I Can’t Drink This Hot Tea

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Yoshioka was wearing glasses when she saw him again that day, seven years later. He had grown old and weary, but the glasses were the most surprising change. Before she offered even a simple hello…

“Have you always worn glasses?!”

…Aguri couldn’t stop herself from shouting.

“Nah, started wearing ’em ’round last year, I guess…”

Yoshioka’s appearance had clearly changed. But it was more than just a young man reaching the prime of his life.

Do all men age this fast?

Yoshioka was still only thirty-six years old.

“Heh-heh… Heh-heh-heh…” Yoshioka chuckled as he took off his shoes. “Hey, uh… Can I come in? Huge place ya got here… A rental? Or didja buy it?” he asked, already making his way inside.

“Oh, please… Do you really think I could afford buying a place like this? I’m renting… Come on in.”

Aguri showed him into a room across from the outside hallway. She was basically treating it as a place to entertain guests, but this dreary room was also where she usually held work meetings. People from television stations and film companies would pile in here to discuss business, filling the air with cigarette smoke. The white wallpaper had taken a light-brown tint as a result.

Aguri cleaned the place once a year on New Year’s Eve, but even the rag she used had become discolored and gunked up to the point that she didn’t really care enough anymore to decorate the room or make it look nice. Cluttered with various baubles and knickknacks she had lying around the house, it practically screamed nothing beats cheap. The walls were bare of any paintings—only a calendar pinned up with a thumbtack. She took notes on the calendar for work, which was why it had check marks and Xs scribbled all over it in permanent marker.

One time, when Aguri was writing for a morning soap opera, the show’s lead actress stopped by and said, “This place is way too dreary. Here, take this,” and gifted her a flower vase.

Aguri had just bought some flowers to put in the vase, which was now atop the sideboard. She would never do something like that if a work colleague was visiting, but Yoshioka was different. They used to date, after all.

The room could use some color, she figured.

Aguri had actually considered putting the flowers in the living room out back and taking Yoshioka there. The living room was very sunny, with a great view of the mountains. It had beautiful curtains and furniture, too. But Aguri suddenly changed her mind and showed Yoshioka into the gloomy drawing room.

Yoshioka was wearing a navy-blue polo with a white cotton jacket and wrinkly ecru pants. His features were lined with age, so his fashionable getup didn’t quite hit the mark. He just looked tired and shabby. Yoshioka was a shadow of his once-gentlemanly self—maybe his life had taken a turn for the worse—and yet his overall charm and endearing smile hadn’t faded one bit.

That’s how he gets you, thought Aguri.

Some people were hard to approach, but not Yoshioka. He was the definition of approachable, and that was what had made him so popular with women.

“Right… So this is where you work?” he asked.

Yoshioka took a seat on the couch and started curiously looking around. His curiosity turned to confusion when he noticed there wasn’t a single picture or painting to look at.

“This is the drawing room,” said Aguri. “I do my work down the hall.”

“Bet you’re really busy, writing for a TV show with a really popular actress and all. You make good money?”

“Enough to get by.”

“You’re a real big shot now. I can barely look ya in the eye, Aguri… Maybe I’ve said too much.”

Aguri snorted, then took a seat in the chair across from Yoshioka. There was a television in the corner of the room, and in front of the TV stand was an award from the TV station’s president congratulating Aguri on her show’s high ratings. However, it was facing backward, so her guests would have no clue what it was for.

Yoshioka sat up straight once again.

“Been so long that I dunno where to start… How many years now?” he asked.

“Six or seven, maybe?” Aguri replied, even though she knew it had been exactly seven years since they broke up. She picked up the kettle she always kept on the side table and started pouring tea. “So,” she began, “what made you decide to call me out of the blue like that? I was surprised, to say the least.”

