More Coffee, More Time

What the hell am I supposed to do now. Oh shit oh shit oh shit….Shirt, that’s it…shirt. Underwear, good idea, duh. Pants! Can’t go out without pants. Just go, go quickly but quietly so she doesn’t wake up.
I manage to get out of the apartment without waking her or Yuske up. I can still feel my heart racing even faster. I start walking fast, thinking if I walk fast I can definitely get away from the shitty feeling that’s about to hit me. I retreat to the subway that’ll take me to the shopping district. I need food; I need to sober up now. Of course what just happened was pretty sobering. The air is circulating in the subway and it feels cool as the sweat evaporates from my skin. Kyoto in the summer is at best warm and humid and at worst a giant rice cooker. The subway is a little crowded, especially for a Monday night and this late. I look at my watch and realize it actually isn’t all that late.
That’s right, we got drunk early. It wouldn’t have happened so soon, drinking spread out over a night but Yuske always drinks too fast around her. He’s in love with her, has been since the first day of University. I remember him confiding in me that he was in love but didn’t want to talk to her. Yuske’s always been a bit afraid of girls. Not me, I’m at ease around them. They’re just girls after all. I’m not a player, really. I was the first one to talk to her, inviting her along for drinks. She was with a group of friends and we brought a few other guys. It wasn’t really a go-kon but it may as well have been one.
The subway stops at my stop and I get off along with a few other people. There’s noise and fire. It’s still the Gion Matsuri*. Sometimes I feel like that festival drags on too long. There are a few younger girls in yukata* who giggle as I walk past. Their giggling makes me uncomfortable, more so than I’d expected. The street noise, the press of bodies gives me a headache. I can’t stand other people touching me, though my whole life I’ve been pressed by people, squeezing into small spaces. An elevator where you don’t have 8 people breathing down your neck isn’t a full elevator. A street without a herd of people propelling your forward is a lonely, deserted street.
Holly’s is open so I head inside and order an iced coffee from the smiling woman behind the counter. The room feels cooler and I realize I’ve been sweating again. Who wouldn’t be sweating in this heat. Yeah, it’s just the heat that’s made me sweat I tell myself. The window seat looks nice and I plunk down to watch the people go by. It’s a usual night in the commercial district, business men, college students, young girls in short skirts, a few uniforms, some gaikokujin* speaking languages that I know aren’t English. I take a sip of my coffee and run my hands through my hair. Before I can stop myself my head falls forward. FUCK! I can feel my head screaming, making my temples throb. I wipe my hands across my face, just really smearing the sweat around. They still smell like her, like girl.
How the hell did it happen? I didn’t think I was that drunk, or was drunk enough rather. Yuske passed out on her couch after we’d helped him in. I’m getting us two glasses of water and she’s laughing and she’s getting closer and I’m kissing her like an asshole and Yuske just snores away and we get into the bedroom and can’t even really get our clothes off and…and…fuck me… I hate myself. I try to focus on the coffee because my throat starts to get lumpy and my eyes burn. I’m a man and men don’t cry. One could also say men don’t fuck their best friend’s crush. I need a story, a cover, something. I don’t want to see her again, I don’t want to see Yuske again. Maybe I should become a monk and retire from the world. At 11:00 on a Monday night that idea seems awfully appealing. The straw makes the finished noise. I’m out of coffee.
I order another coffee because right now it’s the only thing I know to do. I’m slowly replacing the alcohol with iced coffee. The caffeine fighting the alcohol fatigue; the post sex fatigue. I know no matter how many cups of coffee I have the answer to my predicament won’t come. Just sitting here in Holly’s staring at people who go by, wiping my hands down with the packaged moist towels, won’t change anything. As I said earlier, I have no fucking idea what the hell I am supposed to do. We fucked, Yuske missed it.
I need more coffee because I need more time.
Gokon- a match making party with an even number of girls and guys
Matsuri- festival
Yukata- a light cotton cousin to kimono worn in the summer for festivals
Gaikokujin- the polite term for foreigner. Kanji are “other country person”.
I didn’t see this guy on a train but as I was walking past Holly’s Café in Kyoto. He looked utterly lost and dejected and we managed to make eye contact as I walked past. I didn’t have my notebook handy so I tried to memorize the details. He looked like he needed a friend but I don’t have the Japanese to ask him what was wrong.