Summer Haikus – Chapter 32

I wake on Sunday morning wearing the same clothes I came home in the previous evening, and my stomach growls loud enough to wake everyone in a two-block radius. I rub my eyes, glance around my room, and realize I fell asleep meditating last night and never even ate dinner. I did my best to prevent a panic attack by talking myself out of it and kneading the sheet on my bed between my hands until I dropped off. I roll over and press the button on my phone to light up the screen, 6:34am. I can stay in bed for a little while longer.

I wish I could talk about this with Masa, and I know I’m going to have to tell him about it eventually, but the conversation is going to completely ruin us. I’m sure of it. He’s my best friend and there’s no one else I’d rather go to with this kind of problem, but our new romantic relationship hinges on me coming back to MSU in the fall. We could date long distance, but Masa doesn’t strike me as the type. When we were separated last summer, and we were only friends then, he made plans with me constantly and seemed relieved to see me every single time. Thinking back on his smiles and hugs, it’s no wonder I never fell out of love with him. I can’t imagine he’d be okay with having an ocean and a continent between us. I’m not the touchy-feely type, but Masa is.

From the kitchen below me, sounds of drawers opening and closing echo up the stairwell so I peel myself from bed, grab new clothes and my towel, and head down.

“Oh! Isa-chan, did I wake you? I’m sorry.” Grandma is spooning grounds into the coffee machine, her loose peach and white yukata tied around her waist.

“No. I was awake.” I yawn and rub my eyes. “Can I have some coffee too? I’m not meeting Masa this morning before errands so I have a little extra time.”

“Sure,” she says, nodding and adding more into the basket. “Why no Masa today?”

“He’s meeting his cousin. I gave him the day off.”

“Oh good.” She sighs, relieved. “I was worried he was mad at you for taking over the ryokan.”

“I… I haven’t told him yet. I’m still thinking about it.”

She pauses, her hand on the coffeemaker a full breath before she turns it on. “I know this is a big decision, and you need to give it a lot of thought. Please consider everything before you make your final choice, okay? If you need to talk about your reservations, come to me. Anytime. I want this to work.”

“I know,” I whisper, directing my eyes at my feet. “I just want to make sure I’m doing the right thing. I need to talk to Dad about this too. I was planning on calling him tonight.”

“Of course.” She places her warm hand on my arm and squeezes. “I’m keeping you from a shower. Go on. The coffee will be ready by the time you come out.”

I perform my errands on auto-pilot. Will I meet new people and find new friends, doing the same thing every day? I can’t just expect I’ll get into a college, so I need to know if working at the ryokan and making the place “my life” will be enough for me. If Masa and I break up, will I find a new love? I suck in a quick breath to stop any impending tears, my throat closing up so fast, I can barely swallow. I had a blissful whole week with Masa as my boyfriend and imagining him gone now kills me. Meeting people is hard in Japan, and I doubt I would be one of the lucky ones to marry since I’m a foreigner. The birth rate here is bottoming out and many people can’t meet husbands or wives.

I walk back to the ryokan at an ambling pace, slow, one foot in front of the other, stopping to look at every house and business along the way. I sip on my coffee and read fliers I find on empty walls: pottery classes, language lessons, group trips to Kyoto and Osaka, kimonos for sale, apartments for rent. I’ve never lived in a big city before this summer. East Lansing is a great town but it’s mostly all MSU campus and places students like to go to.

Tokyo is bright, busy, packed with people of every age group, and those people all have interesting things to do. If I stay, what will I do to meet some of those people? My fingers itch with the need to open my planner and start writing down ideas of what I can do. Goodness knows that I can get through just about anything if I can plan it.

I turn up the pace of my walk, and when I reach the ryokan, I wave to the chefs in the back alley smoking cigarettes and dip my head through the front curtains, sliding the door open.

“Irrashiamase!” Reiko chimes out as I walk through the door. “Oh! Isa-san, how were your errands this morning?”

“Same as always. Thanks for asking.” I dip my head at her as I finish my coffee and remove the plastic top from the paper cup, recycling the two in the proper Japanese manner, each in their own bin. I halt and stare at my hands. This is instinct now. All the little things I do in Japan come easily: recycling properly, dipping and bowing, using the more formal keigo speech when talking on the phone or to strangers, walking on the left and standing on the right, looking left before right when crossing the street. I’ve even started craving some of the weird convenience store snacks I’d never thought I’d be used to. Japan almost feels like home. Almost.

