Tuesday
Tokyo was magical. I arrived on my own from Yamagata, my heart heavy with sadness at the prospect of leaving my beloved country. Yet, I was filled with exhilaration at the prospect of two full weeks of touring Tokyo and its outlying areas. All of my Tokyo friends were coming out to hang with me and the Yamagata crew was coming down to see me off. I had never felt more alive than I did during those last days.
I checked into the Shinjuku Toyoko Inn, my favorite hotel in Tokyo. It was in the heart of Tokyo’s skankiest party district, Kabuki-cho, which bordered on Korea town. Surrounding the hotel were towering buildings filled with floor after narrow floor of sleazy hostess bars, dance clubs, and “snack bars”. Nigerian pimps hawking their business, Yakuza punks with shocks of orange-tinted hair, hostess chicks and party girls with big hair tittering around on spiked heels—this was my favorite section of Tokyo, next to Akihabara. This was where the parties were.
I was expecting my first visitor that night. Yoshi was due to meet me, taking the shinkansen down after work. I was filled with such excitement and anticipation that I nearly passed out when he finally called from the lobby. His quiet, silly knock came soon thereafter and I opened the door to his cocky, playful stance, leaning against the doorjamb with his bag over his shoulder. I welcomed him in.
He smiled at me, placing his bag on the floor. “Mmmm,” he crooned. “Smells like Helen. It has a Helen smell,” referring to the scent of my favorite perfume, which I had spritzed on my wrists just before he came in.
“Ha. I hope that’s a good thing,” I muttered.
He excused himself to the bathroom after exchanging a few pleasantries with me. I looked at myself in the mirror, my face beaming with a glow I rarely saw. I was simply elated. Here was the man of my dreams, quite literally, and he was staying with me. Alone. In a hotel room in Tokyo.
Well, my hopes were quickly dashed as he came out of the bathroom and announced, “Um, there are no more rooms in this hotel. I must find a place to stay tonight”.
“What about here? The bed is large, or I can sleep on the floor….” I ventured.
“No. No, it wouldn’t work. You cannot sleep on the floor. I will find a room tonight.”
I was crestfallen. I had nothing but the most romantic plans that evening, and here he was, seemingly near desperate to find a place to stay other than my room. So, we agreed to start searching Shinjuku. From top to bottom. As we left the hotel and made our way through the crowded main thoroughfare, catcalls directed at Yoshi rang out from the hostess bar hawkers, especially from the Nigerian bouncers.
“Hey, brother! You got yourself a sister! Go ‘head, man!”, yelled one particularly effusive proprietor. Another hissed “compliments” into my ear. I was slightly taken aback by the attention we garnered, but I also knew that I looked good and I was with a fine man. Let them stare.
We spent hours wandering the sparsely crowded streets as Yoshi turned down hotel after hotel, some due to price, others due to seediness. After about 3 hours of this, I finally pleaded that I was hungry and tired; it was almost 12:30am. He agreed and we made our way back to Kabuki-cho, looking for restaurants along the way. Most were closing, but we managed to find a trendy theme restaurant not far from the hotel. The hosts and hostesses smiled profusely at us as we entered and a waiter led us to a sequestered booth tucked away deep in the restaurant, with a subtle wink to Yoshi. We ordered beers immediately and looked over the menu.
The beers arrived and we greedily started gulping down them down. On our empty stomachs, the beers’ effects were immediate. We were both soon tipsy, sharing jokes and ridiculous stories about our friends’ infantile escapades. We took pictures, ate till we were full, and settled comfortably next to each other. Feeling especially emboldened by the beer, I tentatively placed my hand on Yoshi’s leg under the table, looking down shyly. He didn’t move away and I moved closer to him. We sat side-by-side in comfortable silence until we both soon agreed how tired we were and got up from the table to make our way back to the hotel.
Back in my room, I followed Yoshi’s lead and put on the hotel’s yukata, though I always felt I looked ridiculous in traditional Japanese garments, my long limbs awkwardly sticking out from the delicate folds of cloth. Besides, these were flimsy cotton robes that left little to the imagination. Still, I tied it at the waist and climbed onto the bed with Yoshi. We sat cross-legged and began to smoke, looking out of the window into the night, the skyline ablaze in neon lights. Since Yoshi had lived in Tokyo as a college student, he was intimately familiar with its labarinthine layout. He explained Tokyo’s complex skyline, pointing out major buildings, including one that was popularly referred to as “Conboy”, or “Optimus Prime” as he is known to Americans.
