Tokyo K.O.

Tokyo K.O. part 1

"Hey you're here! You actually came out!" shouts Jake over the clamor of the izakaya, wrist outstretched to offer a lazy fist bump. "How'd you get off your leash anyhow?"

"Miki's sick," I lied.

I slide my feet into a pair of slippers, put my shoes in a cubby and look around the table, giving an acknowledging nod to no one in particular - everyone too engaged in their own spheres of conversation to notice me there. Except, of course, the usual Happy English ambassadors, Hiroko, Naomi and Tomoko, who offer their overly-friendly hellos. The "Happy crew" as Jake liked to call them, were regulars at these extra-curricular outings and by far, the most loyal group of students at Happy English, the conversation school we worked at.

I take a seat at the horigotatsu-style bench and table, between Naomi and Hiroko. To the right, Tomoko is talking to Peter. Peter is staring right through the table as if he had x-ray eyes. Straining to hear something Tomoko has said, he nods his red dollop of hair in interest, engaged in a lame discussion over some lame grammar point no cares about. Peter never has much to say unless it's shop talk. Even when we go out, he is still working.

Then there's Tom and Michiko. Tom works in sales and Michiko works in reception. Tom is gay. His real name is Yunosuke. Michiko is supposed to be married, but never seems to go home. She doesn't seem the type, but people say she drinks a lot.

Jake brought Yumi along with him - his nihonjin girlfriend. His yin to his yang. Jake with his lanky limbs, long curly hair and small eyes; Yumi with her round little body and her cheeky cherub face.

At the other end of the table are three assholes I despise; recent college graduates who replaced a couple of coworkers I did like, back when this job was still fun - back when Jake and I still hung out. I didn't see Jake much anymore, but I guess that was my fault.

Mike is a skinny asshat from New Zealand who could pass for the retarded younger brother of Keanu Reeves. Brian and Darrel are just a couple of American twats, I can't be bothered to describe right now. I do my best to pretend they don't exist.

I've been in the habit of avoiding pretty much all Happy English staff outings until tonight, hanging out only with Jake. Even then, I only ever see Jake at work, the "Happy Crib" as he likes to call it. Must be the first time we've hung out in the last half a year or so, and I probably wouldn't be here if it weren't for him constantly asking. And now I'm here. For what? So I can sit around picking through the cold remains of the evening with the happy crew while Jake and his new girlfriend coo at each other in their love bubble for two? He doesn't know it yet, but this is Jake's last gasp of air before he becomes a kept man. He'll be just like me - staying in yet again, never going out, living in his pajamas with his girlfriend and their home-cooked meals and their ten o'clock movie and popcorn. Boring as fuck. I don't know if I'm jealous or cynical. Or maybe I'm just thinking shit like this up because I broke up with Miki today. Yeah, probably just the break up thing.

I took her to Ueno zoo. I heard it's a 'thing' in Japan, something people sometimes do when they break up. You go to a park or some place calm, with as little people as possible, where there's space to deal with the unwanted displays of emotion, while preventing things from getting too over-the-top.

The zoo, however, turned out to be anything but calm, full of people and their cameras, pets, teenagers, thirty-something couples and their squealing children. Miki, appeared to be enjoying herself at first, probably excited that we were going out somewhere for once. She took her time reading all the displays in the tropical terrarium exhibit, translating as best she could the peculiar habits and habitats of every manner of beast and creepy crawly there. Shuffling from one boring exhibit to the next, I wasn't sure how I was going to roll the conversation toward a break-up as planned. Miki would say "Oh,...isn't it cute?" and I would grunt, or say nothing at all, my mood slowly deflating from sour to rotten.

In the end, however, my passive-agressive mood must have gotten to her. When she finally asked me what was wrong, the words poured out of me like a fast-sinking oil tanker; like I couldn't get the words out fast enough, letting loose a toxic torrent of complaints, impatience and general dissatisfaction. She was good about it, really. She listened patiently and heard me out with little or no comment. But when my words turned nasty, when the bitching reached a peak of resentment and self pity, a darkness descended on her features and her eyes went glassy. Then we fought - a short but brutal argument that ended in tears.

"That's why you brought me here? So that you could break up with me?"

She was shaking, unconsolable, talking to herself in Japanese: "Nande? Nande? Why? Why? I don't understand where this is all coming from..."

I felt like a shit bag. I couldn't get her to say anything in English after that. And now that there were tears, I betrayed myself. I was suddenly playing the loving boyfriend again, guiding her out of the terrarium and zoo toward a park bench as if she were some emotional invalid, brushing the hair off her moist cheeks. I tried to put a reassuring arm around her, but she pushed me away.

I sat in silence on that bench with her for the longest time, searching for the right words to say. But what the hell are you supposed say when you leave someone? Give them a bunch of false hope or accolades? Or the old "hey, we can still be friends" soliloquy? There is no redemption for the one who breaks off a relationship. You just have to rough it out. 

What made the situation even more awkward was the homeless guy stretched out on the bench across from us. The hobo smelled vaguely of piss and appeared to be asleep; a long string of drool inching slowly from the corner of his mouth down to the pavement. What made a man sink so low in life? I thought to myself. My problems seemed trivial in comparison.

And what horror! Not far from his feet, a crow pecked at the carcass of a dead pigeon, pulling out its entrails like a fine spaghetti meal. Miki, at that point, was completely unaware of anything around her, sitting with her back turned to me - to everything. She just kept mumbling to herself in low tones, rocking slowly back and forth, sniffing, dabbing her tears in a hand cloth. I took out a cigarette and was about to light it, when I heard the hobo across from us cough and sputter to life. Startled, the raven darted for cover in a nearby tree. I watched the hobo sit up and wipe the drool away from his mouth with the back of his hand. And.. ah, for fuck sakes.. I accidentally caught his eye and now he was gesturing something to me.

"Miki!" I said impatiently, trying to grab her wrist. "Let's go for a walk!"

I was trying to get us out of a potentially unsafe situation, but she started making a scene.

"Yada!" - "No! I don't want to go anywhere with you," she said in Japanese, wrenching her wrist free of me. "If that's how you want it, fine. We're broken up. Leave!"

The hobo caught my eye again, repeating the same gesture as before and for a split second I thought he might intervene on her part. But wait. Cigarette? Yes. He just wanted a cigarette! I walked warily over to him and gave him a smoke from my pack and lit it. He nodded, thanked me and shuffled off, leaving me there in his place, wondering what to do about Miki.

"So, what do we do now?" I asked her in Japanese.

"Nothing," she replied, "except...maybe leave me alone."