act ii
how do we do this?
( carefully. )
chapter twenty-four
❛uncomfortable questions, uncomfortable conversations❜
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The day of her birthday, Amara rouses from sleep at the sound of Asano and Chris talking. She cracks her eyes open, wincing at the brightness of the overhead light, and props herself up on her elbows, trying to blink the bleariness out of her eyes.
"What is going on here?"
They're standing by the entryway, Chris already in his socks, on the landing, a duffle bag slung over his shoulders, in a thick jacket and sweats, while Asano is wearing her tennis uniform, her shoes already on.
Asano bows politely. "Happy birthday, senpai."
"Turn off the light," she mutters before rolling over and burying her face in her pillow.
Asano murmurs something else before the light turns off and the door opens and closes. There's some shuffling before she feels a gentle poke on her shoulder.
"Have any more room?" Chris asks, sounding fondly amused.
She obligingly scoots over, letting him lift the blankets so he can slide under. She half-expects him to say something, but he doesn't, he just pulls her close and draws the blanket over their bodies. She falls back to sleep with the reassuring heat of his body against her back.
When she wakes a few hours later, he's still there but partially turned away from her, the sound of keyboard clicks from his phone filling the silence.
She stretches then turns over, blinking sleepily at Chris. He's on his phone, squinting a little at the display; he looks tired enough for her to assume he probably woke up a couple minutes ago. When she scoots closer, he turns off his phone, which isn't suspicious at all, but she's still too tired to call him out on it. Birthday shenanigans, she assumes. Which might be a little vain of her but . . .
He puts his phone on the nightstand and turns, pulling her into a crushing hug. "Happy birthday."
She groans in response.
"What do you want to do today?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
She sighs. "Just . . . not a lot. I have to be back home by six. Did you want to stay for dinner?"
She still doesn't know what he or Chiyo and Hiro are planning but whatever it is — it'll be fine. Probably. Until anything is revealed, she'll go on about the day like she usually has in the past two years. Doing whatever during the day, then dinner with Eiko — maybe Aiko, too — in the evening.
"Sure," he agrees. "If you don't mind, too, since my parents are out of the country —"
She pulls away from him, frowning. "They are?"
He doesn't appear too disappointed as he nods. "They flew out this morning to California. They're helping my family plan a wedding next year in February for my cousin. But they told me to wish you a happy birthday and that they're sorry they couldn't be here."
"Both of them said that or was it just your mom and you're trying to save my feelings?"
"Both of them. My dad does like you. He likes you a lot, you know. It was just the problem of our relationship but he's admitted defeat. He won't change my mind. Actually, the next time he sees you, he'll probably apologize."
She grimaces. "Yikes."
"Feel free to give him a hard time," he says. "This is a long time coming. You're allowed to be angry over his words. I know I am."
"In any other situation, I would," she admits. "Because you're right in that I am totally allowed to be mad at him, but it's also your dad. I don't know if my moral conscience will allow me to be mean." In the end, he had good intentions. He was just looking out for Chris. She understands that.
His face softens and he strokes a thumb over the apple of her cheek. "I won't be mad if you are or you aren't. It's your decision on how you want to handle him and whichever path is justified."
"Yeah," she sighs. It's not something she wants to think about now, given how awkward it's going to be, so she asks for her phone and absently looks at the birthday wishes from Chiyo and Hiro and some of the boys. Apparently, they are out on a date, while Isashiki and the others are joining practice today. Distractions, maybe, probably — she doesn't care. She rubs her eye.
"This is such a set-up," she mumbles.
"It's not —"
She shushes him. "It doesn't matter. It's my birthday and I don't care . . . and at the risk of sounding sentimental, can we, maybe, go to Nakatsuwa?" To the park, specifically.
She's just curious that's all. It's been a hot minute since she went. Chris goes semi-regularly for PT but he doesn't stop by there. Despite it being the middle of a stark winter, the kids might be there. That's all. Maybe she'll see them again.
Chris, to his credit, doesn't poke fun at her, nodding thoughtfully. "I don't see why not. We could get a late lunch there, too, there's this gyoza place a couple blocks from the train station."
"We can do that." She finally sits up, wincing at the stiffness in her joints, and reaches up to redo her messy ponytail.
"Do you think the kids will be there?"
