Chapter 6 Mildly defective organism. Its structural imperfection is matched only by its misfortune
Mildly defective organism. Its structural imperfection is matched only by its misfortune
I really wish London were better at commuting.
Early in the morning, no one takes their protruding rucksacks off, so they keep bumping into each other and taking up so much space that at least ten more people would’ve fit in per doorway.
Maybe Londoners are doing it on purpose to keep some kind of personal space.
‘Mind the gap between the train and the platform edge,’ announces a voice, opening the doors.
People and their rucksacks make it equally difficult for people to get off at their stop.
The working, commuting people grumble something at the youth that don’t have any sense or decorum to step aside.
After successful unloading and loading of the passengers, the doors beep a warning.
On the last beep, a man squeezes in front of me, giri-giri avoiding the deadly doors by an inch like Indiana Jones in Raiders of the Lost Ark.
‘Fuko?’
Toby Lewis. Mecha lucky of him. The next train via Bank is delayed by ten minutes. Points towards small luck.
‘Morning,’ I say, putting my headphones in my pocket. If it gets too awkward, I’ll put them back in and return to my daily study of the Northern Line map.
The train starts moving; it’s only a couple of stops and then a short walk.
‘I am so sorry about the cake and the allergy.’
‘It’s okay. You didn’t know. I should have checked.’
The commuters look frustrated with us for having a conversation at this eighth hour of the day.
I get them, I also hate when people talk loudly on transport when the only thing on my mind is that I’d rather be in bed right now, not listening to annoying and tactless people run their tongues over their teeth.
Toby doesn’t. He tries really hard to have a conversation over the screams of this metal beast that slowly destroys our eardrums. He says something about the hospital. I sort of laugh and nod, but I really can’t hear him.
‘They kept you overnight?’ he repeats in shock after my nodding, when the Tube slows down.
‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t hear you. No, they didn’t.’
The train stops again, and the people push through, taking half a step each time. Their miserable faces are more suitable for prisoners shackled in chains than agents of free will trying to get to their jobs.
‘I think I keep apologising to you.’ He continues after another beep.
I know I was frustrated with him, but seeing how horrible he feels makes me feel better. There is something in the way he talks that makes it seem as if everything is going to be okay. I try to ignore the weird pit in my stomach every time he leans in to say something to me.
‘You are honestly fine. It’s all accidents, innit?’
Innit? Innit? I’ve never used innit before. I’m not Hanako.
Toby’s mouth moves again, and some sound is escaping it, but does that man genuinely not know that I cannot hear him? I respond with silent ‘watermelon, watermelon’ like the extras did on Alien with Sigourney Weaver. To the untrained eye, it would look as if I were talking in earnest.
Toby leans in, trying to hear what I am saying.
Closer and closer. His ear is facing me now, revealing his neck with a single bead of sweat running down it.
The piercing shrieks of the beast dissipated enough for him to realise that I’m making fun of him by pretending to answer his question.
He looks at me for a moment, staring at my lips.
His eyebrows frown and then relax. He figured it out.
‘Cantaloupe, cantaloupe, cantaloupe,’ he mouths back.
I try not to laugh, but a gust of air escapes my lungs in an unwelcome chuckle. The train halts. The man sitting in the priority seating jumps up and pushes out the doors with a quiet, ‘Sorry, mate.’
The force of that one passenger was enough to make Toby fall on me.
Luckily, the sardine-like property of this tin can on wheels doesn’t allow anyone to hit the floor.
His chest bumps me in the nose, and because more of the thick-bodied rucksacks are pouring in, Toby and I are stuck like this against the plastic of the wall until the next stop.
‘I am so sorry,’ he whispers into my ear.
A shiver runs down my back from his warm breath, which makes sense as I am quite ticklish and watch ASMR reels to fall asleep.
If anything, at least I heard him this time.
The ride between the previous stop and the next is so long, so excruciatingly long.
And a sudden stop drops him even closer into my now nonexistent personal space.
‘Ladies and gentlemen. We are being held due to an emergency on the train in front of us.’
Different flavours of fucks and shits and tuts and sighs simmer through the carriage.
That is quite unfortunate. Fuko-Brewer-level unfortunate.
Maybe Toby Lewis is on the unlucky side of the spectrum.
Would make sense; he keeps running into awkward, random situations, mainly with me.
More observations to follow before a proper conclusion.
When we finally arrive at our station, Toby tumbles out, red in the face, sweat all over his forehead.
‘How are you dry?’ he asks on the escalator.
Heh, never heard that before. I high-five my inappropriate mind joke.
‘Asian genes.’ I shrug.
‘Would love to have some of those right about now,’ he says as if he is ordering a brie-and-cranberry-jam sandwich. ‘I think that was a weird thing to say.’
It was.
‘Not at all,’ I lie. ‘How was Japan for you then?’
Japan’s humidity is famously bad. Terrible for someone born in the foggy Albion of the UK clouds.
