Journal Entry #38
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Yuri
This isn’t going to be a lengthy update. I just want to record some thoughts about my very first camping trip because it turned out not to be as bad as I’d feared it would be. in fact, there were some genuinely fun moments as well as some enlightening ones.
One noteworthy thing that happened is that I went fishing. Never in a million years would I have imagined myself doing something like that. But then again, a week ago I might not have imagined myself sleeping in a tent in the middle the forest and actually liking it either.
Victor took about a dozen pictures of me with my first catch. I think he was even more excited about it than I was. Our favourite photo is the one where I’m holding the fish up and grinning like I’d just won a gold medal. On his Instagram account, Victor captioned it, “Yuri touched a fish. The world is collectively shocked.”
It was a silly tag line, but there was a glimmer of truth in it. I can’t speak for the entire world, but I can say I surprised myself by not being scared or disgusted by my fishy friend. After his fifteen seconds of fame, I returned him to the lake as carefully as I could. Victor said he was too small to keep, and I was secretly pleased that he wouldn’t be part of our dinner plans. I wanted to remember him as a triumph, not a tragedy.
I caught two more fish after that, and Victor and Leo each caught two. One of mine was big enough to keep, and so was one of Victor’s. Victor got the catch of the day, and a photo of that one quickly found its way to Instagram too.
Aside from fishing, I learned how to paddle a canoe, how to make campfire tea and how to zip myself into my own sleeping bag. On Saturday afternoon, someone — I’m not sure if it was Leo or Victor — started a water balloon battle that I somehow ended up participating in.
This morning while Victor and I were out for a walk, we found a small stand of wild apple trees. Most of them were laden with ripe fruit, and Victor lifted me up so I could pick from the low-hanging branches. We tried one of the apples straight away. I thought they’d be sour and inedible, but they were surprisingly tasty, even if somewhat on the tart side.
Our jackets were bulging with apples when we got back to the campsite. Ellie said we probably had enough to make a pie when we got back, if we didn’t eat too many of them in the meantime, so we retrieved a reusable shopping bag from the small stash in the trunk of Leo’s car and transferred our harvest into it to take home. I’m looking forward to apple pie. According to both Victor and Leo, Victor’s mom makes the best apple pie of all time.
After lunch, we packed everything up and loaded the car for the trip back to Maple Grove. The ride was uneventful. Victor drove and I sat in the front with him, and this time I didn’t fall asleep and was able to appreciate the scenery along the way.
I have to say, I’m glad I agreed to go to the North Range despite my misgivings, but I’m even more glad that we came back to Maple Grove this afternoon. As interesting as camping was, I’m certain I wasn’t made for roughing it. I was never so thankful for anything in recent memory than I was for a long soak in a hot bath and then a nice nap in a cozy bed. I think I’m due for a spa day after this. I can tell my skin and nails are going to need some attention, and I’m sure a therapeutic massage will also be on the agenda.
Victor thought it was funny that I made such a production of my bath when we got back to his mother’s house, but it was a big deal to me. After two days of lukewarm, low-pressure showers in a shabby building inhabited by spiders, sinking up to my neck in gloriously hot water with strawberry-scented soap was nothing short of divine. I could’ve stayed there for hours, if the water wouldn’t have cooled.
Victor came in to check on me at one point, and he said the expression on my face looked like I was having too good a time for someone who was in a room alone. In light of that, I asked him to join me. We often bathe together, so it was no surprise when he immediately undressed and happily climbed in.
Much to my relief, he didn’t want to act silly in there. He washed my back and then we just reclined in the pleasant warmth, with me nestled against his chest and him idly playing with my damp hair. It was one of those moments where we didn’t need words to communicate. I felt so protected, and it made me happy to know I’m with someone who loves me and cares for me. He really is my treasure. Of all the people in the world, I have this rare, beautiful, precious man to love and cherish, and I couldn’t be more grateful to have him in my life.
I thought about Ellie again, and wondered what she was doing at that moment. Was she thinking about Leo?
I want to imagine her being happy. I hope when she finally works up the courage to tell him how she feels about him, he won't hurt or disappoint her. He doesn’t strike me as the most mature person, and although I’m sure he’s intelligent, he doesn’t act like it. I realize I don’t know him all that well, but based on what I’ve observed up to now, I can’t help questioning whether he’s ready for a serious relationship.
Of course I know it’s none of my business. It’ll be up to Ellie and Leo themselves in the end. But I like a good love story and I truly do want the best for my new friend Ellie. For her sake, I hope she finds what she needs.