“Hey, Reiko, what do you do in your time off? When you’re not at work?” I stand next to her at the front desk and pull out my planner, my pen ready to go.

“What do you mean? Like a hobby?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I…” She glances left and right, and I suddenly feel like we’re being watched, so I look around too. “I like to shop and dress decora.”

“Decora? What’s that?” I start my Live In Tokyo list and at the top I write, “Decora.”

“It’s nothing,” she says, waving at me and blushing.

“No, really. I’m figuring out the things I’d like to do in Tokyo and Japan if I were to stay here. I’m going to need hobbies, I think.”

“I… I’m not sure this is for you.” She scans me from head to toe, and now I’m super curious. Today, I’m wearing navy blue crop pants, a yellow and gray striped shirt, and a pair of flats. I didn’t think I was terribly out of fashion, but maybe by some strange measuring stick, I am.

“Well, fine.” I pull my iPhone out of my pocket and type “Decora Japan” into Google. “Whoa,” I mumble, swiping through the photos that pop up. Colorful girls dressed in tie-dyed shirts or blouses, pink frilly tutus, and the hair clips! Their hair is weighted down with hundreds of cute hair clips! Like really cute. Super kawaii cute. Girls wearing mismatched socks and tights and platform shoes walk through the streets of Harajuku, their faces painted in bright colors or covered in surgical masks emblazoned with cartoon characters.

“This is what you do on your time off?” I ask, turning my phone towards her.

“Yeah.” She blushes and turns her head from me.

“It’s adorable.” I swipe through more photos and smile because the people in the photos look like they’re having fun. “And looks like a good time. You do this with others?”

“Lots of my girlfriends from school. I’ll admit that I’m growing out of it, but I still like it.”

I nod my head and turn off my phone. “As much as I like it, I think decora would be a pretty large undertaking for me.”

Reiko laughs. “It does require a lot of outfits and shopping.”

Well, my one list item is not even close to something I could do in my time off. “Hmmm…” I pick up my planner and clutch it to my chest, walking around the lounge. I talk to a few tourists from South Africa who are leaving for Kyoto tomorrow. I check on the flower displays Masa put together, and they both have enough water. I straighten out the chairs so they’re all in a line before stepping out to the back garden. Sitting in chairs near the water feature, a family staying with their two kids read in the sun. They smile and wave, and I stop by them to see how their stay is going. When I’m done in the garden, I make my way through the kitchen, chat with the head chef, and take an invoice of the day’s deliveries.

Two hours pass easily. The whole time I smile, use my Japanese, learn more words I’m not familiar with, and am on my feet and active. I laugh at jokes and help people when they need it, and when I head into the office and sit at the desk, I’m content. Contentment is not a feeling I’m used to. At school, I’m always running from one deadline to the next, one class to the next. Having a real job with daily goals is a much happier place for my anxious and worrying brain. Sure, I still miss some meetings, but I’m getting better at the scheduling. Just like Halley said, it’s getting easier with time.

I sit back in the chair and look around, taking a deep breath of cedar, pine, and incense. This could be my desk. This could be my office. I could put things up on the wall I love, change the furniture, play music. I could invite people over for food and drinks. I might even start my own kind of group, maybe a book club, or learn to knit. I’ve always wanted to learn to knit. Oh! And I have ideas for a new website and special tours for foreigners looking to experience real Japanese life.

Opening the desk drawer, I pull out a blank piece of paper and set it in front of me. I use my favorite purple pen from Masa and write, “Ryokan Wishlist,” at the top. Number one: Guided trips to local spots. Number two: Partner with a local travel agency. Number three: Offer cooking classes, ikebana classes, Japanese language classes. Number four: Sake tasting nights, cocktail nights… I start to get giddy when I reach item ten and have to stop because I’ve run out of room. These are all the things I’ve been thinking about for weeks but never wrote down because this place belonged to Mom, not me. These things are possible now. These things and more.

I place my hands on the desk and glide my fingers across the smooth dark wood, my heart growing two sizes. I love this ryokan. Why would I want to leave it?

