One
Disclamer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Part One: 2013-2014
The Year of Noticing
22.12.2013 00:01
Tokyo, Japan
Happy birthday to me. Wish me all the best in everything.
Happy for your new job, new place to live, and many other new things also. Congrats!! You're in Tokyo now, eight months already... life and breath, happily!!!
Then I remember a new someone I'm longing to know more!
The one I met in the project, the one who got nervous when he introduced himself, the young one, early thirties maybe, with a good English accent, small eyes with matching eyeglasses, and dimples in his cheeks with a heavy sound when he talked.
Hallo... Akira-san, hajimimaste! He introduced himself.
Then I said my name. We both looked at each other. I smiled, and he just looked at me with his four eyes.
I think you and I will be good friends.
I don't know why I'm writing this. It's my birthday. I'm allowed to be strange.
January 2014
The project meeting was held in a conference room overlooking the city. I arrived early, as I always did, and took a seat near the window. The rain tapped against the glass, a typical Tokyo winter, grey and damp.
He came in ten minutes later, flustered, carrying a laptop that promptly died when he tried to start his presentation.
"Ah…" He looked at the screen, then at the projector, then at all of us. "Sorry. One moment."
Someone handed him a spare laptop. He transferred his USB drive, wiped his forehead, and began.
He was nervous. I could see it in the way his hands moved too quickly and the way he kept pushing his glasses up his nose. But his voice was steady, and his English was good, its better than most.
I found myself smiling at his nervousness. It was endearing.
Afterward, during the lunch break, we stood in the buffet line Cafetaria. He reached for the chopsticks and nearly knocked the entire container over. I caught it instinctively.
"Careful," I said.
He turned red. "Thank you. Sorry. I'm—" He laughed at himself. "Not my day."
"It's your day," I said. "You gave a good talk."
He looked at me then, really looked, as if trying to decide if I meant it.
"Thank you," he said. "Akira."
"Sarah," I said.
We shook hands. His palm was warm.
March 2014
The next meeting was on my first day at the new office. Yes, we were officemates now, although we hardly ever talked. Our work was not so similar. Although we were in the same project, our interests were different.
He helped carry my new PC to my cubicle.
"Thank you," I said.
"You're welcome," he said.
That was all.
I watched him walk back to his desk across the room. Young. But a man, not a boy. The way he moved was unhurried, certain.
I told myself to stop noticing.
I did not stop.
April 2014
The cherry blossoms were supposed to be at their peak that weekend. The lab. where we worked had organized a spring lunch outdoors. Bento boxes and drinks are ready under the pink canopy.
But it rained.
So we crowded into a small cafe near the office, pushing tables together, shaking water from our coats. I ended up beside him.
No conversation at all between us. I was still new, still shy, still terrible at starting conversations with new acquaintances.
But my eyes saw his uncovered arm.
He wore a blue shirt, folded to the elbow. The fabric was soft-looking, the skin beneath tan from recent sun. I cannot explain what or why. Something about that arm interested me and made me want to know more about this person.
He reached for his water glass. His forearm flexed slightly.
I looked away.
Since then, he walks around my head and knocks on my heart.
August 2014
He helped print my friend's poster. I watched him from across the room, standing at the printer, waiting. He did not have to help. He helped anyway.
When the poster finished, he rolled it carefully and brought it to my desk.
"Here," he said.
"Thank you, Akira-san."
He nodded. "Akira is fine."
"Akira."
He smiled, small and quick, and then walked away.
September 2014
That one time we went home together.
It was not planned. We just happened to leave from our project meeting at the same time. Our apartment in Tokyo seems to be in a similar neighborhood. I noticed him always going with his bike to work. We walk toward the same station and then take the same train. The evening was warm, the kind of September night that still remembers summer.
We stood on the platform together. The train arrived. We sat side by side.
He told me about his research, something about biogeochemistry in the ocean that I only half understood but listened to completely. I told him about mine. We complained about the humidity. We laughed at something stupid, although I don't even remember what.
At his stop, he stood. "Good night, Sarah-san."
"Good night, Akira."
He stepped off. The doors closed. The train pulled away.
If that is the only closest and happy moment with you... that is okay. I am grateful for it.
I have to say my admiration grows bigger. And maybe I fall for him? Or?
I don't know what it is.
Still... seven years gap, keeps me thinking.
But for thirty minutes on that train, I was happy.
November 2014
I saw him in the kitchen office.
It was late, nearly nine at night. I had come to throw something away before left the office, an empty tea bag. And there he was.
On the floor. Beside the sink. His glasses beside him. His eyes open, staring at the ceiling.
I stopped in the doorway.
He didn't move. Didn't acknowledge me, I guess.
I stood there for three seconds. Maybe five.
Then I turned and walked toward the stairs.
And I went home.
