Hard Hand to Hold - Eight
Chapter Eight:
“Who you wanna be with when you close your eyes? Is it gonna be with me or somebody that can love you better?”
Shige:
Auditions for the play are over, and I got the lead role. There are certain aspects of his personality that will be a challenge for me to portray, but I’m ready for it. For so long I have been running, forgetting and pushing away memories that threaten to stain my current happiness. I don’t want to do that anymore; this is something I love to do, and I’m going to do it.
Kairi, Kei’s girlfriend of two years, is cuddling with him on the couch to my left and I’m sprawled across the loveseat. All of our eyes are fixed on the TV screen in front of us for the third episode. Despite the depressing mood of the drama, I’m able to find amusement in the way “Asou-kun” insists on using a MiniDisc player.
It’s amazing how time can change our perceptions. Things that seemed so new and exciting to us in the not too distant past can seem as ancient as a freshly dug-up fossil now.
“I am a man who always cherishes objects and people,” he says to explain his fixation and I try to ignore the sound of disgust coming from the other side of the room.
Later on in the episode, I shed a tear for the first time. I didn’t think I was going to until the end of the series, but the power of seeing someone about to lose everything suddenly hit me.
It’s scary how much can change with time.
-~-~-
Ryo:
What brought me here, to the small bookstore in my hometown, is also what is holding me back. My palms begin to sweat as I realize once again that there is no way of knowing what to expect.
I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore.
I’ve read it a thousand times, at least. He could be disgusted by me, hate me…and I wouldn’t know.
Regardless, I muster up whatever strength is left in me and push open the door. Memories flood my mind when I see him behind the counter, flipping through what looks like a manga. Same old Shige, I think and my heart pounds as I approach him.
He looks up at me once, but quickly averts his gaze. Even though I’ve wanted to see him again every second since he left, it’s surprisingly hard to look at him.
“Um,” I mutter stupidly.
“Do you need help finding something?”
I reach into my back pocket and pull out the slip of paper I ripped out of my sister’s notebook this morning. On it is written the name of some book one of the staff members recommended to me a few weeks ago.
“Do you have this?” I ask casually as the nerves begin to calm down. He looks up at me for a moment or two before taking the paper from my grasp.
“I think I saw it the other day. Follow me,” he answers and motions towards a shelf on the other side of the room.
He seems so professional, and even though that’s what anyone should expect from an employee, it bothers me. I’m not a stranger. “You’ve read it before, haven’t you? I can’t say I’m surprised.”
He ignores me as he runs his fingers across the line of books on the third shelf. “I have,” he finally replies once he pulls out one of the books with ease. “But I’m fairly sure other bookstores carry it as well.”
I take the book from him, not bothering to take my eyes off of his indifferent expression.
“You didn’t have to come here.”
“Isn’t it your job to promote your own store?” Funny. I hate it when he’s professional but his non-professional words sting even more than ignorance. It’s not the first time I’ve wanted something back after pushing it away.
“Sorry,” he says with a sigh and I follow him back over to the counter where he rings it up. After I pay, he hands me the bag with the usual “Thank you” and continues with what he was doing.
As I turn to leave, I notice a man reading a newspaper in the corner of the room. “I can stay here to read it, can’t I? Or should I find somewhere else to do that too?” I know my harsh words aren’t helping anything but it hurts more than I thought it would to see how far we have drifted away from each other. Even more so knowing I was the catalyst.
“I shouldn’t have said that before,” he says quietly before his posture returns back to that of any other store employee. “The tables and couches are for anyone to use, so feel free to stay here as long as you need to. Let me know if you need anything.”
---
I stayed there for a while, trying to figure out what to do before I eventually left. I went home, ate dinner with my family and laughed over a story my sister told, but all throughout I was debating whether or not to go back.
Even though it seemed like it would be better to leave things until tomorrow, here I am walking back to the bookstore.
When it becomes visible, I can see Shige sitting on the ground outside of it under the yellow glow of the streetlight. The lights are out inside, so it must be closed already.
I stop a few feet from him but he doesn’t look up, and instead continues to play with the string coming off of a rip in his jeans over his knee.
“What are you doing?”
“I figured you’d come back.”
A cold breeze passes by, tousling the dark hair that falls over his face.
