Summer Haikus – Chapter 27

“Reiko ignored me when I said good night to her. Did I do something to piss her off?”

Masa stands over me on the train ride into downtown Tokyo. All the seats were taken, and the car only gets more crowded as we get closer to Tokyo Station.

“No clue,” I say, shrugging my shoulders and lying my ass off. “Maybe she had a bad day.” I want to not give a shit what Reiko thinks of me and how the other girls at the ryokan want Masa, but it’s eating away at my confidence, little by little.

“What’s wrong?” Masa asks, leaning over and whispering in my ear.

“Nothing. I’m fine. Looking forward to dinner.” I force a smile up at him, and he narrows his eyes at me but nods. That was a close one. Loosen up, Isa. “Where are we going?”

“I thought we’d get Italian, enjoy some wine, pasta, and dessert. Then we’ll go out and have some fun.” He smiles, one side of his mouth quirked up higher than the other.

“Like what?”

“You’ll see.”

I look up at him, at his smile and the confident way he wraps his arm around my waist, and I start to doubt everything. What’s my plan for the evening? Plan A is to smile through everything and try to relax. I can do surprises. I can let him plan a date. I did ask for a date, didn’t I? I didn’t expect him to clear each stage of the date through me, did I? Plan B is to do dinner and act sick if I can’t take the stress of having no plans. I want to spend the night with Masa. I kind-of know what to look forward to when it comes to sex, so I’m okay there, especially since it’ll just be the two of us. But a date out in public when I don’t know where I’m going or what I’m doing? Ugh. My stomach clenches, and a hot flash rises up through me.

“What’s the matter?” Masa asks, his voice alarmed. “Your eyes are darting everywhere, and your cheeks are flushed.”

I grab a handful of his shirt and twist. “Just tell me what we’re doing tonight before I pass out.”

“Shit. Okay, okay. We’re going to dinner and the arcade. You don’t have to play any of the games but it’s still a lot of fun.”

I nod and close my eyes, imagining myself in a Japanese arcade. Breathing in, I picture myself watching Masa play games or watching other people play games. I can do that.

“Sorry. I forgot the whole part about not being spontaneous.” He sighs, and I’m too busy breathing deeply pressed against his shirt to find out if he’s annoyed with me or not.

“No, I’m sorry. I wish I could stop it, but my mind spins out of control at the thought of free, unstructured time.” I let go of his shirt and smooth it out across his chest.

“Don’t apologize. I’m the one who forgot.”

The train doors open at Tokyo Station, and we disembark into the underground tunnels of post-rush hour madness. Above ground, the rain has cleared, leaving steaming sidewalks and stealthy puddles I leap over in my cork wedge sandals. I don’t usually wear heels, but I have so much leg strength it’s an easy task.

“The restaurant is over here,” he says, taking my elbow and directing me around the corner. “Are you okay now?”

“Yeah. Much better. Thanks.”

“So, that’s really it? I don’t need to detail every step of the night?” he asks, genuinely curious, not defensive.

“Yeah, I just need to know the basics at least. I can’t get by on less.”

“Go on,” he prompts. We walk for a few blocks before he glances at me again, and I sigh, not wanting to give away all my craziness on the first date.

“With the basics, I can form a number of plans in my head to handle every possible large outcome. The little things I’m able to roll with. The bigger stuff brings on panic attacks if I have no available plan for dealing with it.”

“So, if I stop us along the way to the arcade to buy crepes…” He waves at a mobile crepe truck with a line of people purchasing Nutella and banana crepes. My mouth waters. “Or if we pop into a convenience store, that’ll be okay?”

I side-eye him, and he has one hand stuffed in his pocket while the other is on my arm, gently guiding me around people. “That’ll be fine. I can handle those things. But you said we’ll ‘do something fun’ and I had no idea what that could be. Karaoke, which is a ‘no’ for me, by the way, wall climbing, seeing a live sex show, playing pachinko… It could be anything. Just the thought of all those possibilities gives me hives.” I glance down at my arm to make sure welts aren’t growing there. That’s the other thing stress does to my body.

