Tokio Whip by Arturo Silva

areas, all that metal-neon, are the “real” Tokyo. Oh, but I love my neighborhood. And I do not want to leave it – not now, not for a while, really.
    â€“ Oh, stay, Roberta – you add so much to the city!
    â€“ That’s sweet, Kazuo – and insincere. No, that’s not it – I do not add to the city – I’m not even sure it adds to me. But I do feel it as the home I’ve always lacked or longed for – even as much as I like Lang’s Vienna, or VZ’s Amsterdam, or Marianne’s Paris. Anyway, I’m in Tokyo now, and I’m staying a while. Am I a Tokyoite? The question’s never even occurred to me – it would, immediately, to Lang, of course. And so, to return to our sad little story – here I was; and Lang finally had to accept that I was not hightailing it back to the old country. And so he determined that it was time we were together again – which I could not argue with, I never wanted us to not be together – I didn’t see my coming and staying as our breaking up – it was just a break, you know, I was only taking one, for some undetermined time – and then it began to feel like home – why couldn’t he see that? – see that the world is not Vienna or Europe or our mutually beloved Paris alone? – not that he does, certainly, but when those Viennese are away from home, it becomes the sole world – till they return – I always wanted him to come here – to experience Tokyo – not just my Tokyo, but his too – his Tokyo, the one I knew he’d make – the city makes you make your own version of her – no two Tokyo’s alike – isn’t that marvelous? – Yes, one more, why not? ... Anyway, Lang determined – and decided he would come here and “rescue” me.
    â€“ Rescue you?
    â€“ Thanks. Oh yes, our Lang, who never had the slightest interest in Japan – he once said that if there were a museum of the Orient, Japan would be in a rear gallery of precious, decorative, and decidedly useless objets d’art. Anyway, so here came our boy – and what happened? – he fell in love with the place! – he never wanted to come here, you know, but once he did, well! – but I’m getting ahead of myself.
    â€“ But isn’t that good? That he likes Tokyo, good, I mean, for the two of you?
    â€“ No, it’s not good at all, Kazuo. You see, he loves the city. I just live in it. I know almost nothing about what happened here before the war. Oh, I know a little history, but all that Edo/Tokyo lore – that’s Lang’s material, not mine. I know my grocer, I know my ladies at the soba shop. Isn’t that enough? Lang, on the other hand, devours the city – just as he did with Cortázar and Duke Ellington – I’m content with the Blow-up stories, and Such Sweet Thunder – He’s been everywhere, and he’s getting to know what seems the history of every block of the city. He’s jealous that I live in shitamachi – he even berates me – gently, gently – for not knowing my neighborhood’s history – oh, I know it’s fascinating – he’s taken me on his tour – but like I said, I’m content with the soba ladies and my grocer. So now we’re in a situation where I am in a place I like, and Lang is in a city that he loves . I only fear that his love for the city will overtake his love for me. Oh, I’m sorry, Kazuo, it’s been such a nice evening, and here I’ve gone on with my problems. But, you asked.
    â€“ No, Roberta, forgive me.
    â€“ No.
    â€“ Ok, yes I did ask, and I thank you for your openness. I should say that I asked out of my concern for the both of you – I, we, Kazuko and I, like you both very much.
    â€“ Thanks. Yes, I feel that, and if I didn’t like you too – or you two – with a “w”– I would never