“Shimomura! Shimomura!” I windmilled my arms to catch the taxi driver’s attention. The headlights flashed, signaling, “I get it, okay?” and in moments, the taxi pulled up and stopped in front of the garden. The door opened, and Haruyoshi leaped out of the backseat, threw his arms wide, and gave me a hug.
“Seigi, my dude! It’s been too long. Remember what to call me?”
“…Haruyoshi!”
“Ah ha ha, took you a sec.”
“I know, I know! Sorry, I’m still not used to saying it out loud. I’m glad you could make it.”
“Man, I’ve never been to Southern Asia before. My buddy from school who lives in Myanmar kept giving me warnings, but this place is nice! I saw an elephant walking around earlier. Startled the crap out of me.”
“Yeah, they live in the mountains around here.”
As I took his luggage, I heard a quaking voice far behind me. There it was again. It wasn’t until the third time when the voice spoke up that Haruyoshi noticed.
“…H-Haruyoshi?”
It was Henry.
When Haruyoshi saw Henry standing against the backdrop of the garden, arms outstretched, his face lit up. He opened his arms wide and barreled straight toward Henry into a hug. It was so casual, like a puppy leaping at him, that I almost couldn’t believe this was the same imposing figure whose finger Richard and Jeffrey had kissed.
“Enrique! It’s my first time seeing you in person! I’m so happy. How are you? How’s life?”
In Henry’s stiff Japanese, he responded, “I am very happy, too! I am doing well. And life is, uh…same shit, different day.”
Haruyoshi roared with laughter. “Good memory! Man, you sure are taller than I expected.”
I blanched and looked away in horror. I prayed Richard and Jeffrey hadn’t heard any of this conversation. I didn’t have to stretch my imagination to know what they might do if they discovered who taught Henry all those curse words he’d rattled off in Nuwara Eliya. Because it was crystal clear this was all my fault. Worse, Richard still hadn’t said a word to me about the entire incident.
“Haruyoshi?”
“What’s up?”
“I must tell you something. I will say it in English.”
Henry screwed up his face in preparation. Haruyoshi realized how serious he looked and stopped short on his way over to the buffet table.
“Yeah, sure. You can tell me anything.”
Haruyoshi nodded. He was ready to catch whatever bombshell Henry was preparing to drop. Henry visibly relaxed, just a hair, and then the tone of Lord Henry Claremont’s speech performed a 180. It was such a complete metamorphosis that it was like an actor throwing back his dirty cloak to reveal a fine tuxedo underneath.
“It is an honor to meet you,” Henry began in exemplary British English, “and I am most pleased that you could come.” He stood up taller and declared, “My name is Henry Claremont, the tenth Earl of Claremont and the successor of my late father’s lands and titles. I must sincerely apologize for keeping my origin a secret from you for so long. You are much younger than me, and you come from a completely different world. I feared you would think me some pompous toff if you knew who I was. Now, however, I see that it was a grave insult to ever assume such a thing of you. My apologies, and I hope you will forgive me.”
Henry sounded like he was on the verge of tears. I clasped my hands together as hope swelled within me. In Nuwara Eliya, Henry had conducted himself like a grand gentleman, but now he was the same Henry I had known before. Maybe both those people were part of Henry.
On the one hand, I felt kind of relieved. On the other, I was scared of Haruyoshi’s reaction. The ball was in his court.
My old school friend stared blankly at Henry for a moment before cracking an awkward smile and shaking his head. “Man, of all the things you coulda said… Enrique—Henry, I mean. I would never think badly of you. You, pompous? Nah. You’ve always been super nice to me. What am I supposed to forgive you for? I don’t mind any of that earl crap. Let’s be friends, okay? Let’s make some more music together.”
He bowed, sort of as a joke, to seal the agreement. Now I felt like I wanted to cry, too, and Henry teared up harder than ever.
Boy, this Haruyoshi Shimomura. I might have misjudged his courage. I mean, this was a man who went all by himself to Spain to learn flamenco guitar. Spain had aristocrats as well, and there was no rule that said you had to be shy when the head of an ancient line of nobility popped up out of nowhere. In hindsight, shyness would have been rude—after the two of them had connected through music and all. There was no status in music. No borders. No languages. Nothing extra, nothing unnecessary. No obstacles could bar the way of music played with sincerity. It was like a jewel that always shone bright, no matter who it belonged to.
Deep down, I envied what Henry and Haruyoshi had. Hey, Richard can play the violin, I thought. Too bad I didn’t play any instruments.
Henry walked off, a spring in his step and a look of relief on his face, to introduce Haruyoshi—still pronounced in that broken Japanese—to his family. Haruyoshi smiled just as brightly. I was glad. So very, very glad things had turned out this way.
With that, I turned to walk away, too, when Haruyoshi snapped back to face me and darted over. What? What was his problem?!
“Hey, Seigi? Can you, uh, give me a rough translation of what that was all about? I only caught the very final couple of sentences, and I have literally no idea what that first part was. ‘Urrl’ this, ‘urrl’ that—what does ‘urrl’ mean? Like…a URL? A pearl? A squirrel?”
I take back my admiration, I thought.
Just as I was about to explain that “urrl” was the English word earl, Urrl Henry yelled for Haruyoshi. My smooth-talking ex-classmate called back, “Coming!” in Spanish and trotted off with an innocent grin.
I put my hands on my sarong-covered hips and stared off into the distance of the garden. It looked like Henry was back to square one.
Saul’s house was built with the intent of one day being a hospital, so it had lots of bedrooms. Catherine insisted on having her own hotel room, but aside from her, the rest of us split into groups of two and each had our own room to stay in. I tried to give the neighbors and Kumara a big tip as a thank-you, but they all looked shocked and refused to accept it. To them, I would simply return the favor someday when they needed help. The concept of accepting money for helping with a party was foreign to them. I appreciated it, but I felt bad for that appreciation at the same time. I knew I would need to make some hearty biryani or samosas to gift them instead.
Even with that, I enjoyed the party. Once I finished cleaning up, I took a turn around the garden in the dark and thought to myself that we would have to throw another party one of these days.