If you asked me what I did for those remaining two hours, I don't think I could have given you a good answer. I'm sure I got some work finished, because what else could I have done? It didn't even occur to me to sneak in some reading, like I would have in the past. I just wanted the clock to hit five o'clock so I could go home.
Drained didn't even begin to describe my state of mind.
As soon as the minute hand hit the number twelve, I was so out of there. I took the packed bus, holding onto the hand straps, ignoring the stares from old people I always got if I wasn't sitting down, and stumbled off at my stop, my soles scraping on the asphalt.
I didn't even make it to my apartment. After I handed the empty Tupperware to my mother, who asked that I stay for dinner, I mumbled something along the lines of assent and collapsed head first on the sofa.
I only woke up when my father shook my shoulders gently.
Groggy, emerging from a dream I forgot as soon as I opened my eyes, I swiped at my damp mouth. "What time is it?"
"Eight," he said. "You've been working too hard. I don't think I've seen you so tired."
I rolled over on my back, rubbing sleep dust from my eyes. "It's nothing, Dad. I'm fine, don't worry."
His response was a slight tightening of the space between his brows, and he nodded over to the kitchen. "Your mother's kept dinner warm for you. You should eat before going to sleep; otherwise, you'll be useless tomorrow."
"Thanks, Dad," I said and staggered upright, hands braced on my hips as I stretched.
"Don't work too hard." He turned on the TV. "Health is the only thing you've got and once you ruin that, even money can't help you."
My mother stood at the sink, peeling garlic as I sat down at the kitchen table. "Ready for dinner? Sit down, I'll serve you."
"Mom," I protested. "It's okay. I can do it."
She gave me a severe look. "I said, sit."
I did as she ordered.
She had a place set up for me in less than five minutes, heating a piece of grilled fish, some miso soup and a small plate of pickled vegetables, with a steaming hot bowl of white rice that made my mouth water.
The moment my mother put the food in front of me, I realized how hungry I was and ate ravenously, not talking, barely even aware of her watching me as she continued to peel garlic at the sink.
She didn't talk until I finished the last drop of the miso soup and laid down my chopsticks with a satisfied sigh, reaching for the small cup of hot barley tea that was a mainstay at the dinner table. Hot barley tea in the winter and spring, and cold barley tea in the summer and autumn. My sister used to say you could always tell what season it was by the temperature of our tea.
"I didn't get to say goodbye to Saki last Sunday," I mumbled, the sounds of a game show with canned laughter echoing through the house. "I didn't want her to go like that. Who knows when I'll see her again?"
My mother clucked her tongue as she finished with the garlic, leaving them piled in a white mound by the sink. She came to sit across from me, wiping her hands on a tattered dish cloth. "You know what she's like. Your sister has always been a bit, well, single-minded."
I sighed, rolling the steaming cup in between my palms. "You mean, after she got me to agree to go on a date with her old high-school classmate, she wanted nothing more to do with me."
"She just wants what's best for you, Rika," my mother said in a vaguely chastising voice. "She's grown up thinking she has to protect you."
I snorted. "Even though I'm so much bigger than her. Like the ant guarding the elephant, isn't it?"
She smiled. "Well, we've always thought your height would have suited her attitude and your attitude would have suited her height."
Saki with her larger-than-life personality and my practically larger-than-life height…it was a potent combination and not a little intimidating. "Maybe it's a good thing that didn't happen."
Mom laughed. "You should have heard her bragging about this man she's set you up with. She wouldn't stop talking about him."
"If she likes him so much, she should take him instead," I muttered.
My mother reached over and smoothed the hair behind my ear. "Can I ask you something?"
It was so rare that she would ask me for permission to ask a question, and I stared at her in confusion.
"Your father and I…well, we have always tried to give you freedom, so we don't like to ask about your personal life, at least, beyond what you'll tell us."
I nodded, perplexed where this train of conversation was going. "Okay."
She grimaced, her hands tightening in the worn wash cloth. "I hope you don't think we're prying."
"Mom, just say it. What's wrong?"