"Maybe," she says. "Hopefully. It'd be nice to see them but I did kinda tell them goodbye already, just because of school and stuff, so it's fine if not."
He just hums in acknowledgment and she finally gets up, grabbing a fresh set of jeans, a white long sleeved fleece, and underwear. She turns on the shower to let the water heat up, and brushes her teeth in the meantime. Chris uses the shower after, with her instruction that all the bottles in English are hers and free to use — they're for her hair specifically, but it would be fine for him just this once.
While he showers, she brushes her hair and does her makeup and packs up her bag. She usually has her duffle bag of dirty clothes to bring as well but Eiko dropped by the school yesterday to take it.
I was in the area, she said brightly, but Amara thinks that it'd been in preparation for the impracticality of dragging around a bag of dirty clothes along with her messenger bag while spending the day with Chris.
She is doing a last minute search in her makeup bag for chapstick when Chris steps out, toweling his hair dry, unfairly handsome in a grey long sleeved fleece and dark wash jeans.
"Do you have chapstick?"
He directs her to a small pocket on his duffle bag and she gratefully puts some on, making a note to buy herself another tube of chapstick since hers seems to have gone missing. He puts his clothes back into the bag, then shrugs on a black Seido hoodie. She follows suit with a thick light pink cable-knit cardigan.
"Food first," she says as they put on their shoes and step out of the dorm into the chilly late-morning temperatures. Her stomach has been grumbling like crazy for the past couple minutes.
Chris reaches for her hand once she's locked the door. "Whatever you want," he says easily.
It's not so bad of a walk to the station because of it.
❖
The grass is yellowed and dead under their feet as they trek the familiar path to the clearing.
Their pace for today is remarkably languid. She half-expected Chris to drag her off somewhere for some kind of surprise, but it's nearing three-thirty and nothing has happened. If anything, they'll need to head off in a little while because it's an hour and a half commute to Shinagawa. Of course, there could easily be something else going on at the apartment but she isn't hard-pressed to know about it.
They find their old bench. Everything is still the same, except it's clearly been marked by the onset of winter — the tree line at the edge of the clearing, their branches bare and spindly, the tall trident maple tree near the bench in a matching state. The only thing that hasn't changed is the bench.
They sit down, the bench's wood is cold underneath her, seeping through the denim of her jeans, but things are different in this frame of time, because as Chris settles on the bench, he puts an arm over her shoulder, keeping her close. The space that had existed between them all those months ago is now filled with something warm and affectionate.
Unfortunately, there are no familiar signs of the kids here — at the park, really. She isn't too disappointed about it because it's arguably too cold for them to play, but she wouldn't have minded seeing them again.
He leans his head against hers, watching as she pulls out her sketchbook and pencil.
"You're drawing a lot," he notes. "Have you changed your mind about it?"
She snorts. "About what? Taking it serious?"
"I think you're past that point but, for example, hypothetically speaking, if you were offered a full ride to an art school, would you accept it?"
Why is he asking? She wonders, not . . . sure how to feel about him poking this subject again. He hasn't poked the subject in several months, maybe since the day of his birthday when he asked her — hypothetically — which schools she would want to attend. The good thing about Chris is that he respects her boundaries. She knows what he thinks about it — she should do what she wants, no matters what her family thinks, but it's a matter of money, of who will take care of Luna and he understands that, too.
It can't be anything bad, she surmises. Maybe he's just curious again. So, she plays along.
"Where would this hypothetical art school be?"
"Not in Texas."
She shakes her head, smiling lightly. "All expenses covered?"
"Mmhm."
She hums. "Tempting. But you know I have to take care of Luna."
He's quiet for a moment, his disappointment in her answer clearly palpable in the air. It's harder to take than she thought it would be, so she sighs and says, "You know how it is. It's not my first choice to be stuck there but —"
He squeezes her shoulders. "I know. I know. But you shouldn't . . . I mean, how is that going to be on you?"
"I'll figure it out," she murmurs. "I'll figure something out."
"Lucas can't take over? It seems like he's in better graces with your mom . . ."
She erases a line. The sketch is starting to resemble the park. "He is," she says tightly. "But he won't do anything. He didn't do anything when she kicked out Luisa. He won't do anything now."
"Alright," he says quietly, kissing her temple. "I'm sorry. I don't want to upset you. I just . . ." Want the best for you goes unspoken. And she gets it, she knows if their positions were reversed, she would be the same, but it's a matter of what's necessary.