“A live sex show sounds like fun to you?” he asks, laughing and stops when I raise my eyebrows at him. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I’ll keep it in mind for the future.”

I wag my index finger at him. “I am far from a prude, Masa. Don’t forget it.”

Dinner is lovely, with lots of joking and laughter, spaghetti carbonara, garlic bread, and mussels as an appetizer. I like red wine a lot, so we get a bottle to split between us. I’m comfortable, and the conversation is easy and fresh. Everything I hoped for in a date until…

“What do you think of everyone at the ryokan? You and Reiko have gotten along well.” Masa sips on his wine, and I reach for my glass and almost knock it over.

“Oops, maybe I’ve had too much,” I say, pulling my hand back to my lap. He picks up my glass and hands it to me.

“It’s only your second glass, and I’ve seen you put away a lot of beer.”

I nod and sip, as the conversation dies a sudden and swift death.

“Okay, fine,” I say, sighing. “Reiko is nice, and I like her. I thought we were hitting it off, that we could totally be friends, but I don’t think she’s interested anymore.”

“Why? That’s crazy. Who wouldn’t want to be friends with you?”

“Because she had her eyes set on you.” I raise my glass to him and smirk. “And supposedly ‘girls like me’” — I exaggerate air quotes — “should not steal handsome guys like you.” I swirl the wine in the glass and set it back down on the table. “At least that’s what she told me while I was getting ready for our date.”

“Girls like you? What the hell does that mean?”

“I don’t know.” I fiddle with the cloth napkin in my lap. “She didn’t elaborate, but I’m sure I can guess. It probably has something to do with the fact that I never wear makeup, curl my hair, or wear skirts and heels.”

“You’re wearing both today and look great, I should add. Sorry I didn’t say so before.”

“It’s fine.” I wave my hand at him but stare off down the restaurant at the stylish and perfect couple occupying another table. He’s dressed nicely like Masa, t-shirt, skinny trousers, and shined, pointed shoes. I love this style on Masa. He pulls it off so well. But the other lady is gorgeous, her long legs reaching up to the short skirt, a pretty blouse, hair curled, nails done. I hold my hands out in front of me and examine my bony knuckles and bare fingers. I don’t even wear rings. I should wear rings.

Masa leans across the table and touches my chin. I blink my eyes away from the couple and turn to him.

“I meant it when I said you look great. I don’t really go for the girly girls.”

“Toni was girly.”

“Yeah,” he says, sitting back in his chair. “She was out of the norm for me, and look where she got me.”

I nod my head and drink some more wine. He’s probably right. I wouldn’t be here on this date with him if he didn’t find me attractive somehow.

“Don’t listen to Reiko. She’s just jealous.”

“Obviously.” I laugh and then sigh. “Sorry. I was doing great all day and she tripped me up before we left. Now I keep hearing her voice in my head over and over. And I have to work with her again, which sucks.”

“Yeah, well, the summer will be over before you know it, and you can leave her thousands of miles behind. Besides, she’s never struck me as a bitter person.”

“She immediately apologized and begged me not to tell Grandpa. I’ll let it go and try to pretend it never happened.”

Masa calls for the check, setting his wine glass aside.

“Let’s go and play some games, then we’ll get dessert on the way home.”

I reach into my bag for my wallet, but Masa puts his hand on my knee. “No. My treat. It’s a date. Besides, I got paid recently.”

I laugh and put my wallet away. Fine. I won’t argue over something like this.

