Men Hate Muffins

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I finally got a call three days after arriving at the vacation house. Ren was practically glowing on the other end of the line. He seemed to love making a woman wait for him while he worked. He loved work so much it was as if he were born to do it. At forty-two years old, he was still single and working as the CEO of an apparel company.

“What’s up, Mimi?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

I was about to explode with rage until I heard Ren’s voice, and it annoyed me that there was even a hint of joy in mine.

“I went through a lot of trouble to take time off from work, you know. And you’re not even here. What am I? Your maid? Want me to clean the place before I leave?”

“Oh, don’t be like that. I took time off, too, but I suddenly got—”

“Fine, it’s fine. Just tell me when you’re going to get here. I’ve already wasted three days of my week off. I’m fine with packing my stuff and leaving if you’re gonna take any longer. I didn’t think you could do any worse than when I was in Hawaii, but here we are.”

“Wait, Mimi. Please. I’ll be there as soon as I can, just not tonight. I’ve still gotta meet someone later for dinner, and it’s probably gonna be a long evening. But tomorrow—”

“So you’re saying you’ll be here tomorrow?”

“I don’t know, but just wait for me, okay? Please.”

“Oh, come on…”

Ren Torii was a child. That is, he acted like a kid who complained if an adult confiscated his candy, even if he wasn’t actually in the mood for candy at that moment.

Hey, wait! I was gonna eat that! Give it back!

He’d throw a tantrum, but if he did get his candy back, he’d just hold onto it without eating it.

“I’ll be there, I’ll be there,” he said in an attempt to reassure me. “Besides, you can have a nice time alone at the house, too. Have the chef at Uomasa cook something for you.”

“Oh, a ‘nice time’? I’ve got motorcycle gangs revving their engines outside my window every night. Last year was nothing like this.”

“Ah. Huh.”

“It’s awful. Hurry up and get over here.”

“I want to, Mimi, especially after hearing your voice. I want to see you right now,” he insisted. “Mimi.”

“What?”

“I love you. Really, I do.”

“How about you stop wasting time talking and get over here instead? It’s your loss if a good catch like me gets tired of waiting for you.”

“Gonna leave me for one of those bikers?”

“Maybe I will. I’ve always preferred young bad boys over middle-aged workaholics.”

“Damn, you got me.” Ren said that only when he was happy. “I wish I had two bodies: one for work and one for you.”

He sounded satisfied with that remark.

“Hmph. That’d just water you down, make you even blander than you already are.”

“Man, I’d do anything to see you tonight. But I’ve got dinner plans, then tomorrow I’m meeting a client for golf…”

“So cancel. It’s just this one time. They couldn’t possibly feel more neglected than I’ve felt the past three days.”

Ren usually ate both lunch and dinner at work, so I knew what I was talking about.

“I can’t cancel. You know that. Anyway, I’ll make sure to be there as soon as I’m done.”

Right as he was about to hang up…

“Oh, what do they have at Uomasa these days?”

“Yesterday was sardines. They said they’d make some into a tataki for me.”

“Did you have any?”

“I’m not gonna ask them to do all that work just for one person.”

“Fine, fine. Anyway, this is making me even more excited to see you. I’ll be there soon, so don’t go cheating on me, okay?”

“Oh, I totally will!”

Ren laughed as if that was the funniest thing he’d heard all day.

“Is the bath working?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Wash up before I get there, okay? Wink, wink.”

“Screw you, asshole.”

“I can send Shimon if you’re really bored.”

“I’d rather him than you anyway. Just don’t blame me for whatever happens.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be like that. You know I can’t let you hang out with him. The guy’s in love with you.”

“He’s still a kid.”

“Kids these days can be scary.”

“It’s your fault he turned out this way.”

“Nah. I saw you egging him on, Mimi.”

Now I was the one laughing.

Shimon was Ren’s nephew who worked part-time at Ren’s company while attending college. I’d gone out to eat with the two of them several times in the past.

