We’d already decided on the film. We were going to watch the film adaptation of the novel by Keiko Nishikawa that we’d talked about. Although it was a weekday evening, the theater was packed. I’d never been on such a date-like date, even when I had a girlfriend.
“Are you sure you don’t mind paying?” I asked Wataya as we waited for the movie to start. We were sitting so close, our shoulders were touching.
“I’m the one who suggested it, so don’t worry about it. Anyway, I have a job.”
“Where do you work?”
“…My mom designs book covers, and I help her with the secretarial stuff. I’ve been doing it since high school, so I’ve got a decent amount saved up. For a student, I mean.”
So her mom was a designer? That was the first time she had ever mentioned her family. Still…
“Next time, I’ll treat you,” I said.
She stared at me. Then she snorted and said, “Okay, we’ll do that.”
The previews started. I went over the plot of the novel in my mind while I waited for the main feature, and then I suddenly remembered the afterword. The author had mentioned going through some tough times before writing the book, but she didn’t elaborate on what they were. I was curious and looked it up, but as far as I could tell, she hadn’t revealed more details in any of her interviews. There were rumors of a family tragedy, but I didn’t know if they were true.
The film began. It was a beautiful, sad story. Perhaps a reflection of the author’s emotions at the time. It depicted the sorrow and pain of parting and the way that everyday life swallows up those feelings with its forceful and fleeting nature.
About halfway through the film, I noticed something. When I glanced at Wataya, her eyes were glittering, reflecting the light from the screen. Tears had welled up in her eyes, and the light shimmered on their surface like a living creature.
She was crying.
I was surprised, but not wanting to interfere with her experience of the film, I looked back at the screen. I thought about handing her my handkerchief, but I knew that as it was unironed, it would leave a bad impression. I resolved to always iron my handkerchiefs from then on.
Just…maybe this was obvious, but I realized that even Wataya cried sometimes. I was deeply moved. I would never have learned that on campus.
The movie had yet to reach its climax. I wondered what had moved her to tears. What did she feel sad about?
By the time the film was over, the sky outside was dark. At Wataya’s suggestion, we went to a stylish café in the basement. I was happy just being able to spend more time with her. We sat down across from each other at a table and talked about what we’d watched over dinner. She seemed to like both the novel and the film, and she spoke enthusiastically about the directing and plot developments.
You cried, didn’t you?
I wanted to say that to her. I wanted to ask what scene had moved her or made her sad. But I worried it would be rude. She might not have wanted to be seen crying. People cry for many reasons, and they are all quite personal. Just as I was thinking about this, she said, “The photos in the advertisements for the movie were beautiful, weren’t they? The emphasis was more on the scenery than the people, I think.”
“You’re right. Like the depth of field was intentionally…”
I broke off, realizing I was talking like I was some expert on photography. She looked at me with a mixture of interest and surprise.
“Do you like photography?” she asked.
“No, I was just parroting something I heard to sound cool. I don’t like taking pictures or having my picture taken.”
Partly because I got distracted by that, I never did ask why she cried. Instead, I put on a smile and said, “Anyway, don’t forget my promise. I’m paying next time we go out.”
“Promise? We haven’t even talked about where we’re going or what we’re doing.”
“Okay, the zoo… No, the amusement park… No, how about the aquarium?”
“That was a lot of changes.”
“The zoo smells like animals, and the amusement park is far away. I figured the aquarium is somewhere we can go on a weekday.”
There was an aquarium relatively close by. A friend from university had told me they offered something called “Night at the Aquarium,” where they kept it open until late. It was supposedly quite atmospheric and had become a popular date spot.
“The aquarium?”
“Do you dislike it?”
“It’s not exactly that.”
There was something I wanted to try, although I was shy about it. I’d considered various options, but the aquarium seemed to be the perfect place. If she wasn’t opposed to it, I wanted to hold hands with her. Like a couple, if possible.
“Would you go with me? Playing pretend is fine,” I said. I didn’t want to be overly forward, and my voice slowly grew quiet. Maybe because she was worried about my feelings, Wataya gave that same resigned smile.
“…Okay. We’ll do that next.”
“Really, can we?”
“Sure. We are going out, after all.”
I was happy to have arranged our next date. She smiled as she watched my excited reaction. We kept talking for a while, about movies we’d streamed, about novels we wanted to read, and about our mutual friend. As they say, time flies when you’re having fun, and when I checked the clock, it was already nine. We left the café, and I walked her to the ticket gate.
“Well, good night.”
“Take care on your way home.”
I watched her walk into the station and stayed there until I couldn’t see her any longer. It was a little thing, but it made me happy in a restless, bittersweet way. I walked over to my subway station, and as I waited on the platform, I sent her a message.
Thank you for today. I had a good time. I’m looking forward to the aquarium.
I noticed that she read it right away. I wondered if she’d had fun today. Would she say that she’d enjoyed the date and that she was also looking forward to next time?
A few minutes passed, and my train came. I had yet to receive a response. I got off at the station near the university and went upstairs to my apartment. I checked my phone. But for some reason, she never responded.