She stood up suddenly and grabbed a cup from the dish drainer, concentrating on pouring herself some tea, as though she couldn't meet my gaze. "We noticed you came home late last night."
I blinked, at a total loss for words.
My mom's mouth flickered into a nervous smile. "If you have something you don't or can't talk to us about, that's fine. But we're always here for you."
I cleared my suddenly thick throat. God, I was the luckiest person in the world, to have such parents. I didn't know what I had done in my past life to get this level of comfort and love, but it had to have been no less than saving a country from plunging into revolution. Or starting one. "Mom, it's not a big deal. I'm just surprised you were up so late. Or early."
"Your father was watching the soccer game. You know how much he loves Japanese soccer."
I got up and wrapped my arms around her, resting my chin on the top of her head. "Thanks for worrying. I went to meet Ayaka. She drank too much, and I took care of her."
My mother drew back enough for me to see the worry in her brown eyes. "Ayaka? Ayaka Sono? The girl you work with? Is she okay?"
I nodded and squeezed her one more time, breathing in deep her chamomile and lavender scent, the chamomile from her facial toner and the lavender from her shampoo. "Yeah. She got dumped by some guy who wanted to get married. She didn't, of course."
Her brows furrowed as she sipped from the steaming cup. "We don't want to pressure you into getting married, my dear."
Oh God, we weren't having this conversation, were we? "I know, you've been good about not bugging me. Everyone else is complaining about their parents bothering them about getting married and having kids."
My mother looked thoughtful, swirling the contents of her cup in one hand. "Have you thought about it?"
"It?"
"Getting married? Having children."
I shook my head, noting the flicker of consternation on her faintly lined brow. "Honestly, I have a hard enough time concentrating on my job. I don't have the time to worry about marriage. How can I have kids? I'm barely responsible enough for me. I mean, you're still packing my lunch. I love that you do, but don't you feel like that's a sign I can't take care of myself right now?"
She sighed, staring down at her tea. "You know Mrs. Miura down the street? Her daughter is getting married to this fabulously wealthy banker, and you should've seen the way she was rubbing it in everyone's face at the bathhouse a few days ago."
I looked at my mom, surprised. "Are you jealous?"
She smiled at me somewhat ruefully and yet there was a tinge of pain in her voice that made my chest tighten. "Sometimes I do think about Saki's marriage and then you. Your father and I won't be here forever. We don't want you two to be alone."
I clenched my jaw and told myself I wouldn't start bawling for making my mom sound so disappointed. "We're not alone. We have each other."
She patted me on the arm. "That's not what I meant, dear." She took a deep breath, her slight shoulders heaving up. "I guess that's why I was so happy to hear Saki had set up a meeting between you and one of her old classmates. If she's vouching for him, he can't be bad, can he?" She put a hand over her mouth, laughing. "I don't suppose you can introduce someone to Saki in return?"
"As if I would torture anyone with her," I grumbled, still not entirely warming up to the fact that I had agreed to the meeting. "I don't hate anyone that much."
The corners of her eyes crinkled. "Oh, she's not so bad."
I sighed and turned to the sink, rinsing my empty tea cup in lukewarm water. "I just wish she would quit treating me like I'm ten."
"She can't help it," said my mother. "That's her duty as the older sister. Your duty as the younger sister is to accept that she can't help but react accordingly."
Mom grabbed my Tupperware from the counter and placed it in my unresisting hands. "Now, get some sleep. You look terrible."
When my own mother, who had a difficult time saying anything that upset anyone, was telling me I looked bad, I took her words seriously and after kissing Dad goodnight, I shuffled up the five flights of stairs. I paused halfway up to berate myself that I had forgotten to broach the subject of getting an elevator or at least moving my apartment down a floor or two.
After the Tupperware was stowed safely in my pathetically empty refrigerator, I took a quick shower, but not before checking my phone.
Except for a text from Ayaka reiterating her claim that she hated men, there was nothing else.
What did I expect? Nobuki telling me to come over? Hah, yeah right. Not when he was most likely spending the night with his mystery lady who sounded like hot, nasty, sexy sex.