Shimon was a really friendly guy, and he seemed to be interested in me, so Ren and I would joke about him whenever we were flirting like this. I had absolutely no interest in kids his age—he just made for the perfect punch line.

Ren hung up in a very good mood. I couldn’t stop thinking about his delightful, expressive face. He wasn’t handsome. In fact, he was short and a bit chubby, but I found him charming and adorable. I know it’s a little strange that a thirty-one-year-old woman like me—eleven years Ren’s junior—landed a man in his forties and considered him to be the most lovable thing in the world, but hey.

I found his steamy, hot-blooded body attractive as well. Whenever he held me, I felt like I’d just been rescued by a lifeguard who was wrapping my waterlogged body in a warm blanket. It was like being given hot soup as my teeth chattered from fear and the cold, my body slowly warming from the inside out.

Sex with Ren was like being rescued, too. I loved every minute of it; he was very gentle.

I didn’t have much experience with men, but based on the few encounters I did have, I got the sense that age had nothing to do with being good at sex. Some old folks sucked at it, some young folks had a knack for it, plus there was always the question of how creative or sensitive a person was in bed. No way men who were stupid or thoughtless would be any good in the sack.

As much as Ren enjoyed sex, he also enjoyed his job. A little too much, even, and that was where I had a problem. After I graduated from design school and got hired within the industry, I started writing occasional articles for fashion magazines before quitting my job and moving to Tokyo. I liked design, so I ended up becoming an illustrator who wrote on the side. Before long, work kept me constantly busy to the point that I was able to support myself.

Tokyo was also where I met Ren Torii, during a magazine interview. We got along really well, so we went out for drinks after work. The following day, I got a voicemail while I was still asleep in bed.

“I’m heading back to Osaka today, so I thought I’d call you to say goodbye.”

It was Ren, sounding very giddy.

“I had a lot of fun last night. Thanks for that. Gimme a ring if you’re ever in Osaka. We’ll go out for some drinks.”

He’d married young but got a divorce after his daughter was born, and he ended up single. I don’t know exactly what happened; maybe his wife left him because he was so obsessed with his work. Regardless, Ren’s a talkative, friendly guy, so he must’ve won ladies over rather easily. Japanese men have never been known for being good talkers, so he probably stood out for being so smooth.

“I love plucky, frank ladies like you. I’m not into playing mind games. My company makes women’s clothing that’s feminine and elegant, but personally, I prefer tomboys. Especially a woman who can rock a leather jacket.”

It was the middle of winter when I met him again in Osaka, and I wore a black leather jacket with dark-brown corduroy pants. There was absolutely nothing sexy about that outfit, but Ren Torii’s eyes filled with desire the moment he saw me, and his plump lips loosened amorously. He was captivated the moment he laid eyes on me, completely defenseless.

That defenselessness was what drew me in, and what I mean by that is I liked how he didn’t get defensive when I poked fun at him. People these days don’t like being teased. The thought alone puts them on edge. Ren, however, didn’t seem to mind. He let me get close enough to make a fool of him. That was why I fell in love with the man. That, and this rescuer sex appeal he had, which I naturally picked up on. I almost immediately found myself thinking, I wouldn’t mind sleeping with this guy.

Half a year went by before our relationship developed enough for that to happen, though. Ren said he wouldn’t mind taking things to the next level if I wanted to get married, but we only occasionally met up in Tokyo and Osaka for the three years that followed.

When he said I could have a nice time alone at this house, he meant it. Ren loved the beach and had built a semi-fancy hilltop vacation home on the outskirts of a remote fishing village in Okayama Prefecture. I’ve never been to the Mediterranean coast, but this place reminded me of a European farmhouse with an ocean view. He’d apparently hired an architect from Osaka to design it, and the tiles in the front yard came from a local company. The spacious entranceway had cool stone flooring.

