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There was a stain on the ceiling.
Every morning, as you woke up, you stared at it. Sometimes when you closed your eyes you could still see the edges of it, burnt onto your eyelids, like the glow-in-the-dark stars you’d had in your childhood bedroom, although the stars had a reassuring quality which the stain lacked. You always felt like it was sneering at you, defiant, try and clean me off, you tiny fucker. It looked a bit, you thought, like a face, pestering you for having made the wrong choice, the wrong choice, the wrong —
The dress, single-use, was now safely tucked away in your closet. Your husband - the word felt strange in your mouth, a foreign tongue - liked to touch it wistfully and say that if you had a daughter, she’d beg to wear it one day, play dress up with it behind your back and daydream. For many reasons, the thought made you uneasy.
She’d helped you pick it. You remembered sweating under the bright lights of the bridal shop, trying on dress after dress, on the edge of a breakdown. None of them felt right, and you were about to give up, until she’d pulled one (simpler, easier, more you) from a rack at the corner of the room. What about this one ? And it was better, because even then, even with all the years and distance between you, she knew you better than anyone else. And she loved you, even if she bailed on the wedding. Your infuriating best friend.
It was the right dress, but you hadn’t cried. Neither had she - but that would come later, upset and childlike tears, I can’t do this, I’m sorry, I.
A flash. The employee making a joke about hormones (you weren’t pregnant) and the joy and privilege of staying home to take care of the children once they’d be born. You, nodding along with her, tight-lipped, it was only natural. The look on her face. But, she’d said, Chi-chan. You love your job.
***
“You know what your problem is,” said Nobue.
Miu took a drag of the cigarette she’d stolen off her.
“Nope, but I’m sure you’ll enjoy telling me.”
“You’re a drama queen. Always have been.”
Miu laughed a little “I keep things entertaining, you mean. Otherwise these kinds of reunions would be real boring.”
“What, you don’t like being back in town ?”
Ferocious : “I hate it here.”
“Liar. No, you don’t.”
“No, I don’t,” agreed Miu. “It hates me, though.”
Nobue looked her, long and hard.
“She doesn’t mean to judge you, or whatever.”
Miu laughed again, but had trouble not making it sound bitter. That was the trouble, being back here, in the place she grew up in, alongside people she grew up with. Everyone saw through the bullshit way too easily.
The straps of her bra were uneven, too tight. She rolled her shoulders back, trying to ease the discomfort.
“Well, she’s doing a bad job then,” and crushed the remnants of her cigarette, disgusted, as usual, with the taste about halfway through smoking it.
“Why do you care so much anyway ? Just ignore it and don’t bring a plus-one. I can almost garantee she will be too busy on the actual wedding day to berate you over not finding someone serious yet.”
Because I care what Chika thinks of me, Miu didn’t say, because she felt that it went without saying. Then again, maybe she was wrong. Chika didn’t seem to realise Miu held her opinions in high regard, and every criticism was made with the turn of mouth of someone who already thought their cause was lost.
“Maybe I should just not go.”
Nobue turned to her sharply and decked her on the head : “Don’t be fucking ridiculous. She’ll be heartbroken if you miss her wedding. I already have to hear all about how you never call her back – and don’t say you’re busy, we both know that’s bullshit.”
Miu avoided making a grandiloquent comment about how she was the one who was heartbroken, mainly not to prove Nobue right about her being a drama queen.
There was something ridiculous about the whole situation. No, really, it was hysterical. It was like some sort of 2000s romantic comedy. Maybe she ought to stand up during the ceremony, put a stop to it. Too bad there was no real reason to prevent the wedding. The groom, from what she could tell from what Nobue, Anna and Matsuri had told her, was perfectly fine. No argument could be made against him, except perhaps that he was an engineer and therefore sounded dreadfully boring. She couldn’t say for herself ; she’d never met him.
The glass door suddenly slid opened, revealing a slightly out of breath Chika, cheeks pink (that must have been the beer).
“Are you guys smoking ? Gross.” Then, “Micchan, let’s not fight. Come back inside, c’mon.”
She thought, again, of what she’d say to the officiant asking for objections, standing up in a rush of feeling — this was how it had happened in that one movie she’d watched last week. Well, you see, this here is my childhood best friend, and I’m in love with her, so really this marriage cannot happen, because that would really be a bummer for me. Laughable.
She came back inside. Chika’s hand was warm on her elbow.
“I’m still mad at you, though,” she said, and stuck her tongue out, hanging onto Chika’s arm. “You’re annoooooying. You sound like my parents. ‘Miu, when are you going to bring someone serious home ? Your grandma is not getting any younger.’”
“Ouch. Are you saying I’m a grandma ?”
“Well, I’m not saying you’re not a grandma. That shirt is not helping your case, anyway.”
Chika pushed her. “Asshole, I love that shirt.” She cleared her throat. “Listen, I’m sorry. I just want to make sure you’re happy. Are you happy ?”