“You were waiting for me?” I ask, incredulous.
He sighs and stands up, finally meeting my eyes. “I’m not going to ignore you, Ryo. I know you didn’t come here for a book, so what is it?”
“Can we talk?”
-~-~-~
Shige:
As we walk along the empty sidewalk, it feels like there are thousands of words left unsaid, all mixing and combining to form the tension between us. It’s uncomfortable.
I don’t know why he came here, but I can’t say I’m not happy to see him again.
“I’ve been watching 1 Liter of Tears,” I mention, figuring it’d be best to stay casual.
He smiles faintly. “Do you like it?”
As if I’ve ever come across a drama or movie he’s done that I haven’t liked. “Yeah. But it’s pretty scary to see a disease that can take away everything. She was so young, too.”
He nods in understanding and stops suddenly, leaning against a fence. “It made me think about certain things.”
“Like?”
He directs his attention to the cement sidewalk, sadness clearly written on his face. “I thought, ‘If I died today, right now, would I be happy with how things happened?’ The answer is no.” He sighs deeply before continuing. “I hate the way things happened with us. I was a big part of that, I know, but I want to make it right with you."
“If you're doing this to ease a guilty conscience, don't bother...”
“How can I say this so that you'll get it?” The struggle is written on his face and when he looks up at me, my defense begins to fade. “I miss you. I've been missing you. If there is any way we can go back to being friends and put all of this behind us and just hang out like we used to, I'd do it...”
“I don’t see any harm in trying, I guess.”
A smile breaks out across his face, then fades as we continue walking. Something's different about him, and somehow I can't seem to find that same connection I was once so desperate to strengthen. Maybe I'm shying away from it, or maybe it was lost in the shards of the broken past. Either way, just friends sounds good to me.
"Shige, the one I was with that night...I-"
"I know. I sort of figured it out."
"I should have told you..."
"I thought we were putting all that behind us?”
"Fine. We won't talk about it. It’s not like talking will change anything anyway. You saw what you saw."
"The past is the past."
Comparing the casual, easy way we were together in the past and the tense, awkward way we are now is like comparing black and white.
I take a deep breath before attempting to try. “So, you’re staying with family?”
"For a little while."
"I bet they're happy."
He nods. "They've been giving me subtle hints that I rarely visit, and when I realized I needed a break from work and city-life I thought about how nice home sounded."
"What about the boyfriend?" Even though I’ve moved on, it’s still not easy to say.
"Ended...again."
"Off again, on again?"
"I'm not sure it'll ever be on again. Third time's not always the charm."
We reach my house and I turn to him with a slight smile. "Well...I guess I'll hear from you?"
"Yeah."
His eyes are locked on mine, and I realize just how much I’ve missed him. How could I not after I felt so strongly about him?
“Goodnight,” I finally say and walk up the four steps to my door, before inserting the key into the golden knob and twisting it to the right.
“Shige, wait,” he calls to me in a strangled voice. “Tell me something.”
I wait a few moments before he continues.
"Is there any part of you that still likes me? The truth.”
I release the knob and let my hand fall to my side as I turn back to face him once again. "If you're asking if I still care about you...then the answer is yes. I never stopped. But if you're asking if I still want to date you, then the answer is no. That's the truth."
He nods in silence before looking up to meet my eyes once more. "I do hope...it works out for us. As friends, I mean."
"Me too,” I respond and enter my house, closing the door behind me.
I honestly don’t know if it will. Perhaps, time does have the power to change everything, even the way you look at someone.
I drag myself up the stairs and change into sweatpants and an old t-shirt before heading back down to where the TV is unoccupied. I collapse on the couch, hoping to find something that will lull me into unconsciousness before other thoughts creep in.
Outside, almost every leaf has fallen.
A loud vibrating noise sounds from behind me and I reach back to grab my phone.
I forgot to ask you…my parents are taking my little sister to a concert tomorrow night. Do you want to have dinner with me?
He hasn’t changed completely.
Still don’t like eating alone?
Hate it.
I stare at the dull screen for a while, contemplating it.
What time?
Whenever you get off work is fine.
Sounds good.
If time has the power to change something, perhaps it also has the power to change it back.
