Chapter 35 Fuko is also just a girl, standing in Toby’s luxury apartment, asking him to love her
Fuko is also just a girl, standing in Toby’s luxury apartment, asking him to love her
I (Hanako, really) put a lot more effort into my appearance today.
Soft makeup, waves in my hair, a dress that looks like a shorter pink version of Juliette’s dress in Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juliet, which Hanako won in a giveaway at LFW.
She didn’t even enter it, as models weren’t technically allowed.
The main point is that I look cute and can definitely bowl in it, as I have done a few lunges at home just to check.
The lift hums at me. This lift always hums. The same Tateyama hum that the monks believed was an entrance to hell. But today it’s louder.
My fingers fidget with the dress.
It’s in your head, Fuko. You’re overthinking this, like you always do.
The doors open.
‘Fuko, what are you doing here?’ Toby asks on Saturday morning with a drawn-out kiss and a tight hug after I barged into his apartment.
His smile is so sincere, and his eyes are bright.
See? Nothing is wrong.
‘Happy birthday!’ I giggle into his mouth, arms wrapped around his neck.
This is good. He is playful in person, receptive to my touch, and even makes me twirl for him.
Toby brings me into another hug, my chin resting on his shoulder.
‘I missed you.’ The words come out of me without much thought once I feel his warm body around me.
‘Missed you too,’ he says, earnestly, his shoulders relaxing with every breath that he doesn’t let go of me.
‘I have a present for you.’
‘It can wait.’ He kisses my neck.
‘No, we have things to do and places to be!’ I pull back, with the vigour and energy of a summer camp leader.
He playfully sulks but does get dressed for a day of fun activities.
‘After you,’ I say, stepping to the side of his corridor.
‘You don’t know how the lift works.’ He squints mischievously. ‘Do you?’
‘Not a Scooby, mate.’
He bursts into a bright laughter. ‘Good, I like to keep my ladies on their toes.’
He does... something? Because the doors open up.
‘How many ladies?’ I ask.
‘Four ladies and about twelve toes.’
‘So, about three toes per lady?’
‘That’s excellent maths. Don’t tell the other ladies, but you are currently my favourite. You can have an extra toe, if you want.’
That’s the Toby. He is still here. He takes me to the park and doesn’t let go of my hand. He tries to peek into the bag with his present. He makes silly jokes about everything under the sun, and he is still the quickest to smile.
All of the tension of the last two weeks dissipates. I couldn’t breathe without him, as if chains that could only be removed with his touch constricted my chest.
‘Do you want your present?’ I ask him at the cafe, stopping his stream of opinions on the best use of social media in recent years, which I brought on because he noticed I didn’t like any of his LinkedIn restaurant posts.
‘Wow, I’m sorry my satirical review of Farmer G was so boring.’
I do not think anything about him is remotely boring.
I think I could listen to him talk about gum disease for months and still enjoy what he has to say.
Over the last few months, he has made me feel so seen, but also, his nudges have pushed me out of my comfort zone.
All my bad luck, or his fate, or whatever force there is, gently blows behind my ear.
This small gust of magic has slowly travelled through me from the day we met on the mountain and today has found its way to the thinking part of my brain, making me realise something that I’ve never thought before.
I think I love him.
He pulls the paper covering the two rubber ducks I got from an online shop. They are the same colours that we had at the Quacky Races.
‘Oh my god! Look at them. This is so sweet, Fuko.’ His eyes light up, as he gapes at them in complete awe and joy.
I feel the words on my tongue. They taste sweet and warm.
I am about to say them, when something in his expression changes. The more he looks at the ducks in his hands, the darker the shadows above his face lie. Time itself turns heavy, refusing to move.
We sit in this cafe for days, maybe months even, unmoving and sinking.
‘What’s wrong?’ I finally have the courage to ask. That question tastes sour, drying out my lips.
‘Fuko,’ my name comes out with an unsaid apology.
‘Toby,’ his name is a plea.
Don’t do this. Don’t do this.
‘I—’ he starts but then looks away.
‘Please, Toby.’ I’ve never sounded so small.
‘I don’t know if I can do this.’ That’s all he says. No explanation.
Why not? I want to ask. Is it your parents? Is it because of what your sister said? Are you pushing me away as a challenge? For me to prove myself? Do you know that I love you, that I think I’m losing my ability to breathe again?
‘I don’t understand. Did I do something?’ My brain has suspended my ability to blink, tears pooling on my bottom lids.
‘No, Fuko. You haven’t done anything wrong.’
‘Then why?’ I shut my eyes, and tears shoot out like traitorous arrows.
He doesn’t answer. He knows that I will be able to rebuke every single one of his possible reasons.
I am not good for you.
A: You are the best person I’ve ever met.
This isn’t working.
A: This is the best thing that has happened to me.
We are not meant to be.
A: You are the one that told me fate brought us together.
I’m too broken, my thoughts are too dark, I don’t see a way out of this.
A: I love you and will do whatever it takes to help you.
But he doesn’t. He searches for something that would be irrefutable. And the bastard finds it. ‘I have been selfish... getting involved with you.’
That absolutely meaningless sentence navigates all the roads that this relationship could have taken to failure.
It doesn’t matter what I do, or what I have done, every single consideration, in all the probable outcomes, leads to the destination that Toby has declared our final stop—this cafe on his birthday.
‘Selfish? What do you mean?’ I push against the wall he’s put up.
‘I can’t see a future where we work out. This wasn’t fair on you.’
‘But that makes no sense... You told me that you... that I—’ I say, stumbling over almost three months of memories of us together.
All the jokes we would throw at each other in the office, the dancing in the club, the way my heart would beat every time he smiled at me, that time we got stuck in an elevator, the kisses we shared at Judgement, in his house, after the pub quiz.
Our hour-long conversations over the phone, the accidental glances at each other over our screens that would lead to laughter.
His hands on my body, and me wanting him so bad.
His eyes are closed; he shakes his head as if to dispel the same thoughts. He takes a strained breath through a solemn smile. ‘I guess, better luck next time.’
Just like that, Toby has made it completely impossible for me to argue with his decision, because in the end, even if I wanted to fight for this—he doesn’t.
‘They are waiting for you,’ I say, as tears roll down my eyes. ‘At the bowling alley. Happy birthday.’
The sun is still up in the sky when I leave the cafe, my body completely numb. Figures that it would be sunny on his birthday. My hand reaches into my pocket, dialling the number I have promised not to call in moments of desperation.
‘Hello, Fuko?’ says the surprised voice at the end of the line.
‘I know we haven’t spoken in a while, and it’s fucked up that I’m calling you when I need something. But I need to see you to get my mind off things.’
‘You know where to find me.’