Saying Goodbye, Part Two (Passports and Promises Book 1) (3 page)

“I’m sorry.” The hotel loomed in front of us. I’d slowed my pace without realizing it. I wanted to keep talking with Thomas. “About your dad. That’s rough.”

He cleared his throat, and for the first time I saw a shadow in his bright eyes as he thought about his father. “Aye. A painful way to die. Something I’d not wish on my worst enemy.”

“Is your mom okay?”

“She is. My younger brothers still live in Edinburgh. She’s got her hands full with those three.”

I smiled. “That’s a lot of testosterone.”

“True.” He paused near one of the giant potted plants in front of the hotel. “This semester away…I needed it, I guess.”

“Me, too.” I hugged my arms around my body, trying to stay warm. “Well. I should go. Goodnight, Thomas.”

“Do you want me to walk you up to your room?”

I shook my head. “Not necessary.”

“Do you want me to tuck you into your bed?”

I bit my lip, trying not to giggle. “Definitely not necessary.”

“Goodnight, Sam. Sweet dreams.”

I walked into the bright, sparkling lobby of the hotel, feeling his eyes on my back, wishing I could take him up on his offer, even if he had meant it only as a joke. I turned and saw him; his face lifted to the sky and knew his thoughts were on his father. I knew something else as well.

Thomas and I had more in common than linguistics. We were both fairly happy, sunny people who’d both been pushed into darkness because of circumstances beyond our control. He’d been there as he watched his father die. I’d been there since the night I found Dylan on the couch. We’d each had that moment of staring into the deep abyss and realizing what it looked like, and knowing how very close we’d come to falling in ourselves. He’d found a way to pull himself out. I still teetered on the edge.

CHAPTER THREE

I
managed to avoid Thomas for most of the remaining orientation. When we arrived in Kyoto, I spent all my time either studying or exploring the city, a place full of narrow, winding streets, and beautiful gardens. Kyoto was a treasure, with ancient temples, holy shrines, historical architecture, and narrow cobblestone paths. Graceful curved rooftops dotted the landscape, and gorgeous surprises, like exotic houses with exquisite gardens and serene courtyards, hid behind simple wooden gates.

“Walls and boundaries are important in Japanese culture,” said Dr. Eshima one day in our class on the art and architecture of Kyoto. “This is an island country, most of which is covered by mountains. Space is important. Personal space is sacred. That is why you must go through many walls and doors to get to the inner sanctum of a house, especially an old house. The outside areas are for visitors and acquaintances. As you step a little farther inside, those areas are for friends. People close to you. Deeper still is the place reserved for family, and those special few dearest to your heart.”

His eyes rested briefly on Hana. He looked away quickly, but I had a feeling his interest in her was not completely scholarly. I had my suspicions confirmed when I arrived home early from class that evening. I’d signed up for ikebana twice a week, but the teacher had the flu and she cancelled at the last minute. I trudged back to the dorm, a bouquet of flowers wrapped in soggy paper in my hand, just as an icy drizzle began to fall.

We’d planned to work on
sho-chiku-bai
tonight, otherwise known as “The Three Friends of Winter.” Pine, bamboo, and plum blossoms. Now I had a homework assignment, to try to assemble the arrangement on my own, and I doubted I could do it. I’d shoved a wide porcelain dish and a flat metal piece with pointy spikes on it called a
kenzan,
or an ikebana frog, into my backpack. I was hungry, tired, cold and wet, and when I opened the door to our room I got a big surprise. Hana and Dr. Eshima. Naked. On the floor. Right in front of me.

Hana let out a noise like a squawking crow as soon as she saw me. I may have made the same noise in reply. I backed out the door as quickly as I could, but I had to try several times to shut it. First, my backpack got caught on the doorknob. Then the paper from my flowers got stuck in the door. I let out a groan of pure frustration and embarrassment.

“Sorry. Sorry. Sorry,” I said over and over again. When I finally managed to close it, I stood in front of the door, staring blankly at it as I tried to figure out what to do. I heard someone whistling down below on the street, and it sounded a lot like
The Bonnie Banks O’Loch Lommond
, the first song I’d ever learned on the recorder in third grade.

I rolled my eyes. It had to be Thomas.

