"Natsukashii" is the Japanese word for a thing that evokes nostalgia and heartache. It is a bittersweet feeling, a yearning for a fleeting moment in life's constant journey. It considered to be is an important part of Japanese culture, the longing for what once was and can never be again. In books, you may read that Japanese people tend to claim this feeling to be distinctly Japanese, a feeling or state that a foreigner, a "gai-jin," cannot feel or understand.

Have you ever been with someone, and they leave, and you can still smell their smell?

Natsukashii...

Taka-kun smells like cigarettes and soap, and sometimes like peppermint. He smokes and tries to hide it, because his parents think smoking is very lower-class and he's from a well-to-do Kyoto family. So he's always-- even here in the United States-- armed with mints and spray and stuff. It's hilarious, but kind of sad in a way, if you think long enough about it. But Taka doesn't really let you think long enough about anything. He always has some stupid joke, or some tacky sexist comment. Taka knows that Japanese guys are notorious for being jerks. He is the first to say so. But he loves to play it up to be humorous. And there is nothing he likes better than a good old Japanese double standard. Here's an example.

We are hanging out eating dinner, with friends. He says to me, "You're so great. But sorry, no matter how good you cook, I won't marry you."

I tell him, thanks... I think.

He grins a crooked-toothed grin. "Know why? Because American girl, is scary. American girl wants too much in relationship."

I tell him that American girls want their relationships 50-50. That's too much?

"No no no," he argues. "American girl says 50-50. But she wants, 50, plus 30. Japanese girl is better, life is more comfortable. American girl is scary." He goes on to explain that we American women say we want to be equal, and we also enjoy the extra perks of what remains of chivalry. We like having doors opened for us, we enjoy our dates paying for our dinners, and such.

Now I am laughing at how absurd this is. "Well..." I tell him, "I think Japanese guys are scary."

He sits back imperiously, arms folded. His legs crossed indian style beneath him on the easy chair, he echoes the same kind of bearing that I imagine some of his ancestors probably did. "No. Japanese guy is better than American girl. Because Japanese guy says, 70-30. From start." Now he grins. In his mind, he has won.

I am speechless. I want to laugh but I can't. I am embarrassed and not sure what the correct thing to do is. This is an awkward and delicate subject, but he makes it so funny.

He raises his hand and nods solemnly. "Honesty is best. Ichiban."

So we had kind of a funny understanding that way. He'd tease me about liking cartoon boys and I'd tease him about saying "American girl are so tall, so they're scary," and then having posters of 6 foot supermodels on his walls-- his excuse was, in the pictures, they're smaller. I taught him how to make garlic bread, he taught me how to cook o-den.

Taka came to visit me today. He is going back to Japan

We got to talk about old stuff, about who's rooming with who now in the International Student's apartments. Official room assignments don't really mean all that much, though-- nobody likes to be alone there, so everyone often ends up sleeping spread all over the floor in one person's living room. Who's dating who and who broke up, who's going home and who's staying another semester... We talked about new stuff, where he's going when he goes back, what he's going to do, who he'll go see when he's back there. We got tired of talking and played video games, until we kind of nodded off sometime after lunch.

Natsukashii....

So much so that it almost made me cry. Funny way to spend time with a friend? Taking a nap? Not Taka.

This was a guy I had slept with. No, literally, slept with. Like I said, no one liked to be alone. And so on the weekends it was kind of like a big slumber party at Mie-chan's-- or whoever had the best-stocked fridge that week. We'd play cards and flip through magazines and do hair and tease and eat until one by one, people started falling asleep, dropping off for the night. Everyone gets more and more hushed until the last two or three people were left, and they might turn the lights down and huddle in the corner and murmur, or listen to music, until early in the morning.

I've always had my own room, all my life. And I've always felt lonely or scared at night, of noises or the dark, or bad dreams. I still do, even now. But you know, there is something so consoling about falling asleep to your friends' wheezes and snores, or lulled conversation. It's very comfortable. Maybe it's kind of like public bathing, in a way: it makes you feel close with everyone. Does that make any sense? Communal living is a completely foreign idea to me, due to my small family and American-style surburban childhood. And yet, when I experience it, it feels so natural, so easy.

Taka-kun was my friend in a way that some of the other guys weren't, or could never be. I think he understood me in some strange way. He knew I wanted to belong as much as he did. Yeah, he belonged already, just being born Japanese. But maybe he saw something of his own fears in me. And so, even though some other people treated me like I was gaijin-unclean, he made room for me on the couch all the time, when I started to get sleepy.

I used to love his flannel jacket. It smelled like cigarettes and soap. And mint. And it made him a really nice, warm pillow. He was wearing it when he hugged me goodbye, just before he left today. And he drove away, in the rain.

You know, there was so much that I wanted to say. I didn't ask for his address. I gave him mine, but I'm pretty sure if he wanted me to have his, he would have given it to me. I don't know if he'll want me to go visit him in Kyoto. His family might not be too down with that. I don't think I'll ever see him again, and I don't know if I can ever thank him enough for being my friend.

If I could go back? I would have asked him for his jacket. To keep it.

As it was I couldn't stop myself from crying. I went back over and curled up on the couch, and enjoyed that smell, as long as it was still on the pillows.

Natsukashii...

end.

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Notes from Author:

Just so any readers don't get the wrong idea: Of course I don't personally really think that Japanese guys are jerks. That's not true at all. When you're with your friends you can joke about common stereotypes and learn about each other this way. That's what this piece is about. This a fictional piece based loosely on my college experience. Names and little details were changed to protect the innocent and all that.