know. Will you talk to Mrs. Inoue? I like her a lot.”
“Certainly.”
“And you’re sure? You really don’t mind putting me up for the night and taking me to the airport tomorrow?”
She flicked my head. It stung, and I scowled and rubbed the spot. “Stop worrying about everything! Take a nap like that guy is doing.”
I followed her curt nod to a thin businessman in an open-mouthed sleep, head bobbing forward as the subway car jolted. There’s a disease in Japan called
karoshi
—death from overwork. One could only take so many eighteen-hour days, eating vending-machine noodles and sleeping in tubes.
“I’m worried about Carlos,” I finally whispered. “And Mia. I don’t like it.”
“Now you’re coming to your senses.”
“He called me childish.”
“He’s the one who’s childish. If he thinks for a second he’s immune to Little Miss Green Eyes, or any other attractive woman under the age of fifty staying in his apartment, he’s deluded.
Ploise
.” She fluttered her eyelashes.
“I thought you’re from San Fran!” I protested. “Freedom and no stroke order!” Honestly, Kyoko struck me as the last person on earth to object to Carlos’s female roommate.
She stared at me. “I’m not stupid, Ro! Freedom doesn’t mean ignorance. Wake up and welcome to the real world!” She tapped me on her head with her cell phone.
“Besides, he always makes you go meet him,” she grumbled. “He doesn’t even care that you love Japan and want to stay here.”
“He works hard. And he loves Argentina.”
“Then get used to playing second fiddle, babe.”
“I can’t just expect him to drop everything for me!”
Kyoko turned to face me. “Everything? Know what I see, Ro-chan? A man who hasn’t given up
anything
for you! At all! He does his thing, and you come at his beck and call. You don’t even talk to each other like you’re in love! He … Forget it.”
Kyoko looked furious. She mashed the keys on her cell phone violently, and her cheeks reddened. Finally she broke the icy silence. “I think you should dump him.”
The ring on my finger sparkled, and I curled my hand into a fist in defiance.
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
“I can’t.”
“Shut up.” She turned away.
We didn’t speak until the subway slid to a stop at the station. I knew in her own way Kyoko bared protective claws, and it made my heart swell a little. Someone cared; someone thought my happiness mattered.
We walked through the turnstile and started up the hill to Carlos’s apartment, breathing in the cool, damp night air.
“Look, I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I shouldn’t keep bringing it up, especially with all you’re going through now. He’s as good-looking as sin, Ro, but he still bugs me. Something just isn’t right. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“It’s okay.” Our footsteps echoed on the pavement. “I understand.” I took her arm. “You’re a good friend, Kyoko. Thanks.”
“Nah. It’s nothing. You’ll probably get married as soon as you get back, and I’ll have to eat crow.” She disentangled her arm and patted me—or rather, smacked me—on the back of the head. I’m assuming she meant it affectionately, since that’s pretty much as close as she came.
We entered the super-chic, chandeliered lobby of Carlos’s building, and the receptionist nodded at me. He loved practicing his English, and I loved gawking at the fine furnishings and imagining I lived here. Stockbrokers obviously made more than reporters.
“Is Carlos home?” I asked in English.
“Yes, I believe he is. Shall I ring him for you?”
“No thanks. We’ll go up.” I nodded my thanks.
We stepped into the shiny gold elevator, but when it stopped at Carlos’s floor, my hands twisted nervously. Why hadn’t he called me? Certainly he’d seen his messages by now if he was
home. Maybe the receptionist made a mistake.
I buzzed the button outside Carlos’s door. Kyoko twisted a dark silver spider
“Certainly.”
“And you’re sure? You really don’t mind putting me up for the night and taking me to the airport tomorrow?”
She flicked my head. It stung, and I scowled and rubbed the spot. “Stop worrying about everything! Take a nap like that guy is doing.”
I followed her curt nod to a thin businessman in an open-mouthed sleep, head bobbing forward as the subway car jolted. There’s a disease in Japan called
karoshi
—death from overwork. One could only take so many eighteen-hour days, eating vending-machine noodles and sleeping in tubes.
“I’m worried about Carlos,” I finally whispered. “And Mia. I don’t like it.”
“Now you’re coming to your senses.”
“He called me childish.”
“He’s the one who’s childish. If he thinks for a second he’s immune to Little Miss Green Eyes, or any other attractive woman under the age of fifty staying in his apartment, he’s deluded.
Ploise
.” She fluttered her eyelashes.
“I thought you’re from San Fran!” I protested. “Freedom and no stroke order!” Honestly, Kyoko struck me as the last person on earth to object to Carlos’s female roommate.
She stared at me. “I’m not stupid, Ro! Freedom doesn’t mean ignorance. Wake up and welcome to the real world!” She tapped me on her head with her cell phone.
“Besides, he always makes you go meet him,” she grumbled. “He doesn’t even care that you love Japan and want to stay here.”
“He works hard. And he loves Argentina.”
“Then get used to playing second fiddle, babe.”
“I can’t just expect him to drop everything for me!”
Kyoko turned to face me. “Everything? Know what I see, Ro-chan? A man who hasn’t given up
anything
for you! At all! He does his thing, and you come at his beck and call. You don’t even talk to each other like you’re in love! He … Forget it.”
Kyoko looked furious. She mashed the keys on her cell phone violently, and her cheeks reddened. Finally she broke the icy silence. “I think you should dump him.”
The ring on my finger sparkled, and I curled my hand into a fist in defiance.
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
“I can’t.”
“Shut up.” She turned away.
We didn’t speak until the subway slid to a stop at the station. I knew in her own way Kyoko bared protective claws, and it made my heart swell a little. Someone cared; someone thought my happiness mattered.
We walked through the turnstile and started up the hill to Carlos’s apartment, breathing in the cool, damp night air.
“Look, I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I shouldn’t keep bringing it up, especially with all you’re going through now. He’s as good-looking as sin, Ro, but he still bugs me. Something just isn’t right. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“It’s okay.” Our footsteps echoed on the pavement. “I understand.” I took her arm. “You’re a good friend, Kyoko. Thanks.”
“Nah. It’s nothing. You’ll probably get married as soon as you get back, and I’ll have to eat crow.” She disentangled her arm and patted me—or rather, smacked me—on the back of the head. I’m assuming she meant it affectionately, since that’s pretty much as close as she came.
We entered the super-chic, chandeliered lobby of Carlos’s building, and the receptionist nodded at me. He loved practicing his English, and I loved gawking at the fine furnishings and imagining I lived here. Stockbrokers obviously made more than reporters.
“Is Carlos home?” I asked in English.
“Yes, I believe he is. Shall I ring him for you?”
“No thanks. We’ll go up.” I nodded my thanks.
We stepped into the shiny gold elevator, but when it stopped at Carlos’s floor, my hands twisted nervously. Why hadn’t he called me? Certainly he’d seen his messages by now if he was
home. Maybe the receptionist made a mistake.
I buzzed the button outside Carlos’s door. Kyoko twisted a dark silver spider
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