The grassy, tree-lined backyard boasted a view of the ocean, which always struck me as crowded from the constant stream of boats going between the islands of the Setouchi archipelago. The vacation house was surrounded by a stone fence and hedges that had become so overgrown through the years that they were now climbing up the house, making it look more like a fairy-tale castle. A gardener from a neighboring village would stop by a few times a year to trim the hedges.

There was also a local fishmonger called Uomasa that would deliver fish straight to your house, even cook something up and bring it over. Even on a harbor, there were a lot of complicated rules and regulations within the fishing industry, like how there were some things you weren’t allowed to catch. Fishermen patronized Uomasa as well.

In the vacation house’s white-tiled front yard was a pink-tinted marble statue of a nymph and a fountain to go along with it. Every window had vermilion shutters, and wherever there wasn’t grass, there was a paving stone instead. Even the white front door’s handle had an elaborate design. There were two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a dining room, a kitchen, and a living room. Both bedrooms were on the second floor in order to have that view of the sea.

It got hot during the summertime, but the fragrant ocean air was lovely. A four-to-five-hundred-meter walk up the beach brought you to a resort hotel and a guesthouse. Those in the know recognized this spot as having the best view of the Seto Inland Sea.

Having a vacation home with a seaside view was Ren’s dream. The house was basically the other woman in his life; he didn’t actually have to visit it, since he was happy enough merely knowing it existed. Granted, he’d certainly disagree with that sentiment: No way. Of course I want to go to my vacation house, but I’m so busy.

Nevertheless, we spent three whole days here together last year. After taking a morning shower, we would walk across the dew-covered grass while enjoying our hot coffee and garlic toast. I became very fond of this vacation home.

The path at the bottom of the stone staircase in the backyard led straight through a thicket to the shore. The beach was far from the area the fishing boats used, so the water wasn’t polluted with oil. Unfortunately, however, it wasn’t as blue or as clear as the beaches in the South Pacific Ocean. Here, the water was reddish-brown, and yet people still swam in it, us included.

Ren and I had sashimi from Uomasa for lunch one day, and I used the leftover fish parts to make miso soup. That evening, we watered the lawn and took a bath together, but every minute in between, he was on the phone with someone from his office.

We went to a hotel for dinner that night, and I asked him over a Campari and soda, “Why did you and your wife split up?”

This was one way I liked to tease him.

“It was a deep-seated grudge,” he’d answered with a grin.

“A grudge?”

“My wife didn’t work like you do, Mimi. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with staying home just takin’ it easy and enjoying yourself. But it was almost like that wasn’t good enough for her. She’d complain day in and day out until eventually, she got resentful. It’s hard being with someone who holds grudges. It slowly became unbearable.”

The phrase deep-seated grudge blew me away. It made me like him even more. I want us to spend our lives together. Doesn’t matter if we get married or not, I thought, and Ren agreed.

“Yeah, exactly. Getting married means becoming a family…but becoming a family isn’t so much sexy as it is lewd,” he said.

“I’m fine with sexy.”

“Right? Bring it on, I say. Glad we’re on the same page.”

And being on that same page made him even hotter. A hot rescuer. I loved the weight of Ren’s body, its heft syrupy, like honey covering every inch of my body. I loved throwing open the bedroom window and listening to the night breeze whistling through the shutters as I lay wrapped in Ren, my rescue blanket, after being saved from getting stranded at sea.

Once the evening wind began blowing, I took a shower, peeked inside the fridge, and made frozen steak for dinner. The house had a television—Ren wanted to know what was going on in the world even when he was staying here, so he would watch TV and call people up—but I never turned it on when I was by myself.

After dinner, I locked up for the night and began reading the book I brought with me, The Notebook of Black Magic by Tatsuhiko Shibusawa. It was muggy out. I knew Ren wasn’t coming tonight, either, so I was bored.

At around eight o’clock, I suddenly started hearing motorcycles getting closer, along with the shouts of men as they revved their roaring engines. It startled me so much that I felt my heart leap in my chest.

