Chapter 31 Just the one rubber duck, actually
Just the one rubber duck, actually
‘So you haven’t seen him since?’ Leon asks, popping open his homemade cherry kombucha.
‘Not on purpose,’ I growl, my face on Leon’s DIY-tiled dinner table.
We have tried to see each other multiple times over the last three weeks, but the odds were not in our favour.
First came the Tube strike, which made the entire office work from home and disabled any possibility of Toby and I hanging out.
Then a pipe burst next to the office, leaving the entire block with no water and no sanitation.
Toby was visiting his grandparents that weekend, and I was looking after Dad, who caught some stomach bug at work.
Although we were back in the office this week, he and Steven were too busy with John’s (and partly my) footage, as the campaign went live on Tuesday and now needed monitoring from them. So the only communication outside our calls and texts was Toby leaving Post-it notes on my seat:
‘What’s cooking, good looking?’
‘I corpo-rate you a 10.’
‘Do you like sushi? Because I’m soy into you.’
Mecha corny, but I can’t help but find them sweet.
Maahni was always there when he put them up, which I suspect he did on purpose, as it derailed the rest of the day with her questions about our relationship.
How long have we been together? Wait, but that’s not long at all, are we serious, or is this a work fling for attention?
So, like, it sounds like it’s not that serious at all, like, I shouldn’t trust a man just because he writes a couple of cheesy notes.
‘I’m sorry, but that new coworker of yours is a bit rude.’ Leon scrunches his nose at his table as if seeing a cat cough up some furballs. ‘But it is crazy that you are now dating Mr. Naked Man. I thought we found him obnoxious.’
‘Well, he can be, but he is also very sweet and honest. And he has a lovely face.’
‘And bum.’ Leon wiggles his eyebrows, recalling our earlier conversation in which some details of my sex with Toby might have slipped out.
‘Just the whole thing is quite nice if I am being honest,’ I say. Then I meekly add, ‘Sorry if it’s weird to talk about it after everything with Sashka.’
‘Don’t worry. I actually think he and you were always a better match. You had that magic.’
‘Magic?’ I scoff.
‘Exactly. That’s what starts a relationship, that magical moment. Like when Hugh Grant spills his juice on Julia Roberts. That moment in the film when you know that love conquers all, that the kiss will save the princess. That’s what everyone really wants.’
That’s what Leon wants. His magic, Sashka’s peace, my luck—they are all at the core of our beliefs, true in their own ways.
He’s always said that his good luck is the residual of his belief in magical moments all around us.
That you must have whimsy that might spill over to lead the fortune straight to you. I never believed him. Not until Toby.
‘Ugh,’ I growl louder. Head returned to the natural position of being slammed against the table. ‘I just want to see him. Preferably before my probation is over.’
‘Girl, then go. What are you doing here?’
I do not give it even a second of thought before saying, ‘Sir, we are watching a film. I even let you choose a different cuisine for the occasion. I’m not about to dip out from our designated time for a man. Plus, I want to hear about your date with the sexy accountant.’
‘Girl, they had a back tattoo. It was so sexy, until I looked closer—I swear it was Princess Diana.’
‘There is nothing sexier than the love for the People’s Princess.’
‘Well, we are not having a second date.’
‘Wow, I hope they have their revenge dress moment, you judgemental prick.’
‘Weirdo.’
‘Prude.’
‘I have seen Sashka recently, by the way.’
‘That’s who you think of when you hear prude?’ I chuckle to distract from the twist my guts are making from hearing her name. I miss her, I miss her so much.
‘She is... fine. I wasn’t happy with her for getting you fired. That’s not what we do. We are stronger and kinder than the rest of the people out there. We have to be, or I have wasted my time with the wrong people.’
‘She was hurt. I also doubt that she knew it would cause them to fire me.’
‘It must have been really sucky when that happened. I am sorry I wasn’t there.’
‘You had the right to be mad. I ruined it slightly.’
I always ruin it slightly.
‘Fuko.’
‘Leon.’
‘I am proud of you for not calling John when things were bad.’
‘Does everyone know? How obvious could it possibly have been?’
‘Fuko.’ His tone is even more serious.
‘Leon,’ I repeat in fear.
‘I am not happy with you for sleeping with someone just because they were there, and you were down. You used to do that a lot. I really think you guys have something, but please try to...’
‘Not be a dick?’
‘Bingo.’
I recall saying the same thing to Toby in the lift when I started working at SIMPO.
I knew what to say, because I was also that person.