Everything was falling apart around her. She was broke, lonely, and her stupid bra was digging into her skin.
“My best friend’s getting married,” she smiled, and said, like a liar, “how could I not be ?”
***
Life was a succession of laundry baskets. You’d open a door to more laundry, more laundry you’d forgotten about, why was there so much laundry ? You were only two people. Husband and wife. The man (what was his name again?), the woman, underwear tumbling together in the washing machine, which made you think of sex, which made you queasy. Sex, laundry, the obligation of routine.
I think there’s something wrong with me, you told no one. You were drowning in laundry. You couldn’t breathe. Fabric softener seeped into your lips, went into your nose. Your hands smelled clean, always clean, a chemical smell.
“Thank you for the meal, honey,” he said. Someone who was wearing your face smiled. You wanted to scream, but there were dishes to do.
There was no one else. You were alone, and you’d never be alone again.
“I think,” your lips carefully formed the words you’d known all along, “I think I made a mistake.”
***
Miu was tired.
She’d been good. She’d helped with the invitations, went along for the last touches of decorations in the room, and drank a lot of champagne when Chika chose her wedding dress. That had been the last straw. No, what had been the last straw was Chika admitting she might stop working after the wedding, because her boyfriend - fiancé - was traditional and wanted to take care of her, which was bullshit, because that didn’t sound like Chika at all.
“I think,” she started, then stopped. They were having celebratory noodles. Chika, sat across from her, had a happy glint in her eyes, and Miu knew that she’d snuff it in seconds if she said what she meant. But her brain to mouth filter had never been very good.
“I have to go.”
Chika turned to her, alarmed.
“What ? What do you mean ? Are you okay ?”
“No. Yes. I’m fine. Just.” She could see herself from above, gathering her things and abruptly stuffing them in her bag. “Sorry.” And she legged it.
Somewhere from behind her, Nobue, returning from the bathroom, “what the fuck ?” She didn’t stop until she reached a crossroad, the absurdity of her behaviour hitting her like a full-stop.
“MIU !”
Chika, out of breath. Maybe just a few meters behind. She’d ran after her, obviously.
In the movie, this was the part where she said she’d loved her all along. For better pathos, the scene often took place in the rain. In real life, this part sucked.
She saw in her eyes that if she did it right, there was a way she could stop it. That if she told Chika the truth, maybe she would call the whole thing off. Only she was too chicken shit to see for herself if she was right or not.
“I just can’t do this. I can’t watch you do this to yourself.”
Widened eyes. “What are you talking about ?”
“I’m really sorry. I guess you’ll have to give my spot at your table to someone else.”
***
You opened a door, onto a room that hadn’t been there before.
She was here. Somehow she was here, like she’d been called, like she’d heard you. She’d been right, but it was too late to come with her.
“It hasn’t happened yet,” said Miu, and took your face in between her hands. “You can still stop it.”
“But I’m scared,” you finally admitted, burning with the shame of how simple the feeling was, and how great its consequences. Your voice was small, impossibly young.
Suddenly you were both children again, outside, bare feet in the grass, in a perfect sunny afternoon.
“I’ve been picking up the strawberries but they’re all rotten now,” you said nonsensically.
“No, they’re not,” she said, stubborn as ever.
“Yes, they are !”
She reached into your basket for a handful – you were carrying a basket now – and shoved it in your mouth. The berries were sweet, and tart, so good it nearly brought tears to your eyes ; but that wasn’t truly why you were crying.
“What do I do, now ?”
“Wake up,” said Miu.
You woke up. The sheets on your childhood bed were all tangled up.
You woke up. You could see no stain on the ceiling, but instead old star stickers.
The sun caressed your face. You were awake.
This was the day before the end of the world, but the world hadn’t ended yet. So you called her.
“Hi. Can you come pick me up ?”
***
“What do you mean, pick you up ? I left. I’m not in town !” Miu paused, a thought occurring. “Are you okay ? Are you hurt, or something ?”
On the other line, Chika sounded slightly hysterical “I’m fine. Better than ever. Come back. Or I’ll come to you. Where are you ?”
“Am I tripping ? Did you forget what I told you, Chicchan ? I’m not coming to the wedding, I can’t be there, I can’t —”
“I’m not getting married.” There was a laugh, free and absolutely terrified. “I need you here so I can be brave.”
Miu let out a long breath. What exactly was the protocol for a runaway bride/best-friend-you-were-in-love-with situation ?
“I’ll be there in an hour.”
Nobue was going to kill her.
***
“So.”
“So.”
“Can I ask, why the sudden change of heart ?”
“I’ve had a dream, where I was eating strawberries. I was thinking we could eat them together.”
“Okay. Sure, let’s go eat strawberries. I should probably tell you I’m in love you, though.”
A smile, blinding.
“I know.”