“Heh-heh… Heh-heh-heh…”

Aguri noticed that Yoshioka’s face seemed more scrunched up, and his forehead wrinkled like a monkey’s when he laughed. Perhaps he’d lost weight. It was a slight turnoff, so she looked away. But she knew his body very well. She could still remember every curve from his neck to his shoulders and how it felt to run her hands down them, although her raw affection for Yoshioka had long faded. It was now a mere memory.

I can’t believe it’s been so long…

Listening to him talk felt like hearing a long-forgotten song being played on an old, broken jukebox. That one night last week, his voice had made Aguri’s heart skip a beat—unlike now.

It had been around eight PM when the phone rang.

“Uh…I’m trying to reach Aguri Takao, the writer for Mother Tantan. Is this the right number?”

It was a man. Fans of the show Mother Tantan had managed to get a hold of Aguri’s phone number in the past, so she replied in a deep, stiff voice, “Yes, it is.”

Some people had even called to tell her how much they hated her show, a serial TV dramedy about a single-mother household.

“Yeah…that’s Aguri, all right. Guess who this is.”

“Who?”

“Ya really can’t tell, huh? It’s…it’s me, Yoshioka.”

Aguri had figured it out before he said his name. She felt her heart pound in her chest. Most likely a conditioned response—an old habit.

“Sorry for callin’ outta nowhere. Ya busy right now?”

“Yes, I am. What do you want?”

She always acted like this while she was working, but it flustered Yoshioka.

“I’m really sorry for interrupting, then. Actually, there’s somethin’ I wanna talk about. Think we could get together?”

“When?”

“Whenever’s good for you. It’s, uh… It’s kinda hard askin’ this, since you’re famous and all now, but…think ya could make a li’l time to meet up with this fella?”

“Meet up with this fella” made it sound like Yoshioka was talking about someone else, but he was in fact referring to himself. He talked just the same as always. Aguri wanted to laugh; it brought back so many memories.

“Sure. I can’t this week, though. Way too busy.”

“That’s fine. Any time’s good.”

“I’m only free next Wednesday.”

“Arright. What time Wednesday?”

Aguri figured Yoshioka wouldn’t be able to meet during the day if he was working, but she didn’t want to meet at night, either. She didn’t know why one of her exes wanted to see her, and she worried what would happen if he came over at night with food and alcohol. Aguri had no intention of ever getting back together with Yoshioka. Plus, she was somewhat suspicious of him.

Yoshioka had inherited his family’s business, although Aguri heard that it folded only two years after he took over. She thought that maybe he was going to ask her for something. At least, that was what her instincts as a thirty-two-year-old woman were telling her.

“How about two o’clock?” she suggested, to which Yoshioka immediately replied, “Yeah, that’s perfect. Can I meet you at your place?”

“Um… What was it you wanted to talk about?”

“I’ll tell ya in person. Anyway—man, it’s been ages since I last heard your voice. You haven’t changed a bit. How old are you again?”

“Does it matter how old I am?!”

“Oh, sorry. It’s just—sheesh, your voice really brings back memories. Like, I honestly didn’t think you’d wanna see me, so I figured I’d just give ya a call. Glad I got to talk to you. Thanks.”

Even after hanging up, Aguri could still hear his “Glad I got to talk to you. Thanks” ringing in her head. She so seldom heard those words that they gave her an emotional rush. It had been a while since she’d felt such excitement.

Last year, she’d become close with one of the supporting actors on her show. He’d call her every time he was in Osaka and they’d go out for lunch, although things never went any further than that. Perhaps their relationship would have developed into something more, but Aguri was cautious and preferred work over dating and romance.

Around three or four years ago, she’d gone out with a man from a local television network, but he got transferred to their Nagoya office and she then grew extremely busy, so things naturally ended there. Now Aguri’s entire life was work, but she found it fulfilling.

“Glad I got to talk to you. Thanks.”

Yoshioka’s voice resonated deep within her heart.

