Offer and Demand
I remember quite clearly now about last night. My customer seems to be gone,
which is quite a drag. I was hoping to wake up and find him sleeping beside
me. I would finally know who he is!
And even if I don’t really know the guy, I would have at least, seen
his face.
He didn’t even let me touch it.
I noticed a bulk of money bills on the night table. Funny... I thought he’d
write me a check.
The thing is, as far as I know, the customer pays 50% at the agency before
meeting me, and then he pays the rest to me.
I must check back at the agency and give them notice about it.
I counted the money. The exact promised sum. It wasn’t a lot, but it was something... and I found myself grinning alone.
I thought then... “I can do this job... if it’s with him”.
Whoever it was, he was a great fuck.
I got dressed right away in order to jet out of the building as soon as possible.
I must avoid any prying eyes... that is, any journalists.
And so, I go home.
You know... I need a shower.
I open the door of my own apartment hesitantly. I feel like a thief breaking
into a place that doesn’t belong to me, and I’m tempted to say
“gomenasai” instead of “tadaima”.
Either way, it wouldn’t have mattered.
My wife wasn’t around, and it seems our pet won’t come wagging
its tails to greet me. I suppose I just wasn’t born for master.
I leave my stuff on a couch and I put my slippers on. Blue velvet slippers
with a smiling cat print on them are the only things that seem to have been
waiting for me.
I slide my feet inside them carefully. Everything in me feels apologetic.
On one side, I feel disappointed and even hurt to some extent that my efforts
aren’t appreciated, that I am not pitied and pampered and spoiled the
way I think I should be. On the other side, I feel guilty. I had a ball last
night.
I drag my feet towards the kitchen.
I need orange juice. My mouth is so dry.
You know? I was born in Wakayama.
Yeah... you know that...
Wakayama is famous for mandarin oranges as well as plums and persimmon. Our
fruits are famous nationwide. Did you know that? Our tuna also has quite a
remarkably good reputation, and that’s why I grew up eating the best
fruits and fish not only in the Kansai area, but also in the whole country.
I also like khakis and peaches and cherries and...
Ah, yeah...
I forgot. I don’t have an audience. I get carried away sometimes. Occupational
hazards, I suppose...
Feh... for a second I could say I feel lonely.
For a second I could conclude that’s why I got married.
I better get myself breakfast before I start drawing relevant conclusions
and decide to shoot myself.
I light a cigarette and hum while I play with the oranges on the kitchen table. (I wish I could do that juggling trick Gacchan does with three oranges... damn, he’s skillful...) And then, suddenly I hear a door slamming shut, which startles me big time breaking my concentration. (I dropped my cigarette in my coffee... oh, shit.)
“Uh... Okaeri...” I venture from the kitchen.
“Hm? Tadaima.” Her weary voice answers me.
I might squeeze more oranges and try to win her over with orange juice...
Isn’t that a great idea? I could try to play sweet hubby that convinces
his wife of forgiving whatever it is I did wrong... I didn’t do anything
wrong... uh... slept with a guy, all right... but I did that for a reason
and it’s not like she knows about it... I hope.
“Are you making breakfast, Hideto?”
“Uh... yeah...” Yes, this is a good idea. I’ll win her over.
“OK. I’ve already had something to eat at my mom’s... Make
sure you clean everything afterwards.”
“Oh...” Rephrase: bad idea. Amazing how she can ruin even the
best of my plans.
“I’ll go back there in a while. Will you be at the office later?”
“Ee...” For a second, I’m surprised at her cool tone. She
even sounds like... a different person. “Are you alright, pumpkin?”
I venture.
Who knows? Maybe all the apartments in this building look similar on the inside
and I’m at someone else’s place...
“Whatever... Like YOU would care...”
Nope. Definitely the same person... Home, sweet home.
I walk into the living room carrying my glass of orange juice and smiling
like the idiot I am. “But of course I do care, hon....”
I can’t go on... the disturbing image stops me in mid-sentence. She...
is carrying a mountain of bags and boxes...
“What the hell is THAT?!”
“Huh? Stuff. Stuff I need.” She replies and shrugs. The dog comes
wagging its tail and I glare at it. Bastard... it didn’t even notice
my arrival.
“But... but... Megumi! I told you we are having financial problems...”