They passed the house, then came back from the opposite direction and circled around before fading into the distance again. That was when I realized they were racing up the back street behind the house and circling the hill.

I felt helpless, surrounded. Who knew what they’d do to me if they found out a woman was here alone? I started running around the house in my bare feet, closing each and every shutter I could find. How ridiculous, being this worked up when I was alone on vacation. I resented Ren for it.

Speaking of resentment, we’d promised to go to Hawaii together a short while back, but minutes before the plane was about to depart, Ren still hadn’t shown up. I cried, begging the flight attendant to wait for him, and just when I thought it was too late, Ren came sprinting over, covered in sweat and without a single suitcase. We got onto the plane as soon as the door closed, and moments later, it started preparing for takeoff.

Ren fell asleep basically the instant he sat down and spent most of our time in Hawaii asleep as well. It didn’t take long for our bad moods to worsen until we clashed.

“I’ve had enough of this! You’re always busy! Busy, busy, busy, busy, busy, busy! I’m sick of hearing how busy you are!” I’d shouted in tears after we got into a fight.

“Aw, don’t be like that, Mimi. It’s only ’cause you’re here with me that I’m able to get all relaxed like this…”

Ren had tried comforting me at first, but he started trailing off and fell back asleep. In the end, it was as if we’d gone to Hawaii for the sole purpose of sleeping.

Just remembering that made me resent him. Did he honestly think I was going to wait here for him forever? How insulting. I was even annoyed that he called me. I didn’t want to talk to him if he wasn’t going to come here. I refused.

If he was only going to call me to say he couldn’t make it, then I wish he’d never promised he’d be here in the first place. Why even make these plans if he couldn’t keep them?

The motorcycle noises returned, and it sounded as if the front yard’s iron lattice gate had been opened (the latch could be removed from the outside as well). I suddenly got nervous and turned out the lights. I didn’t want these people to know anyone was here.

I saw several sharp beams of light peeking through the shutters and began hearing strange sounds. I was terrified. When I cautiously peeked through the front door window, I caught the words Demon Coalition written on the closest man’s helmet. There were seven to eight motorcycles and bikers all crowded around the yard, cheering and revving their engines until they finally left.

I searched for the padlock, locked the iron gate, then lay down in the bedroom. I wasn’t used to such frightening experiences, so I was kind of in shock. The bikers had strong accents, something I was normally fond of, but in that moment, I felt nothing but fear.

The next morning, I figured maybe they weren’t such bad guys, after all. They were probably just really into motorcycles. Maybe reading The Notebook of Black Magic made my imagination run wild.

However, the yard had tire marks in it, and some of the tiles were cracked. It looked like they’d been riding in circles all over the lawn; even one of the wooden chairs was knocked over.

I called Ren’s place. He was living alone in a midtown apartment near his office. I caught him right before he left for work.

“Geez, you poor thing. That does sound terrifying,” he agreed. If he really felt that way, he would’ve said he’d come right over, which he didn’t.

“I’m going home. Back to Tokyo,” I told him.

“Hold on. Why are you leaving already? Wait for me. I’ll be there soon,” he pleaded.

“No way. I’m scared.”

“All right, then how about I send Shimon over to protect you? He can be your bodyguard. Just stay put, okay?”

I thought he was teasing me.

The weather was nice that day, so I decided to tend to the garden, clean the house, take a nap, and do some window shopping at Uomasa. They were selling sea bream today. I went with sardines again since I wasn’t planning on waiting up for Ren. There was no telling when he’d be here. The sardines were freshly caught, with glittering silver scales, so I bought a whole bunch. I also ended up baking some simple muffins just in case Shimon really did come tomorrow. I figured muffins would be perfect for a hungry young man who was still growing. The sun was beginning to set, so I decided to go take a dip in the hotel pool after that.