The kind that likes attention, the one that falls for someone because they are there.
It was part of the reason I panicked the morning after we had sex, because I saw myself attaching to anything warm bodied like a leech in murky waters.
But the leech was actually lying to herself; it wasn’t just any warm body it wanted, but being a leech, it thought it couldn’t have anything else.
‘I think this is different,’ I say, more for my sake than Leon’s.
‘I know it is. I haven’t seen you be this alive... Maybe ever. You are quicker to smile, you are less stubborn, less grumpy than normal. We even ordered Caribbean food for a change. I have a good feeling about this. Do try to make magic. You two deserve it.’
‘Magic, you say...’
I confirm, in a sly series of messages, that Toby is going to be home tomorrow and has no major plans. I made sure to not make it sound as if I will be turning up to his apartment to cook dinner for him, even though that’s exactly what I am going to do.
The shops by his house have different stock.
Upper-class stock. I was planning to cook him puttanesca, when I saw some Japanese ingredients in the international store.
It could be fun to make him some food that high school girls make for their boyfriends in Japan when their feelings first bloom.
The supermarket has some halal cocktail sausages.
I could kill two birds with one stone and make some for Fawzia.
Like Japanese schoolgirls do for their close friends.
Wow, what a day of possibilities it’s turning out to be.
Rufus the concierge is sitting by the entrance. I look a lot more put together this time than I did the last time I was here, so I do not expect him to recognise me, but he does. A slight surprise shimmers on his face.
‘Are you here for the Lewises, madam?’
‘Yes, thank you Rufus.’
‘I will send you right up.’ He glances quizzically at my bags of produce but does not voice his question.
The lift drags as it hums a deep note. The same deep note that you hear when you enter Tateyama’s hell museum. The doors open, and I step out. Feet shuffle from the living room, and a familiar voice calls out, ‘Fuko? What are you doing here?’
‘Surprise.’ I turn around, awkwardly displaying the bags to him. ‘I thought since you said you’re at home, I could finally close off my dinner debt.’
‘Oh, that’s...’ he starts, looking fearfully behind him.
I take my shoes off and see the reason for this slightly strange welcome from my host—five pairs of shoes sit by the door. Mine, Toby’s, one man’s pair, two women’s.
Oh fuck.
‘My parents and sister are here.’ He rubs his eyebrows in a tired, stressed-out manner.
Oh fuck, oh no.
‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’ I drop the bags and rush to put my shoes back on. The knot does not want to budge.
‘Toby, who is that?’ a melodic voice calls out from the kitchen.
‘Uh... It’s...’ He tries to find a word for our relationship. ‘It’s, uh, Fuko.’
‘Well, invite her in.’ A man’s voice joins in.
He shuts his eyes and sighs, as if the ground is slipping from under him. When he opens them, his mouth whispers, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’
My head tilts in a panicked question. Why?
He winces. You’ll see.
The table is laid out to perfection. Two cooks are working in the kitchen, Crocs on their feet. One of them breaks away from stirring to bring another chair and a set of cutlery. The other takes my bags from me and stashes the contents in the fridge, separate from their own.
I sit down at the head of the table, feeling everyone’s eyes on me.
To my surprise, there are two sets of familiar eyes: Toby’s and his sister’s.
Her brows shoot up in recognition from the last time I saw her at the coffee shop being berated by her douchebag of a boyfriend.
Her shoulders, completely tense before this moment, fall.
Maybe she thought I was a daylight cat burglar or something. Understandable. I hate intruders as well.
Toby notices our momentary familiarity and gives me an I’ll-ask-you-later look.
The other two, Toby’s mother and father, are well dressed, tall even when sitting down, their mouths stretched into a tight polite smile.
They look very different, with Mrs. Lewis having softer features, an upturned nose, and Toby’s eyes, and Mr. Lewis having a more angular face and deeply set eyes, yet the air around them feels the same.
One that makes you straighten your back and pull your elbows off the table.
‘So, Fuko, was it?’ His father turns to me. ‘My son hasn’t mentioned you before.’
I can’t read his tone. Is he implying that I am not significant enough to be mentioned or berating his son for failing to mention me?
‘I am just a colleague from work.’
‘A colleague that knows where he lives and can come uninvited?’ The question seems to be aimed at me, but Mr. Lewis doesn’t look away from Toby, who downs a glass of water and pours himself another one.
‘Fuko is an... interesting name,’ says his mother, kinder with her smile. ‘Where is it from?’
‘It’s Japanese.’