Is it over?—he thought.
In the lounge, the waiter turned towards Miki and asked, “Daijōbu desu ka?”
‘Are you okay?’
Miki was left standing alone at the center of the lounge, tears trickling from her eyes. She looked every which way, listening to the other patrons as they started gossiping. She couldn’t hear every word, but she felt like they were all talking about her. The utter humiliation caused her to shake and sweat profusely.
“Kanojo wa bakada,” a man said.
‘She’s a fool.’
While giggling, a woman said, “Hazukashī.”
‘Embarassing.’
Miki forced a smile, face twisted in pain and wet with sweat, tears, and mucus. She grabbed her jacket and fled the lounge, sniveling every step of the way.
There was another moment of dramatic silence.
Then a tourist started clapping and whistling, as if a show had just ended.
No one else cheered with him.
4
CONTEMPLATION
Adam sat at the foot of his bed in his underwear. The blinds and curtains over the window were open, showcasing a beautiful view of the busy city and allowing the sunset to wash his room with an orange glow. A city of endless opportunity waited below him—gorgeous landmarks, delicious food, specialty stores, unique nightclubs—but he refused to leave his room.
His thumb hovered over a name on his cell phone’s contact list. The name read: Amber Miller. He could see her fiery red hair, bright brown eyes, and tender smile in the picture next to her name.
Guilt festered inside of him, rotting him from within. His head throbbed, overloaded by awful memories of infidelity and incivility. His own emotions, powerful and inescapable, sickened him. He was tired but he couldn’t sleep, depressed but he couldn’t cry, nauseous but he couldn’t vomit. He sat there and trembled, like a stray dog stuck in a storm.
He thought about calling Amber to confess, hoping it would clear his conscience, but he couldn’t do it. His survival instincts told him to survive. He felt bad for Miki, but they weren’t close friends. He couldn’t afford to ruin his life for someone he barely knew. There was too much at stake. He owned a house with Amber. They were trying to have a baby. He couldn’t give up a seven-year relationship for a one-night stand.
His tears plopping on the phone’s screen, he whispered, “I’m so sorry, baby.”
He turned off his cell phone and put it in a drawer in the nightstand, hoping to stop himself from making any regretful calls. He was supposed to be attending business meetings with Dallas, but he was ineffective in his current condition. He started drinking from the minibar, chugging the small bottles of alcohol while lying in bed and watching Japanese variety shows on TV.
The sun fell beyond the horizon, painting the sky with broad strokes of violet, purple, and black. The stars weren’t visible from central Tokyo, even at the dead of night.
The landline phone rang.
Adam’s vision was blurred by the alcohol. He squinted at the phone as it rang again. He wasn’t expecting any calls to his room.
He picked up the phone and said, “Hello?”
He heard a distorted voice on the line—people speaking Japanese. Then there were five seconds of dead silence.
Adam stuttered, “Wha–What are you—”
“Excuse me, Mr. Miller. My name is Haruka Nishimura. I’m calling from the front desk. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“It’s fine. How may I help you?”
“Well, sir, you have a visitor in the lobby. And I’m sorry to inform you but meeting visitors in your room is against hotel policy. We can—”
“A visitor?” Adam repeated, raising his eyebrows quizzically. “Listen, I understand your policy, ma’am. I didn’t invite anyone to my room, so I wasn’t expecting any visitors.”
He opened the nightstand drawer and turned on his cell phone. He wondered if he had missed any messages from Dallas.
Haruka said, “She says her name is Miki. I can’t allow her to visit your room, but I can give her a message for you if you’d like.”
Adam had stopped listening as soon as he heard Miki’s name. He went rigid, the landline phone sliding between his ear and his shoulder. The cell phone fell out of his hand and landed in the drawer with a loud thud. He looked back at the window behind him, then at the foyer of his room. His inner voice roared, a question echoing through his mind with frightening clarity.
‘How the hell did she find me?!’
Haruka said, “Sir? Sir, can you hear me?”
“I didn’t invite anyone to my room,” Adam said. “I don’t know a ‘Miki,’ either, so I don’t have a message for her. Feel free to call the cops if she refuses to leave. Thank you.”
“Okay, sir, we will—”
Adam hung up the phone. He sat and stared at it, as if he were expecting it to ring again. Panelists on the variety show reacted to viral pet videos, laughter and gasps blaring from the television speakers.
After fifteen seconds, Adam yelled, “Fuck!”
He picked up the landline phone and started dialing ‘110’—the emergency number for the police in Japan. He stopped before he could press the ‘0’ key. He slammed the phone in the cradle and screamed. He reached into the drawer. The cell phone rolled into his hand. It took him a moment to unlock it because of his sweaty fingers.
He scrolled through his contact list. He thought about calling Dallas first. Adam had ruined some of their business meetings, but they were still close friends. Dallas’ advice wasn’t very effective, though. He went up and down his contact list repeatedly. He even thought about calling his recent business connections.
‘Hello, Hayato-san. No, this isn’t about the meeting… Sorry to bother you, but… What should I do if a Japanese woman is stalking me?’ It was a bizarre and inappropriate conversation.
He stopped on Amber’s name. He read it over and over, whimpering while rocking back and forth. He was dying to hear her voice. He sought comfort, assistance, direction, and relief from his distress. He wanted someone to tell him what to do. Women know women best, he thought. Amber might be able to help me. Maybe if I just tell her that Dallas had an affair… Dallas is being stalked… Dallas needs your help.
“Fuck!” he repeated as he threw his cell phone at the headboard, cracking the screen and shaking the whole bed frame.
He knew Amber would have seen through his lies. She would have asked too many questions and Adam’s story would have crumbled. He was in a hopeless situation, cornered in his own hotel room. He staggered towards the minibar and drowned his sorrow in whiskey. Alcohol was the original pain reliever after all.
He drank until he could hear the alcohol sloshing in his stomach as he paced. He swayed with each step. Cold sweat stood out on his forehead and soaked his underwear. His skin reddened as a warmth spread through his body. He wasn’t inebriated yet—he hadn’t reached the point of no return—but he was undoubtedly drunk.
“What the hell am I doing?” he muttered. “No, no, I–I can’t do dis… this right now.”
He grabbed one of the complimentary water bottles from the entertainment center. He tossed his head back and chugged it, trying to fight the alcohol. He lost his balance and fell onto the bed. The ceiling looked like it was spinning, turning slowly like a clock’s gear. He felt like he was on a wave at sea, the mattress replaced by a waterbed.