Love and Truth (14 page)

It was 8:30, which meant class was halfway over. I glanced down to the cone of streetlight and saw a group of white flowers with a white ribbon tied around the stems to hold them together. They were propped against the post of the streetlight. I scanned the street up and down and didn’t see anyone around. I went back inside and ran downstairs and out the door in my bare feet. I padded down the street and stopped at the flowers. They were the same chrysanthemums as the one Jonathan pressed between the pages of the letter. I reached down to pick them up, bringing them to my nose to inhale their sweet smell. There was no note or letter; just the flowers. I was certain he put them here, and my heart ballooned until it was ready to burst. I pulled the flowers to my chest to hug them. I went back inside and found a vase. I filled it with water and arranged the flowers. I sat them on my nightstand next to the orchid and fell asleep staring at them
.

Chapter Ten

I was in paradise! Emiko brought me to a beach in central Okinawa called Zampa Beach. It was beautiful and the water was the bluest blue I had ever seen. I realized that the beach near Galveston was like a murky lake compared to this. We spread out our towels and removed our cover-ups. I wore my bright white Chanel sunglasses and a white Michael Kors bikini that I bought for the trip. I knew how popular the beaches were here and I planned on taking full advantage of them. Emiko insisted we put sunscreen on, but I objected because I was trying to get a tan.

“No, Nicole. You need to wear sunscreen, even if it’s just a 10 or 15 SPF. The sun here is brutal. You’ll get fried if you don’t.”

“Okay, just a little. Can I use yours?” She handed me a tube of SPF 15 and I spread it on. We lay out for a few hours while going into the water to cool off every thirty minutes. We laughed and talked about random girl stuff. I looked around to see groups of people barbequing, guys playing volleyball, and kids building sandcastles. I realized after a an hour that I felt better than I had in days. After hours on the beach and exhausted from the heat, we walked to one of the restaurants along the boardwalk. Emiko insisted that I try taco rice.

“What’s that, like Spanish rice?”

“Oh no, it’s a Japanese spin on the American taco salad. If you like Mexican food you’ll love it.” I knew I would like it. She ordered for us and pretty soon a waiter came out with a big plate that had a mound of white steamed sticky rice covered in ground beef, lettuce, cheese and tomatoes with a side of hot sauce. It smelled terrific and even though it seemed weird to eat it on a bed of rice, I dove in.

“Sweet Jesus, Emiko. This is amazing.” The rice was perfectly cooked and it tasted awesome with all the ingredients. I doused it with hot sauce and the extra kick of spice was perfect.

“I’m going to have to tell my Mom about this. She would love this.”

Emiko laughed and I stared at her. ‘Wait. What’s so funny?”

She took a bite and shook her head. “Nothing. It’s just that every American I’ve met gets giddy about the taco rice and there’s nothing Japanese or special about it. Everything is pretty much American. But they rave about it like they discovered some culinary secret.”

“Hey, leave us Americans alone,” I teased. “We like to eat and this is good.” I shoved another bite into my mouth. After we finished we caught a cab back to the house to shower and rest up before going out tonight. I was excited about going to the karaoke club. I had sung karaoke before, but never in a public place. I had read up on it and it was a pretty big deal. Emiko said that we were going to a popular one on the island tonight.

“We‘re going to Naha City to Bar Spade. It’s actually owned by an American and most of the staff speaks English and Japanese. The atmosphere is great and I know you’re going to love it.” I was thankful to hear that; at least I wouldn’t have to rely on Emiko to translate for me all night.

“It sounds like a blast,” I said. “What should I wear?” She smiled and waggled her eyebrows.

“Nicole San, it is a club. Dress up. Look hot.” I smiled and knew I could definitely do that. It was a great chance to wear some of the new clothes I bought on our shopping spree.

“I’m excited. I’m going to start trying to put an outfit together right now. Then I’ll jump in the shower. What time should I be ready by?”

“We need to leave by 8 pm because the traffic going up to Naha City is bad and I want to stop and eat before we go to the club.”

I started thumbing through my clothes and grabbed the shimmer slate-grey shirt that I had bought at this funky store yesterday called
Spank.
It was made out of a stretchy sheer material and the designer was Mikio Sakabe, who Emiko said was very popular in Japan. It was a little loose and hung low on my hips. It had a plunging back that showed just enough, but not too much. It also had a built-in shell in the front so there was no need to wear a bra. I’m pretty flat-chested anyway so that was no problem. I doubted there would be any reason to worry about a wardrobe malfunction. I laughed at the thought that there would be no way Annie could ever wear this shirt, not with her big boobies. I chose my new black mini to go with it. It was horizontally ribbed and made out of a gauzy material. The shirt had half-length sleeves, so I picked out my silver bangle bracelets. I wanted to show off how the shirt exposes my back. I put my hair up into a low tousled twist, leaving a few loose strands around my face. My Vera Wang silver chandelier earrings would go with this ensemble perfectly, I laid them out on the dresser with the bracelets.

After my shower I blow dried my hair and applied moisturizer and body lotion. My pedicure still looked good, so I would wear my black Badgley Mischka peep-toe booties. I looked at everything that I have laid out.
I’m going to be smoking hot in this outfit.

