Love in Translation part 2
I returned to Bishounen Cafe often. At first, it became my refuge when those waves of homesickness hit. But then it just became my personal indulgence. After all, it was a girl’s paradise. Good looking guys to talk with you, flirt with you and make you feel special, all the while satisfying your pallet with heavenly sweets. Most of the time, Yoshi-kun was my waiter. He was patient with my lame attempts at Japanese and eager to try English with me. Sometimes we talked, sometimes he understood my need to just sit and read or study. Sometimes I engaged in light conversation with the other customers. I even brought another teacher with me from school or another foreigner from time to time. Slowly, I was making friends with some of the other staff as well. There was Ryo-san, the rather mysterious and very handsome manager with the possessive doctor fiancée. There were also Hideo, the playboy, Ren, the shy college student, Bernardo, the sporty Brazilian, and Henry, the charming Australian. There were a few other waiters that I hadn’t had much opportunity to speak with due to conflicts in schedules. But they all seemed like a good bunch.
Except HIM.
His full name was Ninomiya Kazunari, but everyone called him by his nickname, Nino. And he quickly became a giant pain in my ass.
Compared to Yoshi and the other wait staff, who were sweet, patient, kind, and courteous, he was loud and obnoxious. He teased and scolded the women he served, called them obachans, children, or idiots even. He’d throw strange little fits about the smallest things like cellphones going off while he was taking orders. He would pull the stupidest pranks like fake spiders in someone’s tea to send her squealing or setting off the emergency sprinklers. One time he even got his sister pretend to be his girlfriend. She came in and demanded he stop pretending he was single just so he could work there. That prank didn’t turn out so well because his jealous customers almost lynched the poor girl.
“Nino-kun can’t belong to just one girl!” they cried. It was ridiculous.
“How can Ryo keep him around?” I asked Henry, who was serving me the day Nino pulled the girlfriend prank. Ninomiya calmed the women down with promises of personally feeding them strawberry cheesecake. His sister got all the chocolate cake she wanted- on Nino’s tab of course.
Henry just shrugged. “Nino’s not really that bad a guy. He’s pretty cool actually. Besides, we advertise for everyone’s ideal. And he is pretty popular.” He nodded to the happy customers vying for Nino’s attention. Nino looked at me and winked smugly, waving a fork with cheesecake in the air. I rolled my eyes.
But Henry was right. No matter how bratty Nino was, with his pouts and pranks, most of the females in the café adored him. “He’s like a little boy they want to take care of,” Henry guessed. “And he can be nice when he wants to be.”
“Hmm… yeah,” one of Nino’s English speaking customers confided in me once. “He can be a bit hard on some people sometimes… but when he’s nice to you and smiles… it’s like you’re just that more special that he notices you. You know what I mean?”
Yeah. I could see how women could fall that type of manipulation. I understood way too well. What I didn’t understand was his hostility towards me.
Every time I came in he was there, waiting on his fan club. But despite his demand, I always found him lurking around or staring at me with those derisive eyes. He was never outright rude to me or said anything mean, but there was just always something in his voice and in his manner that was patronizing and slightly… antagonizing… I guess was the best way to put it. I had a feeling that he knew a little English, but he never tried to engage me in a conversation. Instead…
“KO- NI-CHI-WA, G-CHAN? O GEN-KI DE-SU KA?” He always spoke Japanese in a slow, loud voice- even the simplest sentences.
“Uwah! Your Japanese is so good!” he would gush to me condescendingly in Japanese when I graduated from the English menu to a Japanese one. He even cheered me on his way from the kitchen every time I spoke.
“Sugoi, G-chan! Matcha! Cho-ko-re-to! Subarashi!”
And then there were the whispers. Every so often I could hear him, flirting with his usuals. “Gaijin,” he would say in a low tone. And I would know he was speaking about me.
And it wasn’t just about me being paranoid either. There was no misunderstanding. Nothing lost in translation. Because Yoshi-kun or another waiter would wince and smile apologetically to me. Then they would say something to The Brat, who just brushed it off.
But whatever his reasons, I wasn’t going to let him get to me. In the few months I had been in Japan I felt that I had overcome too much, grown so much, to let one person ruin it for me. The Brat… or anyone else.
Then one day, it happened. Ninomiya Kazunari became my waiter.
