I wrote up a quick response between bites: “Hey, man. Just eating lunch. Got myself a BLT.”
Hasumi replied almost immediately: “Gotcha. So is it lonely eating all by yourself?”
“No. And how’d you know I was eating alone?”
“Oh, wait, you actually are? I was just making a joke. My bad.”
He was not making me feel very enthused to talk to him right now.
“What do you even want, man? State your business.”
“Just thought I’d let you know I got myself a girlfriend.”
I raised my eyebrows at this. Well, dang. Good for him. This was certainly sudden and unexpected, but I felt genuinely happy for him all the same. I typed out a response: “Wow, so you just wanted to brag, basically. But hey, congrats, man.”
About five minutes passed before Hasumi’s next reply.
“Thanks, dude. Just really felt like I needed to share this happiness with someone, y’know? But you’re the only person I could think of to tell. And yeah, I guess I am kinda bragging a little bit. Was ready for you to give me the cold shoulder, tbh. Really appreciate you being happy for me.”
I got a warm, fuzzy feeling in my chest. Hasumi was such an aloof and emotionally detached guy that I’d never expected to see such a sincere side of him. I almost wanted to take the train to go visit him right now.
I replied, “Aw, shucks… Didn’t know you thought so highly of me, man.”
“Nah, kinda the opposite, actually. You were just the one friend I was willing to risk hating me for wanting to gloat about it.”
“Hey, how do you block someone from texting you again?”
What the hell was this guy’s problem?
The one friend he was “willing to risk” being hated by—a harsh thing to say, yet I had to wonder if it was that low-key contempt we had for each other that had allowed us to stay friends for so long.
When you thought very highly of someone, those feelings could sometimes get in the way of being fully open with them and establishing true mutual understanding. On the flip side, when you didn’t think all that highly of the other person, there were fewer reasons to restrain yourself from being brutally honest with them—which could be a good thing or a bad thing, depending on the situation. Perhaps the reason Hasumi and I felt so comfortable ribbing on each other was because neither of us cared all that much what the other person thought of us. It felt kind of messed up to look at it that way, but it seemed like a fairly common relationship dynamic.
“Oh, hey!” said a voice. “Kamiki-kun!”
Hearing my name called, I looked up to see a baby-faced boy with a packed lunch in his hands standing right in the middle of the terrace. He was Sonoda, a kid in the same department as me. I’d offered him directions once when I noticed him wandering cluelessly around campus like a lost puppy, and that had been impetus enough for us to start talking. He was the very first friend I’d ever made in college.
“Mind if I sit here?” he asked.
“Yeah, no—go right ahead.”
I quickly fired off one last message to Hasumi: “Gotta go. Someone’s here now.”
“No worries. Talk to you later.”
I slipped my cell phone back into my pocket, then looked up at Sonoda.
“Girlfriend?” he asked me with a playful smirk.
“Nah, just an old buddy from high school,” I said. “He’s a bit of a weird one, though.”
“Oh yeah? Well, to be fair…you’re not the most normal guy either, Kamiki-kun.”
“Wait, huh? Oh, come on. I’m not that weird, am I?”
“No, you definitely are.” Sonoda flashed a sardonic grin, opened the lid on his packed lunch, and started eating.
I tilted my head for a moment; now I was feeling a little concerned. But in the end, I shrugged it off as just another bit of playful ribbing, like what Hasumi and I would always do. It would be kind of nice if Sonoda and I could develop a similar rapport, I caught myself thinking as I took another bite of my BLT.
Once I was finished with all of my classes for the day, I made a quick pit stop back at home, then headed straight over to the bookstore in the nearby shopping mall. Not because I needed to buy a book or anything—but because this was where I worked.
Standing behind the register, I assisted the bookstore’s steady-ish stream of customers in whatever ways I could. I’d been employed here for almost a year now, and while it certainly wasn’t the easiest or most lucrative job in the world, I’d actually found myself taking a fair bit of pride in my work as of late. I’d even taken a new hire under my wing, and I’d been put in charge of writing some of the point-of-purchase signage and book recommendations whenever I had a little spare time.
Every time I read a great work of fiction, I couldn’t help but recall that pathetic excuse for a novel I’d tried to write way back when. And although it certainly hadn’t turned out to be anything worth reading, in the end, I still vividly remembered how much fun it had been to put pen to paper and see where I ended up. Maybe once I’d gotten a little more used to my new life in the big city, I would take a crack at writing again.
“Um, excuse me?” said a customer, snapping me out of my thoughts. “I’m looking for a particular book… It’s this one here. Do you think you could help me find it?”
“Sure thing,” I said. “Let me take a quick look for you.”
I manned the register and helped customers for another few hours, and next thing I knew, it was closing time. I wished my boss and my coworkers good night, then headed out for the night. It was already dark outside as I collected my bike from the bike lot and pedaled for home—though I did make a quick stop at the supermarket near the apartment building to pick up a few groceries while I was out and about.
Eggplant was on sale, so I decided to make mapo eggplant for dinner tonight. To that end, I also picked up some minced pork, green onions, and Cook Do-brand sauce packets. It was a very simple recipe: just chop everything up and stir-fry it all together. Simple enough that even an idiot like me couldn’t possibly screw it up—and it tasted pretty damn good. I was also in the mood for a little dessert tonight, so I went ahead and grabbed two baked custards while I was at it.
By the time I made it back home, it was already after nine. It was eerily dark and quiet in the living area of our two-bedroom apartment, so I flipped all the lights on and rolled up my sleeves to get started on dinner. Right then, my phone rang.
I checked the caller ID—it was Hoshihara.
“Hello?” I asked upon answering the call.
“Hey there, stranger!” said Hoshihara. “How’ve you been?”
“Yeah, hey. I’m good, I’m good. How ’bout you?”
“Oh, you know! Can’t complain!”
I’d been feeling pretty tuckered out from work, yet just hearing Hoshihara’s cheery voice was enough to make me feel all jazzed up and energized again. I walked over to the couch and sat down.