With weary eyes, I gazed at the television. Another show had come on—one featuring aquatic plants. A few minutes later, I heard the sliding door open. I looked up to see an agitated Naomi marching back into the room.
“Sorry, Ems, I gotta take care of this first, okay?” she said, moving quickly toward the couch. “Apparently, there are problems with some documents. Now I have to fucking rewrite all of them.”
“Do you need help?” I offered as sweetly as I could.
She sank into the couch and crossed her long legs. “No. I got this.” She reached for a stack of papers and settled down to work.
“Okay.” I turned back toward the telly, biting down on my lip to keep from crying out in frustration. Thankfully I was able to keep my calm and just pretended to be amused by Indian lotuses and water hyacinths.
The long period of silence wasn’t interrupted until Naomi’s mobile phone rang again. Naomi hauled herself up from the couch, where she’d been stretched on her back, a file folder she was reviewing propped on her chest.
“Moshi-moshi. Oh, good evening, Sensei,” she said. “Huh? But—Okay, sir . . . No, I don’t think it has been graded yet . . . Uun (No), I’ll check it again . . . Well, I’ve made plans, but . . . No. Hai, wakarimashita (Yes, sir). Hai. Hai. Good-bye, sir.” She hung up with a sigh of irritation.
“It’s Matsumoto Sensei,” said Naomi. “He wanted me to come to his office tonight. We’d go through some books and look for good exam questions.”
“Won’t you be taking the same exam?” I said, not taking my eyes off the TV screen.
“He said I’ll get alternate questions.”
I turned toward her finally. “That’s a little over-the-top creepy, don’t you think? And you’re not scheduled tonight, Naomi. We’re supposed to have a dinner date and it’s Friday night, for crying out loud.”
“I know, I know. Fuck. I hate this just as much as you do, Ems.” Naomi pressed a hand against her cheek. “But we have to reschedule. Perhaps tomorrow?”
I turned the TV off with a brutal push of a button on the remote. “Perhaps?”
“Emily—”
“Fuck’s sake, Naomi,” I jerked up, my fists clenched. “I don’t want to compete for your time. But it seems like you’re the one who’s giving yourself away.” The words came out a little more snappish than I had intended.
“He’ll pay me double.”
“I’ll pay you triple.”
“Emily, you know it’s not about the money.”
“Yes, Naomi. It’s not about the money,” I said heatedly. “It’s about your ailing relationship with your girlfriend.”
Naomi sat up straight on the couch, alarm plain on her face. “Ailing?”
“We never talk anymore, you’ve got some weird things going on with you that I don’t know about, you’ve stood me up on our dates.”
Her brows creased. “Stood you up? That’s not fair, Emily.”
“No?” I didn’t bother to hide my bitterness. “Actually, I think I’m being more than fair. We had dinner plans for three consecutive nights and you never showed up. I think that’s pretty much the definition of standing someone up. In the dictionary of my life if you go to stood up, it says see night with Naomi in Mama Luna’s.”
“I’ve got my R.A. job and thesis work.”
“Well, you could’ve rescheduled those. It seems like you’ve read manuals of all sorts but you haven’t actually read the most important one—The Good Girlfriend Handbook.”
Slowly she got up from the couch, looking like I had slapped her. Her mouth thinned out and turned down at the corners. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, you know. You’re not exactly doing a good job.”
“Sorry. Do I understand correctly?” Naomi took a menacing step forward. “Are you trying to lecture me on being an outstanding girlfriend, Emily? Don’t fucking open this shit up when you were the one who hooked up behind my back.”
We locked glances and I could see how angry she, too, was.
“At least I didn’t lie,” I said quietly with all the resentment I could spit out. “I’m not the one keeping things.”
She stood frozen, alarmed at the fierceness of my expression. “What?” she asked feebly, staring dumbly at me.
“What about you swinging by your professor’s house?” I thundered, suddenly giving vent to my barely contained rage. “A friend of mine saw you get inside that slimebag’s car. I want to know what the hell you think you’re doing?”
She let out that trademark Naomi snort. “It’s none of your business,” she said, flinging her head back in an attitude of defiance.
My mouth quirked. “Yea, you got that one right. It’s always been none of my business.”
