Wednesday
The next morning was awkward. My emotions were roiling, tumbling over in my chest and stomach. Only hours before I had consummated the relationship with a student I had been in love with for months. I idolized him and now I had been with him. I may even have his child, however remote the chance. My mind could not wrap itself around it all.
I threw on a pair of shorts and a tank top and quietly left the room, ketai in my hand. I rode the elevator down to the lobby, surrounded by Japanese tourists on their way out to a day of sightseeing. I felt so disoriented and isolated from the people around me, and acutely aware of my tall foreignness. I made my way to the lobby and found a spot out of the way of the breakfast crowds. I gave Matt a call, holding my breath until he answered his phone in a sleepy “Hello?”
“Matt, it’s me. Helen. I’m sorry, did I wake you?”, I asked.
“It’s like eight o’clock,” he muttered.
“I know. I’m sorry. I just, uh…I just need to talk to you.”
“Hel-on, what did you do?”
“We, uh, Yoshi and I…we kind of…,” I stammered.
“You kind of what, Hel-on?” he pushed.
“We did it. We did it last night. And I can’t believe it.”
Matt’s voice took on a stern edge, “Hel-on. Be careful,” he pleaded. “You know nothing can happen…” He was clearly worried about my feelings, as he had expressed concern more than once about my love for Yoshi and the likelihood of getting hurt.
“I know Matt. I just, we just had to. And there’s one more thing…” I paused and took a deep breath.
“What it is it, Hel-on…What did you do?” he pressed.
“Well, we didn’t…we didn’t use anything,” I confessed.
“Oh, Helen. What were you two thinking? You have to be careful.” He sounded genuinely concerned about what could happen to me, to us. “You have to be careful,” he repeated.
I abashedly related to him in-brief the night’s details, all the way through this morning. He was not entirely surprised, though he was quite disappointed about the lack of responsibility taken. I listened to his gentle admonitions, leaning my exhausted body against the wall for support.
When we finished talking, I returned to the room and Yoshi was waking up. We went about our morning routines, not saying much, only smiling shyly when we caught each other’s eyes. We were scheduled to have lunch with a friend and colleague of his who had a practice in Ginza. I put on my argyle tights, my new jean skirt from Benetton and a gray hoodie with my Mary Janes. He wore his uniform of jeans and a gray hoodie of his own.
We headed to the subway in contemplative silence. Once in Ginza, we stopped to have coffee and sweets at Starbucks before meeting with his friend. We didn’t talk about the night before, just bantered as we usually did, on broad topics. We were both obviously abashed about what had happened and really weren’t comfortable talking about it. I had never felt that way the morning after and I didn’t know how to broach the topic.
We made our way to Ginza and sought out his friend. She was from Okinawa and had attended dental school with Yoshi. She ran a practice in this swanky district, the Beverly Hills of Tokyo. She and Yoshi exchanged exuberant greetings and he turned to introduce her to me. She was beautiful, slim and elegant with flawless skin and a beaming smile. Her eyes sized me up, though, through the smile. We walked to her small clinic and she gave us a tour. She spoke some English, but not as much as Yoshi, so he interpreted for us.
After leaving her clinic, we went to have lunch at a diner. I was nervous. I could feel her taking me in and I couldn’t understand what she was saying to Yoshi. He could tell that I was quieter than usual and he asked me what was going on. I told him how nervous I was, how embarrassed I was that I couldn’t follow the conversation. He smiled and reassured me that everyone understood the language barrier. There was no need for embarrassment.
We left her office and made our way to lunch. We met another one of her friends and chose to grab something quick at a nearby diner. I sat next to Yoshi and we ordered our lunch, deciding to share plates between the two of us. His friend used silverware with flawless precision, which somehow made me even more intimidated. She and Yoshi immersed themselves in conversation, obviously reminiscing about the past. Yoshi would occasionally pause the conversation to turn toward me and ask me if I could understand any of their conversation. I told him a very little. So his friend then turned her attention to me, asking me questions about where I was from, what did I do, why did I come to Japan. I could tell she was sizing me up the entire time, looking back and forth from me to Yoshi. Her attention made me blush and curl farther into myself.
I was quite relieved when we rose to leave the restaurant. We parted with his friends and flagged down a taxi. The ride in the taxi a quiet one, as both of us were consumed with our thoughts. I longed to reach out and touch him, but I felt so distanced from him in the back of that taxi that I couldn’t bring myself to even get close to him. He quietly asked me where I wanted to go and I told him I had no real idea. He said he knew of a park nearby and so he directed the driver to the sprawling entrance.
We got out of the car and made our way slowly through the Japanese maples and massive, twisted pines at the park’s entrance, stopping to take the occasional picture. We wound our way through the park’s serpentine paths, over small footbridges, and past a traditional tea house with a ceremony in session. One of the paths climbed over a small hill and we found a seat at the top. We sat down and finally had a conversation about the night before.
******
We were sitting next to each other on a bench facing a small lake with a bright red footbridge spanning it. We were silent for a moment, taking in the scenery and weighing what should be said next. I began.
“Are you OK, Yoshi?”
“I’m fine, of course,” he answered, keeping his gaze toward the ground.
“Are you upset or sad about what happened last night,” I prodded, frustrated with the suddenly glaring difficulty of expressing myself in ways he could understand.
“No. No, it’s OK.”
He spoke these words, only glancing in my direction, mostly keeping his gaze on his feet. I felt there was so much more to be said, but his demeanor kept the words in my heart from tumbling out. He was more contemplative than I had ever seen him. I didn’t want to push him, but I had to know the answer to one question.
“Yoshi, we didn’t use any protection. You…” I couldn’t go on. He lifted his head slightly and glanced at me.
“You are not on any anything? Some kind of control?” he asked matter-of-factly.
“No. I’m not on anything. I don’t take birth control. That’s why I was surprised when…” I trailed off. Again, I couldn’t finish. But I still had to know.
I quietly asked him, “Yoshi, what if I’m…what if I get pregnant?”
He answered immediately, “I would take care of my responsibilities, of course.” He sounded firm, almost offended that I would even question him. He ran his hand through his hair, lifting his eyes to stare at the lake.
“But we do not know this. It is early.” He was quiet for a while. He looked down and almost in a whisper said, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have known…I should have stopped.” He shifted his weight, looking back down.
My heart was aching, watching his discomfort and feeling his guilt about our recklessness; I was quick to rid him of the notion that it was his fault.
“No,” I said, “No we both did this. I wanted to be closer to you and we did what we did. It will all be OK.”
He was silent for a while. Then he got up and said, “Let’s go.” And with that, the conversation was over. I wanted to go on, to explore his feelings around this further. But he was finished. Both of us had an idea of where the other stood, but both also knew out time was short. We walked through the rest of the park with sparse conversation and found our way to the subway. The atmosphere between us was, at least in my eyes, strained and filled with things left unsaid.
The tension between us gradually thawed as we made our way across the city, killing time before Yoshi’s train was scheduled to leave. But we never mentioned the previous night again, choosing instead to fall back into the role of friends that we were so comfortable with. I was coming out of shock and as I did so, my feelings toward Yoshi and the possible situation grew in intensity. I was slowly accepting the fact that though he had made it clear on previous occasions that we couldn’t be together, we may have taken a step that would keep us in each other’s lives forever. And I had to admit that this prospect, despite the infinite pitfalls, gave me a guilty ping of joy.
After leaving the park, we wound our way through the stalls surrounding Shinjuku station, pausing to look at hats for Yoshi. We chose a black baseball cap that I thought was perfect for him and I placed it on his head, the most intimate gesture we had shared since the previous night.
unrequited 