The look in your eyes

Will turn to surprise”

Victoria sat atop the bar counter, her slender legs flowing out from the knee-length skirt of her pearl pink sheath charmeuse dress. She cradled the microphone in front of with both hands.

“As you feel the pain,

And you realize”

Her audience sat on a single row of barstools arranged only about three feet away from her. Customary of most other establishments around these parts, this nondescript jazz bar in the Golden Gai neighborhood featured a floor plan that could generously be described as “intimate.” Most of the time, you’d be lucky to squeeze in double digit patrons.  

“The one hurting you

Is somebody who

Once said,”

I only ever went to watch the shows she performed in this area. I often felt out of place among the preening fat cats that occupied the sleek and swanky luxury resorts she often worked at. Golden Gai is a gathering spot for artists, musicians, filmmakers, academics. In my experience, the drinks were stronger, as was the ensuing discourse. Around these parts, it didn’t take much for a small crew of inebriates to work themselves into a frenzy, and soon Victoria's tip jar was stuffed with banknotes featuring Yukichi Fukuzawa's stoic mug. 

“‘I love you’”

Something I had to take note of tonight was how her performing style contrasted with Lisa’s. Lisa played her music as if in a trance, elevating herself to a state of being that seemed other from those who were watching on. 

Victoria not only played to her fans, in a way, she made them part of the show with how she beckoned their collective fervor and channeled it into her own performance. She swayed along to the sultry horn, lulling everyone together into a unified reverie for the music.

  “Someday, we’ll pay back all we’ve borrowed.”  

She’d been going for a couple hours straight already. The crowd didn’t seem to lose their intensity, though, and with her being so near to her group of admirers, the energy transfer to her seemed to all the more potent.

“What we love today, we’ll lose tomorrow.”

She clutched at her chest, the spot on her sheer lace bodice where her heart would be.

“But I won’t need to wait for my share of sorrow”

Whenever her eyes settled on mine, the intensity radiating from her always left wondering how much of her performance was just showmanship, and how much was autobiographical.

“‘Cause I always kill

The things I love.”

---

“Which one was your favorite?” she asked me as the elevator climbed up.

Her apartment was located in a high-rise in upscale Minami-Azabu. Rumor had it that J-pop megastar Ayumi Hamasaki was one of her neighbors. I personally had never seen her around, but then again there must’ve been some reason for the frequent deliveries of Boss coffee down the hall.

“‘The Things I Love,’” was my choice.

“Really? I thought I sounded a bit pitchy.”

“Nah, you killed it.”

“You’re too kind,” she said with the faintest of blush hitting her cheeks.

The elevator chimed as it reached the penthouse floor. It was a few yards of walking before we’d reach her door, and she scanned her card key to let us enter.

She kicked off her Marion Parke stilletos and walked over to the coffee table to place her Burberry Title Bag onto the glass top. As she made her way to her bedroom, she unclasped the string of Mikimoto pearls from around her neck and removed the Tiffany rose gold bracelet from her wrist, placing both items back into the jewelry box on the nightstand.

Her phone started to ring from inside her purse, but she had already begun slipping out of her dress.

“Could you get that?” she requested. “It’s probably the delivery guy. He needs a new code to get up here. Tell him ‘2408.’”

I reached into her bag and answered the phone without looking at the caller ID. “Moshi moshi.”

“Oh,” a woman spoke out in surprise, probably both at hearing a male voice and also at hearing Japanese. “I’m sorry, I was trying to reach Victoria.”

“This is her phone. I’m her...” I scratched the back of my head. “Her friend.”

“Oh I see,” the woman replied. “Could you just tell her that Jessica called?”

“Jessica. Got it.”

“And that the apartment in Bellevue she was asking about, it’ll be available by February.”

I was no expert on geography, but I knew there wasn’t any district in Japan called Bellevue. In fact, I had taken a class trip to Seattle during summer of eighth grade, and I knew Bellevue was across the lake. Far, far away from here, is my point.

“Um.” My throat turned hopelessly dry. I tried a cough in an attempt to reactivate my voice. “OK. Sure.”

“Thanks very much.”

The line went dead, and it took a while for my sense of reality to reestablish itself.

Victoria stepped out of her bedroom in her sweatpants and T-shirt for the Bryn Mawr College Soccer Club, where she had served as a walk-on full back. “Was that the food?”

“It was someone called Jessica.”

“Oh?”

“Talking about the apartment in Bellevue.”

Her expression turned deathly serious. “Oh.” The girl sighed hugely.

“Are you leaving?”

“Nothing’s been decided yet. I just think it’s good to know what my options are.”

“You mean options aside from me?”

She swiped some errant bangs away from her eyes. “How much longer do you think I have here? Some other fair-haired girl with sparkles in her eyes comes along, stumbles through a halfway decent rendition of ‘Sugartown,’ and boom, that’s it for me.”

“So you’re mostly thinking of your job?”

“I’m thinking of what is supposed to be my purpose here,” she stated. “What do you think that should be? To be your girlfriend? Wife? buddy?”

I averted my gaze, as no straight answer was forthcoming from me.

“Be honest with yourself,” she implored. “Do you think your purpose, the one thing in your life that you want to stake your identity on, is that to be with me?”

The ensuing silence turned out to be all the answers she and I needed.

---

Having not been able to eat dinner, I found myself at the local yakitori, and wouldn’t you know, I ended up with a date, of sorts.