Ignoring the pang of hurt in my heart, I scrubbed my body hard, but had to stop when it came to my hips. I was still sore and had to run the loofah gently over the apex of my thighs, wincing.
Hair damp with a towel around my neck, I grabbed my phone and a book by an author specializing in apocalyptic fiction. I settled under the covers, the window next to my bed open to let in the scent of flowers through my room. If there was one thing about being so high up, it was that there weren't a lot of bugs, which was good because my parents didn't put screens over the windows. Luckily, I had no pets and one reason the rent was particularly low for this suite.
My parents let me rent this place for extra cheap because no one wanted to live here, despite the proximity to Akiba and Shibuya.
There were also rumors about a woman who had supposedly killed herself in the unit next to mine; although, I was sure that was just Saki messing with me. The only time I heard my neighbor, Mr. Hamano screech was not from a vengeful apparition but when he had forgotten about the fish he tossed in the trash before leaving for a weekend beach trip in the summer.
I sighed and nestled deeper into the clean smelling sheets, courtesy of my mother having washed my covers for me while I was in LA. Just another example of how reliant I had grown on her, even after graduating from college and joining the workplace.
And she wanted me to get married and have kids?
Yikes.
I cracked open the new book, making sure not to leave a crease in the spine, turned my nightstand light on and read.
Tried to anyways.
Mostly, I was too distracted thinking about that phone call and the woman who got a workaholic to vacate his desk before the end of the workday.
Two hours later, almost one in the morning, I was still wide awake, plagued with images of Nobuki's body intertwined with his mystery woman.
She would have long black hair, large, almond-shaped eyes surrounded by a million lashes, cherry-red lips, and she would actually have breasts as opposed to my chest-less state and…and…
I brought the book down hard on my forehead a few times. "What the hell am I doing? I need to sleep."
I did seriously consider sneaking back to my parent's place on the first floor and seeing if sleeping on that couch would cure me of this strange insomnia. But that would open up a variety of questions I was not ready to answer.
After another hour of staring at the ceiling, I thought about the vibrator and tried that. No dice, though. I couldn't think of anything erotic and imagining Nobuki with the mystery woman wasn't getting me all hot and bothered.
Which in turn just brought up disturbing questions.
Was I jealous?
"It's not jealousy," I whispered to myself in that quiet room, punctuated by the click of the second hand moving on my little chicken alarm clock I'd had since seventh grade. "Totally not jealous. She can have his cold heart if she wants."
With those words bouncing around in my head, I screwed my eyes shut and prayed for sleep.
At some point, Morpheus must have taken pity on me because the next thing I knew, the alarm was beeping, and my room was awash in pale morning light. A bird chirped in the tree near my window and a large truck drove past the apartment, the chattering of little children ringing out somewhere down the street.
Feeling, if possible, even less rested than the night before, I forced myself out of bed and made a cup of stick coffee, hoping caffeine would help me stay awake for longer than fifteen minutes. Or at the very least, it would keep me running to the bathroom every fifteen minutes which would, hopefully, stop me from dozing at my desk.
That morning, it was unusually chilly as I shivered in a thick yellow peacoat, with a thin pink blouse tucked into a pair of black slacks and black ballet flats, waiting for the bus. I had learned my lesson a few days ago when I thought I could handle the subway's rush-hour crush. Even if it meant I was shivering outside, I would rather shiver than sweat surrounded by a multitude of people.
I arrived at the office a little past seven thirty, and it was with some surprise I saw Nobuki's office still dark. I had grown so used to seeing his lights on, listening to the sounds of him working. But now, sitting alone in the silence with the barely audible hum of my desktop computer for company, I was more uncomfortable than I cared to admit.
And I worked through the quiet for the next few hours, sneaking anxious looks at the clock. By the time ten rolled around, I had to cancel two meetings he had with different departments, apologizing profusely, even if they didn't seem too worried. But they didn't know him like I did. This was definitely something of great significance.
Did it have to do with the phone call yesterday? Did it have to do with him leaving early?
Should I call him?