When Victor and I were done in the bath, he wrapped me in a towel and carried me the short distance to his room. “So your feet don’t have to touch the cold basement floor,” he said. I wasn’t about to argue with that. I didn’t have the slightest interest in literal cold feet, and I might as well admit that I love it when Victor carries me. The way I see it, being able to be carried by my husband is one of the few advantages to being tiny as well as severely underweight, and I’m not above taking my pleasure where I find it.
I know what you’re probably thinking. It’s utterly shameful how he spoils me. That’s more than likely true, but it’s his choice. I’d never expect or demand any of it from him, and although it’d require adjustment on my part if he suddenly stopped, I wouldn’t hold it against him.
He put me down on the bed and I dried off while he poked around in one of my suitcases.
“Pyjamas or normal clothes?” he asked.
“Pyjamas,” I said. “The dinosaur ones, please.”
He glanced over his shoulder and gave me a cheeky little grin. We’d both laughed like fools when we’d been out shopping one day and found sets of one-piece pyjamas for adults that reminded us of the kind we used to wear as little boys. Obviously, we each had to have a set. Victor’s are blue with a cute outer space theme, and mine are white with an all-over print of multicoloured dinosaurs.
I love wearing pyjamas even when I’m not planning to be in bed. One of the advantages of working remotely a majority of the time is that I get to wear them whenever I want.
“Need any help?” Victor asked as he came over and laid my things next to me on the bed.
“No thanks. I think I can manage,” I said. “It’s not like last weekend when I was in too much pain to move.”
“I’m glad you’re better,” he said. “You know I worry about you.”
“I know. I don’t want you to worry, but it’s good to know I’m important enough for you to worry about.”
“You’re the most important.”
“You’re the most important to me too," I told him.
“Are you sure you don’t need help?”
I smiled, amused. “Why do I feel like you’re looking for a reason to get your hands on me again?”
“Would that be a problem?” he asked.
“Let’s put some clothes on and then we can cuddle, okay? Then you can put your hands wherever you like.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Wherever I like?”
“Within reason.”
“Okay,” he said. “All I really want to do is hold you anyway.”
“I’d like that,” I said.
Despite my assertion that I didn’t heed help getting dressed, I somehow ended up letting Victor help put the top half of my pyjamas on me anyway. Personally, I think it was just a convenient excuse for him to get at the spots where he knows I’m ticklish, despite his assertion that all he wanted to do was hold me. I didn’t mind too much. He’s always gentle and he always stops when I ask him to, so I feel safe when we’re playing, even if I’m not entirely in the mood for it.
He’s pretty good at reading me, and I think he could tell my tolerance was low because he didn’t carry on like he often does.
“You’re still not feeling the best, are you?” he said as he helped me settle onto the pillows. He placed a feathery kiss on my belly before carefully zipping up the front of my ridiculous dinosaur PJs.
“I’ve been a lot worse,” I said. “Mostly, I’m just tired.”
“How about a belly rub?”
“No thanks. Put some clothes on and come snuggle with me.”
“Just some?”
“Underpants at least.”
He laughed. “I think I can do better than that.”
He didn’t do a whole lot better than that. I think he lost focus halfway through. Wearing only underwear and his favourite sweatpants, he flopped over diagonally on the bed, draped one arm over me and rested his head on my stomach.
“Comfortable?” I asked.
“Mm-hmm,” he murmured. “I’m not hurting you like this, am I?”
The weight of his head on my stomach was soothing, and I was sure I could fall asleep with him lying there, more comfortably than I could with the steady, warm pressure of my hot water bottle.
“No, you’re perfectly fine like that,” I said. “It feels good.”
“Good,” he said.
I weaved my fingers into his hair and began to massage his scalp gently, the way I know he likes. “Are you doing all right?”
“Mmm…” was his succinct reply, a low hum of satisfaction. “Right this second? I’m doing okay.”
I closed my eyes and let my mind drift back to this time last week. I was tempted to say things had changed dramatically since last Sunday, but in reality they hadn’t. I’d been feeling absolutely awful, and Victor and I hadn’t been getting along, so I suppose at least that much is different now, but nothing about our relationship has been fundamentally altered. Even though we’d had a serious disagreement, it didn’t mean we weren’t as committed to each other as ever. Us working it out was proof enough of that.