End of Chapter Eight
Lyrics from “How You Gonna Spend Your Life” by Ace Young
“Who you wanna be with when you close your eyes? Is it gonna be with me or somebody that can love you better?”
Shige:
Auditions for the play are over, and I got the lead role. There are certain aspects of his personality that will be a challenge for me to portray, but I’m ready for it. For so long I have been running, forgetting and pushing away memories that threaten to stain my current happiness. I don’t want to do that anymore; this is something I love to do, and I’m going to do it.
Kairi, Kei’s girlfriend of two years, is cuddling with him on the couch to my left and I’m sprawled across the loveseat. All of our eyes are fixed on the TV screen in front of us for the third episode. Despite the depressing mood of the drama, I’m able to find amusement in the way “Asou-kun” insists on using a MiniDisc player.
It’s amazing how time can change our perceptions. Things that seemed so new and exciting to us in the not too distant past can seem as ancient as a freshly dug-up fossil now.
“I am a man who always cherishes objects and people,” he says to explain his fixation and I try to ignore the sound of disgust coming from the other side of the room.
Later on in the episode, I shed a tear for the first time. I didn’t think I was going to until the end of the series, but the power of seeing someone about to lose everything suddenly hit me.
It’s scary how much can change with time.
-~-~-
Ryo:
What brought me here, to the small bookstore in my hometown, is also what is holding me back. My palms begin to sweat as I realize once again that there is no way of knowing what to expect.
I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore.
I’ve read it a thousand times, at least. He could be disgusted by me, hate me…and I wouldn’t know.
Regardless, I muster up whatever strength is left in me and push open the door. Memories flood my mind when I see him behind the counter, flipping through what looks like a manga. Same old Shige, I think and my heart pounds as I approach him.
He looks up at me once, but quickly averts his gaze. Even though I’ve wanted to see him again every second since he left, it’s surprisingly hard to look at him.
“Um,” I mutter stupidly.
“Do you need help finding something?”
I reach into my back pocket and pull out the slip of paper I ripped out of my sister’s notebook this morning. On it is written the name of some book one of the staff members recommended to me a few weeks ago.
“Do you have this?” I ask casually as the nerves begin to calm down. He looks up at me for a moment or two before taking the paper from my grasp.
“I think I saw it the other day. Follow me,” he answers and motions towards a shelf on the other side of the room.
He seems so professional, and even though that’s what anyone should expect from an employee, it bothers me. I’m not a stranger. “You’ve read it before, haven’t you? I can’t say I’m surprised.”
He ignores me as he runs his fingers across the line of books on the third shelf. “I have,” he finally replies once he pulls out one of the books with ease. “But I’m fairly sure other bookstores carry it as well.”
I take the book from him, not bothering to take my eyes off of his indifferent expression.
“You didn’t have to come here.”
“Isn’t it your job to promote your own store?” Funny. I hate it when he’s professional but his non-professional words sting even more than ignorance. It’s not the first time I’ve wanted something back after pushing it away.
“Sorry,” he says with a sigh and I follow him back over to the counter where he rings it up. After I pay, he hands me the bag with the usual “Thank you” and continues with what he was doing.
As I turn to leave, I notice a man reading a newspaper in the corner of the room. “I can stay here to read it, can’t I? Or should I find somewhere else to do that too?” I know my harsh words aren’t helping anything but it hurts more than I thought it would to see how far we have drifted away from each other. Even more so knowing I was the catalyst.
“I shouldn’t have said that before,” he says quietly before his posture returns back to that of any other store employee. “The tables and couches are for anyone to use, so feel free to stay here as long as you need to. Let me know if you need anything.”
---
I stayed there for a while, trying to figure out what to do before I eventually left. I went home, ate dinner with my family and laughed over a story my sister told, but all throughout I was debating whether or not to go back.
Even though it seemed like it would be better to leave things until tomorrow, here I am walking back to the bookstore.
When it becomes visible, I can see Shige sitting on the ground outside of it under the yellow glow of the streetlight. The lights are out inside, so it must be closed already.
I stop a few feet from him but he doesn’t look up, and instead continues to play with the string coming off of a rip in his jeans over his knee.
“What are you doing?”
“I figured you’d come back.”
A cold breeze passes by, tousling the dark hair that falls over his face.
