Bread and Circuses

Emptiness

"Nightfall arrives in shaky breaths. Nightfall arrives in glittering sapphire smoke that curls around the wavy ridge of memory. Nightfall is seconds and centuries, slowly gnawing what became of me. When I open my eyes, it is a cold finger on my pulse, feeling for answers.

...

I keep my heart like a terrarium-- clear and bright, so you can see the fragile contents bloom inside. I see miles of white silk flowing in the wind as a pale-blue banner ripples along the wispy pink clouds. I feel the sand blaze between my toes. I hear another world crash inside a seashell, only to feel my heart beat in the same jagged rhythm."

—entries from the journal of Seolah Ogawa

She couldn't believe it had been fifteen years. Fifteen years since that sweaty, tight suit-wearing club owner suggested "a boob job to fill out that blouse." Seolah had never understood that. Gentlemen's clubs weren't brothels or strip clubs; the whole point was conversation, drinks, karaoke! A man shouldn't even be looking there, if he was following the rules.

"I'll pay for it," he'd said, "There's a good clinic up in Kanazawa."

"OK. But the guys aren't supposed to look there."

Her manager had chuckled politely, like she'd told an unfunny joke.

"That's what they say."

That pervert! Unspoken ruled people stronger than anything on a sign. Seolah frowned as she pulled into the parking lot of the plastic surgeon's office. Consultation my ass! He should know I want them removed!

She parked the car and took a deep breath. The drive felt longer than usual, and now she felt more country than ever. The sidewalks were filled with people, and multiple cars sped up and down the roads. She checked the map. Yes, this is Kanazawa all right. It feels so big compared to the town, but also...God, imagine me in Tokyo! She shook her head. Too much!

Daisuke wouldn't have let this happen. Her heart fluttered at the memory of the generous old man; he would have bribed Dr. Yukawa to their home with a satisfying fee and ancient pottery, and had the consultation in the guest house—or maybe even the surgery. If ghosts were real, he would have haunted his children until they treated her with respect. If he were still alive, he would be taking care of her— stroking her head, kissing her cheeks, singing gentle songs— even though his frail body needed all the care in the world.

Seolah grabbed her water bottle and an Eve A pill from her purse-pocket. She popped the pill in her mouth and swallowed. Damn back pain!

She slid out of the car, tightly gripping the folder to her side. She didn't know why she always brought it with her, but Dr. Yukawa always forgot her MRI scans. If he didn't have such a kind bedside manner, she'd have switched long ago.

She entered the sleek, modern building and took the elevator to the third floor. Two other women rode with her; one giggled on her cell phone, while the other stared blankly at the ceiling. Seolah exhaled in relief. After dealing with Daisuke's kids, she was sick of being the center of attention. The fact that she was in a bigger city, where nobody knew her or her problems, was the most peace she'd felt in weeks. It was beautiful to be forgotten.

She walked into the waiting room, telling the puffy-faced receptionist her name and the appointment time. After a quick confirmation, she sat in one of the soft chairs. While the waiting room was a sleek beige, with abstract paintings and a large, colorful fish tank, she gravitated toward the stack of magazines. Reading about celebrities and their plastic alterations felt too repetitive, so she took one with a ruby-throated hummingbird on the cover. As Seolah grabbed it, she noticed that the room was empty-- except for a young woman. The woman was writing on a clipboard. Oh, damn, that was me...once upon a time!