After changing
back to his school uniform later that day he felt a sudden urge.
First he bought a brand new uniform, one that was strictly conforming
to regulations, and bagged it. Then, as an afterthought he bagged his
suit as well. It had to see a cleaner anyway.
He needed to
get away from it all, but the blocks closest to school, or any on his
way to his bike for that matter, didn't offer anything where there
wasn't a risk of other students entering. So he struck out, aimlessly
walking the streets in the evening. Better steer clear of the
police. They're not too keen on loitering teenagers
this late.
Random
thoughts raced through his mind.
Did I just
get myself a girlfriend? Am I even interested in her that way?
Ulf unbuttoned
his shirt a bit and loosened his school uniform neck tie.
He kicked at a
stone and continued walking the side streets. I am interested.
She's beautiful and all, but that's not it, is it? He sighed and
looked up, between tangles of electric wire, at a sky where he knew
he would have seen stars but for the ever present night light of
Tokyo.
We would
understand each other. And we share a world. And we're pretty much
the same age. Isn't that a perfect match?
He'd be hated
by the other guys. Ryu especially. Ryu wasn't very good at hiding his
crush, and the few days with the new club had been more than enough
for Ulf. More than enough for anyone with even marginal eyesight,
he thought sarcastically.
So, why am
I not happier than this? I should be giddy with feelings. Am I too
old to fall in love that way? He sighed again. Is she? Am I
just afraid she won't feel the same way if I fall too hard for her?
Is this just the fear of loss?
A
cat hugging the wall came over to him and tied itself around his leg.
You're a
cat. You'd be a cat back home. A cat.
He bent down
and cuddled it for a while.
But I'm not
a cat. Stranger in a strange land. That's me. I can't do anything on
my own. Couldn't in Sweden for that matter, but more so here.
Satisfied with
the attention the cat meowed and left him, as cats tend to do.
Yukio saved
us all, and Christina made the club possible, and she's depending on
Kyoko. Ryu is the other pole of the magnet attracting all those
students, and I suspect that he thrives on the support of his sister.
Ulf looked up
into the evening sky. There were no stars after all. The way he was
no star.
And I
depend on them all. I even depend on Amaya, the one I so arrogantly
try to protect. What a mess!
He walked a
couple of blocks more. Then he found a run-down coffee house that
looked promising. 'Stockholm Haven Café' a sign in desperate need of
new paint told him. Worth a try.
Ulf opened the
door and found himself in a surprisingly European setting. They
might even have decent coffee here. If I can
afford it. Almost out of cash. Buying that bike bled me
dry. He sat down at a table, grateful that the man behind the
counter hadn't shouted a Japanese style welcome.
An
ostentatious chandelier hung from the ceiling defying anything
resembling good taste. It screamed at him: “We're really, really
trying to be a high class old world place here.”
“Hey, you!
I'm taking orders over here.”
Ulf rose and
walked to the counter. Surprisingly rude for Japan. Maybe this was
a bad idea after all. “I'll… I'll have a double espresso,”
he said after recognizing the machine hugging the wall between two
large mirrors. The café reeked of bad taste.
“You sure
about that? At your age, I mean.”
My age? If
he only knew. “Yes, I'm sure,” Ulf said, feeling himself
blushing.
The barista
gave him a long look in return. Then he started preparing the coffee.
“If you prefer I could switch to English.”
So, my
Japanese is still this bad. “Fine. If it's not too much of a
problem,” Ulf answered, taking the barista up on the offer.
“You're not
American either. Where you from, kiddo?”
“Sweden.
Long story.”
Ulf felt the
scrutiny as he was eyed over. “I can see that. Trousers too short,
shirt too large. Imported brand glasses was a mistake though. Must
have cost you extra to get that combination.”
Shit,
busted! “So, what if?” he tried.
“Nothing.
Just saying. You talk, I listen. Coffee’s on the house by the way.”
Ulf took a sip
by the counter. So bitter! What kind of crap did he give me?
The barista
gave him a long, thoughtful look. Then he waved him to the table Ulf
had first sat down by.
Ulf followed
the man back to the table and gave a start when he swung by the door
and hung up what had to be a closed sign.
“Eh, but
your customers?”
“It's slow
going anyway.” He pulled an ashtray from a shelf and placed it on
the table. Then he flicked open a pack of cigarettes and lit one. Ulf
gratefully accepted the one he was offered, drew fire from the
lighter and inhaled a lungful. The reaction from his fifteen year old
body was spectacular.
“Funny
that,” the barista said as Ulf tried coughing his lungs out. “Up
until that attack I could have sworn you've been a heavy smoker for
years.
And busted
again, Ulf thought between racking coughs. “Who are you?”
“Ashiga
James, at your service.”
“I'd better
go home.” Ulf stood up.
James stopped
him with a question: “Is that really possible?”
Huh?
“You still
owe me that long story of yours. It's not like I'm going to tell on
you. Guess no one would believe me if I did anyway.”
Who is
this man? Defeated, Ulf sat down again.
“If you
wonder who I am I'll have to disappoint you. I'm actually just a
barista these days. I'm kind of reliving my life, if you get my
gist.”
How the
hell did he know? Is he another one?
James
continued as if he hadn't seen Ulf's stricken face: “Funny feeling
taking the quick route from Sweden to here, isn't it. That blond girl
went with you?”
Christina!
So he knows her.
“We're drawn
to each other. I get that much,” James continued. “Tokyo's big,
but it's not big enough to explain us all ending up here. Especially
not why all of us are connected to that school of yours.”
Ulf stared at
James open mouthed. It must have shown, because James suddenly
laughed, went back to the counter and grabbed a plate.
“Cake? You
hungry?”
“Sure,”
and as an afterthought Ulf added: “How much?”
“Still on
the house, for this time. Now, your story.” James smiled, taking
the edge off his last two words: “Spill it!”
And so they
wound up talking. Ulf doing most of the talking and James most of the
listening. When, long after midnight, Ulf carefully walked the
streets to his waiting bike he knew he had found what he needed. They
wouldn't depend on a club room at school. A haven indeed.
No comments:
Post a Comment