“What the hell, Emily—?”
“What was that—a booty call?”
Her head jerked around and I quailed a bit under the sparks of anger shooting from her eyes. “What the fuck!”
“You didn’t tell me about all that shenanigans, did you? I asked you where you were and you said just working at the student’s lounge when all the while you’re in his house for fuck-knows-how-many consecutive evenings. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I demanded, repeating myself.
“The man is married and has kids, for Chrissakes,” Naomi snapped. “And he and his wife are still very much together if you must know. He asked me to work in his house because he had to go home and take care of some stuff as his wife was out on a business trip. I had to look after his children too.”
“Oh, so now you’re babysitting his kids?”
“I work in front of my laptop in the living room with a stack of papers around me and a couple of kids running around. Professor Matsumoto serves me cups of coffee and a plate of unsavoury crackers. I eat for a bit then go back to work. I take a cab home after I’m done with my assignment and ‘babysitting.’ Big deal!” She tossed up her hands.
“Why didn’t you tell me about it then if it wasn’t a big deal?”
“Jesus, Em. Why does it matter so much?” she whispered half angrily. “Some truths are just better off distorted.”
“Isn’t our relationship based on honesty?”
“I know, but it’s also not based on choking each other.”
A muscle twitched in my cheek and my jaw trembled. “You feel choked,” I echoed silently. Naomi squeezed her eyes shut and muttered a curse to herself.
When she opened her eyes, she took a step toward me. “It’s not what I’m saying.” Her expression was now of withdrawal. I felt my hands start to shake.
I stepped back, making sure my posture was stiff and my gaze chilly. “You just said it.” I cursed the tears pooling in my eyes.
“It’s not like that, okay, Ems? Sometimes you just overreact and it—”
“Oh, so I’m not allowed to overreact and you are.” I glared at her.
“Sometimes I don’t know how to talk to you anymore. It’s like you act like a child and I get so tired from it. I’m just fed up with it.”
Stung even though I’d expected that roar of frustrations, I nodded in curt understanding. “Right,” I said through stiff lips. “Blame it all on me.”
Hurt I turned, and with an involuntary gasp of alarm, Naomi grabbed my arm before I could stalk out. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going for a walk.” I stepped back, holding palms up, afraid I might cause us both irreparable damage if I touched her. “There are ways of working off this kind of mad. The most constructive one is to walk it off.”
“I’m sorry, Em.” She reached out and brushed the hair out of my eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I love you.”
I stepped away from her. Hurt and alarm plaited her forehead and caused silent tears to well up in her eyes. I loved her, too. And at the moment, my love felt as though it were killing me.
“Ems, I don’t care if you’re angry.” She reached out again and held on. “You should be angry. You should shout and rage.”
Gently, whilst I could still manage it, I loosened her grip. With a low, calm voice I spoke. “Yea, I should be angry. I should shout and rage. But I can’t. And I won’t. So I’m taking a walk.” I turned for the door and started walking away again. “Enjoy your space—”
“Emily, please. I don’t want space,” Naomi implored. “Let’s talk. We’ll talk.”
I stopped walking, my shoulders shaking with anger and hurt. I felt hot tears well up but pushed them away. Without turning around I said, “You don’t talk, Naomi. You’re like a clam that refuses to open up. You just want to soak it all up. You never let me in.”
“That’s not true.” Her reply came out tinged with hurt. Yet even as she said the words, I could sense that she knew I was right. “I talk. I let you in.”
I finally wheeled around to face her, my eyes smouldering. “Then why don’t I know any-fucking-thing about what’s going on behind there anymore?” I said, pointing at her gleaming blue eyes. “I love you, too, Naomi,” I said, softer now, as I swung the door open. “I just don’t know how to be with you right now.”
Before I could hear her say another word, I had whirled outside, slamming it shut behind me. I started down the hallway, and the tears that had threatened for so long were finally unleashed.
When I woke up in the morning I didn’t know where I was. I had been dreaming I was at home in my dorm room back in Kyoto and in Emily’s arms and everything was okay. Just like it used to be. Just like it was supposed to be. Well, turned out I was in my dorm room back in Kyoto, yes. But Emily was nowhere to be found. Emily still hated my guts.
