LENA
I lived through Rika-san’s funeral in a daze, part of me still in denial, the other part observing Hiroyuki’s every move and thinking about what Amos had said.
It all fit. He had to have known.
Akane maybe knew about her intentions, too.
That would have explained the fight they’d had a few weeks before. Yes, toward the end of our stay, Ishikawa’s condition had worsened. Her tremors were more visible and lasted longer. She’d also had trouble talking from time to time, and sometimes her vertigo made it hard for her to get out of bed.
Like she said in her note, she wasn’t ever going to be able to draw again, and that had killed her spirit. At some point, we’d been able to talk to Hiroyuki, who—a bit reluctantly—confirmed our suspicions.
Rika had wanted to kill herself a long time ago, even before we came to Japan. Her life as an artist was over, and even though she loved Hiroyuki, she couldn’t accept living the rest of her life with no purpose.
She never accepted the fact that she would have to live with Parkinson’s.
Hiroyuki admitted she’d been planning this all along and was determined to make it happen in the rental property, so Hiroyuki wouldn’t have to deal with her spirit lingering at the home they shared.
The whole thing still didn’t make sense to me. If I ever lost the ability to draw, would I just give up on life? I didn’t think I could ever take that step, especially considering the Grim Reaper had spared me once.
Although I felt for those who saw suicide as an escape, I could never see it as a viable solution for myself.
It had been a rough few days. We had gone through the wake and the funeral, and now we were attending a drunken after-party at a karaoke place in Ginza.
Rika-san’s body had been cremated, as is customary in Japan. All that was left of her was a small ceramic urn filled with ashes.
We’d been sitting at the karaoke for hours now. We were all drunk and sleepy.
The hostess came over to politely kick us out when our time was up. No one was singing anymore; the remaining mourners had dozed off on the couches. My eyelids were heavy, and I wished someone would just carry me home.
Amos took my hand and whispered soft words in my ear.
I smiled, eyes still shut, and fought against my sleepy limbs to get up. I took his hand and leaned into him as we made our way out of the labyrinthine karaoke place with its narrow, dark hallways.
More people came in as we were leaving. I wondered if they really wanted to sing their hearts out or if they were just looking for a cheap place to take a nap.
By the time we got outside, the sky was lighter. It was that moment in the early morning when the sky is a bluish-gray color that’s so hard to pinpoint.
I checked my phone. It was barely 5 a.m., but some of the subways and trains were running already. The next day, we would be leaving on our trip across Japan.
We and the other mourners—friends of Rika and Hiroyuki, musicians, and fellow artists—all dispersed outside. A few other people, sleepy and hungover like us, stumbled along the street.
I looked up at Amos, and then stared at our fingers laced together.
A strange feeling wrapped around my heart.
Longing.
I was longing for Amos, even though he was right there in front of me. Suddenly, the fear of losing him got stronger than anything else.
I was afraid he’d slip away, just like the months we’d spent there.
I was afraid he’d slip out of my life the same way Rika had. I still couldn’t accept the truth.
From time to time, I asked myself how it could be true that she was really gone. I had asked myself that question so many times during the last few days.
She was gone. Rika was gone. Her art was the only thing left.
An image of her smiling on a drunken night came to mind, and I found myself smiling, despite the pain solidifying in my chest.
The ache her memory caused was excruciatingly similar to the one I’d felt when I lost Maggie.
A sob rose in my throat. I pressed my lips together to hold it back, and the ache turned into tears, welling in my eyes. I blinked them away and found Amos staring at me, mouth tight in concern. I wanted to bury my face in his chest and burst into tears, but it was not the time or place.
“Ready to go?” he asked, his voice deep and comforting, and I replied with a nod. I turned around to find Hiroyuki speaking to one of his and Rika’s friends.
“Hiroyuki-san…ima kaette mo ii no?” I asked him if he was ready to go back home in rather slurry speech. I was a bit groggier than I’d thought.
He turned around, looked my way, and gave me a nod.
He said goodbye to his friend then walked toward us.
Hiroyuki looked down for a moment before glancing hesitantly at Amos and me.
“Ne, Rena-san, chotto gomenne…but I’m going back home now.”
As soon as he said the words and looked at me sheepishly with his dark-brown melancholic eyes, I wanted to cry again.
I pursed my lips and nodded vigorously, holding back the tears.
He wanted to go back to their real home.
“Of course, of course,” I repeated. “Zenzen dayjoubu desu.”
“I-I have already taken my things from the house. Soredewa, koreha sayonara desu,” he said, bowing slightly in our direction. This was goodbye.
We both bowed too, a bit stiffly, taken aback by the fact that he’d already made preparations to leave the house where we’d spent the last year.
“I’m going to miss you, man,” Amos said, stretching his hand out. Hiroyuki shook it enthusiastically, the somber expression on his face turning into a sweet smile.
“You too, man. You too.”
“You’re a badass guitar player,” Amos said.
“Dameda,” Hiroyuki replied, waving his hand dismissively. Not true, he’d said.
“Hontodesu,” I chimed in. It was the truth. He was a great guitar player. He had sacrificed the last few years to take care of Rika, and I wondered if sometime soon he’d feel ready to start touring again. In my heart, I hoped one day I’d be able to see him again, but how could I be sure? It very well might have been my last time.
I shouldn’t have done it, but in that moment, I refused to care.
I crossed the boundaries of Japanese common decency and flung my arms around Hiroyuki, hugging him and taking him by surprise. He stiffened at first, but a moment later he accepted my embrace, patting me gently on the back.
“Hontoni arigatou gozaimashita.” I was speaking from the heart. I was really thankful for him. Hiroyuki had been such a welcome presence even when the project had been the most difficult thing I’d ever worked on.
