Page 62 of Choose Us
We had free admission to Mori Art Museum. We spent about thirty minutes inside. I didn’t understand what I should or should not find interesting, so after observing some unusual works of art we departed for a spotof shopping.
Choosing somewhere to eat for lunch consisted of Beth zooming in and out of Google Maps looking for restaurants in the vicinity. We stumbled upon a small restaurant hidden down a side street with only a discreet black sign and a vase outside thesteel door.
The waiter ushered us inside. There were three options, the sushi bar, the drinks only area, or the teppanyaki counter. We opted for the teppanyaki and were taken downstairs into the basement.
The chef began preparing dishes on the hot iron plates. The air-con in the basement was perfectly chilled, allowing my body to cool. We ordered the sautéed organic vegetables to start, followed by wagyu beef fillet, and some garlic rice. The menu looked and sounded delicious. Under normal circumstances I would’ve been excited to devour a large portion of it, but I was only trying to appease Beth.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yes.” I didn’t soundconvincing.
“You’re thinking about Brooke,aren’t you?”
I nodded. If only it were a momentary thing. The truth was, she never left my mind. She hadn’t since theday we met.
“Why don’t you go and see her?” Beth suggested.
I thanked the chef as he placed the fried vegetable appetiser in front of me. “And say what?”
“Just tell her how you feel.”
“What’s the point? It’s not going to change anything. I’m probably better just cutting ties now.”
“Then what? Spend the rest of your life thinking about her? When you met her last week you told me you needed closure. Leaving it like this won’t bring you closure,” Beth said sternly.
“I know.”
“I get that it’s hard Holly, but you’ll hate yourself if you don’t leave ongood terms.”
My appetite had well and truly disappeared. The teppanyaki meal was about to be the biggest waste of ten-thousand yen.
“Idon’t know.”
“Trust me. Go and meet her when she finishes work. You’ll probably be surprised how happy she isto see you.”
The precarious feeling that consumed my body made standing up in court during a murder trial seem like a walk in the park. The thought of seeing her made me feel sick, but the thought of not seeing her was far worse.
How had I become so addicted toheartbreak?
*
Chaos Kitchen was particularly quiet, which was to be expected on a Monday. I read a study once that said Mondays were the day people were least likely to dine out. I could understand that. After a heavy weekend of drinks and takeaway and a long day at work, the last thing I’d want to do was socialise in public. Under normal circumstances, that is. I was on holiday, so it didn’t count.
I passed a flower shop near the train station. The elaborate flower displays in marble vases towered on top of crates. They were eye catching. A bouquet of cherry blossom flowers mixed with white roses got my attention. The arrangement was delicate and wrapped in light grey paper. I remembered Brooke telling me white roses were her mum’s favourite flower, but on our trip to Nikko she’d told me cherry blossoms had become her favourite since moving to Japan. It was the perfect combination; some would say itwas a sign.
Only four days remained until I flew back to London. I tried not to think about what that meant for us because it was painfully obvious. It was my desire to see as much of Brooke as I could before I left. She was due to finish in two hours. It was late, but my aim was to tempt her into a spontaneous dinner somewhere niche.
The Shibuya District was full of life. It was Japan’s version of New York City; the city that never sleeps. Once I reached the Shibuya Parco building, I hit basement level on the lift, and I was back in one of the craziest places I’d seenon my trip.
Chaos Kitchen was hard to describe; the layout created an illusion of smoke-filled alleyways. There were small wooden stalls and red lanterns that reminded me of a place I’d been before, a food district, but I couldn’t put my finger on the name. The smell of Hamburger patties filled the air, followed by a creamy sesame broth, which was likely a ramen dish. Each tiny restaurant offered a new array of smells enticing me inside, but I wasn’t there to eatright away.
As I passed Campy!bar, the drag queen with the huge ginger wig moved their glasses to the end of their nose. They wolf whistled loudly and the whole bar turned to look. This action was followed by a phrase I’d never heard, but I assumed it was flattery. I waved back and smiled politely whilst walking hastily towards Sake Bar. I was embarrassed by the sudden attention.
I rubbed at my neck and checked over my shoulder every few steps. Was it normal to be so nervous? I wasn’t sure. It sort of felt like a first date. I pictured my sixteen-year-old self asking a girl out at college for the first time. I remembered the trembling in my hands, the sick feeling in my stomach, the hot flushes; it all felt relative.
Last night, I’d remained wide awake tossing and turning with no sign of sleep until 2 a.m. My sleepless nights were a regular occurrence on this trip. I wanted to blame the heat, but the heat wasn’t the problem. Beth, being the fantastic host she was, provided me with a fan, which meant after a few minutes I was cold enough to dive deep under the bedsheets. The heat was the excuse I told myself for my brain focusing on the only thing that seemed to defeatit: Brooke.
My way of coping with the ending of my trip was by telling myself it wasn’t a big deal. It was better to have come to Tokyo and seen her than not at all, right? It gave me theclarityI needed.