Yoshi had the day off and the café was busy. Nino had one table open. I rose to his silent challenge and declined the offer to wait for anyone else on the floor. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. As he sat me down at a table, I noticed the other waiters giving us wide berth. The other customers stopped talking for just a moment, but long enough to notice it. So much for a relaxing macchiato. I felt so tense that I was sure I’d snap at the slightest provocation. And from the look on his face, The Brat knew it. He spoke to me so politely and treated with me such courtesy that I almost didn’t recognize him. But that just made me more suspicious.
He grinned when I checked my vanilla macchiato for fake spiders and I sniffed my sakura chiffon cake for any extra “flavoring”. Tentatively I tasted.
“Umai?” he asked, watching me.
“Oishi,” I admitted. As usual it was delicious. I braced myself for some comment on my Japanese, but he said nothing. Instead he indicated with his hand the chair opposite of me, as though asking permission to sit. I felt my heartbeat nervously when he smiled shyly at me. What was he up to?
To my surprise, he talked to me in simple English.
“Do you like Japan?”
“Yes…”
“Nihongo de,” he waved his finger at me teasingly. I laughed softly.
“Sou desu. Nihon wa daisuki desu.”
“Do you have fun in Japan?”
“Hai.”
“Are you miss home?”
Do I miss home? I missed my family and my friends. Sometimes I missed things that were familiar to me.
“A little. Chotto dake.”
“Why you come to Japan?”
I paused. It was a question I got over and over again. What are you doing in Japan? Why are you here? And I usually answered the same. I love the culture, the food. I wanted an adventure. I was on a journey to self-discovery. But from the probing look in his eyes, I knew that wasn’t what he wanted to know.
Why did you leave home? That’s what he was really asking. He would know if I lied. Remembering why I had left felt like ripping the bandage off a healing wound. I sat in silence.
“Ah!” Nino suddenly exclaimed, leaning close to me. I sat back, surprised. “Masa ka? Masa ka?” He exaggeratedly whispered in Japanese, “Are you looking for a boyfriend? Is that why you came to Japan? You couldn’t find love back home, so you came here?” I bit my lip. He was making fun of me again, mocking me with his eyes and his smirk.
Hah. Looking for love? That was my last reason for coming all this way.
After all, it was love that I was trying to escape from.
More specifically, escape from a long relationship with a man I swore I was in love with, but who could never say those words to me. To him, love was just a meaningless word. Marriage just piece of paper. Romance a passing fancy. It was just his way, I always rationalized. It was my first real relationship. He, the first man to see any real value in me. And for the longest time, it was enough that he wanted to be with me. I ignored that voice in my head that whispered that he wasn’t the one. I didn’t care. I would have willingly given up anything for him. My friends, my dreams, my very identity. Just to have him stay with me. Just to believe that he was really mine.
Only to one day to realize I couldn’t face myself in the mirror anymore because I couldn’t stand to see the truth of how pathetic I had become. I was in danger of becoming a mere shadow on the wall of someone else’s life. Someone who I knew didn’t love me, who was just content to have someone so effortlessly. I started to hate myself completely. And it scared me.
So I ran.
I told him I needed some time to be on my own. Give me a year, I said. He told me that if I left then we’d be over. We could never be friends. He wouldn’t wait for me. He wouldn’t follow. When I still insisted that leaving would be the best thing for me, he tried a different tactic.
“I love you,” he said in desperate simplicity. “I love you. I want to be with you forever. We’ll get married and have the family you want. Just don’t go.” Oh God, did my heart break. He was telling me everything I wanted to hear, the things I waited to hear all my life. But was it for real?
“Give me a year,” I repeated. Yes, I was testing his feelings for me. But it was the only way.
It didn’t take him long to retract what he said. He was wrong to say those things. I scared him and made him angry. I made him say things he never wanted to say. I made him act in a way that he hated.
I wasn’t in Japan too long before he found himself another girlfriend. And I continued on, my heart shattered and pride torn.
Love. I laughed to myself bitterly. Love was absolutely the last thing I came searching for half-way around the world.
The sound of laughter and chattering voices brought me back. Ninomiya was there, still leaning in close, and searching my face intently, quiet assessing whatever was written there. Our eyes met and I stopped breathing at what I saw in his eyes. But the look was gone in an instant and The Brat returned.
He sat closer to me and took my hand in his. He looked around and I was suddenly aware of the audience watching us. Some of Nino’s regulars stared at me with sharpened daggers. Ren and Bernardo shrugged their shoulders at each other, unsure of what to do.
“Jaa,” Nino drawled lazily, rubbing the palm of my hand. “How about me? I think G-chan is very cute. I could be your personal waiter. I’ll quit this place for you. I would love you forever.” I couldn’t understand what he was saying word for word, but I got the gist of it. I was the butt of yet another one of Nino’s jokes.
