Chapter 18 – Emily’s Gift

Chapter 18 – Emily’s Gift

“Gomen nasai – for everything

Gomen nasai – I know I let you down

Gomen nasai ‘til the end

I never needed a friend

Like I do now...”

- t.A.T.u, Gomen nasai

(Note – Gomen nasai (Jap.): “I’m sorry.”

Class trips have a strange habit of bringing fellow students closer together, perhaps because of the unfamiliar environment. However, as soon as the trip is over and everyone settles back into routine, the closeness evaporates as if it had never been – at least, this was what Karin had always found. In spite of being officially reconciled, she and Raul never spoke to each other, both believing that the other wanted to avoid them.

Karin did her best not to think about it, just to ignore it. She shut her eyes to the approaching end of the term, and to Raul’s departure. Instead she daydreamed.

The days ticked by. The exams loomed ahead: English, German, French, Mathematics. Of course everyone said loudly that they would totally fail some course or another, and that Dr. Klingebiel (the principal, who would be watching) scared the living daylights out of them. Karin, to her own surprise, was not nearly as nervous as she had always imagined. Except for Mathematics, she found she rather liked them – a few hours of work and she was free for the rest of the day.

After the very last exam, coming home by the front door, she expected to see her mother sitting in the armchair reading, or at the kitchen table doing crosswords, or else in her private sitting room which doubled as a guest room. She wasn’t there. Instead there was her father, lying full length on the sofa, next to a small carton full of faded, yellowish paper.

“Hey, kid,” he said, raising his eyes from the letter he was reading.

“Oh, hi,” she replied, setting down her backpack in the entryway. “What are you doing home so early?”

“Took a day off,” he said casually. “Such beautiful weather...I went for a nice long walk up until the docks. There’s already people sailing over there...sometimes I wish I could have a little boat of my own. It’s just too much trouble for such a short time in the year.”

Karin came and sat opposite him, on the star-patterned footstool matching the armchair.

“What are those letters?” she asked curiously.

He smiled. “Oh, those are some letters from your mother,” he said, folding one up and sliding it gently back into its envelope. “Back when we first started dating. Those letters helped to get me through army training.” He chuckled. “I used to tell her stories about my roommate. He was a character, all right. He thought up these funny words like miechern – MEE-kern – it was like drinking, only casually, like ‘Let’s go and miecher us a cup of coffee’. He called our lieutenant Hermann Hectic. Not to his face, of course.”

Karin chuckled. “And was he hectic?”

“Kind of. He was this typical German soldier, y’know? Big, blond and bossy, like every cliché in the book. He had this real strong way of talking, he’d yell at the top of his lungs: Abteilung halt! Links um!” He imitated the tone so well that Karin jumped with fright

“Bundeswehr material, you ain’t,” remarked Mr. Schuster with a dry smile. “We had to put up with a whole lot more of that. It was funny, because you never knew if he was really like that or being ironic. It’d take a really great actor to play him. Here, I just found another quote.” He read it out loud in German: “There’s no LEADERSHIP in this dump anymore. All you can do is BEG. Phew, he must be long retired by now, and he’s still supplying jokes. That’s as good a legacy as any, I guess.”

He reached down into the carton and came up with a pale green book, sealed with a piece of rope and a splash of red wax. The seal had broken off long ago, but the pirate’s logbook effect still worked. On the cover was a piece of paper with the following words printed on it in German: Better be dead than become a loser.

As he opened it, his face changed. “Good God,” he murmured, half to himself. “My old diary...how old was I, seventeen? Yeah, that’s right. I wrote this when I was only your age. So long ago...” He shook his head. “Here’s a poem I wrote for this girl in my class, Pauline Kluge. Had a real crush on her. I even thought about sending it, but I didn’t really have the guts...who knows what would’ve happened if I did.” Behind the glasses, his eyes seemed to be looking very far away.

“Can I read it?” Karin asked.

He quickly flipped the page and shook his head. “No...it’s too kitschy.”

He put the diary away, closed the carton, and sat up to watch her expectantly. “So what’s up with you? Anything new and exciting?”

Karin had to pull herself back out of the maze of her thoughts. The idea of love letters had hit her and she wanted to find out where. Instead she shrugged and began to talk about the latest exam.