“You’re welcome,” he replied, dragging his R in that way Japanese people do when they speak English.
I pulled back and bowed again. From the corner of my eye, I could see him bowing again too. He raised a hand to wave goodbye to us, and with one of his charming smiles, he departed.
Amos wrapped an arm around me, and we walked to the station without saying a word. We pulled out our train cards and swiped them through the machine. We made our way to the platform just as the recorded announcement warned us that the train was about to arrive and that we should not cross the yellow line. A gust of wind blew across the station, and my hair spread across my face.
Before I could get my hands out of the pockets of my jacket to fix it, Amos reached down and brushed the strands away.
When the curtain of hair covering my face had been removed, I could see his eyes crinkling up at the corners, and that smile of his I loved so much made an appearance.
The ache I had felt in my chest all night thinking of Rika started to dissipate, replaced by a blossoming hope.
My personal life hadn’t been so great until him, but maybe now things were going to be different for me…for us.
He leaned down and kissed my lips softly, right there on the train platform.
In front of everyone.
I couldn’t say no to his kiss, ever, and right then, I didn’t care who saw us.
His kiss was the cure for every heartache. I was addicted to it, had been since the very first time.
I needed it as much as I needed air.
“You are so bad this morning,” I whispered against his lips as my eyes met those of a few nearby passengers. He pulled back and laughed softly, his eyes brimming with a renewed amusement.
The train arrived, and the doors opened. I listened to every word coming through the speakers, knowing that soon I wouldn’t get to hear them every day anymore.
I knew that just like I had when I’d returned to the US, I was going to miss it.
I was going to miss every bit of it.
The first time I’d lost Maggie. This time I’d lost Rika.
But at least I had accomplished one thing: Aiko Uemura and Aiko Matsumoto had gotten their happy ending. As stupid as it might have been, the fact that those two characters were no longer suspended in limbo filled me with incredible joy.
Working with Rika Ishikawa had been one of the most challenging things I’d ever lived through, but I was happy I had gotten to know her. I felt lucky I’d had a chance to get to know her before she wanted to go.
Amos led us to two empty seats, and we both slumped down heavily. The doors of the train shut and we started moving. The JR line ran through the very heart of Tokyo, stopping in every single major district. There had been a time—a long time ago—when I could name every single train station on it.
The sky was tinged with golden tones now, rays of light barely peeking over the horizon. Right before we reached Shibuya, the sun shone bright across the train car, covering every person and everything in an orange-gold glow.
I had never found sunrises comforting, but right then I felt comforted by the idea of a new beginning.
Amos’ fingers remained laced with mine, and I leaned my head on his shoulder.
“Are you ready to go home?” he asked in a low, gravelly voice, leaning closer to me. I hesitated. What did he mean by that? Which home? There in Japan? Back in Portland?
Were things going to stay the same between us? Would our relationship change?
The last few months with him had been something entirely new to me, and I didn’t want things to change. Suddenly, the emotions of the last few days caught up with me, drowning me in self-doubt.
I loved him very much, but was it going to be enough for things to stay the same?
“Our visas are good for a little longer. Let’s stay. Let’s stay longer than we planned to.” The tone of my voice and the look in my eyes were pleading.
“Why?” he asked with a frown.
“I don’t want things to change,” I said in a voice so low, it came out as a whisper.
“Nothing’s going to change, Lena.” His voice was firm, but gentle.
“Amos, I didn’t mean…”
“Lena, please, stop the nonsense. I don’t know what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours. I know you’ve had a rough few days—we both have—but if there’s something that hasn’t changed through all of this, it’s how much I love you.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” he said with a sour look. “You should know that.”
I let out a soft laugh and smiled.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, his mood lighter.
My smile stretched even bigger across my face.
“It just so happens that I love you, too—very much.”
“Good,” he said absent-mindedly, running a finger along my jaw, staring at my lips.
“Not here,” I whispered, and he seemed to snap out of a trance.
“How many more stops?” he asked.
“Too many.”
“We should have taken a taxi.”
“I like trains,” I said with an air of defiance.
“I do too, but I like you better,” he replied, eyes still fixed on my lips, his thumb tracing lazy circles on my hand.
“I like you, too…so much.”
“Good, because I want you to be mine…forever, if that’s okay with you.”
The impulse to get the words I was thinking off my chest was inexplicably strong. I had to tell him everything, everything I’d been holding back.
“Amos, I love you. You feel like home to me. You have felt like home for a long time, and I know I was a fool for pushing you away years ago. I fought and fought against the notion of you and when I finally realized how much I wanted you, I thought I’d lost my chance—our chance, but now we have it. I love you, and I want you to be my home.”
He stared at me silently, his eyes full of intent, as if he was about to kiss me again.
His lips were slightly curved in a smile. Never had a smile made me so nervous.
“Say something,” I pleaded.
“Your hair looks insanely beautiful in this light—your whole face does. How many more stops before we can go to bed?” he asked with a wicked look.
I glanced at the list of stations. “Three more,” I replied, unable to hold back a smile. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“It wasn’t a question,” he replied. My lips formed an O, realizing he was right. I was so tired, it was a miracle I could formulate entire sentences. My eyes fell on his lips, waiting for his reply. He didn’t say anything, though, as if he enjoyed keeping me on my toes.
Bastard.
The train stopped and the doors opened.
“Two stops,” I said with a smug grin.
He laughed, eyes bright with love and desire. It was in that moment that I realized I didn’t need words to confirm what my own eyes could see.
It’s so funny how sometimes we are so blind to the things—or people—right in front of us, and we have to take several trips around the sun to get ourselves sorted out.
“My answer is yes, Lena. You always felt like home to me. Let’s go home.”