I flipped open my cell phone and had just pressed the button for my phone directory when the elevator pinged down the hallway and the crisp sound of his shoes clicked along the marble hallways.
When he walked into the office, dressed impeccably in a light blue-buttoned shirt tucked into pressed dark-slate trousers, I was already out of my seat, bowing low, just like a proper executive assistant. "Good morning, Mr. Miyano!"
He waved his hand dismissively. "And you, Miss Hasegawa."
But there was nothing notable in his voice, only a coldness that wrapped itself around my heart and squeezed harder as the seconds ticked by. I heard him settling in his office, the squeak of his leather chair as he sat down, the flick of the vertical blinds, as he twisted them to admit in the bright sunlight that had dissipated the early morning chill.
I printed out a list of his schedule, circling the two meetings he missed, as well a post-it note of phone calls, requesting his input and walked carefully to his office.
He stared out the window, at the busy pedestrian traffic thirteen stories down, a contemplative tilt to his brows. I could've watched him forever, but now was neither the time nor the place.
I coughed softly, and he turned with a frown that didn't mar his handsome, lean face. "What is it, Miss Hasegawa?"
I coughed again nervously, shifting from foot to foot, unsure of how to handle him when he seemed so damned brusque. "I was wondering about the two meetings you had scheduled at eight thirty and then another one at ten, also you had a couple of phone calls from—"
"Fine, fine," he interrupted, as he stood up to riffle through his messenger bag. "Send the phone calls to my email and reschedule the meetings for later today."
I licked my lips, wondering if I was about to get yelled at. "Is everything okay, Mr. Miyano?"
"What did I tell you about minding your own business, Miss Hasegawa?" he asked, pulling out a thick sheaf of manuscript paper. "My personal life is of no concern of yours."
"But, sir, I'm a little concerned. You're usually not so late, and I can't help but worry. If there's anything I can—"
He slammed the manuscript hard against the desk, making a loud snapping crash, and I jumped, my pulse skyrocketing.
He was quiet for a moment, before he sat down and folded his hands, his eyes narrowed, lids lowered. "You are my secretary. You are not my wife. Please pay attention to your own life." Then he paused, raking me from head to toe before his gaze came back up to my face again. "Your appearance could use the attention you're paying me. You look like a raccoon."
I opened my mouth, but then closed it again.
What was there to say?
I wanted to tell him it was his fault I ended up with dark circles under my eyes, but that would've exacerbated the situation and was so far beyond the realms of professionalism, I would've been lucky if he didn't fire me right then and there.
So I did the only thing I could do.
I bowed low, so low, my hair brushed the tops of my ballet flats. "Of course, sir. I'll have your meetings rescheduled for later today. May I ask if you plan on leaving early again?"
He turned to his monitor, tapping on his keyboard. "I have no intention of leaving early today, Miss Hasegawa. Please schedule my meetings accordingly."
I nodded and bowed myself out again. "Of course, Mr. Miyano."
With bitterness thick on my tongue, I lowered myself back in my seat again, my heartbeat refusing to slow down.
I heard his chair squeak again, and then he closed that door between us.
Not surprisingly, it hurt.
We were back at square one, maybe even worse than when I accused him of being a corporate spy and called security on him.
Heaviness settled on my shoulders and I rotated them, trying to psych myself up. This was no big deal. I had dealt with difficult people and besides, sex and emotions were two different things, right?
I could fuck a man and despise him as a person, right?
Except, I kept thinking about those times when I had experienced tiny grains of kindness from him.
When he purchased medicine for me when he thought I was sick.
The time in the parking lot under a hot Los Angeles sun when I wept on his chest.
His arms were especially warm and comforting then.
I squared my shoulders, told myself to quit feeling sorry for a guy who clearly didn't deserve it, and plowed through that day's work. The two early morning meetings were rescheduled for the afternoon, and I sent all the phone calls for my boss to his email. I heard him talking even through the door, saw him pacing back and forth while he talked through his Bluetooth receiver.
Time passed, and I didn't bother asking Nobuki about his lunch. I just grabbed mine and went down to the cafeteria where I found Ayaka in one corner near the windows, checking her phone, eating a salad that, as always, had no dressing. No wonder she looked like a million bucks.