“Wait a second, buddy...” She interrupts me and points at me with
her index finger. Such an uncivilized thing to do, my mother would say. “YOU
are having financial troubles. Not me.”
I drop on a chair and stare... my face faulting. I don’t want to think
she’s a bitch, but somehow my mind has its own way with thoughts.
“Me-gu-mi...”
“Come on, dear... they were on sale! 20% off! I couldn’t miss
that chance! Besides... I usually wouldn’t go bargain hunting... I’m
doing it only to help you spend less.” She answers grinning. “Fair
is fair.”
Somehow, I think I’ve missed the concept behind “fair is fair”.
Somehow, you know, I wish I had the balls to ask her where is the “fair”
side of having to prostitute myself so that she can buy herself clothes and
“stuff she needs”.
But you know me... when it comes to balls... I’m probably too pussy.
“I bought something for you too, ne...” she says grinning after
a while, and I raise my head. Long lines of red numbers stop parading in front
of my eyes for a second.
“Oh?” I’m curious... “What is it? Something for me?”
She throws a box of condoms to me, and I catch it automatically.
“Ya know... condoms... Aren’t you a safe-sex fan? Well... I thought
you’d like to jerk off safely.”
I face-fault again. Man... I should be used to this by now.
I wonder if, to some extent, I provoked it. I wonder if this is her personal,
and very bitchy way, to protest because of the money shortfall, or because
we aren’t having sex lately... or because I don’t want to have
kids yet... or just her way to tell me she knows I’m seeing people behind
her back... or just her way to annoy me. I don’t want to even think
she considers me stupid. No, no...
Maybe it’s just her who goes beyond the borders of stupidity.
“And who would I get pregnant?! My hand?!” I yell in humiliation
and I leave the room. I’m not such an idiot, though... I carry the box
along.
A few hours later, I’m at the office.
I feel rather safe here... so I lay back on my chair and pluck the strings
of my guitar idly.
I’m not gonna think of her... I’m gonna concentrate on something
pleasant...
Like...
For example...
Him.
My customer.
Who the hell is he?
I really must find out. He gave me such a good fuck... I hadn’t had
one of those in ages. Ever since I got married, to be honest. But we don’t
wanna remember that tiny incident.
Funny... it looked like a good idea when I did it.
So... ages...
My butt still stings a little.
I can’t shake the thought off my mind... I know this person. Somehow,
he feels familiar. Not that I remember having had such earth-shattering sex
with anyone in a long time... I mean a really long time. But to some extent,
I’m sure I know this person. Almost as sure as he knows me.
I don’t mean in an idol-fan way... but rather... on a more personal
basis.
Maybe that is why he has done the whole mystery performance... he doesn’t
want me to find out who he is... maybe it’s someone from my past...
My past...
I sound like double-identity spy.
Like those in the movies.
My mind goes at full speed while I keep idly plucking the strings of my guitar.
Who is this guy? Why don’t I remember clearly?
I’m not such a social person... I should remember. It’s not like
I know that many people, or socialize with that many people. The pool of candidates
should be somewhat scanty.
Suddenly the phone rings, and I stare at it for a split second feeling my
heart race.
“Uh... moshi, moshi...?”
“Hey!”
“Yatchan!” Man I’m so relieved.
“You stayed up late working last night, buddy?”
“Uh... you could say so.” I nod. Yeah... it was definitely ‘working’.
The fact that I enjoyed the hell out of it still doesn’t move it into
the ‘fun’ department.
“Poor lil Hideto...”
“So. You had fun with Ken-chan and Ein-kun?”
“Yup. We did. I was wondering if you’d be idle sometime this afternoon.
We could do something together, man.”
“Where do you draw so much energy from?”
“Uh... sex...?”
“You had sex?!”
“Uh... do I have to tell you about it? You know... you are not my parent.”
“So... you buncha assholes tell me you’re gonna go drinking but
you go fucking instead! Liars!”
“Well... we wouldn’t have gone to any of those places if you had
been there, ne. We respect the fact that you are a married man.”
“Morons!!”
“...whereas we are all single and carefree...”
“I hope you all die, bastards!!”
Despite the harsh words, I’m laughing my ass out. And Yatchan knows
it.
“Ah... we’ll die a happy death... So, Hideto... are you free this
afternoon?”
“Yeah. Come over to my office.”
“I’ve a couple ideas that you might be interested in.”
“They concern sex and booze?”
“Uh... no.”