The dorms were set up like a motel, a large block of rectangular grey buildings with doors that opened to an outside walkway. Ours was on the second floor, just above a path that led to the men’s dorms. I looked down and saw him walking past, completely oblivious to the cold and damp. He glanced up and grinned when he caught a glimpse of me leaning over the railing.

“Sam. How are you?”

“Not good. I...uh…can’t go into my room right now.”

I kept my voice low so others wouldn’t hear it. Thomas couldn’t whisper to save his life.

“Would you like to come and warm your toes at my place for a bit?” He tried to speak softly, but Thomas was loud. Always. Hana stuck her head out of the door.

“God, Sam. I’m so sorry. We thought you were in class.”

I waved her apology away, unable to make eye contact. “It’s fine. Really. I’m going to go and hang out with, uh, Thomas for a while. Continue. Carry on. Resume. Whatever. Bye.”

Thomas grinned up from the sidewalk. “Hello, Hana. Enjoying yourself this evening, are you?”

Hana hissed at him to be quiet and shut the door. I joined him on the sidewalk, and he looked up at the door to our apartment in surprise.

“She doesn’t seem very happy for someone just given permission to resume and carry on and what not.”

I grabbed his arm and pulled him down the sidewalk. A few people passing by had begun to stare at us. I thought it was probably better for Hana, and especially Dr. Eshima, if as few of our fellow students as possible knew about this.

“You can’t ever be quiet, can you?”

“I’m afraid not. My ma said I was born screaming and never stopped yelling since. I try to be quiet. Truly I do. It just isn’t in my nature.”

I still had my arm hooked through his. I didn’t remove it. The drizzle had turned into an icy rain, and Thomas emitted more warmth than a space heater.

“It’s probably better not to draw too much attention to Hana, okay?”

He leaned close. “Because of who was with her? I have an idea about who that might be, and discretion is probably a very good idea.”

I nodded. “Don’t say anything, okay?”

“I won’t, but you didn’t have to bring me flowers, Sam. I would have let you come to my place anyway.”

I rolled my eyes. “This,” I said, shaking the damp and wilting bouquet, “is my ikebana homework. Do you want to help me finish it?”

“Of course,” he said, with a wink. “I’m an ikebana master. I have like a black belt in flower arranging. I have mad skills. Really. I do.”

When we reached his place, Thomas took my wet coat and hung it on a hook near his door. His room, a bit more spacious than mine, had a small kitchen unit. Thomas set me up at a
kotatsu
, handed me a blanket, and went to the kitchen to make something for us to eat. The kotatsu, a low table with a heating unit underneath, provided much needed warmth on cold winter days in Japan. It was designed for a large blanket to fit between the removable hard surface of the table and the heating unit beneath. The blanket covered the bottom of the table completely, holding the warmth inside. Normally, people took a hot bath in a soaking tub, and then sat with their legs under the kotatsu to keep warm in the evening. It worked. With the blanket Thomas gave me around my shoulders, and my legs under the kotatsu
,
I felt warmer in minutes.

I pulled the dish and frog out of my backpack and began organizing the flowers. If I didn’t get the arrangement put together soon, the delicate plum blossoms would wilt and everything would be ruined before I could photograph it and send it to my teacher. I set to work, cutting and laying out the stems as Thomas chatted from the kitchen.

“Where’s Malcolm?” I asked. Thomas’ roommate came from Sydney, but had attended university at St. Andrews with Thomas. They’d known each other a long time.

“He went out this evening with his friend, Kylie. She’s a girl he knew back home in Australia.”

Thomas stood next to the counter, chopping something on a cutting board. I had to hold back a laugh. The counter hit him just below mid-thigh level. “You’re not built for Japanese kitchens, are you?”

He shot a glance over his shoulder at me. “I’m not built for Japanese anything. Do you know how often I bang my noggin on these doorways? It’s ludicrous.”

“Maybe it’ll finally knock some sense into you.” I pretended to be very focused on my ikebana, but had to struggle not to giggle at the expression on his face.

“Cheeky girl,” he said. “And here I am, bent in half and slaving over a hot stove for you.”

I bit my lip. “Sorry. You’re right.”

He put a steaming bowl of fried rice in front of me, filled with veggies and shrimp. “No need to apologize. It’s my pleasure. It’s nice to have company. I hate to eat alone.”

I took a bite and sighed. “Oh. Wow. This is good.”

“I told you I had skills.”