The video game arcade is packed with people, and it looks like I’m not the only girl who is on a date with a gamer. Masa plays several games in a row, during which I stand beside him, resting my body against his, and zone out. He is way into each game, telling me about the levels he’s already beaten or what other games this manufacturer makes. Some are first-person shooter or racing, but there’s this drumming game that makes me laugh as he beats away and gains more points for each trick he does. We stand and watch an amazing guy winning life at a dancing game. I’ve never seen anyone move their feet so fast. After an hour, though, the smoke of the arcade has seeped into my eyes and lungs, and I start to cough, so Masa and I make our way out.

Before the exit, though, are the Japanese photo booths, purikura.

“Oooooh, we should do this!” I yell over the clamor of the arcade. The place has gotten even busier since we arrived.

“Which one?” he asks, gesturing to the crazy pink and flowery booths. I read each sign until I find one that’s not too girly or strange. We wait outside the booth until the people inside are done, then it’s our turn. The inside is bright white with a green area behind us and a large display with a camera.

The machine immediately starts talking in Japanese but asks us if we want English.

“English!” Masa and I say at the same time and laugh.

The display changes for us, and Masa nods his head with a smile. “Cool. Five years ago, these machines didn’t do English, and they were crazy with options, half of which I couldn’t understand.”

I place my bag on the shelf specifically made for women’s bags, feed five hundred yen into the machine, and start flipping through the options. I choose a set of backgrounds with lots of stripes (I love stripes), and change the photo brightness and a bunch of other preferences that make me wonder who designs these things.

“Who did you do purikura with when you were here?” I ask, returning to his side and rearranging my hair.

“I have cousins in Japan too, though they all live south of here and in Osaka. Ready?”

The booth counts down and starts flashing. Masa and I stand together and smile. Click. We lean into the camera. Click. We pop out the peace sign fingers. Click. He turns to me, so I turn to him and smile. Click. Without asking, he takes my face in his hands, romance J-drama style, and kisses me. Click. I pull him close to me and tilt my head so I can really kiss him back, so I can taste the red wine and tomato sauce we had at dinner, and let his tongue tease mine. Click. Our lips part, and he kisses my forehead. Click.

“Your session is over. You may now decorate your photos,” the booth chimes at us in a girly sing-song voice.

My chest is heaving, trying to force air down into my lungs, and I bite my bottom lip to bring me back to my senses.

“When you bite your bottom lip like that, it drives me absolutely crazy. It always has.” He leans over and kisses below my ear, nipping at the skin with his teeth. Shocks of pleasure zap through my arms to my fingers at his waist. “I want to take you home. Let’s finish this up.”

I blink my eyes back into focus, sheer lust causing everything around me to blur and glow around the edges. Right. Photos. We just took a ton of photos of us making out.

Decorating happens in a different part of the booth. We move over, and all the photos are up on the screen twice so Masa and I can make our own collages. We each put our name in hiragana, the Japanese script, plus our email addresses so we can get digital copies, and start decorating, but we have to work quickly because there’s a timer for every step. The machine has a million options, including hearts, stars, rainbows, animal ears and tails, sayings in Japanese and English, animal faces, and stamps. I can even change the shape and color of my eyes and face, but I find that weird, so I leave them be. Once they’re decorated, I choose a layout and put the one of us leaning into the camera in the center and some of the other ones of us kissing around it.

“Done?” I ask. Leaning over and looking at Masa’s decorating, I laugh. He put the one of us making peace signs in the center and stuck cat ears on my head.

“Kawaii,” I say, squealing and turning on my cute-girl Japanese voice.

He winces and laughs. “Every time you do that, I have to remind myself who you are.”

We wait outside the booth for the photos, and they pop out of a slot a minute later. Standing on the sidewalk, we stare at our photos, and my heart squeezes. All the months, years, I’ve spent pining for Masa and hoping for moments like these are right in front of me now.

“Are you okay?” Masa asks, his hand sliding over my shoulder to pull me into his side.

I clutch the photos to my chest and smile widely. “I’m so damned happy. Really.”

“Me too,” he says, kissing me on my temple. “Let’s go home.”