That’s just the kind of guy he is, she said to herself. He’s so…

He was self-centered. He’d said he was going to marry Aguri, when meanwhile, he’d had another woman on the side whom his parents were trying to get him to wed. And then, with a straight face, he’d told Aguri:

“Yeaaah, nah. I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“Get married. To you.”

“What?!” Aguri had blurted out. “Did you seriously just say, ‘Yeaaah, nah’ about something this important?”

But somehow, she couldn’t hate the guy.

“Forgive me. I’m sorry.”

Aguri felt weak in the knees when he said that.

“Really, I am.”

She’d been working at city hall at the time, heartbroken to the point that she hadn’t thought she’d have the strength to wake up every morning. But she’d needed this job to survive, so she poured all her energy into work. And even then, Aguri couldn’t bring herself to resent Yoshioka. He wasn’t capable of standing up to his parents; he panicked over the arranged marriage they were forcing him into and meanwhile found himself unable to break things off with Aguri. Nonetheless…

“What’s this girl like?” Aguri asked.

“A real beauty,” Yoshioka replied with utmost sincerity. Aguri was hit with the urge to murder him until he continued, “It hurts. I wake up every morning hopin’ it’s all a dream, that it’s you by my side instead, and I just can’t stop crying.”

He was actually crying, too.

“It kills me.”

That was all it took for Aguri to forgive him.

“Well… Bummer…”

That out-of-date slang was the last thing she said to Yoshioka before cutting him out of her life. Even after getting an abortion, she still couldn’t hate the man.

Her old boyfriend from the TV network clutched his stomach with laughter when she told him about Yoshioka.

“What an idiot. He couldn’t stand up to his parents, then gets so haunted by his obligations and feelings that he starts crying? Sounds straight out of the works of Chikamatsu.”

Then he started sarcastically saying, “It kills me,” which ended up making Aguri more annoyed with him than anything else.

Who do you think you are? Oh, so he’s the idiot? You think you’re so great with your wife and kids, but here you are, leading a double life with me on the side.

Maybe it came down to chemistry. What Aguri had with Yoshioka in bed was perfect. They made love—sweet and gentle yet passionate love, as opposed to the aggressive, unflattering sex she had with the man from the television network. Perhaps those memories still lingered in the back of her mind, and her admiration, which was a mix between obsession and regret, was what was keeping her memories of Yoshioka from ever leaving her side.

Aguri never mentioned this to the man from the television network, but she was impressed that Yoshioka was the son of a CEO—granted, the CEO of a small enterprise with around two hundred employees. One day, when she and Yoshioka were passing by the company’s factory in the Higashiyodogawa Ward in his car, he pointed at the tall fence and said:

“That’s ours.”

Aguri had various intentions of her own. She’d weighed the advantages and disadvantages of marrying Yoshioka, so maybe God had punished her for having such utilitarian motives. Deep down, she felt Yoshioka wasn’t the only bad guy here.

Nevertheless, when she heard him say, “Glad I got to talk to you. Thanks” during their first phone call in ages, it reminded her of his “It kills me” all those years ago.

That’s just the kind of guy he is, Aguri said fondly to herself. There was no doubt that when Yoshioka said something like that, he was speaking from the heart.

At any rate, what does he want to even talk about, especially after all these years?

Hearing Yoshioka’s voice on the phone had raised Aguri’s expectations far too high, because she was remembering the old him. But the real Yoshioka had aged, and his choice of glasses wasn’t helping things. Aguri was disillusioned.

Yoshioka quietly watched her as she made tea, then shook his head.

“Ya haven’t changed at all. Still as young and beautiful as ever.”

“I wonder. They say women age faster if they work too much.”

Aguri was wearing light makeup. Even though she never had the spare time to get a perm and simply got a monthly trim instead, her shoulder-length tresses were perfectly straight and glistening. She flipped her hair over her shoulder while making an effort not to meet Yoshioka’s eye, since she could sense him staring at her.