I did my makeup a little more dramatic than usual, since we were going out to a club. After applying my foundation and powder, I used some dark gray eye shadow to create smoky eyes. I highlighted the area under my brows with a pale grey shimmery color and added a hint of black liner. I applied mascara and finished it off with a dark red lipstick. It wasn’t fire-engine red or tawdry red, but a deep burgundy. After pulling my hair up and lightly misting it with hair spray, I got dressed and brushed a little bronze shimmer on my collar bones and neck. I brushed a tad over my legs and spritzed on some perfume. I stood in front of the mirror and his words invaded my head.

I see no girl standing here. You are a beautiful, sexy woman Nicole, don’t let anyone tell you different.

I shook my head, as if to shake the thought away, but it remained. He was always lingering in my thoughts, breaking his way into my heart. I pushed him down and locked the key to my merry-go-round of thoughts and images. For now I’m going to go out and, in the words of my best friend,
have a fun fuckingtastic time
.

I headed downstairs and found the Nakamuras sitting on the sofa reading the newspaper. I held my shoes in one hand and my silver clutch in the other. Mrs. Nakamura looked up and gasped.

“Oh my dear. Nicole san. You’re absolutely stunning. You’re going to steal the karaoke stage tonight.”

I blushed. “Thank you very much, Ms. Nakamura. You’re too sweet.”

She smiled and looked me up and down. “Oh no, sweetheart. Trust me. You look great. It won’t matter if you can sing or not.” Little did she know that I could actually sing pretty well, I mean I’m no Alicia Keys or Adele but I could carry a tune ok enough to get by in a karaoke bar. Emiko walked in, looking like a different person. I had never seen her in makeup or nice clothes before. The girl standing before me right now looked straight from the heart of Tokyo’s fashion elite. Her outfit was like Gwen Stefani meets Rihanna. She wore black sheer tights with black Doc Martins, a red mini-skirt with a white tailored button-up, and she paired it with a skinny black silk tie. Her shiny, ebony hair was down and bone straight. She had blunt cut bangs and they rested along her eyebrows. She wore pale pink lip gloss and smoky eye shadow similar to mine, but with a hint of pink. Her porcelain skin looked even more gorgeous with a hint of foundation and powder. She looked like a model for a hip fashion designer.

“Emiko, you look hot. I think you need to give me some fashion tips. That outfit is crazy.” I grabbed her and spun her around. “God, I’m jealous. You look great. We’re going to turn heads tonight.” We quickly said goodbye and were on our way.

We stopped at a little Soba Shop to eat dinner before going to the club. Emiko said that you can’t visit Okinawa without eating Okinawa Soba. She ordered for us and we sat down. I immediately felt overdressed because the place was really casual. She explained what we were about to eat.

“Okinawa soba is a soul food that is representative of Okinawa. The thick noodles are served in a bowl of clear, hot broth made by simmering dried bonito flakes and pork. The soba I ordered for us is topped with pork ribs and vegetables. It’s my favorite.”

I didn’t want to say it, but the soba did not sound appetizing at all. “Sounds interesting,” I said. “I look forward to adding it to my list of new foods.”

The waiter placed two large steaming bowls in front of us. He set huge, shovel–sized spoons beside each bowl.

“
Tanoshimu
!” he said cheerily. I smiled and nodded, having no idea what he just said. “Enjoy,” Emiko said, laughing. She ladled out some soup and blew on it lightly. “You don’t have to get nervous when someone speaks Japanese. They don’t expect you to understand them. They’re just being polite. Greetings are the Japanese way, and being courteous in our culture is a must.”

I carefully sipped the broth. It was delicious; almost like a chicken broth, but with more of a pork taste. The noodles tasted like fat ramen noodles, but looked more like a thick spaghetti in shape. The pork ribs were melt-in-my-mouth tender.

“It’s great, Emiko,” I said, smiling. “I love it.” I could tell she was pleased.

We finished eating and hailed a cab. The cab pulled up next to us and tumbled in the backseat.

“
Ku mo ji, Bah Spado
,” she said. The cab sped away and I held onto the door handle. I was learning that Japanese cab drivers were insane. I feared for my life each time. I shielded my eyes and peered cautiously over my arm. Our driver weaved in out of traffic and around scooters, the scenery blurring past us as we approached Naha City. It resembled something like a miniature Times Square, full of neon lights and animated advertisement signs. The sidewalks were teeming with people enjoying the city nightlife. We slowed down and the driver yelled.

“Bah Spado.” I looked up and saw a large spade atop the building, lit up in neon red. Emiko handed the driver three bills and we got out.

“Here we are,” she said, her voice dripping with excitement. “Bar Spade!”

“Awesome. Let’s go sing some karaoke and make complete fools of ourselves.”

We walked in and the first thing I noticed were the throngs of Americans. Most were clearly military. Their tell-tale haircuts and erect posture stood out from the crowd. We got many stares as we walked in through the crowd. The bar top was shiny, white marble and the walls glowed white. We sat down at a corner table toward the back and a disembodied announcer voice called up the next person to sing. Emiko explained the process to me and I leaned in to hear over the blaring music.

“You get a song catalog from the bartender and fill out a slip of paper with your name and the number of your song selection. Then they call you up when it’s your turn.”