I sat up, turned off the bedside lamp that I had left on overnight, and let my heavy head fall into my hands. I felt guilt, cold and heavy. It stabbed me, plunged into my heart sharply. Of course Emily was entitled to hate my guts. I’d been a mad cow of a girlfriend. I didn’t know what had possessed me last night to say such horrid things and nasty lies to the redhead. I wanted Emily, I wanted us. I trusted Emily, I trusted her love for me. And she did deserve the Outstanding Girlfriend award. Eventually I reached for my mobile phone and stood up on weak knees. I tried ringing Emily’s number again but her phone was still switched off. Thinking that the messages might creep into her inbox somehow, I left her more text and Facebook messages pleading with her to talk to me, insisting that one way or another, we were going to work it out, but got no response.
I paced around the room, racking my brain, trying to think where my girlfriend could possibly be to the point of torture. I knocked on my next-door neighbour’s door, hoping that the redhead had crashed on Jessica’s couch. Even Jessica got so worried and involved that she started a search of her own—doing room-to-room inspection in the dorm premises.
And yet, no Emily.
I paced again. Then I called the one person who might have an inkling of my girlfriend’s whereabouts.
“Naomi-chan, hey.” Misaki answered on the seventh or eighth ring. “Good morning.”
“Hey, Misaki. So sorry to bother you this early but . . .” I started with a tremulous voice that probably reflected my slight paranoia, “have you seen Emily? Her phone’s turned off. I’ve been trying to reach her since last night. I’m worried sick about her.”
“No, I’m sorry, Naomi-chan,” she replied in her usual gentle voice. “I haven’t.”
My heart gave a guilty little thump. Just a few days ago, I was having catty thoughts about Misaki. But she was just too nice and tender and perfect to hate. And she wasn’t the competitive type.
It reminded me of an event during summer holiday back when I was nine years old. I stayed at Aunt Gerty’s old flat in Cessnock. It had mice. Not cute little Disney mice, but big, undesirable, ugly grey rodents. I was always finding droppings in the kitchen. It was a bit disgusting. And all over the place were those glue traps. You know, those boards where they get stuck and eventually just starve to death. You must be heartless if you don’t think those traps are nauseatingly inhumane.
Anyway, one day I was alone in the house and I heard this anguished squeaking, and I knew a mouse had gotten caught in one. I tiptoed into the kitchen. There was this little grey thing, stuck, its legs scrambling in the air. I’ve never felt so sick to my stomach in my whole life.
I couldn’t stand hearing it cry, so I got the broom and dustpan like I’d seen my aunt do before. My hands were shaking so hard. When I got close, I saw its little eyes look up at me, and I lost it.
It freaked me out to see something so helpless. And I had to kill it. There was nothing I could do. But I hated it for being a defenceless little creature and for making myself get rid of it.
I’d rather deal with something that could fight back. Then I wouldn’t feel so evil.
Misaki was that little mouse in my life right now. I had always been very careful not to terrorise the girl because I knew she would never retaliate. And that sucked because I was determined to eradicate all barnacles in my way if I had to. If I had to.
“Do you know where she could’ve stayed the night?” I asked, hopeful I’d get a lead.
A pause. “I’m not sure, Naomi. I mean, I haven’t heard from her. But, uhm, maybe she’s at uni right now? Maybe in the library? How about Duke’s Diner? I can’t really say for sure.”
“Okay, I’ll just check the lib later. But let me know at once if you find out where she is. I just—I just need to talk to her. We need to talk.”
“Hai, wakatta (Okay, got it),” Misaki responded, a little shakily.
I clutched my phone hard. There was something strange about her tone. “Thanks,” I said, trying to keep an unsuspecting tone. “And if you ever see her, tell her to come home already and we’ll talk. Like, have a proper talk. We kind of left things in a really bad place last night. It sucks.”
Silence. Maybe she was finding it too weird and shocking that I was opening up to her. I’ve never had this sort of conversation with Misaki—one that concerned my relationship with Emily.
“So, uhm, I know it’s the bonfire festival later,” I said, injecting some cheerfulness into my tone. “And I know we pinky-swore last year to get together and celebrate again. But, you know, given our situation right now . . . Emily and I, you know, aren’t exactly on very good terms . . .”
