Chapter 14
14
Bryce - 18 years old
I come back to the bedroom and Haruki is staring at me with her mouth hanging open like I should be committed for a psych evaluation. Hell, maybe I should. Either that, or love just makes you do crazy things.
“Want to order room service?” I ask.
My hand is already reaching for the menu sitting on the coffee table next to the sofa when Haruki starts speaking. “Are you going to pretend like you didn’t just propose to me?” I feel a smile forming on my face. Propose .
“Here,” I say, tossing the menu on the bed so she can pick her dinner. Haruki looks at me irritated before her eyes scour the main courses listed. “Technically, I just said let’s get married. It wasn’t a proposal.”
“Okay, I’m confused.”
“Long-distance relationships are predestined to fail. Plus, I’m not very good with texting. You won’t even make it out of America yet when you realize that I don’t check my phone that often. You know how it goes…we’ll promise to keep in touch and talk every day, and then you’ll slowly hate me for missing your calls. Before you know it, there will be distance between us, and we’ll be broken up without saying the words. This way, at least we’ll be buried with paperwork before we exit each other’s lives. Plus, it’s a good way to make use of your American passport other than to skip lines at the airport.” I’m fucking insane.
“So, you’re not a murderer. Just the garden variety lunatic, I take it?”
Just tell her how you feel, you dumbass. I walk over and sit on the edge of the bed. Haruki is looking at me with her eyebrows scrunched up. I take her hand in mine and rub my thumb across her knuckles. “Haruki, I have never felt like this before. Call me a lunatic all you want, I don’t care, but nobody knows me like you do. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think you feel the same. Everything is so easy with us, and I’m not ready for this to end just yet.”
“That’s not a good enough reason to get married, Bryce. I’m not ready for that.”
I let out a small smile. When I was thinking about this last night, I had a feeling she would say that. “I’m not ready for that, either, and I’m not asking you to marry me in a traditional sense.” Okay, no going back now. She’s literally looking at me like I’m insane. “Just hear me out first, okay? After what you told me about what you did back in Osaka, do you really want to go back there?”
Haruki silently shakes her head. This is not an easy topic for her, but I need to get my point across. “And yet you don’t want to let go of your Japanese nationality, am I understanding this correctly? Because you feel connected to your culture and it would feel like the ultimate betrayal?”
“Bryce…”
“Haruki, if we get married, you can have the best of both worlds. Keep your Japanese passport, but stay here with me. Travel for a year and then figure out what you want to do with your life. You deserve to make a plan for yourself at your own pace—here, in Japan, anywhere else, whatever. Maybe with time, you can track down your mother’s family, as well. But I want to be your lifeline here. It’ll make you have more options.”
“What’s in it for you ?” she asks. “It sounds like you’d be doing me a favor.”
“What’s in it for me is that I’d be tethered to you,” I answer honestly. “I don’t have a lot of people in my life that I can count on. I have a dad, but we don’t spend enough time with each other to be able to call ourselves a family. My friends don’t know me at all. But you, you feel like both.” I just want to be connected to you through something. I’m always an afterthought. I know this is crazy, but I just don’t want you to forget about me.
Haruki doesn’t answer me. Instead, she puts on her dress that’s on the floor, her hands reach for her tote bag, and she starts walking to the hallway where our shoes are. I’m about to stop her, but words finally come out of her mouth. “I need to go for a walk. Alone. Let me digest this, okay? This is all too much.”
I’m staring at the digital version of the wedding invitation my father emailed me when I hear someone open the front door of the bungalow. I let out a breath of relief. Haruki walks in with a takeout bag. She walks toward the bed and hands one Styrofoam box over to me.
We both eat our fish tacos in silence. I am starting to regret bringing up my stupid idea when Haruki wipes her mouth with one of the tissues from the brown paper bag. “If we actually do it,” she says carefully, “what would that even mean for us?”
I try to curb my enthusiasm. My heart is doing cartwheels inside my chest. “It doesn’t have to mean anything you don’t want it to mean. Everything is new between us; I’m not asking you to take a vow and be mine until the day I fucking die. But this makes it easier for us to try and for you to figure your shit out in the meantime. We can just continue seeing where our relationship would go naturally.”
“So, like a green card marriage?”
I scoff. That is the most offensive thing I have ever heard come out of her mouth. A green card marriage would imply we have no feelings for one another. “As of now, you’re still an American. And we’re actually in love.”
“Your father will not let this fly.” Considering the fact my dad is marrying Astrid, he’s not allowed to judge me for this. Haruki is not wrong. If Astrid finds out, she might make a big deal out of this. In her twisted mind, her future stepson marrying someone without a prenup might mean that she’d have to share the pot of gold with one extra person.
“We won’t tell him,” I say. “It’ll just be between us. If you’re not sick of me in a few years, we can get married again.”
“When do you want to do this?” Her tone is starting to change, telling me Haruki is warming up to the idea. We’re both insane.
“Do you want to go to Vegas before I start class? We can fly in coach, I promise,” I joke. She rolls her eyes and my heart flutters at how cute she is.
She takes another bite of her taco before speaking again. “That’s such a cliché. I wonder how many eighteen-year-olds get married in Vegas and have their marriages last.”
Suddenly, a light bulb goes on inside my head. Holy shit, fate has spoken. “Or we can get married here in Hawaii. I know this guy. He’s going to go to RadTech, too, in the fall. The last time I heard, one of his brothers owns a bunch of resorts here and has a lot of sway with the authorities. I don’t know him that well since he went to boarding school, but I have his number.” Maybe being Arthur Simmons’ son does have its benefits, after all.
Vegas marriages end in bitter, embarrassing divorces. Hawaiian marriages have better chances.
Hey, man, do you have time for a phone call? Does your brother know anyone who can speed up marriage licenses in Hawaii? I kind of need a favor.
Logan
Sure, whatever you need.