When Aguri eventually looked at him, she could instinctively tell that he hadn’t come over just to catch up on old times. But she still had no idea why he was here.

“Hard to believe six or seven years have passed…,” Yoshioka said as he took a cigarette out of his pocket.

He’s planning on overstaying his welcome, isn’t he? thought Aguri, a touch despondent. After all, she had a few more scenes to write before the end of the day if she wanted to meet her deadline.

Yoshioka’s fingers were thick like those of someone who worked in a field, and his fingernails were broken and rough. When he was younger, the backs of his hands had been soft and slightly plump, maybe because he’d been a bit chubby back then. They’d been pale like a woman’s hands, his fingers similarly unblemished. His palms were so warm when he wrapped his hands around Aguri’s that day years ago and said, “Whoa. Your hands are freezing. People say ‘cold hands, warm heart,’ and I reckon they might be right.”

Aguri found his sweet-as-a-peach tone so sexy. Yoshioka was really good at gauging her mood whenever they made love. He was observant, sensitive, and gentle. Back where they were from in Osaka, people called anything syrupy sweet and gentle “sweet as a peach.” That phrase fit Yoshioka to a T, from his personality to the way he talked and had sex.

But there was no trace of that quality now, which was why Aguri thought he looked different and seemed less gentlemanly.

“They keep tellin’ me to lay off the cigarettes, but I can’t… Same goes for booze. I’d be lost without it.”

“Who’s telling you that?”

“Doctors. Said I’m gonna fuzz up my liver.”

People from Aguri and Yoshioka’s hometown often said “fuzz up” to mean mess up or damage in some way. Aguri had spent most of her adult life in Tokyo by now, so it felt like ages since she’d last heard such slang.

“Mother Tantan’s a smash hit, eh? I love it.”

“Thanks. But it’s the actors who deserve all the credit.”

“Nah, it’s the script. I mean, I’m no expert or nothin’, but still—you really hit the big leagues all of a sudden, y’know? That’s proof you’re talented.”

“I just got lucky.”

“You been writing since way back, too? I had no idea. When I first saw your name on the TV, I thought it was a completely different person, just with the same name. Then I saw your picture in a magazine two or three years ago. Boy, was that a surprise.”

“…”

“But then I was like, ‘Yeah, that makes sense…’ You always were smart. Even the letters ya used to write me were really good.”

“Did I used to write you letters?” Aguri asked, even though she clearly remembered doing so.

“Yeah, ya did, but when we broke up, I gave ’em back like you asked. You seriously don’t remember? Unbelievable.”

“Doesn’t ring any bells. I probably threw them out.”

That was a lie. Aguri hadn’t looked at them in years, but they were still stowed away in a cardboard box in a storage unit. She kept the best of their correspondences bundled together.

“I never expected you’d get so famous. It’s all about talent these days, y’know. Can’t get rich without talent.”

Yoshioka went to take a sip of the tea Aguri had made, but it must have been too hot, because he placed his cup back on the table.

The sound of children’s footsteps and voices suddenly got louder before fading into the distance, since the apartment building’s exterior passageway was right outside the window.

Yoshioka lowered his voice. “You, uh, got anyone here with ya? Or you live alone?”

“Just me.”

“Still single?”

“Still single.”

Yoshioka’s eyes anxiously wandered behind his glasses. “…Seriously?”

“I’m married to my job… Ha-ha-ha.”

Aguri giggled after remembering a conversation she’d had with the building’s super on the first floor. Yoshioka was going to come over at two o’clock, so she went to go buy some flowers before he arrived. She figured she could at least decorate the place and show Yoshioka the living room, since she wasn’t going to be entertaining him with food and drink. Her living room had a balcony facing the mountains, and Aguri had some of her favorite furniture there: a fluffy, white rug, a cabriole-legged couch with sky-blue satin upholstery, and a dark-green onyx table.