“Yea, I totally understand,” she replied softly. “And I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Aren’t you planning something, though? I might be able to—Oh, I don’t know—” I rubbed a hand across my forehead, “I’ll see how this day plays out first . . .”
It took her a few heartbeats to reply. “Uhh . . . No, no. I, uh, haven’t thought about it yet. It’s kind of a busy day for me too so . . . I really don’t know.”
I held my mobile phone tighter. There was really something odd about the way Misaki was responding. It was as if she were choosing her answers carefully. And Misaki not freaking out about the fact that Emily was missing? That was the strangest of them all.
“Okay. All right,” I finally said.
Silence.
“Naomi?” Misaki called gently, sounding dead earnest. “Whatever it is you two are going through, I hope you work it out. I really do.”
That made me relax again and heave a soft sigh. The sincerity in Misaki’s tone was unquestionable. My mouth softened into a smile.
“Thanks, Misaki,” I said quietly. “That means a lot.”
I tapped End Call and tossed my phone onto the bed, feeling more and more weary, anxious, and guilty. I sat there for a long while, staring at the sunlight that was desperate and bright around the pulled-tight curtains. I finally rose and stood like a zombie in a shower that was cold but that I couldn’t manage to feel.
After six hours of looking for Emily everywhere under the scorching August sun, I strolled through the front door of Duke’s Diner and was immediately surrounded by the smells of fresh espresso and soft jazz music in the background.
A sense of comfort enfolded me like a blanket. There were times in Melbourne and in Africa when my head hurt from working and my heart hurt from missing Emily, and all I’d have to do was close my eyes and remember this fast food restaurant-slash-coffeehouse in order to feel better.
Emily and I used to come here all the time. Especially on late afternoons of Saturday—like now. We’d each order a drink—mine an espresso and hers a chocolate mint milkshake—and laugh about every eventful day of the present week.
I flipped up my Ray-Ban Wayfarer sunglasses over the top of my head and glanced around. The queues at the counter were long and flowing agonisingly slow. I decided to stand by the corner window and just wait for a while until the traffic eases. I’d always hated the feeling of waiting behind someone, of waiting for my turn, despite my relentless lectures on patience to my girlfriend. I let my eyes wander instead and stared outside at the sky. It was almost sundown. Where could Emily possibly be? I thought for the bazillionth time that day. I only hoped she didn’t actually get kidnapped by some Yakuza or lying in a bed getting a tattoo of Sugiyama Sensei’s moustache on her butt cheek just like in her wildest dreams. Just as I was wondering, my phone buzzed.
It was a text from Emily. I felt my heartbeat go back to its normal rate. Thank God it wasn’t a complaint about losing a finger or an unsterilized needle.
Her message seemed cold and it was obvious that she was still pissed off, but at that moment, I couldn’t care less. Emily had contacted me and she was safe—that was all that mattered. We exchanged a few messages.
I’d thought about ringing my girlfriend up and asking her to join me, but I knew Emily needed time to cool down, so I’d decided not to bother her yet. Instead I was planning on bringing her a double-decker Croquette burger and Ben & Jerry’s ice cream. I could set up a special dinner for two tonight too. That emergency Mending-Broken-Fences Mac and Cheese could be real handy.
It squeezed my heart to think about how our relationship took a wrong turn. Here I had this incredible, beautiful, devoted girlfriend, and I couldn’t even bother to spend some quality time with her, to give her enough attention, to show her how much she really means to me. What a cunt I was.
What happened to us? I had been really looking forward to making up to her and just for our relationship to be back to normal, but since I came back everything had felt weird. I saw Emily’s love for me crumble until everything between us became a simmering, angry battle.
I should’ve known better not to set aside relationship issues. I should’ve known better to listen to my mother about how burying things could come back and bite you in the ass. Mum was right, all along. It was the snowball effect. The ball of mess just started growing and growing until it grew so big that we couldn’t ignore its presence anymore. Emily and I didn’t really take that chance to deal with our problems. We probably just pretended we were okay and assumed we could live through it. But we couldn’t.
