Frid
It was to become the night of the taxi ride, the apex of my stay in Japan, perhaps the best night of my young life. A group of my friends from Yamagata was heading down to party with me one last time. We were going to meet up with our Tokyo friends and head to one of the hottest clubs in the city: Ageha. Located in the harbor district of Shinkiba and built from a converted warehouse, Ageha was one of the biggest clubs in the country. With several floors of themed rooms pounding out all styles of music, the coolest things about Ageha were its pool on the top floor and an entire man-made beach spread out behind the club, overlooking the harbor.
That Friday afternoon, the boys — Matt, Keith, and Nobu — made their way to my hotel and got a room; Yoshi came down separately later that evening. After stopping by the boys’ room first to let him know he made it down, he stopped by my room to meet up with me and talk.
The night did not start out as the greatest night of my young life; it was, in fact, one of the worst. Alone in my hotel room and separate from all of our friends, Yoshi and I sat on my bed and started talking about the future once again. I decided to be completely honest with him before we left to join our group. Through lowered eyes, I bashfully told him that I would do anything, anything to stay with him in Japan. I pleaded my case, insisting we could make a relationship work, pointing out other examples of mixed Japanese/foreign couples. I promised to learn every cooking skill, every ceremony, every word I could — anything to prove to him that I could survive and be his partner at the same time.
My heart was carefully broken as his response was a resounding no. Speaking slowly in a heavy voice filled with regret, he bluntly stated, “It cannot work. Never. You are American. My parents do not want me even to marry a girl outside of Yamagata. You do not know our culture. You would be alone and lonely. You would not like it.”
He paused at that point, gathering his thoughts. When he spoke again, his voice was gentle and his eyes were downcast. “I could never see you so unhappy and I know you would be unhappy. I cannot ask that of you. It will not work”. As gentle as he was, his resolve was absolute.
I could feel my heart tearing apart in my chest as the dreams I had been walking around with for the better part of a year, especially over the last few days, were shattered by his words. I wept then, freely and painfully. He seemed slightly taken aback, as he had always known it could never work and was perhaps surprised that I had placed so much hope in the impossible. My tears made him uncomfortable, but he took pity on me and gently rubbed my knee. He told me we would always be friends, that we would always have memories. That merely set me off more, my face soaked with tears I couldn’t control.
Yoshi waited patiently for me to gain my composure. With his obvious resolve and knowing that the inevitable conclusion of this short-lived relationship had come, my sobbing gradually calmed. Acceptance was creeping into my mind, down to my heart, and spreading through my body. Quite surprisingly, a weight actually lifted from my shoulders as all of the responsibilities I would no longer have to take on reeled through my head. Simply put, I couldn’t have Yoshi — as unbearable as that fact was to think about, I also no longer had the burden of trying to make an extremely unconventional relationship work. So it was.
“Your face is much better now”, he said once I started to calm down. I laughed at his typically blunt way of putting things and I knew that though I was beginning the long grieving process for the death of our relationship, I had accepted it and would move forward.
The time had come to join everyone at the club. Due to our earlier talk, Yoshi and I took the train to Shinkiba separately and arrived at Ageha later than the rest of our group. I was filled with excitement that night, despite all that had happened earlier. It promised to be the craziest, most eventful night of my stay in Tokyo. We ran into Matt, Keith, Sayaka, Shelly, and a host of other friends and Westin teachers waiting in the snaking line outside the club. After joyful greetings and introductions, it was off to the dance floor. I ordered a drink to add to the buzz from the half pint of scotch I drank earlier. As usual, we headed straight to the pool, joining the writhing crowd in the outdoor reggae room. And I danced in the center of the packed mass of bodies.
I held Yoshi’s hand for a while, then lost him in the crowd. I continued dancing with my friends and a few hot J-boys, simply enjoying the release of months of pent-up tension from work. It was my last time in Ageha and I was going to enjoy it.
