Sometimes, he gets calls from the office on our home phone, but he never seems bothered by it. In fact, he seems thrilled. He gets so caught up in the conversation, as if he has this sweet sense of camaraderie with his colleagues. There’s even a hint of satisfaction in his cheerful voice—something sexually intoxicating that makes my heart skip a beat.
Work and friendship.
And if that isn’t enough, there’s a competitive streak between them that makes their friendship nicely flexible, malleable.
My husband is thirty-five years old, and he seems to be in a work environment that he absolutely loves. Plus, the camaraderie among his coworkers seems to be what gets him going in the morning—the glue that holds his life together. His satisfaction put me at ease because I could live my secret life without having to worry. He can keep himself entertained and fulfilled all on his own.
I had no idea he’d be this low-maintenance.
I resigned myself to that thought. I’d always sensed that he was dedicated his work. He never seemed to want children or anything like that, either. It was only after I started this job that I stopped being annoyed at how he was “playing without me.” Ever since then, I’ve actually felt relieved that he’s not home often, whether it be a business trip or overtime. Besides, my own work has me visiting countless department stores, fashion shows, and wedding venues.
Whenever the flowers I make are a hit, it pushes me even harder to breathe new, fresh air into my work, which is why I buy so many foreign wedding dress books. I’ve started going to the movies lately as well, and I even buy and make clothes for myself, since I like to dress up now. And I finally have my own money! My husband is very Americanized; he used to only give me money for daily necessities.
“I can’t trust you with that much cash. You’d spend every last cent I gave you. You know what they say: ‘If your head is wax, don’t walk in the sun.’ You’d eat through all our savings bit by bit.”
I didn’t think that, but I guess it might have looked like that from my husband’s point of view. Nevertheless, my work pays very well, to my delight, and I haven’t told my husband that, either. I’ve only told a few people about how much I make.
I’ve surprisingly been able to relate to and understand my husband more ever since my business became my hobby as well. It’s not like I fell in love with him all over again, but I can now see why he enjoys himself so much, because I also love what I do for a living.
I used to be a little jealous of how close my husband was with his colleagues, but I can empathize with him now to the point where I’m like, Yeah, I don’t blame him. Whenever he’s busy with work, our cuddle time is over in the blink of an eye, and I only get a taste of love, even though this should be when we are affectionate the most. And yet now I think about those habits of his and go, Yep… That’s about right.
I once thought that there was something lacking about a relationship whose void is filled only with understanding and empathy, although there was nothing I could have done about it. Plus, I’m a necessity to my husband. Sometimes, his coworkers (and their wives) come over to our place for dinner parties, and I make sure to pretend like my husband and I are really close, because I know that’s what he wants. There are always a lot of couples who have lived abroad before, so the parties tend to be very lively. That’s when I play the role of a great partner to my husband. My acting chops are more than up to snuff for him. I wear a white crepe de chine blouse with tight, trendy blue jeans and a platinum necklace with matching earrings. My hair is very short, which I know gathers the attention of both men and women alike. I pretend to be a wife who’s loved by her husband and who always gets her way, and my husband pretends to be the smiling, sweet, devoted man who dotes on me. Even after the party is over and the guests go home, we’re sometimes still giddy.
You have the happiest home life I’ve ever seen! You don’t have any children, but you two seem to be so close and perfect together. Talk about a successful marriage!
That was surely the impression we left on my husband’s boss and his wife when they came over, and we had plenty of evidence to back that up. Things like this were extremely beneficial to my husband at the workplace, given his position there. Our successful performances left us intoxicated even after the party had ended.
“Kaori, care for a drink?”
My husband took a bottle of leftover white wine out of the bucket of mostly melted ice.
“Sure.”
That was all we needed to say to each other. After that, we hopped into the bath together and gave each other more love than usual—slower and steadier love. This wasn’t love rekindled in the heat of the moment, though. It was more like, Yes! We did it, partner! We were celebrating this little show that we’d pulled off.
It was the same whenever we were invited to someone else’s house for a party. I would wear a black, broad-brimmed hat and a dark-red velvet trench coat that had this vintage, elegant style to it like something from the good old days. I had a red grosgrain ribbon on my black hat, and when I would take my hat and coat off at the door, I would be wearing a leopard-print blouse with silk, black skinny pants. In other words, I always let my clothing do the talking for me and go with whatever my husband wants to do. Nevertheless, I like to pretend that I actually love parties and I’m truly excited about being there deep down. Before long, the act becomes a part of me, and I actually begin to genuinely enjoy myself at these parties. But by the end of it, I’d still feel like, Great performance today, partner! Looks like the guests bought the act hook, line, and sinker! I wasn’t unhappy with my life, however, because I felt that everything was going well, and that was what mattered most.
Hori works for a bridal fashion company and comes in to pick up the products I make once or twice a week. Young men in his position normally came in, checked if the amount matched the order, and made sure that everything was just as the designer specified before promptly leaving without even really saying a word to me. Hori, however, would carefully observe the headpieces and flowers I made, saying things like:
“Wow, these are very stylish.”
“Such a delicate color palette.”
And before I even knew it, I was in love with him. It’s hard to tell his age based on appearance alone, but he’s apparently twenty-four years old and single. He’s tall, on the thin side, and is average looks-wise. And he’s pale, to boot. His hair is slightly brown and pin straight. His physique is nothing to write home about, either. Calling him scrawny would be a compliment, in fact. But for some reason, I fell in love with him.