We kissed but didn’t really make up. We were the perfect illustration of disintegration. And I knew I had to make a move and make amends before we hit rock bottom.
Thinking that I shouldn’t be wasting any more precious second, I finally marched toward the counter.
Thinking that I shouldn’t be wasting any more precious second, I finally marched toward the counter.
“Waa, Naomi-chan! Hisashiburi dane!” Toshi exclaimed from behind the counter, a look of utter surprise and delight on his face. “Haven’t seen you in a while. I missed you.”
Okay. That was a bit creepy.
I slanted a brow at him as he blushed beet red.
I slanted a brow at him as he blushed beet red.
“Nani yatteta no (What kept you busy)?” he asked, arranging his paper hat with awkward hands. I’d always thought those hats looked dorky. “Where’ve you been?”
“I had to fly back to Australia for a while. Family and career matters,” I replied, trying to return the grin. “So how goes hip-hop dancing? Still doing those sick pop and lock moves?”
He beamed. “Yea! We actually got a show next weekend at Jigen-ya, this underground live house in front of Keith’s Pub. You should come see me freestyle. I’ll save you a VIP pass.”
“I don’t know yet, Toshi, but I’ll see. Thanks for the offer, though,” I said, forcing a smile as I scanned the menu board.
“Not getting the espresso?” His brows came together. “I can draw a much better heart now.” He flashed a flirty grin that creeped me out all the more.
“Nope,” I replied, rapping uneasily on the countertop. “I’m in need of more sugar right now. It’s been a long day. Let’s see . . .”
“Listen, Naomi-chan.” Toshi’s voice lowered to a somber pitch. “I’m sorry about you and Emily.”
My eyebrows flew up as my heart gave an ominous thud. “Me and Emily?” I asked.
“Uh . . . yea. You know.” Toshi frowned in confusion, a gesture that caused his narrow eyes to become almost invisible.
“No.” I rolled my shoulders back defensively. “What?”
Toshi stood up straight, and his face suddenly became unnaturally pinched. He busied himself with the till. “Nani mo nai (Nothing),” he said. “Forget I said anything.”
An uneasy chill shot through me, and I pressed my palms into the counter. “Tell me what’s going on, Toshi,” I said in my most threatening tone. I’d never touch Toshi, but it also never hurt to be able to make someone cut to the chase.
Toshi sighed and dropped his head forward. Then he looked me right in the eye and walked over so that he was standing directly in front of me. “She’s seeing someone else, Naomi,” he said, causing my heart to wither and die just like that. “I just figured you guys had broken up.”
“What?” I yelled so loudly that the entire restaurant turned to stare. “Someone else?” I repeated, only a bit more quietly.
“Un (Yep). This pretty Japanese girl . . . Long and straight black hair . . . Sugoi oshare (Very fashionable). Misaki is her name, if I remember correctly because I wrote her name on the cup. They even go bowling together every Saturday since you disappeared. I hate to pry, but the way I see it, I say they’ve got something more goin’ on.” He held up his hands. “Then again, this is just me.”
“You’re not serious,” I said.
Toshi just stared at me with an uncomfortable yet pitying look on his face.
A strange, numbing sensation crept over my body.
Realisation plowed through me like a steam-roller, making me doubt everything I trusted. Again. Emily had been acting kind of strange since I got back. Distant—almost cold. Except, of course, when she was yelling at me. Slowly, distractedly, I backed away from the counter.
“I’m really sorry, Naomi-chan. Gomen,” Toshi said, picking up a dirty cup someone had left on the counter. “I shouldn’t have been the one to tell you.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I mumbled, turning toward the front door. I could barely see straight. “I’ve got to go.”
Despite my twisting tummy, I managed to take out my phone from my sling purse and browse my contacts list for Megumi’s name. I was itching for a denial—one that I would readily believe if it came out of Emily’s lips. I was dying to hear Emily’s side of the story and to get it first hand. If there was something I had learned the tough way, it was not to jump to conclusions. I admit, my rash judgment was the biggest catalyst of my arguments with my girlfriend.
“Naomi!” Someone chirped as soon as I stepped out of the restaurant. It was Megumi, carrying a bunch of shopping bags. Next to her was her boyfriend Ignacio, who was carrying much bigger bags, seemingly bored and tired. What are the fucking odds?