“Well... I think I’m gonna be busy, then... but I’ll listen
anyway cuz I’m a good friend.”
“Hahaha! OK. I’ll be there in about 2 hours.”
“Will you ride your motorbike here?”
“Yeah... I think so.”
“Can I go for a ride with you afterwards?”
“What are you? A kid?”
“Oh, come on!”
“OK! OK! You are a brat. You’ll never grow up.”
“I like you a lot, Yatchan!”
“Yeah... but you like my motorbike a lot better...”
“Hehehe... that’s a minor detail. I’ll be waiting for you
then. Ja na.”
“Ja...”
Sakura is a good friend... he’s my best friend. I love him dearly.
I’m sure he’ll succeed in putting my mind off my problems. He
always manages to make me smile.
I lay back and start idly plucking the strings of my guitar again... but this
time I’m grinning silly.
I hope to get a ride on his bike... yeah...
Sakura... I remember when we first met.
I was scared of him.
How stupid of me. But really, I thought he was a scary guy with a dark aura.
That attracted me. I wanted to be like that, just like that.
I wanted to be scary too. To inspire respect, awe, fear... but people kept
calling me kawaii.
I remember my feelings were mixed. I feared him, but I admired him too. I
wanted to befriend him, but I was afraid of putting myself in ridicule.
After all, I was just a small-town boy, whereas he was a Tokyo-jin. He was
all Tokyo... tall, perfect, amazing... and I was all Wakayama... small, shy,
and with a hideous accent.
Please, don’t get me wrong. I love Wakayama... but all my life I’ve
wanted to be a distinguished Tokyo-jin.
I remember wanting to approach him, talk to him, befriend him... be like him.
I remember Tetsu looking at me with a puzzled face about it. “Why are
you so stressed about Yasunori-kun? He’s a nice guy!”
Yeah, Tet-chan... I know. But he represented all I had ever wished for. He
represented the white flakes of snow I had never had in my childhood... the
strolls near the Imperial Palace... the big shops, the feel of Tokyo... I
can’t express it with words... Sakura was, to me, the embodiment of
what it meant being one step forward.
I notice I’m starting to get melancholic...
I was a kid back then... I was... what? 24? 25?... Almost 10 years have gone
by.
I didn’t use to have problems back then... or at least, not as big problems
as I have now. My life just consisted of going to work, using my boss’s
photocopier behind his back, and the band.
And when Sakura joined us, I was positive we were moving forward... we were
gonna hit it big... because we had a drummer that had come all the way from
Tokyo to play with us.
I remember Sakura saying he felt really comfortable playing with us. I remember
myself trying to win him over... get inside that magical aura of his and share
a little of what I admired in him... learn from him... more than just the
way of speaking.
I remember when I moved to Tokyo... the only people I knew, I really knew,
there were Ken-chan –who had moved a couple months before I did–
and Sakura.
I remember feeling like a small kid in a city that was too big... or maybe
I was just too small. The mixed feelings of anxiety, fear, and happiness had
made me really vulnerable... I remember spending the first day at Yatchan’s
place... I remember talking for hours with him, and feeling really accomplished...
I remember we started seriously playing our mutual seduction game at about
that time... I remember I was flattered.
Ah... Yatchan... Are you coming to visit me? Yeah, you are... you are coming
to pick me up in your motorbike.
Many years have gone by, and I know I haven’t been all the good friend
I should have been... I know I let your hand go when you needed me the most...
however you never seem to let mine go, ne. You are always there to support
me.
You rule, Yatchan... you damn rule.
And you are coming to pick me up in your motorbike...
And my vision gets blurry... I hate to admit I’m such a melancholic
softie, crying like a girlie over these memories... I hate to admit that I’ve
failed you sometimes and I don’t deserve your friendship... and it has
nothing to do with Tokyo’s bright lights anymore. It has to do with
you and me. I still admire you. You’ve always been a true friend.
Yatchan...
My secretary interrupts me in the middle of my sobbing and I almost cut my
finger with a string.
“Sakurazawa-san is here, sir...” her emotion-vacant voice calls.
“Let him in.” I grunt. I put my guitar on the ground and I get
up from my chair slowly. I walk towards the door sucking on my hurt finger.
“Yo! Haido!” He greets as he enters beaming.
And I...
I...
I throw myself to his arms crying.
Maybe I still am a child.
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