On the table was a white coffee cup, and tossed over the couch was a dark-navy negligee made of silk. One side of the room, where Aguri did her work, was cluttered with stacks of scripts and rough drafts, although she could hide all that by closing the accordion door.

Yoshioka’s voice over the phone brought back so many fond memories that Aguri decided to catch up with him in the living room. She never brought anyone from work there.

When she returned to her apartment complex after buying flowers, she found the building’s super waiting for her.

“Some strange man stopped by to see you,” the woman explained. “He said he was a little early and you weren’t home, so he asked if I could let him inside so he could wait there.”

“What happened after that?”

“I told him I don’t keep a master key anymore, so I can’t let him in.”

“Did he go home?”

“No, he said he was going to take a walk around the block and come back, but he kept asking these weird questions before he left. ‘Is she married?’ ‘Does she live alone?’ ‘Does she have any kids?’ ‘Her last name is Takao, right?’ It freaked me out. I thought he was a thief scoping places to rob, so I just kept telling him, ‘I don’t know.’ ”

Aguri immediately knew it was Yoshioka. He had a bad habit of asking innocent yet prying questions whenever he wanted to know something. He could be really persistent.

Aguri quickly changed her mind about bringing Yoshioka into her living room. All of this had reminded her that she hadn’t seen him in seven years and that he was an enigma to her now. Why go through all that trouble? she figured.

She ended up putting just a few lilies and carnations in the gloomy drawing room, then she closed the divider between it and the living room.

Yoshioka must not have been satisfied with the super’s answers, because he peppered Aguri with further questions.

“You’re still single? Seriously?”

“I don’t have time for a man. I’ve got work to do.”

That response seemed to finally convince him.

“Makes sense… Been seein’ your name everywhere these last two, three years, after all. You wrote a novel a little while ago, yeah? Haven’t read it yet, though… What made ya start writing this much anyway? You got a good hand on ya.”

“Got a good hand on ya” was Yoshioka’s cute way of saying she was a talented writer.

Aguri had always wanted to write, ever since she was in high school. She’d gone to junior college—more like finishing school—but then attended screenwriting lectures after she started working. She even went to a comedy writing workshop and was eventually approached by the lecturer:

“You write the funniest dialogue. How about learning how to write for TV?”

For some reason, Aguri had good intuition, not so much talent. It probably had to do with how she was raised. Both of her parents had strong personalities—a little too strong, which was why they were always at each other’s throats. Growing up with two angry adults in constant conflict made Aguri learn to keep her distance from others. Perhaps that was what led to her desire to write. The downfall of her relationship with Yoshioka had also pushed her to take a crack at screenwriting. Her run of good luck was tenuous at first, but eventually, her scripts turned a profit. One series in particular got popular enough for a publishing company to approach Aguri about a book deal. When she gave it a try, the result was even better than she’d imagined. After that, she found that she could take material too difficult to adapt for television and turn it into essays and novels. Some people told Aguri that she’d finally hit her stride, although she didn’t feel that way herself. She secretly chalked it all up to her good intuition. Eager to strike while the iron was still hot, Aguri wanted to further hone her skills. She never once let her guard down, because she knew that doing so could be a death sentence in her line of work. It was feast or famine.

She felt like she was walking across a tightrope. Not that she would ever reveal as much to Yoshioka, however.

“I just got lucky. That’s all,” she insisted.

“I dunno about that.”

“How’d you get my number anyway?”

“I called a newspaper company.”

“Oh…”

“C’mon, you’ve gotta be making bank, living in a huge apartment like this. You got a vacation house, too?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Oh, it’s just that when I saw you in that one magazine, you were in this beautiful room with a view of the mountains, drinking coffee or somethin’. Real luxurious. I was like, ‘Man, she’s living the high life.’ ”

“That’s the room in the back. It’s far from luxurious, though…”

Sure, there was a silk gown, a cabriole sofa, and a white coffee cup, and the view from the living room was just as beautiful as it looked in that women’s fashion magazine. But Aguri never had the time to actually sit there in that gown and enjoy herself. The view was a pleasing visual no different from looking at pictures in a magazine.

