Saying Goodbye, Part Two (Passports and Promises Book 1) (7 page)

CHAPTER SEVEN

I
slept better than I had in ages, and met Kylie for coffee later in the afternoon. She took me to a shop called Kamogawa Café, located in a loft-like, open space on the second floor of a building near the Kamo River.

I took a long sip of the coffee and groaned. “This might be the best cup of coffee I’ve ever had in my life.”

“It’s fabulous, isn’t it? Now you need to taste the sacher torte.”

I ate a bite and sighed. “I think I just had a chocolate orgasm.”

“Me, too,” she giggled. “Speaking of orgasms, what’s going on with you and Thomas?”

I nearly choked and had to take a sip of my water. “Uh. Nothing.” I wiped my mouth with my napkin.

“Liar. I see the way the two of you look at each other.”

“We’ve come to an agreement. Neither one of us is rocking the boat.”

“That sounds truly romantic, but a word to the wise. You’d better scoop him up before someone else does.”

“What do you meant?”

She shrugged. “You’re in Japan, Sam. The girls here go bonkers over men like Thomas. Malcolm has told me stories…”

“What kind of stories?” My chocolate cake sank like a stone in my stomach.

She leaned forward, her voice low. “Let me just say there is no shortage of women willing to take a chance if you don’t want him. Think long and hard before you cast him aside. I don’t know your reasons, since you obviously like him, but you should be aware there are about a hundred cute little feet dying to step into your big American shoes. And they aren’t shy about it either.”

“Oh.” Images of Thomas surrounded by a bevy of gorgeous, exotic, petite Japanese women filled my mind. A surge of very unwelcome jealousy went through my body.

“So, what are you doing for Valentine’s Day?”

I blinked at her. “Valentine’s Day?”

I’d been dreading the approach of Valentine’s Day for months. Not because of any romantic notions, but because of Dylan’s birthday.

I’d called my mom earlier this morning, and as soon as I heard her voice, I knew something was wrong. She tried to hedge around a bit, but eventually admitted Dylan had taken another turn for the worse. They were going to have to try a new medication, and start the long and horrible process all over again. She spoke with Mrs. Hunter almost every single day, which helped, in a way. I hadn’t called the Hunters since I’d arrived in Japan. My mom had become the buffer.

Kylie swatted my arm. “Yes, silly. Valentine’s Day. It’s a big deal here, although it’s quite different from what you’re used to.”

“What do you mean?”

She sat back in her chair. “Here ladies buy chocolate for the men they’re interested in, and men don’t buy a single bloody thing for women. Nice, isn’t it?”

“Lovely.”

A lock of hair had come loose from her bun. She pushed it distractedly behind her ear. She looked very different today than she had last night. She wore no makeup, she had on black-framed glasses, and her hair was styled in a messy bun.

“But we do have White Day to look forward to,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

I smiled at the expression on her face. “What is that?”

“On March 14
th
, one month after Valentine’s Day, the men reciprocate by choosing one lucky woman out of the scores of women who gave them chocolate and present them with…” She paused for dramatic effect. “Jam filled marshmallows.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me. We give them delicious European fine chocolates. They give us marshmallows. Or knickers.”

“No way.”

“Yes. Lingerie is a popular White Day gift.”

“I’ll have to remember that. My little sister is coming to visit over spring break. She’ll be here for White Day. I think she’s bringing a friend, so they can bum around together while I’m in class. I can’t wait to see her.”

“I’d love to meet her.” When we got up to leave, Kylie gave me a hug, holding me close. “Thank you, Sam, for not treating me differently after last night. I thought it might have been the end of our friendship, once you saw where I worked. What I did. But you’re treating me the same today. It means a lot.”

“Don’t mention it, and I figured out something really important.”

“What is that?”

“I need to go chocolate shopping for a tall, loud, and very irritating Scottish guy.”

She linked her arm through mine with a smile. “They sell whisky filled ones, you know. I saw them just the other day.”

“That might be perfect.”

After I bought some whisky-filled chocolates and a big, red card, I wandered the streets of Kyoto on my own. I saw a crowd form near the entrance of Kitano Tenmangu, a Shinto shrine a few blocks away from Ritsumeikan. I’d visited the shrine before, dedicated to the god of fire and thunder, and it sounded like thunder right now.

I walked through the entrance, weaving through the crowd, moving toward the sound. Everyone seemed focused on the front of the shrine, to the sound of drums. I thought it might be a parade of some sort, but it turned out to be a
taiko
drum performance.

I’d watched videos of people playing the taiko
,
but nothing compared to seeing it in person. It made me feel excited. Alive. Renewed. Joyful. The rhythm pounded with my heartbeat, making me realize I still had one.

In the months since Dylan got sick, I’d had few moments like this. Somehow, something inside me had changed. I’d stepped over some kind of big internal hurdle and now everything felt different, like I’d waken up from a bad dream and the fog of sleep finally left my eyes. I stood there mesmerized, listening to the steady rhythm of the drums, finding it hard to turn away.

I had a smile on my face as I walked back to campus, the beat of the taiko
drums still echoing through my body. I passed the gate for Ryoanji, one of the most famous examples of a Zen garden anywhere in the world, and paused, checking my watch. I still had over an hour before it closed. I decided to go in.

I’d spent a lot of free time visiting the temples, shrines, and gardens of Kyoto. Several beautiful places were within walking distance from Ritsumeikan University, and I had a student pass to get into all of them. I’d already visited Kinkakuji, the golden pavilion, but I had yet to visit this one.

Snow began to fall as I walked through the gate; fat, fluffy flakes that floated and danced gracefully to the ground. Glad I’d had the sense to wear warm clothes today, I showed the lady working at the gate my student pass and slipped on my gloves and hat before walking into the complex.