Being alone in such a luxurious vacation home made me feel out of sorts, as if I were aimlessly floating through the air. I didn’t own the place, nor was it my husband’s… Ren and I weren’t going to get married, and what we had was too bland to call ourselves lovers… Even if he did show up, he’d just be relieved to see me, and that would be it.

Ren badmouthed his ex-wife a lot, but maybe any woman would grow resentful being with a man like him.

The hotel was completely booked. I didn’t see anyone I knew at the pool, so I was able to relax and swim to my heart’s content. It was crowded; there seemed to be a lot of girls staying at the nearby guesthouse.

I was wearing a blue terrycloth robe over my swimsuit as I walked back to the house from the pool. My hair was still dripping wet, but the hotel showers were packed, so I didn’t have much of a choice. I had a straw hat pushed down the back of my head as well as dark-tinted sunglasses. When I finally stepped into the yard, I found a young man standing in front of the pink marble nymph statue. It was Shimon.

It looked like he’d been strolling through the yard for a bit until he spotted me.

“Hey,” he said with a smile.

He was so much tanner and taller that I almost didn’t recognize him. Shimon was becoming more of a man every time I saw him. He said he took a bus straight from the bullet train and had just arrived here a few moments ago. Shimon was very friendly and talkative like Ren, and he said whatever what was on his mind, which seemed to be a family quirk.

He grinned despite himself. “I’m so glad to be here. I was really looking forward to seeing you, Ms. Mimi. I’ll be leaving when my uncle arrives, though. Said he’d be here tomorrow.”

“I doubt that. He’ll probably call tomorrow and tell me that something suddenly came up.”

I then took Shimon to the backyard.

“The breeze is much nicer back here,” I boasted as if I owned this vacation house.

I took a shower after that. I wasn’t as much of an open book as Shimon, so although I didn’t look happy, I was honestly really glad to see him. Chatting with someone who said he’d been looking forward to seeing me was way more fun than talking with my boyfriend, who probably wasn’t even going to show up.

My pure-white dress fluttered in the wind as I put on my white sandals and stepped outside, two Camparis with soda in hand. The evening sun had begun painting the sky. I wouldn’t call it beautiful, though—more like grim. After taking a seat in the lawn chairs out back, we watched the ocean until the shadows of the islands in the distance got noticeably darker. The sky, however, was rather bright, and I could still see clearly in front of me. Clamorous crows gathered in the thickets in the woods to my right, where there was a shrine at the cape.

Gazing at the ocean from the shrine gate felt kind of like I was observing an archipelago from some ancient Greek ruins. Ren and I enjoyed the view, so we often went on walks there.

“When did you get here?” Shimon asked before taking a sip of the drink I’d made him.

“Three days ago.”

“That long already?”

He probably hadn’t put much thought into that comment, but I was worried he might think I was waiting here longingly for Ren, desperately yearning for his arrival. It almost sounded like Shimon was making fun of me.

“I haven’t been waiting for him. Do I look like a woman who would just wait around helplessly without her man?”

“No, I just wished I’d known sooner. Then I could’ve been here three days ago.” Shimon’s gaze shifted. “Plus, I heard something about a biker gang?”

“They called themselves the Demon Coalition. How stupid is that? But it was really scary, since I was alone. It didn’t help that I was reading this book. I thought the bikers were holding a Black Mass or something.”

I showed him the book by Tatsuhiko Shibusawa, took a hit of my bitter drink, and read one of the poems aloud.

“‘My gray gloves permanently soak in life’s divine liquid. With my furnace, I surrendered myself to alchemy like Hermes at the break of dawn in severe winters.

“‘In the evenings of summer, I concealed demons into my daggers like the alchemist Paracelsus, angering the scholars in the streets.’

“…There actually was an alchemist named Paracelsus, by the way.”

Shimon quietly watched me the entire time I recited the passage. I flipped to this page and read the part about Paracelsus so often that the book would naturally open to this passage whenever I picked it up. I wondered why he was staring at me, when all of a sudden…

“Found a gray hair,” he said while he reached out to touch my bangs.