Aguri worked day and night at her desk, and once she got tired, she’d collapse onto the perpetually unmade bed next to it. She fell asleep wearing the same clothes she worked in more often than not, which was why she wore a baggy cotton dress almost year-round. For food, she’d stop by the café on the first floor of her apartment complex, where she had a tab. She hardly even had the time to be disappointed about that anymore.

Aguri sat on her cabriole sofa drinking coffee in a nice, long dress only when magazine companies sent photographers to her place for pictures. Of course anyone who saw those photos would think she lived a luxurious life.

She didn’t have a man she could complain to about her struggles. Nor would she ever talk to any of the male actors she occasionally met about something so personal. She’d once opened up to her TV network ex, figuring he’d empathize since he was also in the industry, but his reaction was unexpectedly cold.

“Yeah, yeah. First world problems. You should be grateful you’re getting that much work—or any work, really. Do you have any idea how many people would kill to be in your position?” he’d scoffed.

“There’s always another new young talent out there… Times change. People’s tastes change. Just because you write something good, that doesn’t mean people are going to like it. Work takes up all my time, and I still don’t feel like a pro, even now. Before I start writing, I’m always terrified. My hands go cold and numb. I’m like, ‘Okay, I accepted the job, but can I even do it? Will the producer like it? What about the director?’ ”

Aguri hadn’t planned on telling Yoshioka any of this, but the words naturally slipped off her tongue, as if something about him teased them out of her.

“I believe it. Bet your hands are cold even now. Breaks my heart seein’ you like this.” Yoshioka’s words were tender, soothing. “You’ve got nobody to warm you up…just like me.”

“What about your wife?”

“We split up. I got a daughter who I go see from time to time, though. Cutest li’l girl in the whole world. Think you could use one of your connections to get her in a commercial or somethin’? I’d love to see my little girl’s face on the TV,” Yoshioka said absentmindedly. “She’s gonna be so beautiful when she grows up. She’s four now… Says the cutest darn things, too. ‘Daddy, I want you to be happy no matter where you go. And don’t forget about me, okay, Daddy?’ Isn’t she a sweetie?”

Aguri watched in a daze as Yoshioka wiped away his tears with his thick, calloused fingers.

Stop it, Aguri. Her emotions were getting the better of her. You know what—Yoshioka’s tears are contagious. The second he starts crying, it makes me want to cry, too, Aguri thought as tears welled in her eyes.

“Maybe you heard by now, but…,” Yoshioka said as he pushed his glasses back up, “…I bankrupted my father’s factory. Tried my hand in all sorts of different trades after that, but none of ’em went anywhere. I’m just a loser.”

“…”

“The more I struggled, the worse it got…and I ended up losin’ my house, and then my wife left me and took my daughter. I’m helpin’ a friend out with a job right now…and one day—this might be a pipe dream, but one day, I wanna get my daughter back.”

“Where do you live now?”

“Amagasaki.”

“How’s the job going?”

Aguri’s voice grew quieter. She had no idea what to do, seeing Yoshioka so upset. She wanted the old Yoshioka, the goofball who bragged that his wife-to-be was “a real beauty.” The man she practically felt like murdering, the guy she couldn’t bring herself to hate, the thoughtless simplicity of his that made her give in. She wanted him to be the same laid-back man he once was.

“Of course, I messed up. Can’t deny that. But see, there was no way to recover after the oil crisis… I did everything I could, and still…”

“Men have it rough, too.” Aguri genuinely believed that. “You’ve been through a lot, Yoshioka. You did your best.”

Life was hard, regardless of gender.

“There was nothing you could do. You take whatever life throws at you, but sometimes, things just don’t work out…”

“Thanks. You’re the only one who says anything that nice to me. Well, you and my daughter. But I’m not gonna let it end like this.”