And we really had worked it out together. I silently congratulated us for that, because sometimes talking about the things that hurt and frighten us is extremely hard and our natural tendency is to avoid having those tough conversations. Fortunately, Victor and I trust each other enough to be honest, even if doing so can be painful, and both of us are at least self-aware enough to know that no situation will improve if we don’t confront our feelings and name them out loud.
I hadn’t wanted to admit that I was jealous of Victor’s relationship with Leo and Ellie, or that I was feeling insecure and scared, which was making me behave in a way I can only describe as possessive. It wasn’t easy to acknowledge I felt that way, but finding a path through it seemed less daunting once I did. I’d been worried that Victor would be angry. Maybe he had been a little bit, but he’d been willing to listen and he did his best to understand what I needed.
In turn, I listened when he talked about feeling homesick, about everything he’d given up to join me in Japan, and how he sometimes struggles with the choice he’d made. Hearing that, it was a challenge not to blame myself for holding him back from the future he’d wanted. I was the reason he’d left his home and his family and friends, given up on his plan to go to university, and lost his chance at a spot on the Canadian Olympic team. If he ever resented me for it or if he was angry, I couldn’t have blamed him.
I ached inside, thinking of what a shock it must’ve been for him to lose so much all at once, and how difficult it must be to balance that against his desire to be with me. I wished I could give him back what I’d inadvertently taken, but I knew I couldn’t. The only thing I could do was to help make it right.
Ever since last weekend, I’ve been thinking about what it might be like to live here in Maple Grove, to leave my home town and my country and everything that’s familiar. Victor did that for me, so how could I do any less for him? Besides, I have far less to lose than he did.
If I left home, I know I’d miss my mother and my baby sister, and I’m sure I’d miss my friends, but I don’t have any ambitions to give up or dreams to leave behind. My dream was to find somebody who’d rescue me from my despair and loneliness, someone who’d love me so deeply and gain my trust so completely that I could one day stop feeling unwanted and afraid. Victor is my dream made real. Where I am in the world doesn’t matter that much to me as long as he’s there too.
As for everything else, I’m confident I could adapt. Thanks to my father’s foresight, I started learning English as a preschooler and now I speak it almost as fluently as if it were my first language. Because of that, I’d have no problem working or going to university here if I wanted. The immigration process might be a hurdle, but I recently discovered that Victor’s uncle Stephen, Leo’s dad, is actually an immigration lawyer, so even applying for worker or student status in Canada may not be as insurmountable an obstacle as it might otherwise have been.
Victor and i will have to discuss all this at some point, obviously. It couldn’t be a spontaneous decision, nor one we could take lightly. We’d have to be absolutely certain it was what we both wanted and would be willing to commit to.
Although I’m sure he’d never say so himself, I think Victor’s decision to come to Japan was made with too much haste. Maybe that sounds odd, considering how long we were in a long-distance relationship, but I'm not talking about the length of time between us becoming a couple and him arriving in Matsumori. I mean the time between when he decided he was leaving home and when he actually did it. He told me in the middle of January, and by the fifth of February, he was there. I barely had time to get ready for his arrival. No, I’m not displeased that he did it, but in hindsight I believe it could’ve used a bit more planning. If I decide to leave home, I don’t want there to be any uncertainty about my choice.
Feasible or not, I could envision a future in which we lived here. We’d have a cute little house with a nice back yard for our dogs to play in and space for me to have a flower garden. Victor could be near his friends and his loving, close-knit family. I’d find a job, and he could go to university to become a nurse or physical therapist, and I could help him with his reading in the evenings. We could volunteer at the dog shelter and go snowboarding on weekends. Maybe I’d even agree to the occasional trip to the North Range.
The North Range.
Learning how to fish and how to cook food on a campfire weren’t the only bits of knowledge I’d gained while spending the weekend in the forest. After our time there, I have a better understanding of Victor’s relationship with Ellie and Leo, and I’d like to think I understand more about Victor himself. At the North Range, I got to see him in an environment where he was perfectly at ease, where he wasn’t anxious about complex rules of social etiquette, and where he didn’t seem to feel the constant need to prove he was adequate.
As a matter of fact, I’ve noticed that about him in general since we’ve been in Maple Grove. This is where he belongs. He’s happy and confident here. I realize no one’s existence is ever completely free of stress, but I’d like to see Victor enjoying a life where he isn't constantly anxious about not being good enough and never quite fitting in.