Maybe I was going gray early, but my short hair made it stick out like a sore thumb. I knocked his hand away.

“I like finding my gray hairs on my own. I don’t like it when other people stare at them.”

“I just thought I could pluck it out for you.”

“Don’t.”

“Can I touch your hair?”

“It’s still wet.”

“It’s half-dry.”

I kind of felt like Shimon—this kid—was patronizing me, but he didn’t appear to mean any harm. He combed his fingers through my hair.

“Now go hop in the shower,” I told him. “I’ll make some food.”

I ended up making minced sardines on rice, even though that was what Ren wanted to eat. At first, Shimon said he didn’t like fish and had never eaten sardines before—just like a kid his age would—but he cleaned his huge bowl, not leaving a single grain of rice.

I grated garlic and ginger, then placed heaps of spring onion and grated radish with chili on top. The fresh, raw sardines were so good that you could eat them all day and never get sick of them. I also salted a few sardines and broiled them, which complemented the sardine tempura I made. I’d been soaking some globeflowers I picked from the garden yesterday in water, which I boiled with soy sauce and mixed with rice. We drank only a little beer but stuffed our faces with the food.

“Wonder if those bikers are gonna come back today,” Shimon said.

“You better not pull anything risky.”

“I was just planning on holding you till they left, Mimi.”

He dropped the Ms. and was just calling me Mimi now. There was no beating this family, was there? They ate what they wanted to eat, did what they felt like doing, said whatever was on their minds.

“Do you like me?” I asked Shimon.

“Yeah, I do. But you like the old man, don’t you?”

“Eh, I guess. I haven’t gotten sick of him yet, at the very least. What, you hate him or something?”

“Nah, I don’t hate him. Sometimes, I even like him better than my folks. Anyway, enough about my family… But really, though, I wonder why he’s still not here when you’ve been waiting for him this long.”

“He likes making people wait. Loves being irritated at work while fantasizing about leaving at any moment.”

“Makes no sense. Sounds like a midlife crisis.”

We washed the dishes together while telling each other our likes and dislikes. I told him I liked figs, that one card game Concentration, strawberry milk, dogs, fireworks, and gossip. And of course, I couldn’t not mention Marquise de Merteuil in Les Liaisons dangereuses. Shimon didn’t like confined spaces, the Asahi Shimbun, girls who pretended to be cute, girls who got smashed every night, and abalone liver.

“Find a job yet?” I suddenly asked.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t start. That’s another thing I don’t like: smug old ladies. Besides, I know you don’t really care.”

“Nope. I’d rather know if you’ve been with any women yet.”

“You gotta be kidding me…,” Shimon said with a laugh.

He told me he’d lost his virginity, and his friend accidentally brought it up in front of his mother, who immediately burst into tears from the shock. She’d apparently spent the entire next day in bed.

“I dunno why she made such a big deal about it. She should’ve just pretended she didn’t hear anything,” he said.

I suddenly remembered my conversation with Ren about how becoming a family was lewd, but I didn’t bring it up. Obviously, I wasn’t shocked or even disgusted that Shimon wasn’t a virgin. After all, I wasn’t his mother. If anything, I was more disgusted by how she had reacted.

Shimon and I spread a deck of cards on the table and started playing Concentration while drinking some refreshing whiskey soda. I’d developed my own trick to memorizing cards, so I started the game feeling pretty confident. I ended up finding one matching set after another, netting me most of the deck. I made sure to close the window so the breeze wouldn’t blow the cards off the table, and thankfully, it wasn’t that hot out. Closing the window blocked out most outside noise, although I probably wouldn’t have noticed anyway, since I was so focused on the game.

“You hear something?” Shimon asked, tapping my hand. Now that he mentioned it, I could hear the roaring of engines in the distance.

“It’s them,” I said.