I tilted my head to one side and narrowed my eyes at him. “You said you had ikebana skills.”

“Oh. I lied about that. I have no ikebana skills whatsoever, but I can cook. I learned how in China.”

“I love Chinese food.”

“Maybe we can go out to dinner sometime.” He mentioned it very casually, but I knew it wouldn’t be a good idea.

“There is something I need to explain to you.”

“It can’t be that you don’t like me. Everyone likes me, Sam. I’m extremely likable.”

“Who told you that?”

He thought about it a second. “No one. I just know.”

I loved the way he said the word “know,” drawing out the vowel until it hovered in the air just for a second before slipping away.
Knooooooow
.

“Well, you are extremely….likable, but I’m not looking for a relationship right now.”

He shrugged. “Just because you aren’t looking doesn’t mean you won’t find one.”

I blew out a breath. “You don’t understand.”

He put his big, warm hand over mine. “Explain it to me. Is there someone else?”

I pulled my hand out from under his. “There is someone, back home.”

“A boyfriend?”

“An
ex-
boyfriend. He’s sick. Very sick.” The hot rush of tears filled my eyes and it took me a minute to compose myself. “You’re really nice, but I just can’t…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself any further. Eat your dinner, then I’ll help you with your flower arranging.”

He didn’t try to manipulate me or make me feel guilty. He just accepted my explanation and moved on. “Thank you, Thomas.”

He paused with his chopsticks halfway to his mouth. “For what?”

I stared at my bowl, feeling a giant lump form in my throat. “For dinner. For being my friend. For understanding.”

“Don’t be daft, Sam. Of course I’m your friend. I won’t push you, but if you ever want to talk, I’m also an expert listener.”

I ticked off fingers. “Expert listener. Ikebana master. Extremely likeable. Great dancer. Gourmet cook. Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Aye,” he said. “I can’t get you to go on a date with me, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying.”

He winked, and I knew he just teased. After dinner, we cleaned the dishes, and then drank some tea as I worked on my ikebana arrangement and he studied for a quiz in his Japanese class. He’d taken a beginner level course, I was in advanced, but he knew far more kanji than I did because of his time in China. I helped quiz him on vocabulary as I worked, and before I knew it, my arrangement was finished and actually looked pretty good.

“This might just be the very best one I’ve done.” I snapped photos of it from various angles with my cell phone and sent them to my teacher.

“Now you know the key,” he said.

I laughed. “No, I don’t. What’s the key?”

“You were helping me study, so your attention wasn’t focused. Your mind wandered, and your hands just did what they had to do. It’s a very Zen sort of philosophy. Let go, and let it happen.”

I had a feeling that might be the strategy he planned to employ with me. He figured if he let go, eventually, I’d change my mind and go out with him.

I got a text from Hana saying she was alone in the apartment again. “Well, I guess I should go,” I said.

We both sat with our feet under the kotatsu, our legs touching. I felt very cozy and warm and had no desire to go back out into the cold, but I knew I had to leave. I gathered my things together, but left one small branch of plum blossoms on the table
.

“Thanks for dinner, and for everything.”

He leaned against the doorframe as I put on my shoes, holding the ikebana arrangement for me. “Tomorrow, we might go out to a
karaoke
bar. Malcolm said his friend Kylie is coming along, too. Would you like to join us?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“Are you a good singer?”

He handed me the flowers. “I’m bloody awful, but I’m loud.”

“Okay then,” I said, turning away.

“Wait, what does that mean?”

I grinned at him over my shoulder. “It means I’ll come. This is something I really
have
to see.”

When I got back to my room, Hana had thankfully put on some clothes. She waited for me by the door. “I owe you an explanation.”

I put the ikebana arrangement on our kotatsu
and sat down next to it. Hana joined me on the tatami floor of our room.

“No, you don’t. It’s none of my business. Let’s just pretend it never happened, and I’ll try to wipe the image of both of you naked on the floor from my mind.” I closed my eyes and winced. “Nope. I still see it. Ugh.”

“Sam. Stop it. I really want to explain. I’ve actually been dying to tell you for ages, but couldn’t.” She looked at the flower arrangement. “Wow. That’s really good. Did you do it yourself?”

“Yes,” I said, frowning. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well, your other arrangements have been a little…” She shook her head. “Never mind. This is a vast improvement.”

“Thanks. I think.”