After dancing to several reggae/hip-hop hybrid tracks, and listening to the fascinating sound of a Japanese reggae DJ, I decided to find Yoshi. As I made my way through the crowd surrounding the pool, I saw him watching me from the side of the dance floor. He had been watching me dance, with a look I couldn’t read across his face. I tried to get him to join me, sliding against his body to beat of the DJ. He only smiled shyly and backed away in abashment, so I smiled back and grabbed his wrist, pulling him along.
We made our way past vendors hawking churros and shwarma to the blessedly cool beach and found a lounge chair to share. Yoshi sat beside me and I gently pulled him closer. There were other couples enjoying the view of the harbor lights and full moon. An Australian couple introduced themselves and we chatted with their group of friends for a while before everyone drifted away into pairs.
I turned toward Yoshi then and felt the effects of a night of blind drinking filling my head, making me giddy and woozy at the same time. I couldn’t help myself — I leaned in and kissed Yoshi. He backed away gently and looked at down; this public display of affection was not his style by any means. I understood, even through my drunken haze. I backed off and I pulled him up to head back to the dance floor.
After I tried to dance with him one more time, half-jokingly sliding down his body to the pounding reggae beat, he gently grabbed my wrist, turned me around, and whispered roughly in my ear, “Let’s get out of here.”
With that, my heart jumped started and my pulse raced. It was the most proactive Yoshi had ever been with me. I didn’t ask any questions after that. I only told Matt that I was leaving and I said goodbye to no one. We wound our way through the club and out into the chilly night air, Yoshi pulling me along hand-in-hand. I grabbed my things from my locker and joined him in a waiting taxi. We still hadn’t said anything to each other yet.
As he climbed in next to me, I couldn’t help but smile at him. He smiled back and told the driver where we were headed. The driver gave a slight gasp at the significant distance from Ageha to our hotel in Shinjuku and winked at Yoshi in the rearview mirror. All the while, my heart was soaring, my head spinning with giddy joy. I was in a taxi at 3 o’clock in the morning with the man I was desperately in love with, headed to my hotel—together. I leaned close to Yoshi, and tentatively rested my head on his shoulder, then lap. Staring up through the windows, I could see the stars and the skyline of the city.
We made our way back into the heart of the city, winding through neon-lit streets, closer to the urban canyons made by the crush of soaring buildings. Revelers were still in the streets, stumbling out of izakayas, hostess clubs, dance clubs, bars—the real Tokyo nightlife. The streets were ablaze with lights, coming from the neon signs lining the sides of every building. The city seemed to glow that night and it felt alive for me, I was in the center of the pulse.
We finally arrived at the hotel and Yoshi settled the bill with the driver. It was not cheap and the driver thanked him profusely. We both smiled at the hotel staff watching our progress through the lobby. Both of us were just beyond tipsy and I was giddy with joy, trying pitifully to suppress my giggles. He stopped and bought horrible canned whiskey and Chu-hi’s from a vending machine in front of the elevator. He winked at me and tossed me a Chu-hi before we climbed on the elevator. All we could do was smile at each other on the way up to my room.
Once there, we tumbled onto my bed, opened the whiskey and Chu-his, lit cigarettes and just started talking. One of our deep, involved conversations that was to last for hours. We looked out into the Tokyo skyline and pondered our respective futures, longing to know what fate would eventually bring our way. Then silence gradually descended upon us and we stared out of the window, side by side, for what felt like hours, until the sky began to lighten.
We looked at each other then, looked at who we really were. Our last night in each other’s lives was drawing to a close and we felt it deep within our hearts. We made love again in the coming dawn, slower and more deliberate than the previous time, but with the same untamed intensity as before. We were trying desperately to hold onto every moment in each other’s arms, clinging to every sensation the other brought, drinking in the atmosphere that surrounded us. We were in the perfect center of our private world, in a perfect moment.
unrequited 