And in that moment, I hated him. And I suddenly hated this place. I hated Yoshi and Henry and Ryo and all the others for creating these illusions of love, for giving these women false hope. And I hated these pathetic women for living in these delusions. And for the first time, I acknowledged how much I hated my ex for making me feel like I was never worth the effort to love. I felt the tears stinging my eyes and anger clogging my throat. I glared at Nino, who was taken aback. He realized his mistake. But it was too late. I shoved my cake into his face and threw the rest of my drink into his lap. While he was hopping around, yelping in shocking, I grabbed my stuff, tossed money on the counter and slammed out the door. Then I ran, tears running down my face.
Probably not my finest moment.
I didn’t return again to the Bishounen Café after that for almost a month. At first it was strange, as I had been going there almost three to four times a week since that first time. I still talked to Yoshi though. He never asked about what Nino had said or wondered if I’d come back. He brought news about our friends: Hideo had finally gotten a girlfriend- a new customer that he fell head over heels for- so he had to quit. He talked about a regular that was getting married. Ren was graduating from college. Bernardo’s brother just got into town and was hoping to work part-time at Bishounen. As he spoke more about the small community at the café, I realized how much I missed the Bishounen. But there was still one problem. I didn’t think I could be in the same room as The Brat anymore.
Then one afternoon…
“Nino takes Tuesday evenings off now,” Yoshi texted me.
So, just like that, Tuesdays became my usual day and all was right with the world again.
Until this moment.
“I’m surprised to see you, Ninomiya-san,” I glared at Yoshi, who was sneaking away to the back. “Aren’t Tuesdays your night off?”
This time, he didn’t even blink when I spoke to him in Japanese, which was coming to me easier every day now. Instead, he winked at me.
“Why? Have you been avoiding me?”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re surprised?”
Nino smiled secretively, but nodded, conceding my point.
“You missed me, didn’t you?” he waggled his eyebrows at me.
That startled a laugh out of me. “Honki da yo?” I snorted in disbelief, to which Nino chuckled.
He bowed to me and guided me to my usual spot by the window.
“Yoshi-kun will be with you in a minute, G-chan.” Nino handed me a menu, and walked away whistling. I stared at his back, my eyes narrowing. Just what was he up to now? I knew I had a right to be suspicious, but I didn’t want to stay angry.
“Gomen ne, G-chan,” Yoshi pouted and made puppy dog eyes at me. “Ren called in sick and Nino was available.”
“Ii desu. It’s fine. I’m not going to let him…” Before I could finish that sentence, the doors to the café burst open.
“Leave me alone!” It was Reina-san, Nino’s most loyal customer. Everyone stopped and stared. A man, older, with lightly graying hair and a thick waist, followed her in. He grabbed Reina-san by the arm and started yelling at her, trying to drag her from the café. She resisted violently, hitting the man on the arm.
“Hanashi da yo!” she yelled frantically, telling him to let her go. Yoshi and I looked at each other, and we both stepped forward to help her. But before we could reach them, someone seized the man by the shoulder with a tight grip.
It was Nino.
“Uresai yo,” he spoke in a low, even tone. His face was more serious than I had ever seen it. There was a glint of danger in his brown eyes. “Why don’t you let the lady go? Then you can have a nice cup of coffee. De-caff.”
The man laughed and shook his head. He let Reina go, raising his hands in the air. He made the move to leave.
Only to swing his fist in Nino’s direction. Then everything moved so fast. Somebody screamed. Nino ducked the man’s fist and grabbed his arm, holding him from behind. Reina started to cry so I took her arm and lead her away. Worried, we watched as Nino held the struggling man. Yoshi held the door open while Henry and Nino “escorted” the man out. I walked Reina back to her table and listened to her crying, jumbled words.
From what I could make out, she and the man had been dating for a few months. She thought it was true love- only to discover that day the man was married. When she broke up with him, he got angry. He followed her here.
“Baka desu yo?” Nino had returned with a steaming cup of tea. I winced at his lack of tact, calling the poor woman an idiot. But before I could scold him, I noticed his bruised cheek. It looked like Reina’s ex had landed a punch after all.
“Wah!! Nino-kun! Gomennasai!!” Reina wailed, burying her face into Nino’s chest, her arms going around his waist. I felt a strange twinge in my chest.
Maybe too much excitement for one day.