‘It was horrendous.’ He taps his card on the barrier. Not an Oyster card, like the rest of us peasants. I swear, for a moment, the gates had a royal fanfare as he walked through them. ‘I don’t know why people go there during the summer.’
‘Well, they usually don’t.’
‘And what an excellent choice they make. Why did you go? To visit family?’
‘In a sense.’ People get weird about the dead-mother thing. ‘And I was unemployed and miserable for so long that my family wanted me out of the house.’
‘Wow, how bad were you to send you into those conditions?’
‘They were about to call Ed and Lorraine Warren.’
‘Ed and Lorraine... Ed and Lorraine... Don’t tell me. I will figure it out.’
‘Hey, there is no shame in not knowing things.’ I bet that annoys the life out of the Oxford boy.
We walk in silence as he racks his brain. I let us into the lift and press the button. I’m about to mention Annabelle the doll, but three more people slip in.
‘Ha! The Conjuring!’ he shouts, startling everyone, including me, and I knew what was happening.
‘Well done.’ I tap his shoulder and lead out when we get to our floor.
He hops out, in a much better mood than when he exited the train. We sit down in the same seats as we did last time, facing the doors of the lift.
‘Got something for you.’ Toby pulls out my stuff that I dropped last week.
My extra absorbent pad, some mint polos, socks, and some hand sanitiser. No Nuts signs scream at us from every corner and every pillar. Oh, this is going to be embarrassing. Now I am the girl that caused the no-nuts debacle and needs extra-absorbent pads for her heavy-flow periods.
‘Thanks.’ I grab them off him, hoping that he doesn’t comment.
But he doesn’t let go. ‘Why do you have an extra pair of socks?’
Fuck off. ‘Things happen.’
‘Not with socks.’
The lift goes back down again, the numbers changing from 3 to 2 to 1 to G.
‘They do when you’re me. Can I have my things back?’
‘Can you give me one example of what could possibly happen?’
‘What if I have a horrible foot condition that makes them necessary?’
‘Do you?’
‘No, but I could’ve and you would’ve been in serious HR trouble.’
‘Well, in for a penny, in for a pound.’ He says as I pull, again. He doesn’t let go, again.
God, he is stubborn.
‘Do you really want to know?’ I lower my voice, as if I am letting him into a secret.
He nods with the determination of a child that’s promised his iPad if he completes his chores.
‘Sometimes,’ I start, ‘when I really need a tissue, and the toilet paper runs out, I will use the socks.’
‘Ew, what the hell, Fuko?’ He lets go.
‘Ha-ha.’ I grab my stuff and hide it in my bag. ‘Gullible fool. I need them if my feet get wet in the rain.’
‘How often does that happen?’ he asks with a hint of disbelief.
‘More often if you’re me,’ I can’t help but grumble, putting them away.
‘Why didn’t you just say that?’
‘You wouldn’t have been satisfied. I know your type. You require a thing to hound on, to vulture around. The most mundane thing possible, and you will turn it into a mind game.’
‘That is... right.’ He looks at me as if I just told him his future through a crystal ball.
‘You were going to call them my cum socks.’ I lower my voice even further. ‘Despite knowing perfectly that that’s not how lady parts work.’
And you’ve seen proof of that, I want to add but decide against it last second. Something about him remembering our naked encounter feels... odd.
‘Yes. Yes, I would have, how do you know?’ He leans in, matching my volume and cadence.
‘Because you’re a dude. And because I am excellent at predicting patterns. Therefore, I will thrive in digital marketing. You coming to Japan told me everything I need to know about you.’
‘Yeah?’ he asks with amusement. He jerks his chin in a challenge. ‘Go on. Tell me what you know about me.’
The lift panel lights up. It’s crawls back up. G to 1...
‘You are a massive weeb, but you think you ‘love Japan for the culture’, probably very into some niche Japanese band, Bump of Chicken or something, ended up in Toyama because Tokyo, Osaka, and Kyoto are too mainstream and you think you are better than that, or because you’re a massive World War Two fanatic. ’
He thinks for a moment; a playful smile blooms on his face.
‘I prefer the term nerd, not weeb. I do love Bump of Chicken, and no, I was in Toyama because...’
The doors of the lift open, and I don’t let Toby finish.
‘Fuko?’ he asks with obvious concern.
I hide myself under the desk, finger pressing into my lips, begging him to keep quiet.
‘Fuko.’ Toby bends down and says as if through a megaphone, ‘That is strange of you, do you know that?’
‘Shut up, shut up, shut up.’ I try to shoo him away by shaking his knee.
He looks around, then at my hand gripping his leg. ‘That’s my bad one.’
‘Oh, fuck, sorry.’
‘It looks like you’re hiding from the filming crew. I told you they were coming when we were on the Tube.’ Is that what he was saying? ‘Wait, you’re not hiding from the whole crew. Only one person. And by your reaction—a man.’
He studies my startled face.
‘An ex?’
I don’t respond.
‘Ah, the ex. Bingo. You’re not the only one good at reading people.’
His satisfied smile sends another set of shivers down my spine—this time of complete fear and terror. He just found himself a new toy.