I was enthralled at his words and acutely aware of the fact that we were sharing a bed. We talked well into the night, until the edges of the skyline were tipped in a delicate pink. The conversation gradually petered out and we were left in silence. I was holding my breath, waiting for the slightest inkling, the slightest suggestion, the slightest intimation that we would finally cross the line between us. It didn’t come.
Instead, Yoshi merely slapped his knee and stretched as he got up, saying bluntly, “Well. Time for sleep.”
I felt my disappointment and frustration growing as he once again dodged a moment. As a polite gesture, and admittedly as a test, I offered to sleep on the floor. He refused the suggestion and merely climbed back into the bed, laying on his back and closing his eyes with a curt, “Goodnight.”
I was through. I knew he felt the feelings and unspoken words hanging between us. I needed to know exactly how he felt and I refused to let the night pass without an answer.
We lay there, the question waiting to be answered and the decision needing to be made. It had all come down to this moment, this one moment facing us, the question I felt he simply had to know hung between us. He lay on his back, eyes closed and breathing evenly. I watched him breathing, watched the rise and fall of his chest. His face in the moonlight was almost glowing, his perfectly smooth skin reflecting the pale light. I was moved to silence.
All of our conversation, the looks, the smiles, the laughing, the sharing — all of it came down to this one question. I decided to make the first move and tentatively placed my hand on his chest. I couldn’t let this night pass without knowing. He felt me staring at his profile as I lay beside him, only inches away.
“What are you looking at?” he asked softly with his eyes closed.
“I want to know what you’re thinking,” I replied.
Without answering, he sighed deeply and pulled my hand close, pressing it firmly against his chest. I felt his pounding heartbeat through the thin cloth of the yukata and paused, speechless, waiting with the unbearable tension for his response. He held my hand for a brief moment before pulling me closer to him, then pulling me on top of him. The decision had been made.
I leaned over his face and finally went in for a genuine kiss. He eagerly kissed me back and I knew, with so much relief and elation, that yes, Yoshi felt something for me as I had for him.
It was as if time had stopped at that moment, as if we were sliding into a dimension that only existed between us. I climbed on top of him as he slid his hands under my loosening yukata; he sighed because I still had my underclothes on, and I smiled. He gently helped me out of my yukata and then quickly out of my remaining bits of clothing. I was slightly surprised at the intensity of his passion, yet I had always known he was capable of powerful emotion under all his layers of necessary protection.
I climbed back on top of him and we began to make love then, slowly enjoying the sensation of coupling for the first time. What started out as a steady, rhythmic exploration of each other’s bodies gradually gained in intensity until we were both lost in the motion of our lovemaking. He grew more insistent, more demanding, wanting more and more of my body. I was amazed at his intensity as we moved toward the peak of our passions, losing ourselves completely in the other’s arms.
We lost ourselves a bit too completely. In our haste, we used no protection but used no caution either. Yoshi did ask me about “skins” at some point, but in my foggy state, I had no idea what he was talking about and he didn’t press the issue. He collapsed on top of me when we were done, soaked in sweat and breathing heavily. I was in total shock at the whole encounter and was unable to speak, still reeling from the fact that it even happened and that we went as far as we did.
We lay with each other for several moments, breathing heavily in complete silence. I finally asked him if he was okay. He took a deep breath and said yes with a sigh. I continued to lay with him until I couldn’t stay still any longer. He felt my restlessness and suggested that I get up and take a shower.
I managed to make my way from the bed to the bathroom, still in shock and still trying to take in what had happened. I stood in the shower stall for a long time, simply staring ahead holding my stomach and letting the hot water wash over me. Everything felt so unreal. I took so long in the bathroom that Yoshi knocked on the door to check on me. I peeked out of the door to his concerned face as he asked me if I was okay. I assured him that I was and eventually relinquished the bathroom. I crossed the tiny room and climbed into bed with him. We settled into each other’s arms and he wished me goodnight, holding me close. Our first night together had come to a close and I was left in its wake, shaken to the core.
unrequited 