Yoshioka was wearing glasses when she saw him again that day, seven years later. He had grown old and weary, but the glasses were the most surprising change. Before she offered even a simple hello…
“Have you always worn glasses?!”
…Aguri couldn’t stop herself from shouting.
“Nah, started wearing ’em ’round last year, I guess…”
Yoshioka’s appearance had clearly changed. But it was more than just a young man reaching the prime of his life.
Do all men age this fast?
Yoshioka was still only thirty-six years old.
“Heh-heh… Heh-heh-heh…” Yoshioka chuckled as he took off his shoes. “Hey, uh… Can I come in? Huge place ya got here… A rental? Or didja buy it?” he asked, already making his way inside.
“Oh, please… Do you really think I could afford buying a place like this? I’m renting… Come on in.”
Aguri showed him into a room across from the outside hallway. She was basically treating it as a place to entertain guests, but this dreary room was also where she usually held work meetings. People from television stations and film companies would pile in here to discuss business, filling the air with cigarette smoke. The white wallpaper had taken a light-brown tint as a result.
Aguri cleaned the place once a year on New Year’s Eve, but even the rag she used had become discolored and gunked up to the point that she didn’t really care enough anymore to decorate the room or make it look nice. Cluttered with various baubles and knickknacks she had lying around the house, it practically screamed nothing beats cheap. The walls were bare of any paintings—only a calendar pinned up with a thumbtack. She took notes on the calendar for work, which was why it had check marks and Xs scribbled all over it in permanent marker.
One time, when Aguri was writing for a morning soap opera, the show’s lead actress stopped by and said, “This place is way too dreary. Here, take this,” and gifted her a flower vase.
Aguri had just bought some flowers to put in the vase, which was now atop the sideboard. She would never do something like that if a work colleague was visiting, but Yoshioka was different. They used to date, after all.
The room could use some color, she figured.
Aguri had actually considered putting the flowers in the living room out back and taking Yoshioka there. The living room was very sunny, with a great view of the mountains. It had beautiful curtains and furniture, too. But Aguri suddenly changed her mind and showed Yoshioka into the gloomy drawing room.
Yoshioka was wearing a navy-blue polo with a white cotton jacket and wrinkly ecru pants. His features were lined with age, so his fashionable getup didn’t quite hit the mark. He just looked tired and shabby. Yoshioka was a shadow of his once-gentlemanly self—maybe his life had taken a turn for the worse—and yet his overall charm and endearing smile hadn’t faded one bit.
That’s how he gets you, thought Aguri.
Some people were hard to approach, but not Yoshioka. He was the definition of approachable, and that was what had made him so popular with women.
“Right… So this is where you work?” he asked.
Yoshioka took a seat on the couch and started curiously looking around. His curiosity turned to confusion when he noticed there wasn’t a single picture or painting to look at.
“This is the drawing room,” said Aguri. “I do my work down the hall.”
“Bet you’re really busy, writing for a TV show with a really popular actress and all. You make good money?”
“Enough to get by.”
“You’re a real big shot now. I can barely look ya in the eye, Aguri… Maybe I’ve said too much.”
Aguri snorted, then took a seat in the chair across from Yoshioka. There was a television in the corner of the room, and in front of the TV stand was an award from the TV station’s president congratulating Aguri on her show’s high ratings. However, it was facing backward, so her guests would have no clue what it was for.
Yoshioka sat up straight once again.
“Been so long that I dunno where to start… How many years now?” he asked.
“Six or seven, maybe?” Aguri replied, even though she knew it had been exactly seven years since they broke up. She picked up the kettle she always kept on the side table and started pouring tea. “So,” she began, “what made you decide to call me out of the blue like that? I was surprised, to say the least.”
“Heh-heh… Heh-heh-heh…”
Aguri noticed that Yoshioka’s face seemed more scrunched up, and his forehead wrinkled like a monkey’s when he laughed. Perhaps he’d lost weight. It was a slight turnoff, so she looked away. But she knew his body very well. She could still remember every curve from his neck to his shoulders and how it felt to run her hands down them, although her raw affection for Yoshioka had long faded. It was now a mere memory.
I can’t believe it’s been so long…
Listening to him talk felt like hearing a long-forgotten song being played on an old, broken jukebox. That one night last week, his voice had made Aguri’s heart skip a beat—unlike now.
It had been around eight PM when the phone rang.
“Uh…I’m trying to reach Aguri Takao, the writer for Mother Tantan. Is this the right number?”
It was a man. Fans of the show Mother Tantan had managed to get a hold of Aguri’s phone number in the past, so she replied in a deep, stiff voice, “Yes, it is.”
Some people had even called to tell her how much they hated her show, a serial TV dramedy about a single-mother household.
“Yeah…that’s Aguri, all right. Guess who this is.”
“Who?”
“Ya really can’t tell, huh? It’s…it’s me, Yoshioka.”
Aguri had figured it out before he said his name. She felt her heart pound in her chest. Most likely a conditioned response—an old habit.
“Sorry for callin’ outta nowhere. Ya busy right now?”
“Yes, I am. What do you want?”
She always acted like this while she was working, but it flustered Yoshioka.
“I’m really sorry for interrupting, then. Actually, there’s somethin’ I wanna talk about. Think we could get together?”
“When?”
“Whenever’s good for you. It’s, uh… It’s kinda hard askin’ this, since you’re famous and all now, but…think ya could make a li’l time to meet up with this fella?”
“Meet up with this fella” made it sound like Yoshioka was talking about someone else, but he was in fact referring to himself. He talked just the same as always. Aguri wanted to laugh; it brought back so many memories.
“Sure. I can’t this week, though. Way too busy.”
“That’s fine. Any time’s good.”
“I’m only free next Wednesday.”
“Arright. What time Wednesday?”
Aguri figured Yoshioka wouldn’t be able to meet during the day if he was working, but she didn’t want to meet at night, either. She didn’t know why one of her exes wanted to see her, and she worried what would happen if he came over at night with food and alcohol. Aguri had no intention of ever getting back together with Yoshioka. Plus, she was somewhat suspicious of him.
Yoshioka had inherited his family’s business, although Aguri heard that it folded only two years after he took over. She thought that maybe he was going to ask her for something. At least, that was what her instincts as a thirty-two-year-old woman were telling her.
“How about two o’clock?” she suggested, to which Yoshioka immediately replied, “Yeah, that’s perfect. Can I meet you at your place?”
“Um… What was it you wanted to talk about?”
“I’ll tell ya in person. Anyway—man, it’s been ages since I last heard your voice. You haven’t changed a bit. How old are you again?”
“Does it matter how old I am?!”
“Oh, sorry. It’s just—sheesh, your voice really brings back memories. Like, I honestly didn’t think you’d wanna see me, so I figured I’d just give ya a call. Glad I got to talk to you. Thanks.”
Even after hanging up, Aguri could still hear his “Glad I got to talk to you. Thanks” ringing in her head. She so seldom heard those words that they gave her an emotional rush. It had been a while since she’d felt such excitement.