I knew it would be quiet on a weekday afternoon, but I didn’t see any other guests around at all. Maybe the snow and cold scared them away. Their loss and my good fortune, I now had a magical, hidden wonderland all to myself.

By the time I reached the main building, snow swirled around me, accumulating quickly on the cold ground. I looked behind me to see my footsteps, barely visible, then completely covered within minutes. I still had the bag from the department store in my hands. I slipped off my shoes when I entered the building, and left the bag next to them. People rarely stole anything in Japan except for umbrellas, and, oddly enough, bicycles, and no one was here anyway. Thomas’ chocolates would be safe.

I slipped the hat off my head, shoving it into my pocket with my gloves, and followed the signs to the viewing area. An old man in a black kimono, white socks, and a pair of
geta,
Japanese wooden clogs, stood next to the door with a broom, obviously a janitor of some sort. I bowed to him, and he bowed back in welcome.

“
Dozo, dozo,”
he said.
Go ahead.
He indicated the tatami mat on the floor, giving me a gap-toothed smile when I sat down. Hunched over with age, his fingers gnarled, he finished sweeping quietly behind me.

I sat cross-legged, staring out at the rock and sand garden. So simple and yet something about it pulled at me, bringing on a rush of completely unexpected and slightly unwelcome emotions. I took a shaky breath and sniffed, trying to hold back tears. I rode on some kind of crazy emotional roller coaster today. Everything I’d been holding in suddenly came to the surface and demanded to be felt. All at once. It was overwhelming.

The old man stopped sweeping and came to sit beside me. He didn’t say anything at first; he just stared out at the garden with me.

“It’s strange how everything changes when the snow begins to fall,” he said to me in Japanese. “Like a new world has been created.”

“True. And so…” I searched for the right word. “Peaceful.”

He nodded. “Peaceful.”

Because he sat next to me, I didn’t feel quite as sad or alone anymore. A stranger, and yet we had an odd sort of connection. I couldn’t explain it, but I’d felt it immediately.

As the snow fell, the sand disappeared under a blanket of white. The rocks drew my eye, at first looking like islands in a white-capped sea, then like snow covered mountains rising high above a flat plain. Every time I looked, I saw something different.

“It’s just stones, and sand, and an old wall,” I said softly. “And yet…”

“It is more,” he said, finishing my sentence for me. “Much more. Your Japanese is very good.”

I shook my head. “Not at all, but I’m trying. I’m a student at Ritsumeikan.”

“A student. That’s good.”

I looked around, feeling bad for keeping him from his work. “Thanks for talking with me,” I said. “I don’t want you to get in trouble. I know you have work to do.”

He laughed. “Oh, yes. Lots of work. And my boss is very, very strict.” He held up two fingers on either side of his forehead to indicate a demon and I laughed.

I stood up, my legs feeling a little stiff from sitting so long in the cold. He jumped to his feet like a man half his age. I bowed deeply to him.

“Thank you,” I said. “Today meant a lot to me. I’m Sam, by the way.”

“I am Ando.” He gave me another gap-toothed grin. “Today meant a lot to me, too. Nice to meet you, Sami-
chan
.”

Chan
was used for children or young women instead of
san,
almost like an endearment. I smiled back at him, feeling like I’d just met my long lost Japanese grandfather. “I hope to see you again, Ando-san.”

“You know where to find me,” he said. As I turned to leave, he stopped me. “Do you understand kanji
?”

“A little.”

“After you leave this building, look for the
tsukubai.”

“Tsukubai?”

He demonstrated, pretended to wash his hands. “Oh. Washbasin. Okay,” I said.

He nodded. “You’ll see four characters on it. Write them down. Learn their meaning. When you come back, share with me what you have learned.”

“Sure,” I said, giving him a little wave, happy I’d have the chance to hang out with him again.

I found the stone washbasin right away. I took a photo of it with my phone, and then took my notebook out of my purse and copied the characters carefully, frowning. Some looked familiar, but I couldn’t figure out the meaning.

I left the compound, my feet crunching in the snow, my mind deep in thought. I’d spent only an hour at Ryoanji, but felt better than I had in months. I got pulled out of my calm, blissful state when I got back to Ritsumeikan and felt a snowball hit the back of my head. I turned around, furious, only to see Thomas standing there, whistling, pretending like he had no idea who’d thrown it.

“Oh, now you’ve done it,” I said, setting my package on the ground. “You are in so much trouble, mister.”

He tried to feign blue-eyed innocence. “What? Me? What did I do?”

I gathered up as much snow as I could, hauled back and whaled it at him. I missed; something he found incredibly amusing. “How could you miss? I’m so bloody big.”

I tried to gather another one, but he tackled me, lifting me into the air and lowering me gently to the ground. He laid down on top of me, staring at me, his face bright with laughter.

“You are so easy to tackle. It’s like knocking over a feather.”

I grunted, trying to wiggle out from under him. “Sorry, I’m not built like a brick wall.”

His face grew serious. “I like the way you’re built, Sam. I like everything…”

I interrupted him by shoving a wad of icy snow down his neck. He made a sound a bit like a girlish squeal and let me up as he tried to fish it out. I took pity on him and pulled it out myself.

“Eeeee. That was cold,” he said with a shiver. I looked at him in surprise.

“Are you wearing a
coat?
”

“Aye. It’s snowing, isn’t it?” He helped me to my feet and then picked up my package. “What’s this?” he asked.

I grabbed it out of his hands and started walking back to my dorm. “It’s a surprise.”

“For who?” he asked, trying to see into the bag. “For me?”