"It's okay," she sighs. "I know. I know you mean well."
"This is familiar, huh? Uncomfortable questions, uncomfortable conversations . . ."
She can't stop herself from smiling. "Stop, I was annoying, wasn't I?"
"Not that annoying —"
"You're such a liar." She glances at him. He's smiling.
"I'm serious. Looking back on it, I think I was too harsh —"
She laughs. "Come on, you don't need to romanticize those couple months. I was annoying."
"Not as bad as Sawamura," he says firmly, a wry smile on his lips. "I mean, at the time, he was outrageously annoying and when I thought of you, well, I had nothing to complain about."
"I think you're overstating it."
"Maybe," he says shamelessly, kissing her before she can say anything else.
Someone clears their throat. They separate and Amara's face starts to heat up when she sees that it's one of the kids — Inaba, who is visibly red in the face and sheepish about interrupting.
"Sorry, senpai," she apologizes, bowing politely. She's holding a leash in her left hand, a small Dachshund with short, black fur and a grey-speckled muzzle sitting beside her. "I just saw you and um . . ."
"It's alright," she says, smiling, putting her sketchbook to the side. Chris subtly pulls his arm from her shoulders. "It's nice to see you."
"You, too," she says, brown eyes flickering inquisitively to Chris. Inaba probably remembers him but it must be surprising to see him again, much less so up close and personal with her.
"Takigawa Chris," he says, smiling politely. "It's nice to finally meet you."
"Inaba Emiko." She bows again, then straightens, looking back to Amara. "It's, erm, your birthday today, right?"
She blinks. Her birthday had been discussed but it was so long ago . . . Her smile widens. "It is."
"Ah. Happy birthday, senpai."
"Thank you," Amara says warmly. She looks at the Dachshund. "Who is this?"
"Oh," she says, looking back at the dog like she'd forgotten about him. "This is Maki. You can pet him, if you'd like. He likes people."
Amara pushes herself off the bench, kneeling and letting him sniff her hand. He licks her hand after a moment and she scratches behind his ears. "How old is he?"
"Ten," she says, smiling faintly. "He's pretty old. That's why I try to walk him often."
"Little old man," Amara coos, laughing when Maki licks her palm again. The feeling of being watched tickles the nape of her neck and she turns. "Chris? No pets to offer?"
He's smiling affectionately, hazel eyes terribly warm. "I'll pass, if that's alright."
She rolls her eyes and turns back to Inaba. "Cat people. Are you busy right now? There's that pet-friendly cafe around here. Let me get you something warm."
Inaba immediately begins to decline — politely, of course — saying she doesn't want to bother, it's her birthday so she shouldn't have to do that but Amara persists, packing up her half-drawn sketch of the bench and its surroundings, Chris following along. She agrees eventually.
The cafe is close to the train station, peaceful in the mid-afternoon. They talk over a few hot chocolates, Inaba generously fills them in on how the others are doing, along with some modest updates on her current status — she's a third year and looking at a feeder high school in this neighborhood for next year — while Maki dozes in Amara's lap. It is different in that Amara has never quite talked this much with any of the kids, but it's just as nice as watching them play and calling out tips.
When they finish up, Amara gives her earnest — final — goodbyes to Inaba and Maki and she and Chris head to the station to catch a train to Shinagawa.
Chris remains tight-lipped about any kind of unusual shenanigans but she gets her answer upon entrance into the apartment, bombarded with the chorus of voices saying happy birthday!
Everyone is there, almost too many to count — Chiyo, Hiro, Isashiki, Yuki, the Kominato's, Kusunoki, Miyuki, Kuramochi, Sawamura, and Furuya. It's a lot of boys in one apartment, but Eiko seems to be thriving, probably mothering them all to the extreme. Aiko is there, too, skulking around in the background, but she still gives Amara a stiff happy birthday.
There's a peculiar smell, too, tickling her nose, reminding her of something she can't quite put her finger on.
"I can't believe you're eighteen," Eiko sighs, putting her hands on her shoulders.
"You're old," Chiyo pitches in unhelpfully — a little too smug since her birthday is in late January.
"Welcome to the club," Tetsu says, unironic.
"Thanks," she says dryly. "So, what's for dinner?"