“We all missed you!” Megumi continued, grinning at me from ear to ear. “I thought Emily’s planning to keep you to herself and you two are going to hole up together the entire summer break! We’re a little bit jealous, you know.” She let out a laugh.
“Hey, Naomi. How you doin’?” Ignacio greeted in his heavy South American accent, casually shoving his free hand into one pocket of his jeans. “Why show up just now?”
I marched straight toward them, feeling like I was about to burst. “Strangest thing, Megumi. I was just about to call you.” I gripped her shoulders. “Is Emily with you? Where is she?” I frantically looked around, hoping to get a glimpse of that wavy mop of red hair. Fuck. I must’ve sounded so hysterical ‘cos my friends were looking at me as if I’d gone fucking mad. “Where’s Emily?”
Megumi looked up at me, her brows creased in puzzlement. “Huh? Was she supposed to be with me?”
“She stayed at your apartment, right?” My pulse accelerated again. “She slept over at your place, right?”
Megumi drew back, baffled. “Eh? No. She didn’t.” She shook her head as Ignacio scratched his in confusion. “I haven’t even talked to her in a while. Last time we hung out was about three weeks ago.”
My arms fell down to my sides. I felt a crumpling sensation inside of me. Something was off. Something fucking fishy was going on. And Emily had lied to me.
“Yea, I was with her,” Ignacio chimed in, half weirded-out and half amused. “No Emily in bed with us, I can assure you. We’re not that kind of couple.”
I ignored the joke. “But she told me . . .” I trailed off and felt another sinister thud of my heart. “Never mind.”
“Is everything all right, Naomi-chan?” Megumi touched my shoulder with a gentle hand, looking worried.
My jaw clenched. “How about Misaki? Do you know where she is?”
Ignacio was the one who answered. “Well, we were texting earlier ’cos she invited us to join her for the bonfire festival picnic at Kamo River. Right, babe?” He turned to his girlfriend.
“Yep. Misaki said the barbecue picnic starts at six,” Megumi added. “If you’re going there earlier, please tell Misaki that Nacho and I are gonna be a little late, okay? I still have to drop off these bags at my apartment. Aiko-san and her husband will swing by only for an hour or two. Aiko’s not keen on the idea of barbecue. It’s battered meat rolling over grubby steel grills, according to her.”
“Keisuke will be there, too,” Ignacio put in, fixing his ponytail with a hand. “I don’t know about Kenji and Jess and Marina, though.” He shrugged.
“Keisuke will be there, too,” Ignacio put in, fixing his ponytail with a hand. “I don’t know about Kenji and Jess and Marina, though.” He shrugged.
“But Misaki should be there by now,” Megumi said, checking her watch. “She said she’ll start setting up at four.”
“But the bonfire light-up is not until—” Ignacio paused when he noticed my unchanging taut face, then squinted at me. “Wait. She informed you about all this, ¿no?”
My whole body tensed. Oh, I knew all about that bonfire festival—the famous summer event where five giant mountain bonfires would be lit up. And I knew all about that picnic that had been our tradition. But what I didn’t know was Misaki writing me off the guest list just like that. What reason could she possibly have for avoiding me, for acting so bizarrely, for not giving a damn when she learned about a little redhead gone astray? If not the fact that she was hiding something, someone, then what? I felt my face lose colour. Suddenly everything made sense.
“No. But it doesn’t matter,” I said through stiff lips. “I think I know where Emily is.” I shoved my phone back into the pocket of my purse. Feeling emotion swamping my good sense, I clamped my jaws together and called for a taxi.
Okay. So Misaki Ueno was a sweet, soft-spoken, gracious, perfect Japanese chick who Emily considered her best friend.
Nonetheless, she was a cunning force to be reckoned with.
After chewing over that particular fact, my heart thumped hard several times before settling back into its natural rhythm. I hated to confront someone like Misaki Ueno, but it was high time she learned that she couldn’t take Emily away from me. Emily was still my girlfriend. My girlfriend.
And I was ready to do something I might regret later if it meant bringing my Emily back. This was war.
To be continued . . .