“I found another one,” he interrupted, digging into the box again. “This is from my old friend in high school...he was all right then...if someone had told me what was going to happen, I’d never have believed it.” He sighed and shook his head over the letter he’d found.

“Why, what happened?” Karin inquired.

“Schizophrenia...so I heard. Right after his army days, he began to fall apart. I didn’t hear about it personally, I just heard...but still...it was sad. He was a good guy. Loved to play soccer. I remember after graduation, we left early – neither of us were really party people – and walked all the way to the cable car station, just talking. Talking about God and the world, more than two hours. Yeah...”

Friendship. Karin knew what that was like, except that now she had lost it. Listening to her father talking about his lost friend, she felt somehow absent and melancholy. it was as if the entire air in the room were full of memories, past joy, past grief.

“I’m going down to Chapters,” said Karin the next weekend, making her parents glance up from the sofa and nod acknowledgement. It was Saturday, and they were both reading the newspaper.

“You know, we already have a book in the house,” Mr. Schuster quipped. “You sure you need another one?”

Karin’s eyes travelled across the two tall shelves in the living room, which were crammed two rows deep with more books than any of them cared to count. She grinned.

“Oh, we can always use another one,” she said.

“We’re having lunch at twelve,” Mrs. Schuster cautioned, “So make sure to be back on time, all right?”

“Okay. See you!” She slung her backpack across her shoulder and went out the door.

It was the end of June, and she was wearing T-shirts once again. It’s amazing, really, she thought, glancing at the flowers in the garden. The tulips were out already, silky pink tulips glowing like jewels. Time always going forward, but the seasons are a circle...I guess life in total would be more like a spiral then. Spirals were difficult to draw; every time she tried, she got an uneven pattern. Thinking about this, she was less bored during the bus ride than she’d expected.

There was always something exciting about city buses, in spite of their graffiti and the inevitable smell. To her, they represented independence: as long as she could afford a ticket, she could go almost anywhere – that is, if she had known more about the bus schedule. It was good to know that if she wanted to buy a new manga, she didn’t have to rely on her parents to chauffeur her around.

Thinking of manga reminded her of Emily. Had she found volume four of Sailor Moon yet? Had she finished reading Fruits Basket, number 12, which Karin had lent to her? Would Karin ever find the courage to call her and apologize? It was getting harder every day, to approach the phone and begin dialing Emily’s number. If she called now, it would be terribly awkward – and besides, Emily had probably found a new friend and forgotten all about her.

Just in time, she spotted the Chapters outlet and yanked on the cable for the bus to stop. She jumped off quickly and headed inside.

The windows were decorated with a chubby sun face, white clouds, and butterflies. The display shelf at the front was stocked with ‘Heather’s Summer Picks’. Heather was the owner of the store chain and, on the photograph, wore a big sunny smile. Karin ignored her and went straight to the manga section at the back of the store.

“Alphabetical order,” she muttered quietly, running her finger along in front of the glossy volumes. “Full Moon wo Sagashite...Fruits Basket...G...Aha.”

She pulled it out and smiled happily at the picture on the cover. It was a young man with light blue hair and eyes, wearing a cool, haughty expression. Maybe in this volume she’d find out some more about him, the enigmatic Shizumasa – not to mention see some cute moments between him and the heroine. The Gentlemen’s Alliance, volume two, and she still hadn’t figured out what the title meant. She tucked the book under her arm and turned around, her good mood fading somewhat as she thought of the contrast between anime and reality. Shizumasa was fascinating, but he really couldn’t compare to...

“Oops, sorry – ”

The voice was young, female, and belonged to a person who had just bumped into her from behind. Karin turned around to say it was all right, but when she looked into the other girl’s face, they were both lost for words.

Of course Emily would be haunting this section on a weekend.

A heavy knot of tension was growing inside her. They hadn’t talked to each other for about five days now. She was prepared for anger, for being ignored, anything – except that, seeing the face she knew so well, she recognized the expression her own face had been wearing for weeks now.

Emily had missed her too.

Neither of them needed to speak; they just hugged, right then and there in the crowded bookshop, ignoring the stares. A small tear dripped to the floor from Karin’s eyes; it was good to make friends again.

Once they had let go, Emily spoke first. “Karin-chan...I can’t believe it! I mean, I can believe it. Of course you’d be here.” They both laughed.