Dinner is, miraculously, tamales. Amara, when she had time, would always look for authentic Mexican restaurants that served things like tamales, pozole, menudo, brisket, but it was surprisingly difficult. At least for her and her limited free time to roam the city. Tamales were high on her list to find, ones that tasted like how they made them back home.
Her mother would always make a couple batches before Christmas, forcibly enlisting her and Luna to help (Luisa, too, before she was kicked out). It's not exactly a pleasant memory because of how nitpicky her mother would get, but the end product was always delicious.
They prove to be a hit with the guys and Amara's glad Eiko had the foresight to get several bags of tamales. There aren't enough chairs at the dining table for all of them, so they migrate to the couches, after food is passed around. She spots a couple presents pushed innocently against the wall and curious excitement sparks in her tummy, but she takes a seat at the couch, digging into her food.
The tamales are just right, the masa still soft and warm, the meat spicy, but not too spicy, tender and staining her fingertips orange-red as she opens up the corn husk and digs in.
The TV stays off but that's just fine; the boys are amusing enough. They try to maintain some politeness for the first couple of minutes but it loosens eventually when Eiko laughs at some remark that Jun makes to Sawamura for being too excitable.
Eiko, as most adults do, asks about colleges. The boys — the third years, at least — give their answers. Isashiki and Yuki are trying for Meiji, Kominato for the University of Tokyo, Chris for Hosei. Baseball was their main focus, of course. For Chris especially. He wanted to rejoin baseball here like he'd told her once before. Something about wanting to refine his skills where he'd created them before moving onto American baseball.
She allows herself to hold hope that no matter what happens next year, she might see him in the years to come when he branches out. But thinking of that now carves a hollow ache in her chest, so she shuts it down and listens to Miyuki awkwardly answer a question about what colleges he might want to apply to next year.
They finish dinner eventually and wash their hands, then sing happy birthday to her over a chocolate sheet cake bordered with slices of strawberries.
Eiko removes the candles when they finish and serves them the cake; Amara takes the strawberry that Chris abandons on his plate, appreciating its sourness with the almost-too-sweet chocolate cake.
(She notices Miyuki nibble on his slice before sliding it onto Kuramochi's plate and tries not to smile.)
They do presents after, which is yet another surprise, because Chiyo, Hiro and the boys (Chris included) pitched in to get her a coral-pink switch lite, while Eiko bought her a couple games to go with it.
"You mentioned it, about you leaving —" Chiyo sounds disgruntled as she says the word and quiet laughter rumbles through them "— and you not having my switch. So, we thought we'd help you out. And we split the cost so don't complain."
It's so touching her throat tightens but she pushes the feeling down and smiles. "Thank you."
Eiko got her a new, better quality sketchbook, along with a set of microline pens and colored pencils. When that's finished, the boys stick around for another hour before heading off in groups. Chiyo and Hiro stay the longest before they have to go, with Hiro spending the night at Chiyo's since she lives in the Ibaraki prefecture and she's leaving tomorrow afternoon. Eiko insists on driving them to the train station since it's nighttime.
"Tell your parents I said hi," Amara says to Hiro, who gives her a thumbs-up in response as she pulls on her shoes.
Before they go, Eiko shoots Chris a look she can't quite decipher and he nods in response. Once the door is shut and locked, she turns to him.
"What was that about? Intimidation tactic so you don't act inappropriately? I'd never let you do anything in our living room. And Aiko's just down the hall in the room."
He laughs and shakes his head. "Nothing like that. It's just —" he takes her hand and leads her back to the living room "— there's one more thing left to do."
He couldn't possibly be more vague, she thinks, rolling her eyes and taking a seat on the couch. She watches as he pulls a small blue gift bag from the linen closet that she has no idea how he knows about, coming back to her looking incredibly nervous.
She raises an eyebrow. "Is this a restraining order? Are you finally tired of me?"
That loosens him up and he breaks into laughter, dropping onto the couch beside her. She can't quite suppress the goofy smile on her face.
"No," he says when he calms, smiling affectionately. "No, that's not it, either. That one's actually going to take a few days to go into effect, so —"
She punches his arm. "Shut up. What is in that bag that has you so nervous?"
