Chapter 4: Headed Home

Chapter 4:
Headed Home

 

“THE PLANE ENGINES always sound like they’re working hard to carry us, y’know?” Shimamura remarked as we traveled through the airport. “When I hear that VRRRRNNN, I feel like I’m cargo.” Her hands floated unsteadily through the air, mimicking liftoff.

“Uhhhh…okay.” Personally, I never stopped to think about that while I was on the plane; I just kinda zoned out. And since I didn’t know what it felt like to be cargo, I couldn’t relate to her analogy. “So you like the sound of the engines?”

“Mmm, not really. Too loud,” she shrugged offhandedly. Classic Shimamura—first, she made it sound like she enjoyed it, and now this. She was a total ditz, but I loved that about her.

Unlike the last time we were here, my pace was hasty. Checkout isn’t for a few more hours, or it’s not that far from the hotel, or we won’t get another chance for who knows how long—bit by bit, I had let her convince me we still had time. We probably should have gone to see that famous crab wheel yesterday instead. But at the same time, there was meaning in going to see it today…according to Shimamura, anyway.

Now the trip was over, and we were on our way home. All that remained was to get on the plane and fly back to Japan. But Shimamura was blatantly unmotivated, in part because her over-packed luggage was so heavy. Plus, she generally wasn’t too good at organizational tasks. She didn’t seem to ever want to finish anything…but I was planning to stick around for as long as it took her.

To sum it up: The trip was really fun. Shimamura was with me, so I enjoyed it. But the fun of it was built on a foundation that would take a long time to actually explain. We dreamed of going somewhere far away together, and then that dream came true, and it felt like a dream the whole time. But unlike any other dream, I never wanted to forget it.

For now, it was still too early to look back and reflect on it. Knowing me, I’d probably relive these moments over and over—whenever I raised my head, whenever I saw my souvenirs, every night when I went to sleep. Was there anything more important to have gained on this trip than the memories we created?

“Oh, wait a sec!”

Despite the rush I was in, Shimamura remained unhurried. At one point, she spotted a little souvenir kiosk and made a detour, so I decided to take a peek with her. As we walked around looking at the shelves, the refreshing scent of chocolate filled the air; it must’ve been this smell that reminded her of something she’d forgotten, because she promptly bought some.

“I should have expected they wouldn’t have any famous jam buns here,” she muttered to herself. Then I realized just who this souvenir was for and scowled.

To me, the affection she showed that mysterious life-form was slightly different from that which she showed me and everyone else, and at one point in my life, I resented it. In fact, to this day, I hadn’t fully gotten over it. As she walked away from the souvenir kiosk, I called out to her.

“Hey, Shimamura?”

“What’s up?”

“I’d like it if you’d buy me a souvenir too.”

“Uhhhh…” Her eyes shifted through all the different lunar phases, widening and narrowing. “But…you’re here with me now…”

“I know.” Is that a song lyric or something?

“Er, forgive me, my dear Adachi, but I’m afraid I don’t understand,” she replied with the cadence of a butler. “I’m sorry,” she tacked on in English.

Where was this bilingual proficiency back on the plane to California? It’s too late now!

“I mean…as a memento of the trip?”

“…Okay…?” The look on her face suggested she still didn’t get it. Nevertheless, she sprang to action. “Let’sh shee here…” Muttering under her breath, she scanned the shelves once more. Spotting something cute, she stared at it for a good five seconds before picking it up and buying it on the spot. “Here’s your souvenir!”

She had chosen…a ceramic cup, warm yellow-green in color. When I took it, I noticed the price tag was still stuck to the bottom.

“Why this?”

“Well, you like water.”

“…True…?”

“So there you go.”

I still couldn’t see how those two statements were related. “Why do these souvenir shops always have a bunch of ceramics, anyway?”

“I dunno… If they’re so common, then maybe they have a strong pottery industry.”

“Isn’t that more of a Japan thing?”

She tapped her temple knowingly, and I rolled my eyes. As if you know a single thing about this country. Dubiously, I held the cup up to the light in the distance. Would anyone in Japan believe me if I told them it was American-made?

“…Oh, well,” I muttered as I viewed the world through a yellow-green lens. Now I was starting to sound like Shimamura.

I didn’t really care what she gave me—whether it came from across the Pacific or just the local supermarket. She always gave me what I needed, no matter how selfish, and always with a smile. This alone hadn’t changed since the first day I met her, and now it was the signpost that guided me through life.

 

***

 

“Weird how going home is always such a relief, huh?” Shimamura commented with a grin once we had settled into our seats on the plane.

I could kinda see where she was coming from. But for her, “home” was two different places… It made me both a little jealous and a little sad too.

Later, during the flight, I thought back over what she said earlier. Before now, the sound of the plane engines was only a nuisance, but suddenly, I found myself focusing on it ever so slightly. When I raised my head to listen to it, it was just noise. So instead, I closed my eyes and pretended to be Shimamura’s cargo.

Before I knew it, my imagination was flying faster than the plane.

 

***

 

As if retracing our steps, we passed through customs and left the airport. The fatigue that plagued us was proof of the time we’d spent in a far-off land.

“Hey, Shimamura?”

I could tell I was home from the humidity in the air. We had traveled a long way to get back here, and now another dull chore awaited us: unpacking. Regardless, I decided to carry on like we were still on vacation. I didn’t know how long it would last, but once it petered out…

“Let’s go again sometime,” I remarked as I looked over my shoulder at the airport terminal.

Beside me, I saw Shimamura follow my gaze. “Sure, once we save up enough.”

“Cool.”

At some point along the line, we had learned how to give each other soft, airy dreams to pad out the cold, hard reality. And personally, I really liked the relationship we’d built together.

That was my overall review of the past ten years with Shimamura.