Because I also love Masa. Why would I want to leave him?

—-

On Monday, I run with Halley, shower at her apartment and meet Masa and his cousin, Hinata, for lunch. Hinata is a nice guy, older than me at twenty-nine, unmarried and living a bachelor life in Osaka. He spends the entire lunch staring at my chest, which makes me laugh, since I have never been known to have cleavage ever. Masa sighs when we drop Hinata at Tokyo Station and apologizes.

“He, at least, has great ideas for jobs when I graduate next year. Maybe he can help you too.”

I swallow a confession. “We’ll have to see. I’m a year behind you. Remember?”

Masa’s face falls. “Right. Well, we have a year to figure things out.”

Less, Masa. A lot less.

We spend the rest of the day in bed, as it should be. Masa lies next to me on his stomach, his head turned towards me and eyes closed. I drift my fingers across his smooth back, feather light.

“What kind of jobs is Hinata helping you find?” I sink into the bed next him, relax my muscles and let my body deflate into a pile of meat. That’s how I feel about my body when I let all the life leak out.

“Oh, hmmm, mostly Japanese media companies or jobs in the family business.” He closes his eyes, but his foot travels up and down my leg, a slow steady rhythm in time with his breath.

“What’s the family business?”

He frowns. “They own a machinery company, making something… I don’t know. Something I would never be interested in.” He sighs and opens his eyes. “But it’s a job here, and we want to be here, right?”

He said “we” like he’s planning for our future together, and my heart cracks. I would love to just sit back and follow his plan.

“Yeah. We do want to be here.” We turn our heads and stare into each other’s eyes for moment before guilt overtakes me, and I snuggle my forehead against his chest instead. “But that’s not what you really want to do, is it?”

“No. Of course not, but that’s the standard answer.” He hums as he hooks his foot around my ankle and uses the leverage to pull himself closer to me with his hands on my waist. I laugh and bolster my elbows against his shoulders.

“Come on… stop it.” I giggle and smack him on the chest.

“Do you have any idea how much I love that sound?”

“What?”

“You, giggling. I hear it so rarely, and I love when I hear you laugh like that in bed with me.”

I clutch the bed sheet to my chest and bury my face in the pillow. “Stop.” Some days, his attention is too much, something I don’t deserve, especially since I’m withholding such big news from him.

Masa whispers a haiku in my ear.

—-

“Clinking glasses and

Children playing in the yard — 

Her bright, sweet laughter.”

—-

Didn’t I say nothing is special to him until he’s written a haiku about it?

I lift my face from the pillow and take a deep, cool breath. “What would you do if you could do anything? If you didn’t feel like you had to make a salary.”

He presses his lips together and closes his eyes. “Art, music… I’d rather be creating than just working. On my days off, I’ve been looking into washi paper making.” His cheeks color and he turns his head from me. “Kosho told me about washi techniques while he was teaching me about ikebana.”

“You like ikebana too, right?”

He narrows his eyes at me. “Why are you so curious all of a sudden?”

“No reason. What? Can’t I ask my boyfriend these legitimate questions?”

His skepticism melts into a smile. “Boyfriend. I like that coming from you.”

“I like that you’re into the arts. If that’s what you want to do, then I think you should do it.”

He lies on his back and stares at the ceiling. “I’d love to. I’ve been dreaming about spending the seasons learning a real trade, but it doesn’t pay like a salary does. And it would require more schooling and an apprenticeship and start-up costs…”

I laugh and sigh. “Obviously you’ve given it a lot of thought.”

“I have. When I’m not lying here thinking about you, I’m thinking about paper and flowers. So manly.” He deepens his voice and flexes his slim arms. I bite my lip before sliding my arm over his chest and sandwiching my body on top of his. He perks up, a smile twitching his lips as he brushes my hair out of my face.

“What if… what if you could do both? Make enough money to live and still learn a trade?”

“That would be ideal, now, wouldn’t it?” He kisses along my jaw, tiny pecks filled with scorching heat, and my entire body blushes. He hums as he rolls me over and runs the pads of his fingers over my breasts and down to my stomach.

“Yes, it would.”

I almost forgot we were having a conversation. But little by little, a new and exciting plan begins to fall into place, and my insides squirm with joy as Masa’s hands glide down my sides and his lips meet mine.