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“So my ex-friend’s sister met someone at a club, right? And then she kissed her, and it turns out it was a girl I hooked up with ages ago…”
Hitoka nods, stirring the ice cubes in her glass with her straw and scanning the room for an alternate conversation partner (if this can even be called a conversation - Hitoka has spoken three times in the last five minutes).
Most people are in pairs or groups, but she spots a woman sitting alone at the other end of the bar, her face obscured by a chin-length curtain of impressively shiny hair.
The woman turns her head toward Hitoka, and she almost falls off her stool.
What is Kiyoko doing in a lesbian bar?
“One second,” she says to her overly chatty companion as she gets up. Kiyoko’s face remains neutral as she approaches.
There’s so many things she could say. I haven’t seen you in so long. What brings you here? Maybe even a simple hello.
What comes out is “Shimi- Kiyoko-san. You’re married.”
Fuck. It’s been six years, and she still doesn’t have a filter.
A few people nearby look at Kiyoko, their expressions ranging from curious to disapproving.
Kiyoko’s expression still hasn’t changed. “Hitoka-chan. Why don’t we catch up somewhere more private?”
Hitoka nods, trying to will away the furious blush spreading across her cheeks. Kiyoko leads them out the door, then a few meters down the sidewalk and into an alleyway.
They stand facing each other. Kiyoko’s hands are in her pockets; Hitoka’s hang awkwardly by her sides. Aside from her shorter hair and lack of glasses, Kiyoko looks the same as she did the last time Hitoka saw her. That was at the wedding, a standard Christian-style ceremony at which Hitoka spoke to the couple once, to offer her congratulations, and then drank a little more than she should have.
“I’m not being unfaithful,” Kiyoko says.
“I’m sorry!” Hitoka blurts out. “Of course you’re not here to pick up someone. I shouldn’t have assumed.”
Now Kiyoko’s blushing. “I wasn’t trying to tonight, but in general… we have an understanding.”
A million questions are running through Hitoka’s mind, but her big mouth has already caused enough trouble tonight.
“Oh.” She twists her hands together. “Should we go back inside?”
“You can. I’m not sure how friendly people will be to someone they think is a cheater, though.”
“I’m so sorry. I… you could come to my place. I live nearby.” Hitoka doesn’t know why she’s offering. This is a terrible idea.
Kiyoko gives her an inscrutable look, then smiles. “Lead the way.”
~
“It’s pretty small,” Hitoka says apologetically as she opens the door. She could afford a bigger place if she didn’t live by herself, but she likes being able to bring a girl over without worrying about a roommate being home.
After they remove their shoes, Kiyoko takes a seat on the couch, folding her hands in her lap and looking around. Most of Hitoka’s furniture is secondhand and fairly plain, but she’s tried to add some personality with colorful prints on the walls and fun throw pillows on the couch. Aside from the coffee table being a little cluttered, Hitoka is proud of the apartment’s overall cleanliness. (Although her classes and internship keep her busy, she always makes time for chores.)
“It’s cute,” Kiyoko remarks. “It reminds me of you.”
“You think I’m cute?” Oh god - she didn’t mean to say that out loud.
She laughs. “I didn’t mean it that way. But yes.”
Hitoka has no response to that. She ducks into the kitchen to escape, looking for a drink to offer Kiyoko - it’s the least she can do after ruining her evening.
All she has is cheap sake. It’ll have to do.
She emerges back into the main area with a bottle and two glasses to see Kiyoko peering at a sketchbook she’d left open on the table.
“You’ve really grown. Your designs in high school were always impressive, but these are amazing.”
“Oh, they’re nothing special.” Hitoka tries to sound casual, like praise from Kiyoko doesn’t still scramble her brain. She joins her guest on the couch, leaving a respectable gap between them, and pours a modest amount of liquid into each glass.
“You’re still in university, aren’t you?” Kiyoko asks. “Any post-graduation plans?”
Hitoka takes a sip of her drink. “I accepted a position at an ad design company in Tokyo.”
“Tokyo, huh?” Kiyoko downs hers in one smooth motion. “Do you think you’ll like it more than Miyagi?”
“Definitely.”
“Is it that bad here?”
“I mean… Sendai has two queer nightclubs. Tokyo has all of Ni-chome.”
“That’s true.”
Hitoka has told a few close friends about her orientation, and they were accepting. She’s had a few relationships and a handful of hookups. But she can’t imagine living the rest of her life like this. She’s hungry for community. She wants to walk down the street and feel like she belongs, even if only after dark.
“Have you ever wanted to leave?” she asks.
Kiyoko shrugs. “I have a life here. My parents, my job, my husband.”
A life complete without me, thinks Hitoka. And then, because she has to know: “Do you love him?”
Kiyoko contemplates her empty glass. “I do. Although maybe not the way he loves me.”
For a long time, Hitoka couldn’t think of Kiyoko without thinking of Tanaka, and the image of them kissing at the altar. Tonight, even though they’re talking about him, he feels distant. It’s just her, Kiyoko, and whatever this is between them.
“So.” Kiyoko reaches for the bottle. “Tell me about all the places you want to visit in Tokyo.”
~
On Hitoka’s third drink (or is it her fourth?), she realizes that she is no longer sitting up. Her head has somehow ended up on Kiyoko’s lap.
“Sorry” she mumbles. “It’s late. I should call you a cab.”
“I’ll stay a bit longer, if you don’t mind.” Kiyoko’s fingers comb through her hair, and she lightly scratches Hitoka’s scalp with her fingernails. It feels incredible. Kiyoko should be a head masseuse. Hitoka tells her this with complete seriousness, but Kiyoko laughs. Hitoka can feel her belly shake from where her ear is resting against it.
As she drifts off to sleep, a memory comes to her. It was about a month after she had become a manager. Kiyoko wanted to go over something before practice that day, so they were eating lunch together, sitting outside under a tree. She remembers the cool breeze on her face and the fluffy sweetness of her fugashi. It was quiet, but for once, she wasn’t worrying about what to say.
Back in the present, Hitoka finds one of Kiyoko’s hands and laces their fingers together. She squeezes, and Kiyoko squeezes back.