“So, what’s the problem?”

Her words did nothing, but as the legs of her chair scraped against the tile floor, I felt like an enormous hand had lifted me out of a tumultuous sea. I blinked twice and nodded my hello; for the most part, Kaoru Kamiya was in the coffeehouse, fully attentive, but in the back of my mind there was still a broken girl crying alone on the beach, trying desperately to cough up water.

“Who said there was a problem? I asked you to come join me for coffee. I haven’t been at it for too long, but I thought that’s what people with regular jobs did when they wanted to see friends.”

“You’ve been spoiled by dreams of superstardom,” Rolling her eyes, Mitsuko flicked a hand with more sophistication than I thought was possible for a reflex. A teenager with short, choppy hair nodded and then disappeared behind the bar. Mitsuko, unlike me, was a regular here, and she always ordered the same mocha. “But nonetheless, Kaoru, I see right through you. I appreciate the faux friendly sentiment, but you look a little bewildered.” She turned in her chair and leaned forward, resting her elbow on the tabletop and her chin in her hand. Two of her elegant, piano-playing fingers rested on her cheek, reaching towards her eye, and I found myself willingly distracted by the nail polish on her beautifully manicured nails; much classier than the finger paint stuck underneath my own.

“Kaoru?” She prompted again, genuine concern briefly flashing in her usually emotionless eyes. “You’re really out of it, more than usual. Have you been around too much glue, or something?”

I narrowed my eyes at her slightly and then composed myself, wrapping my hands around the lukewarm tea I’d been nursing before she arrived. “No. Actually, I’m not here to vent off work frustrations. I’m here…because of Itu.”

“Oh.” She seemed to perk at his name, but whether that was because sex and relationship therapy was her forte, or because her mocha was being set on the table, I wasn’t sure. As the barista left, Mitsuko took her drink and held it in her hands, now leaning back in her chair and getting a fuller view of me, probably to read my body language. I tried to ignore this the best I could. “All’s not well in Wonderland?”

“No, it’s not that. I mean… I’m really happy, you know? For the first time in a long time, I’m sincerely happy. It’s a nice feeling.”

“Nice feelings don’t prompt coffee dates.”

“I was getting to that.” I glared, and released my hands from my mug, knowing I’d need the full use of my hands once I could actually gather enough coherent thought to state my case.

“I guess… I’m just scared, that’s all. I mean, this is undoubtedly one the best thing that’s ever happened in my life, and I’m just so totally unworthy of it. And I’m enjoying it now, but I’m scared that one day, I’m going to be daydreaming about what color my bridesmaid dresses are going to be, and he’s going to call me up, and he’s going to say, ‘Kaoru, look, it’s just not working out for me, I got a hot blonde on line two that’s requesting my assistance.’ And like that, it’s going to be over.”

Mitsuko narrowed an eye at me, looking at me in disbelief. “You honestly think he’d do that?”

“Well…No. I mean, yeah, but—“

“You think he’s shallow enough to just leave you for some blonde bimbo?”

“Mitsuko, you’re missing the point. She doesn’t have to be blonde. She can be red-headed, brunette, BALD, even, for God’s sake, but the point is—“

“The point is moot, Kaoru. I mean, I can’t control whether or not he eventually leaves you. No one can. But, I think any man that waits a year just to hold your hand is not someone you should give up on.”

“I guess.” I shifted in my chair. Apparently, this led to some kind of psychological breakthrough, because Mitsuko jumped on it as soon as she swallowed.

“What else is wrong, Kaoru?”

“Nothing.” I replied. It was a battle of wills, one I was not willing to lose. It wasn’t that I was purposely hiding anything from her, but I just had no idea what else was giving me anxiety, and wasn’t quite sure if I wanted to talk it out in front of her. She was one half of my set of best friends, but she had a way of attacking subjects that I was sore about, and though I couldn’t recall a time where she had been wrong, I wasn’t in the mood to become a blundering, wounded idiot.

“Doesn’t look like nothing.” She half-teased, a brilliantly obvious immature glint in her eyes. Mitsuko had always carried herself with self-respect and maturity that was always years beyond her age, but she knew the quickest way to get anything out of anyone was to resort to their level. It would not work, though. I work with kindergarten kids; I know how to firm my resolve.

“Well, it is. Must be tired, I guess.” At that, I stood up unceremoniously, gathering my purse and coat from the back of my chair.

“All those hot dates with Itu, hm?” She asked, laughing gently as she too stood up, with much more poise.




When I die, and God has decided to smite me for the few weeks I put my poor body through the…er, elements, hell will not be some fiery pit equipped with a red-faced man being fed grapes. No. Mitsuko will either die before the rest of her generation, or her not-so-alter ego is already residing there, cleverly disguising hell as a coffee shop, staring over each damned soul in that annoying way she has, calmly sipping coffee as she makes you tell her your most gut-wrenching stories of the living world.

“So, basically, you’re upset because you’re dating a workaholic who seems he’d rather work on his paperwork than scr— er, go on dates with you?”

“You make it sound so much simpler than it really is.” I said, exasperated.

“Really? I don’t think so.”

Oh God, Mitsuko. Shut up. However, I did not say this. This was my folly.

“You’re upset because you don’t want to be second best to anyone. You’re upset not because you think he’ll find someone better, but because you’re afraid he’ll never come to appreciate you because he’s too busy with other things. You’re upset because you think he’s ignoring you. And finally, you’re upset because you think you must be lacking if he’s spending so much more time with inanimate objects than he is with you.”

These statements – not questions – hung in the air for a few moments as I just stared. She had read me like a book, down to the appendix.


“Well,” she finished, taking a long sip of mocha. “Suck it up.”