I put an elbow on the table and leaned my cheek into my hand, watching as Nino patted Reina on the head affectionately. “Maa maa. Daijoubou. Daijoubou.” He sighed and looked at me, exasperation on his face.
“Nino-kun kakkoi!” I heard some of the girls whispering excitedly.
Nino saluted me, that ever present cocky smile on his lips.
I laughed, rolling my eyes. Very cool indeed.
The police had been called and arrived soon afterwards. Pretty much everyone had been detained for questioning. By the time the last few statements had been made and the property damage assessed- a couple of broken patio pieces from the scuffle that had taken outside- it was late. Yoshi had offered me a ride home, so I waited around while they finished cleaning and closing up.
The night was warm and quiet, so I ventured outside to wait. As I stepped out, the soft strains of a melody being played on guitar danced in the air. Curious, I followed the sounds to where they were coming from. And there he was, around the corner of the café, sitting on the back entrance stairs and playing an acoustic guitar.
Nino.
And he was mesmerizing.
He sat illuminated by a single light. His hair glistened and his skin softened and the bruise on his cheek more prominent. His nimble fingers plucked and strummed a delicate tune. His eyes were closed as he listened intently as though the song was being played from some secret place and he was just playing along to catch up to it.
I clutched my shirt as my heart beat furiously. What the hell was going on? This was Nino! NINO. The Brat. My nemesis. The enemy. I couldn’t possibly be attracted to him. I couldn’t have feelings for him. That would just be stupid.
But dammit… a guy with a guitar…that had always been a weakness of mine.
And Nino was no exception.
I tried to control my heart and my breathing. I was afraid he could hear them both and find me spying on him like some perverted peeping Tom. I took a quiet step back. Or what I hoped to be a quiet step. I ruined that by stepping onto a piece of glass that crunched and cracked, echoing throughout the night. Nino stopped strumming and looked around.
“Who’s there?” he called out.
Figuring there was no way out, I stepped out of the shadows.
“Oh, G-chan,” he seemed quite surprised and embarrassed. A first. “Were you listening?”
I prayed he couldn’t see how red my cheeks had gotten.
“Yeah. You’re pretty good.”
“I look pretty cool, don’t I?” he preened.
“Yeah. You’re just a regular J-idol, aren’t you?” I teased him.
“Oi! Everyone knows J-idols have no real talent!” He waved a finger at me. “They’re only popular because they’re good-looking.” He had that arrogant look on his face again. “Maybe you think I’m good-looking. What do you think? Am I ikemen enough to be an idol.”
Most definitely.
Now where did that thought come from?
“Nah. You’re too skinny,” I retorted instead. “Why are you out here anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be closing up with the others?”
“I’m hiding,” he said shushing me.
“You’re terrible.”
“Oh, I’m not so bad once you get to know me.”
“I’m sure.” I stuck my tongue out at him.
Chuckling, he played a few more cords. I couldn’t help but stare. He couldn’t help but notice.
“Do you play?”
I shook my head no.
“Do you… do you want to try?” He stared at me with earnest eyes. I felt flushed again and still a little breathless.
“N-no, it’s ok.” I needed to leave before I made an ass of myself. “I need to find Yoshi-kun anyway. Otsukaresama desu!” I turned to walk away.
“Matte!” he exclaimed. “Chotto matte kudasai!” I stopped and turned back.
He was standing up, motioning me to stay. Struggling with something on his mind, he opened and shut his mouth a couple of times. I waited.
Finally, he blurted out in English, “Please teach me English!”
Now THAT I wasn’t expecting.
“You want to learn English?” I asked in Japanese.
“Hai. Er. Yes.”
“Why?”
He shrugged and muttered something in Japanese that I couldn’t quite understand.
I hesitated, “I don’t know…”
“Onegai!” he shouted. “Onegaishimasu! I’ll teach you the guitar!”
“Hounto?”
“Yes.”
I thought about it. I’d always wanted to learn how to play the guitar.
But spending extra time with The Brat may prove to be a bad idea.
“No pranks,” I warned him.
“Okay.”
“No more making fun of my Japanese.”
“Okay.”
“And you have to call me ‘sensei’.”
He looked at me strangely. I don’t blame him. I don’t even get the kids at school to call me that. But I just couldn’t resist making fun of him. “On second thought, call me ‘shishou’.” It meant Master.
When he scowled at me, I grinned. “Let’s hear you say it.”
“Dame da.”
And for the first time, we laughed together, awkwardly, our voices ringing out in the night.
And so, Tuesdays then became English lessons with Nino.