Shimon opened the window. A row of headlights shone through the hedges by the gate, so he went outside. I asked him if he was sure about this, but he didn’t answer.

“Evening,” he called as he leaned against the iron gate. The men on the other side of the gate seemed to be saying something back.

I turned on the TV, figuring it was better to make it look like there were a few more people inside just in case.

“You can’t pass through here, sorry. Too many bushes. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t cut through the yard,” Shimon told them.

I have no idea what the bikers said back, but I heard their motorcycles begin heading down the street. I thought they were going to circle the house like they did last night, but they simply went down the hill before fading into the distance.

They were apparently a fickle bunch. When Shimon asked them not to drive through the yard, they just made fun of his accent, then left. He said they were all guys in their late teens.

He seemed rather laid-back about the whole thing, but I was nervous. I was honestly sweating bullets, worried something was going to happen to him. I’d never worry this much if it were Ren, but those bikers were around Shimon’s age, and I was concerned they’d feel like he was taunting them. Apparently, I got all worked up for nothing.

After Shimon turned off the lights at the front door and came back inside, I immediately threw my arms around his waist and hugged him tight.

“Oh, thank goodness! I was so scared.”

“I was only able to all say that ’cause I’m drunk. I dunno what I’d do if I was sober.” Shimon wrapped his arms around my shoulders. “And I dunno what I’m doing right now, either, ’cause I’m drunk,” he mumbled as he tried to kiss me, but I managed to slip away.

“Oh—Shimon, I made muffins. Want any?”

I returned with a basket of raisin muffins I’d baked from flour, baking powder, eggs, milk, and some vegetable oil. They looked really tasty for how simple the recipe was.

“Nah, I hate anything sweet like that,” Shimon answered.

Come to think of it, Ren loved my cooking but hated sweets as well.

Shimon and I slept in separate bedrooms that night. He must have been exhausted, because he fell asleep instantly. His room was completely silent.

It rained the next day. I was going to take Shimon to the hotel pool, but unfortunately, those plans fell through.

“Bet the old man would play golf even in the rain. I wonder if he’ll be here today.” He seemed really curious if Ren was coming or not.

Then he gazed vacantly out the window. “Man, I drank way too much last night.”

“You did?”

“I went downstairs in the middle of the night and had some booze.”

“Oh my.”

“It started pouring then, so I watched the rain as I drank. Did a bit of thinking. I was debating whether I should wake you up to have someone to talk to.”

I was making omelets for breakfast.

“Would’ve rather slept with you than talk, though,” he continued. “But I didn’t, ’cause that’s what the old man was expecting me to do. I didn’t want to feel like a pawn in his game.”

That sounded accurate to me. Ren was probably worried that Shimon and I would do something, and that frustration caused him to enjoy work even more. He’d get busier and busier with work until that became his sole focus. Maybe he would wonder how I felt, and that energized him, making it even less likely for him to come here. Maybe I was merely a pawn Ren used to get enthusiastic about his job.

Shimon’s face was swollen black and blue, perhaps due to all the drinking and the weather.

The front yard’s pink marble nymph statue glistened in the rain, and the white tiling reflected the greenery. Only the sound of raindrops filled the air.

Suddenly, I said, “Shimon, want to get out of here? I’m not gonna wait for him anymore.”

“Okay.”

“Let’s take a trip somewhere, just the two of us.”

“Sure.”

We stood by the rain-drenched window, my arms wrapped tightly around his waist. His hair and lips were soft.

There wasn’t any bread to go with the omelets. I briefly thought we could have the muffins instead, but that was when I realized that I didn’t really like muffins that much, either. I’d only made them to satisfy my own ego, thinking they’d make me look good.

I hadn’t brought much with me: just makeup, some clothes, and that book by Tatsuhiko Shibusawa. Oh, and now I was leaving with something even bigger: Shimon.

I retired from the vacation house with its beautiful view of the ocean. The boats passed one another through the foggy sea and unrelenting rain.