He sighs, still smiling a little. "It's . . . well. I'm just not sure of how receptive you'll be. But any way you react is totally justified. And there's no pressure here. This was just —" he hands the bag to her "— an idea. Maybe something good could come out of it. But I understand if you don't like it."
That's daunting. It makes even her hesitant to peek in the bag, but Chris is so nervous about whether she'll like it or not that she wants to soothe his nerves.
She isn't expecting paper when she finally looks, though. Just several papers. Folded in half. Sitting messy at the bottom of the bag. She pulls them out carefully, aware of Chris' nervous energy just a few inches away from her.
She unfolds one and doesn't know how to react to the screenshot of a confirmation email for an application to the California Institute of the Arts. She drops that to the side and unfolds another one. And another one. And another one. Concordia University, School of the Art Institute of Chicago, OCAD University, Rhode Island School of Design.
Seven in all. Reach schools — out of her realm of possibility which is why she only bothered applying to five colleges all in Texas with easy acceptance. The ones in San Antonio — St. Mary's and the University of San Antonio at Texas — she knows with absolute confidence that she will get into. But these? And the cost, even if she was accepted?
These are just confirmation emails of her application — not acceptances or rejections. Which makes this worse. If she gets accepted and she has to reject the offer, she'll always have to wonder what might've been. And if she's just rejected outright . . . well. That might be better than any acceptance letter she could ever receive.
And yet, despite that, despite the side effects that come with this, she . . . appreciates it. She never would've submitted these applications herself, even if someone else did all the work for her. She would've thought about the consequences of it, of how it'll impact her feelings about any decision she makes concerning her future if she were stuck at home with her mother breathing down her neck, majoring in something she doesn't truly care about, wondering about what might've been.
He made that decision for her, forcing her to take on these consequences. He's dumped something simultaneously terrible and wonderful in her lap. But . . . that's not totally true, right? She could ignore these. He had to have made another email in her name to submit these since he couldn't use the email she has for colleges because that would ruin the surprise. She could just never log into that email and go on with the applications that she's already submitted.
But could you really do that?
"Amara." His fingers skim her jaw, gently turning her face to him. He looks equal parts hopeful and regretful. "I told you. No pressure. And if you hate it, I understand. I didn't fully understand your reservations about leaving San Antonio when I talked to Mr. Fukai about the idea. I'm sorry."
She puts her hand over his, biting her lip, eyebrows furrowed. "No," she says softly. "No, it's . . . it's okay. I'll admit . . . with the way things look for me now, whether I get accepted or not, it'll be something I'll think about a lot. Which may not be the greatest thing. But . . . I could've never submitted these myself. So, even if this ends up being something I'll regret, I'm still . . . thankful."
He still looks regretful. She pushes the papers to the side and crawls into his lap. His arms come around her and she kisses his cheek.
"It's okay."
He sets his chin on her shoulder, sighing, warm breath tickling her ear. "I won't push on it. But I do hope things change for you and you have the opportunity to consider these."
She hums. "Assuming I get accepted. Hey, there were writing portions for some of those applications, how did you do that?"
"Had to email your college prep teacher from Monte Vista. She gave you assignments and writing prompts for it and we cleaned them up."
"So, that's what those were for. I thought they were weird . . ." She pulls away to look at him. "Seriously. Thank you. I couldn't imagine how much work it was to do all that while you had other stuff going on."
He shakes his head. "I didn't do that much. Mrs. Vásquez filled out most of the personal information. I just helped with the writing portion and getting the applications from the schools ready to be filled out."
"Still." She reels him in for a kiss before he can further protest. His arms tighten around her, pulling her impossibly closer. She slides her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and he sighs against her mouth. Her face is warm, too warm, electricity trickling through her veins from the faint traces of chocolate from the cake on his lips and tongue, his hands tight on her hips.
"I thought you said you wouldn't let us get carried away in the living room," he says breathlessly when they break apart for air.
"Are you really complaining?"
". . . No."
━━━━━━━━━━ author's note
LOL my bad this is a little later than i wanted to post it but i completely forgot... still! its technically saturday. for me anyway. but like i promised last week. we're back to our schedule. i may be a little late but i will do my best to update on saturdays.
SO! things are changing... very interesting.. there will be a LOT going on the next several chapters. we're slowly moving toward the 'climax' of everything and it will be very exciting. i'm super psyched for you guys to read everything.
as always feedback is very welcome! and i hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!
until next week!