I recall sitting by the lake with him on Saturday night, watching the moon rise over the water. The moon seemed to come from behind the mountain and it looked enormous; an optical illusion I knew was created by how close it was the the horizon. I’ve seen it like that at home sometimes too, climbing up from behind the slope of Arashiyama. What I hadn’t observed before was how bright it looked without the presence of any other lights. The sky was scattered with stars, like thousands of diamonds strewn across dark blue velvet. It was stunning.
I’d been so preoccupied with staring at the sky that it’d taken me a minute to realize Victor was crying. He wasn’t making any noise, just sitting there with tears running down his face. I reached for his hand, and he’d curled his fingers around mine like we were the last two people on Earth and he was afraid to let go.
I didn't ask if he was okay. That’s the sort of banal question people ask when they can’t think of anything else. Most of the time it’s rhetorical anyway, since you wouldn’t be asking it at all if you already thought the person was fine.
Instead, I said, “Tell me how you’re feeling.”
“I’ve missed this place so much,” he replied. “Honestly, I have no idea if I’m happy or sad. Maybe both at the same time? Like, as long as I don’t think too far ahead, I feel great, but whenever I remember we haven’t got much time left here, the sad part kicks in." He sighed. "Sorry. That probably doesn't even make sense."
“Don't worry. It does.”
“I don’t want to leave. Not the North Range, but like... here in general. Maple Grove.” He almost whispered the last word, “Home.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
He looked away from me, but I didn’t stop looking at him. I stroked his knuckles with my thumb, slowly and steadily, just as he would’ve done for me. “Why are you sorry?”
“I wasn’t going to tell you," he said. "I was going to keep it to myself."
"Why?"
"Because I didn’t want you to be upset.”
“Why would you think I’d be upset?" I asked. "You know I always want you to tell me if there’s something wrong, even if it’s something I might not like."
“I didn’t want you to worry about me,” he confessed. “I thought we could just go back to Matsumori and I’d get over it eventually and everything would be fine. But I can’t. Thinking about leaving feels like something’s tearing my heart out. Like, it literally hurts and I… I can’t…”
He’d left the sentence unfinished, squeezing his eyes shut and visibly tensing his shoulders, neck and jaw.
“Victor, look at me," I said. I gave him a few seconds, but when he didn't open his eyes, I opted to continue anyway. "Listen to me. I don’t expect you to just get over things. Nobody expects that. Don’t I always tell you whatever you’re feeling is okay?”
“Yeah, but—“
“It’s okay,” I said.
“It’s not okay. I feel like no matter what I do, it’s gonna be the wrong thing. Somebody’s going to be unhappy, and it'll be my fault.”
“It won't be your fault, No one is going to assign any blame."
"I will. To myself."
"You shouldn't," I said. "And you shouldn't punish yourself for feeling a certain way. If you're unhappy and there's something we can do about it, why don't we try to find the solution together?"
“Because there isn't one," he said. "I made my choice already."
"Your choice isn't irreversible," I said. “Tell me what would make you happy. Would you like to stay here a little longer? I can go back, and you can join me when you’re ready.”
He shook his head. "I don’t want to be apart from you.”
“I don’t want to be apart from you either, but I also don’t want to see you in pain.”
“It’ll hurt worse if we’re not together.”
In spite of the situation, I smiled. “You’re impossible, you know.”
“I’m sorry," he said. "I can’t help it.”
“I know you can't. I didn’t mean that in a bad way,” I assured him. “I love that you want to be with me, but you know I can’t stay here with you now. I have responsibilities at home. I’m not going to make you come back with me if it’s not what you want, but I need to go, at least until my mother’s finished doing what she has to do in America. Someone has to take care of Yuki.”
“But… if I don’t go back, who’s going to take care of you?” he asked.
“I think I could get along for a while on my own.”
“I wouldn’t like that," he said. "I’d be too worried about you, especially if your mom isn’t around. Besides, back in the spring, you made me promise never to leave you again, remember?”
I did remember that, and it had struck me suddenly just how much I’ve grown over the past several months. “I’m not going to hold you to that promise any more. It’s not fair to you.”
“Regardless, I know I have to go back anyway, whether I want to or not. It’s just… I wish I could have everything I want, you know?”
I did, and perhaps having that knowledge is the hardest part of the entire situation. On Saturday night as well as now, I can see how much our current circumstances are hurting him, and it's breaking my heart.
Sitting there by the lake, I wished I could magically fix everything, as futile as I knew that wish was.
“Some day, my treasure,” I said softly, continuing to stroke his trembling fingers. “Some day, you’ll have everything you want. I don't know how we'll do it, or when, but I promise we’ll find a way.”