Yoshioka interlaced his fingers and stared hard at a fixed point on the floor as he sank into thought.

Aguri dumped out Yoshioka’s lukewarm tea and poured him a fresh cup. She always kept the kettle nearby so she wouldn’t have to get out of her chair during work meetings. Not even the fragrant aroma of roasted green tea could break Yoshioka out of his trance.

Aguri wondered what would have happened if she’d been there for him. She wondered if she’d helped Yoshioka during his struggles, then maybe he would’ve been able to rise above adversity. Perhaps dedicating her entire life to him would’ve been more fulfilling than the empty success she had now.

That made Aguri start to feel that it wasn’t Yoshioka who’d abandoned her—she had abandoned him. Like a rat escaping a sinking ship, her ruthless intuition had probably pushed her to cut ties with him before it was too late.

It was hard seeing the man Yoshioka had become. Perhaps he was going to hit Aguri up for some money, and Aguri knew she wasn’t going to be able to refuse, because her emotions had gotten the best of her. She justified her quiet despair by telling herself that sacrificing some of her funds would be worth it if it made Yoshioka smile.

Yoshioka suddenly lifted his head back up, a pained expression on his face.

“Aguri…,” he started. Aguri nodded repeatedly as if to tell him, It’s okay.

Money was very important to women who worked in extremely competitive, cutthroat environments, although Aguri didn’t feel that way personally. She’d much rather give in and make sacrifices for this poor soul.

“Yes?” Aguri spoke in the gentlest voice she had ever mustered (at least she thought so) in order to make it easier for Yoshioka to open up to her.

“Going bankrupt is, well—it’s rough. Day in and day out, I got creditors comin’ over, yellin’ at me… You go through hell like that, and you quickly learn how to put up with a lot of bullshit.”

Aguri remained silent, taken aback by the strange turn the story had taken. That was when Yoshioka let the floodgates open.

“My factory got scammed. Not somethin’ ya see every day.”

“…”

“Some kinda fraudulent scheme, I guess you could say. Anyway, I reckon it’s a pretty rare case, so I was wondering if it’d make a good TV show.”

“A show?” Aguri looked at Yoshioka, mouth agape.

“Think maybe you could ask some TV network about it? I’ve got all the documents and materials you’d need. I’ll show ’em to ya.”

“…”

“Wouldn’t mind writing it myself if you could at least teach me how to write, but…ya know what they say: ‘Leave it to the experts.’ The story wouldn’t have that extra oomph if you didn’t write it.”

Yoshioka laughed, and his forehead creased like a monkey’s once more. He kept switching between you and ya, most likely without realizing.

Aguri had no idea how to respond. The first thing that came to mind was Yoshioka’s motive: Was he planning on turning the bankruptcy into a TV show and winning over the general public as revenge against the person (who Yoshioka claimed was a scam artist) responsible for his company’s demise?

“What are you looking for in a show about bankruptcy?”

“Anything, really. I just figured I’d take this story to a TV network and they’d pay me royalties for it or somethin’.” Yoshioka appeared to honestly believe that. “Or you could buy the rights from me.”

“I don’t really write legal dramas.”

Aguri said this so matter-of-factly that she probably sounded cold and distant. However, Yoshioka continued, “How ’bout any of your TV writer friends? Think they’d be interested?”

“Um, well…I guess I could ask.”

“Royalty deals pay big money, right? Think you could talk to some movie studios for me, too?”

Aguri had now lost any remaining interest in Yoshioka. She couldn’t believe that she was ever in love with the man in front of her, no matter how long ago that was.

But something about Yoshioka tugged at her heartstrings. She had no idea what to do about it, though. She wanted him to be successful and go back to being the childlike, thoughtless man who would break her heart. She never wanted to see him like this.

Aguri grew thirsty and went to take a sip of her tea, but it was too hot to drink. Her unquenchable thirst only added to her mounting frustration.