It being August, even the evening breeze was not particularly comfortable. I felt my back prickling with sweat as I made my way down the road to the bus stop. I sipped from the water bottle my mother had made me take to avoid dehydration.
I had no idea if Chika would be there, but just the possibility of a reunion made my heart leap. An expectant, bashful nervousness coursed through me. If she wasn’t there, there was nothing I could do about that. While I was aware of this, somewhere deep down I was convinced that I would see her. The ridicule I lobbed at myself for acting like a basic, garden variety high school boy gave me a little more room to breathe. I wrapped my fingers around the door handle and opened it to see a set of lights that existed nowhere else in the world.
“Oh, Kaya! You’re here.”
The relief in her voice mirrored all the joy and reassurance in my own heart. I closed the door, vibrating with shameful anticipation at the thought that she was actually happy to see me.
“Sorry I haven’t been coming here,” I replied, then I looked at the bench. I wondered how close I ought to sit, but eventually my reason won out and I sat down at the normal distance from her. “I was stuck in my house. The school punished me, like I said would probably happen. Sorry if you came here while I was gone.”
“I came a few times, but it’s fine. I was worried it might be a long time before I saw you again, so I’m just so happy you’re here.”
I wanted to tell her that it made me happiest of all just to hear her say that, but my shyness stole my words. I had not yet lost enough reason that I could just do whatever my id told me, as I had last time. Yes, that time. My cheeks grew hot in the darkness.
“Sorry to make you worry. Any news about the war?”
I noticed then that all the light was back in her eyes.
“They still haven’t given an estimate for when the siren will be fixed. It’s slow going, but my house is being rebuilt. It’s all thanks to you.”
“I mean, I wouldn’t say that, but I’m glad nonetheless.”
I’d felt guilty the entire past week. Though she didn’t see it that way, the last time we met I had more or less used breaking the siren as a pretense for touching her, so it felt bad to receive too much gratitude for it. Still, I was happy that she was happy.
“So what did you do while you were stuck at home?”
“Nothing in particular. I wrote an apology and did some strength training. Oh, right, my mother hit me—did anything happen to you?”
“She hit you? Like, she was violent toward you? Nothing happened to me, but are you okay?”
“Oh, yeah, it didn’t really bother me, and it was my fault anyway.”
“Glad you’re all right, then.”
It was clear from her tone that she was worried, which I felt bad about. I needed to change the subject.
“So what have you been up to?”
“I’ve been helping with the house repairs and collecting things to put in my new room when it’s done, like some books and that scent thing I brought here before.”
“Oh, nice. I know I won’t get to see your room, but it’s still exciting.”
I was glad to hear her have some optimism about her world again. Like I said, I would never get to see it, but I was excited to know that her world was being rebuilt.
“Did anything else happen?” I took a swig from my water bottle while I waited for her reply.
“Let’s see… I was thinking about that kiss.”
I sputtered, wasting water and choking as some of it flowed into a part of my body where water should not go.
“Kaya, you all right?”
“Guh, sorry, sorry. I’m fine.”
It should have been obvious, but of course I was the only one who was embarrassed. It could be easy to forget which of our practices and contexts weren’t shared.
“Wait, is it weird to go around thinking about kissing during normal life in your world?” she asked.
Was it?
“I mean, I don’t think it’s really all that weird. My water just went down the wrong way.”
What a lame recovery, I thought.
“Please try to drink a little more slowly.”
“Already done.”
“Anyway, I was thinking about the kissing and, well, you said that it’s something that people do as a means of expressing the emotion called rohmanse, right?”
“Yeah. Usually, anyway.”
“Well, I was kind of worried that for me to kiss you when I have no idea about rohmanse might be considered rude in your world.” She blinked once, slowly. “What I said before, that I want to cherish your feelings as much as you do, is true. That’s why I asked you about kissing—because I wanted to understand more about rohmanse, even just a little. But I started wondering if I was being rude and you only went along with it because you’re so nice. I’m really sorry if that’s true.”
“It wasn’t rude,” I immediately, firmly declared. There was a surprising strength to my tone. I had no idea that she had been worried about what we did.
I thought it over again and realized that this was what it meant to be part of two such utterly incompatible cultures. When you want to show off your own culture, sometimes you might end up ignoring the other person’s viewpoint, and when you try to respect their culture, you might worry that they find everything you’re doing incredibly strange. It was quite the delicate situation.
It was why wars persisted. But that much was lucky for me. It gave Chika and I a perspective we could share.
“It wasn’t rude at all. In fact, I was worried that I took advantage of your gratitude to ask for something that doesn’t exist in your culture and made it weird.”
“I didn’t dislike it at all. My gratitude then, and now, was completely genuine. Even if I can’t understand it, I’m glad that I got to share something with you thanks to this rohmanse thing.”
“I…I see. I’m glad too.”
All I could do was blush.
“I’m really glad I wasn’t being rude,” she said.