She tucked her phone away as she glanced at me. "Is that what I looked like yesterday?"
"Ha-ha, hilarious."
Luckily, she sensed I wasn't in a mood to talk and entertained me with little bits of gossip that didn't mean much to me. But it was nice I didn't have to contribute to the conversation.
Then I remembered something. "Do you think Haru's a bad person?"
She blinked. "What makes you say that? Shouldn't it be obvious?"
I closed the lid of the empty Tupperware container and took a sip of water. After the incident with Haru, I avoided any colored liquid, as I had no intention of losing anymore clothes. "I heard her in the bathrooms when she was talking to one of her friends. They made it sound like it wasn't intentional…when I got the soda on my white sweater."
Ayaka grimaced as she pushed her empty salad bowl away. "Sounds like something she would say to your face."
"That's the thing, though," I said. "She didn't know I was there."
Ayaka's pretty, groomed brows went up. "What do you mean, she didn't know?"
I grinned, the first real smile of the day. "I was hiding in one of the bathroom stalls."
"You were what?"
I laughed. Thinking about it now, the memory was pretty funny, even if at the moment, I was terrified Haru was going to pluck all the hair off my head. "I knew Haru was coming in the bathroom with one of her flunkies. I thought they'd flush my face in the toilet if they found me."
Ayaka's eyes widened. "Seriously? Look, Haru's a bitch, but she's not the devil. I'm sure a lot of people would disagree though."
"Probably," I said thoughtfully. "Haru said someone pushed her. Why would she say that to her own flunkies if it wasn't true?"
"Hmm." Ayaka put a hand on her chin in a thoughtful manner. "And you're sure she didn't know you were there?"
"That's what she said. Why would she lie to her friend?"
Ayaka's phone vibrated, and we both stood up, as most people left, ready to go back to work for the afternoon. "I don't know," she mused. "Maybe it wasn't intentional, but she's still a nasty piece of work."
"I guess," I said. "But she might not be as bad as she makes everyone think she is."
Ayaka looked at me, clearly doubtful, and we parted at the elevators, as she got on the one for the even-floors and me on the odd ones.
They say if you speak of the devil often enough, he will appear. While I was almost sure Haru wasn't the devil, it was still somewhat of a shock when I found myself standing next to her in the elevator going up.
She didn't say anything, just gave me a little sneer as she stepped to one side so I could press the button for the thirteenth floor.
Around the fifth floor, she patted her pockets and then let out an explosive sneeze that made everyone in the elevator take a subtle step away from her.
She sneezed again, this time into her sleeve, and I pulled out an unopened packet of pocket tissues. "Here."
She sniffed and looked at me before pulling out a tissue.
"You can keep the whole thing. I've got another one in my bag," I said.
"Thanks." Her voice was muffled behind a handful of napkins as she sneezed again. She got off at the ninth floor, much to the relief of the other people in the elevator.
And when I got off, for some reason, I felt better. Not entirely healed, but it felt good, to do that single good deed. Don't get me wrong; it's not like I felt particularly sanctimonious, giving aid to someone who I hated.
But after what she said in the bathrooms the day before, and with the memory of a certain blue-eyed angel who warned me against the pitfalls of judging people before I got to know them, I was willing to give her the benefit of doubt.
Also, I liked being helpful.
That was the curse of being a younger sibling. It brought me genuine joy to be useful, which meant I'd never make it any higher than executive assistant in this company, the ultimate "helper" position.
Nobuki was still working when I sat back at my desk, and he didn't let up until I heard him move around his office at three in the afternoon.
He turned off his office light, his jacket already on.
I stood up. "Are you leaving now, sir? What about the meeting with Mrs. Katsura at four?"
"Push it back to tomorrow." He tossed a stapled pile of slips in my outbox. "Have this submitted to the Financial Department before you leave."
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him why he was leaving if he'd said he had no intention of leaving early today, but I bit my lips and bowed.
"I understand. Have a good day, Mr. Miyano."