“You were waiting for me?” I ask, incredulous.
He sighs and stands up, finally meeting my eyes. “I’m not going to ignore you, Ryo. I know you didn’t come here for a book, so what is it?”
“Can we talk?”
-~-~-~
Shige:
As we walk along the empty sidewalk, it feels like there are thousands of words left unsaid, all mixing and combining to form the tension between us. It’s uncomfortable.
I don’t know why he came here, but I can’t say I’m not happy to see him again.
“I’ve been watching 1 Liter of Tears,” I mention, figuring it’d be best to stay casual.
He smiles faintly. “Do you like it?”
As if I’ve ever come across a drama or movie he’s done that I haven’t liked. “Yeah. But it’s pretty scary to see a disease that can take away everything. She was so young, too.”
He nods in understanding and stops suddenly, leaning against a fence. “It made me think about certain things.”
“Like?”
He directs his attention to the cement sidewalk, sadness clearly written on his face. “I thought, ‘If I died today, right now, would I be happy with how things happened?’ The answer is no.” He sighs deeply before continuing. “I hate the way things happened with us. I was a big part of that, I know, but I want to make it right with you."
“If you're doing this to ease a guilty conscience, don't bother...”
“How can I say this so that you'll get it?” The struggle is written on his face and when he looks up at me, my defense begins to fade. “I miss you. I've been missing you. If there is any way we can go back to being friends and put all of this behind us and just hang out like we used to, I'd do it...”
“I don’t see any harm in trying, I guess.”
A smile breaks out across his face, then fades as we continue walking. Something's different about him, and somehow I can't seem to find that same connection I was once so desperate to strengthen. Maybe I'm shying away from it, or maybe it was lost in the shards of the broken past. Either way, just friends sounds good to me.
"Shige, the one I was with that night...I-"
"I know. I sort of figured it out."
"I should have told you..."
"I thought we were putting all that behind us?”
"Fine. We won't talk about it. It’s not like talking will change anything anyway. You saw what you saw."
"The past is the past."
Comparing the casual, easy way we were together in the past and the tense, awkward way we are now is like comparing black and white.
I take a deep breath before attempting to try. “So, you’re staying with family?”
"For a little while."
"I bet they're happy."
He nods. "They've been giving me subtle hints that I rarely visit, and when I realized I needed a break from work and city-life I thought about how nice home sounded."
"What about the boyfriend?" Even though I’ve moved on, it’s still not easy to say.
"Ended...again."
"Off again, on again?"
"I'm not sure it'll ever be on again. Third time's not always the charm."
We reach my house and I turn to him with a slight smile. "Well...I guess I'll hear from you?"
"Yeah."
His eyes are locked on mine, and I realize just how much I’ve missed him. How could I not after I felt so strongly about him?
“Goodnight,” I finally say and walk up the four steps to my door, before inserting the key into the golden knob and twisting it to the right.
“Shige, wait,” he calls to me in a strangled voice. “Tell me something.”
I wait a few moments before he continues.
"Is there any part of you that still likes me? The truth.”
I release the knob and let my hand fall to my side as I turn back to face him once again. "If you're asking if I still care about you...then the answer is yes. I never stopped. But if you're asking if I still want to date you, then the answer is no. That's the truth."
He nods in silence before looking up to meet my eyes once more. "I do hope...it works out for us. As friends, I mean."
"Me too,” I respond and enter my house, closing the door behind me.
I honestly don’t know if it will. Perhaps, time does have the power to change everything, even the way you look at someone.
I drag myself up the stairs and change into sweatpants and an old t-shirt before heading back down to where the TV is unoccupied. I collapse on the couch, hoping to find something that will lull me into unconsciousness before other thoughts creep in.
Outside, almost every leaf has fallen.
A loud vibrating noise sounds from behind me and I reach back to grab my phone.
I forgot to ask you…my parents are taking my little sister to a concert tomorrow night. Do you want to have dinner with me?
He hasn’t changed completely.
Still don’t like eating alone?
Hate it.
I stare at the dull screen for a while, contemplating it.
What time?
Whenever you get off work is fine.
Sounds good.
If time has the power to change something, perhaps it also has the power to change it back.
End of Chapter Eight
Lyrics from “How You Gonna Spend Your Life” by Ace Young