“Look, I’m really sorry,” said Karin, the words tumbling down like a waterfall. “I know I was always talking about my problems – I should have asked you more about what you were doing, it wasn’t fair – and I do want to tell you everything, I realize now that hiding it wasn’t doing me any good.”

Emily beamed; her voice, when she spoke, sounded as if she felt like crying herself. “No, no, I should be saying sorry. It was so rude of me to keep nagging you about it, I should’ve respected your privacy. And I wasn’t the only one who always listened, I remember I had you up ‘til midnight talking about Corey – speaking of that, if you really don’t mind telling me...?”

“Yeah, but not here,” Karin interrupted, holding up her hand. “Let’s go upstairs, okay. to Starbucks? And I want to buy this first,” holding up The Gentlemen’s Alliance.

Emily’s eyes lit up; she recognized the style as well as the author’s name. “Wow,” she breathed. “Is that - ?”

Karin nodded. “Tanemura-sensei’s done it again.” That was the name of the author, whom they both admired very much. Sensei was a title used mainly for teachers, but also for doctors, lawyers and sometimes artists. Arina Tanemura, according to the girls, was definitely an artist worth calling by a title of respect.

They both grinned, remembering several lengthy discussions during sleepovers. Who was cooler, Chiaki from Kamikaze Kaitou Jeanne or Takuto from Full Moon? Whom should Mitsuki end up with, Takuto or Eichi? Who would you rather be, Jeanne or Mitsuki? And now the creator of these beloved characters was writing a new story.

Emily’s questions came almost on top of each other. “How many are out yet? That boy on the cover, what’s his name? What’s he like? What’s the rest of the story like?”

“Oh, he’s really cool,” Karin enthused. “Shizumasa. He looks like Chiaki and acts like Takuto, dynamite combination. I found two volumes so far, but there might be more downtown. And the rest of the story, well, there’s this super rich private school...”

While waiting in line, they talked enthusiastically as if they had been separated for weeks rather than days. Once the manga was in Karin’s possession and the two girls safely installed at Starbucks – with a hot drink each – Emily leaned forward and said, “Okay. You said there was something you wanted to tell me...?”

Karin wrapped her hands around her styrofoam cup and told the story in as few words as possible. Emily’s eyes grew wider and wider as she listened; a reproachful look came into her face, either for Karin or for herself. “And he’s leaving in six days,” she finished quietly, staring down into her cup. “Going back to Brazil. So that’s that. It’s over.”

Emily sighed and shook her head. “It’s not over, and you know it,” she said firmly. “How can anyone be so in denial?”

Karin was thrown; this was the last answer she’d expected.

“What – what do you mean?”

“I mean that if you don’t tell him, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.” Emily gestured with a chocolate biscotto as she talked, like a conductor with a baton. “To me, it’s definitely possible he likes you too. Maybe not before the Giovanna episode, but after. And even if he doesn’t, you still owe him an explanation for the way you’ve been acting. That’s what I think.” She nodded for emphasis and took a bite from the biscotto.

“Are you out of – are you kidding?” Karin exclaimed. “I can’t do a thing like that – not when he’s just about to leave. It would be the worst possible time to suddenly get up and make a scene, it’s like trying to drag someone out of a moving train. I’m telling you, it’s too late.” Her voice was hard and brittle, like an old woman’s, as she traced an emphatic barrier between them with her hands.

“It’s never too late,” was Emily’s quiet, determined reply. “You’ve got nothing to lose, you know. If he says no, you won’t have to see him again anyway, and if he says yes, the distance between countries won’t matter.”

Karin leaned back in her chair, already wondering how she should write her letter. “Hmm...I guess if you put it that way...” Of course it would have to be a letter. The thought of telling him out loud was unthinkable – how could she get him alone? How would she ever say all the things she wanted to say without him interrupting her? No one could interrupt you in a letter.

Before they both went home, Emily made one more purchase at the store. “Even if you don’t use it now,” she said mischievously, dropping it into Karin’s bag, “I bet it’ll come in useful in the future.”

It was a small red box made of cardboard. On the front, it read ‘The Art of the Love Letter’ in golden letters, and on the back was a list of the contents: stationery, envelopes, a stick of wax, a seal, and a guidebook for writing love letters.

“Okay, this is just ridiculous,” said Karin. “But thanks anyway.”

Emily giggled.