Outside the 7-Eleven around the corner, I once again encountered pachinko lady from Prague. She was wearing a no. 6 Swedish National Team jersey while drinking Sapporo Premium out of the can. She told me she had been eating nothing but McDonald’s and Cup Noodle since she’d been in the country because it was the only food she recognized. 

The skewer of tsukune that came off the grill was the first chicken she’d seen that wasn’t McNuggets. 

“Cheers,” I beckoned her, and we bumped our mugs of Yebisu dark lager.

I didn’t know very much about European football, so our topic of conversation turned to the universal constants, love and relationships.

I talked a bit about what had happened earlier in the night with Victoria, showed her the purikura photos, to which Czech lady commented, “She’s cute. If she’s suddenly available, can I have her number?”

I scrunched up my face as I pondered the prospect that Victoria might also be into women. There was that picture on her refrigerator of this girl in a gray beanie, but I’d never bothered to get clarification on who she was to Victoria.

I talked about Lisa next, how I thought there might’ve been something because she’d offered to take my jacket to the cleaner’s.

“You think you can read a girl’s intentions because she offered to do your dry cleaning?” she asked.

“Yeah?”

“You really know nothing about women. No wonder you got dumped.”

“Just eat your food,” I grumbled.

---

Lisa came over to my apartment for the first time. That night, her hair was deep violet. She was dressed pretty casually again, a gray pencil skirt and fitted long-sleeve top of jersey knit with thin black and white horizontal stripes. I said I’d make a pasta dinner for her, but as soon as she caught sight of the sauce simmering on the stovetop, she half-jokingly described it as “warm ketchup.”

Luckily, some of her stepdad’s cooking skills must've passed on to her. She chopped up some olives, crushed a bit of garlic, and fried pieces of pancetta. With that, our food turned into something fit for consumption by humans. To my credit, she was at least delighted by my wine choice of Spanish txakoli.

“Let me ask you something,” she posited after our meal as I was rinsing the dishes. “You don’t have a job. Don’t go to school. No kids or any serious girlfriend to speak of. What would you say it is you actually do?”

I gave a noncommittal shrug. “I guess I don’t really do anything. It’s more like I let things happen, and then I just go along with it.”

“What if something happens, and you just don’t know where to go from there?” She handed me her now empty wine glass. “Like, you didn’t know how to respond?”

“Haven’t seen anything like that yet.”

“Is that so?”

And with that, she reached for the pot still full of now tepid water that had been used to boil the noodles. She proceeded to dump the contents right over my head. I spat out a mouthful of starchy liquid as she roared in ecstatic laughter. But then again, that was perfect because with her relaxed posture, she was left relatively defenseless as I scooped her body up onto my shoulder (in spite of the shooting pain that eventually came upon my previously injured leg) and started hauling her to the bathroom. 

Along the way, she let out some playful shrieks while flailing her legs about in an attempt to wriggle free. I made it to the tub and set her down so that she faced the showerhead, me behind her. Once on her feet, she immediately tried to make a dash away, but I was sure to wrap my arm around her slender waist. Our bodies collided again, and another jovial yelp escaped from . With my free hand, I turned the handle of the faucet and let the water flow. Both of us were getting drenched, and yet both of us were positively giddy about it.

And then she made good on her promise of giving me something I didn’t know how to respond to. Reaching up behind her head, she grasped a tuft of my hair and pulled my mouth to hers. My eyes darted open, and it felt like comprehension evaporated from my mind and all motor function ceased from my limbs. My grasp on reality was sinking into the velvety feel of her lips, the taste of sparkling wine still lingering. 

That must’ve been what she was counting on, since she took this opportunity to reach for the sprayer attachment. With a motion at once both swift and elegant, she spun around and started shooting the jet of water directly in my face. I sputtered to catch my breath and was sent reeling until my back bumped into the tile wall.

“OK! You--” I coughed up another mouthful of water “You win!” I finally managed to spit out.

“What was that?!”

“You win!”

“Say it louder!” she commanded.

“YOU WIN!”

She continued to cackle in mischief as she shut off the water at last. I collapsed into a seated position on the floor of the tub, and the whole ordeal must’ve taken a lot out of her as well, since she slinked down to join me eventually. 

Still heaving weighty gasps, I reached into my back pocket, and my worst fear was confirmed. “Oh, now you’ve gone too far.” I held up my pack of cigarettes, now thoroughly soaked.

“You should quit anyway,” she shot back, clutching at her side while she continued to giggle.

---

We dried off with some towels, and I offered her a pair of my joggers and a henley shirt to wear. I put her wet clothes into a paper bag from the Kinokuniya bookstore. 

She and I waited for her taxi, my suit jacket draped around her shoulders (I handed it over without her having to ask this time).

“By the way,” she announced. “I’m gonna be traveling for a little while. I might not be able to call back so quickly. Just so you know.”

“I understand. Where are you going?”

“Korea.”

“Oh, I remember you mentioning Jennie’s there. Are you going to see her?”

She drew my jacket closer to her chest. “Yeah. You could say that.”

“Well, tell her you only kissed me to win the fight. She doesn’t have to worry.”

She summoned up as firm a smile as possible. “She would approve. Victory at all costs.”

The car pulled up to the curb and she stepped into the backseat. As the taxi departed, she rolled down the window and leaned out to blow me a kiss goodbye.

If I had assumed she was done putting me in situations where I didn’t know how to respond, I’d have been greatly mistaken.