What If?
**
He has the same narrow nose and round jaw. Windswept black hair and that mole on one cheek. How is he still this handsome?
Yuka stared at Ken.
Her light brown hair curls just the same, prettily around her face. Wait, it’s longer now, down her back. This suits her too. Those big, doe-like eyes and the same expression of naiveté.
Ken stared back.
How many years had it been? Five? Six?
Around them, the icy sidewalks were lined by trees decorated with glittering fairy lights. Wives bustled about carrying their Gucci handbags and clicking their Louboutin boots while husbands waited outside the stores, their arms loaded with shopping bags. Children wearing stylish colored jumpsuits and fluffy mittens zipped about between their parent’s legs, joyful and carefree. An enormous Christmas tree stood in the middle of the street, glittering with baubles and flecks of fake snow, looking as delicious as frosting on a green cake. It was a common sight to see every December in Ginza, one of Tokyo’s classiest neighborhoods. Ornate benches were placed at regular intervals on both sides of the street, their wooden surfaces polished to perfection and gleaming under the streetlamps. Some were empty but many were occupied by people holding styrofoam cups of steaming coffee from a nearby free sample stand.
It was on one of these benches that Yuka had sat down a moment ago to rest her heavy bags and tired feet. Deciding to take off her boots for a bit, she had leaned forward accidentally elbowing one of the shopping bags. She had lunged forward to catch it before some rather daring lingerie spilled out over the ground but before she could, another bigger hand had caught it and set it back on the bench. Her eyes had followed the hand up to its owner and widened in disbelief on meeting a startled but familiar face. All of a sudden, time came to a standstill with Yuka bent at an awkward angle, her hand grasping empty air, and the man seated upright, fingers still curled over the strap of her recently salvaged shopping bag.
Grabbing a hold of herself, Yuka sat back up while her companion released the bag. She realized that he had been sitting on the other end of the bench and she, being the scatter-brain she was, had failed to notice.
“Hi, Ken! What a surprise! How have you been doing?” she beamed at him.
He realized that he had been staring at her for almost thirty seconds without saying a word. How many times has that smile of hers helped us escape sticky situations in the past? Parking tickets, sneaking into concerts, smoking in no-smoking zones…. an endless list.
Clearing his throat again, he managed a weak croak.
“It indeed is! Never thought I would run into you here. The last time I saw you…” he trailed off.
It was a night similar to this one. Her face, framed by the orange glow. His neck, wrapped with a thick scarf. Snow falling around them
“Ken, I don’t know what to say. It’s just…last year was extremely hard for me. And I could hardly see you because you were so busy. During that time, I never even expected I would become close to Haruki. But he was there for me at my worst and now, my feelings are different”.
His hands clenching around the roses he had gotten her, a sense of betrayal spreading through his heart. Her soft, sad voice murmuring apologies
“I know. It sounds like a poor excuse when I say it like this. And you might think of me as a horrible liar when I say my feelings toward you were always one hundred percent genuine. But I just…changed. And I want to be honest now that Haruki is in the picture. I don’t want either of us to end up regretting anything”.
Ken’s head jerked up. He wanted to scream. Was I not enough for you? Why someone else? WHY? He wanted to shake her. Push her. Do anything that could lessen the heaviness slowly blanketing his chest, threatening to cut off his air supply.
His eyes met hers but within seconds, the words died from his lips.
Tears were gathering in her lower eyelids, almost spilling down over porcelain cheeks while tiny flakes of snow rested on her eyelashes. Like pearls strung on a fine black feather. He never could stand up against her tears. Not in all of the three years they had been together. And now she was standing in front of him, looking miserable, choked up with both the weight of her confession and the pain of her honesty. His resistance melted away, drop by drop, just like the tears which had by now started to slide down her cheeks.
So beautiful, he thought. Always so damned beautiful. He could never hurt her, even if he tried. Defeated, he looked at her sadly for one long minute and then proceeded to turn around, letting the roses slip from his fingers.
“Ken…p-please..”. He could hear her trembling voice behind him, begging him to react, willing him to do something, anything except just walk away, leaving her to be trapped in her own guilt.
He left her staring at the bouquet of crushed roses on the ground which just an hour ago was bought with love and tenderness, in anticipation of a happy smile when it would be passed into her hands, but now they would lie there for the entire night, under a layer of slowly accumulating snow, to be eventually picked up by a garbage collector’s prongs and thrown into the back of a truck.
Ken started and mentally shook himself. Damn it, he thought, I did it again.
The air was thick with the musky smell of pine and the spicy aroma of pumpkin pie wafting out from a nearby bakery. People rushed about to do their last-minute shopping while others made merry in pubs with glasses of wine in their hands. Gay laughter rang out from time to time and the entire street was lit up with a warm glow.
He saw Yuka glancing nervously at him, biting her lip as if she was scared of what he might say……or might bring up.
With great effort, Ken pushed away from the memories that had haunted him for so many years. Looking around for a change of topic, he spied the glint of diamond on her finger.
Oh. He wasn’t surprised.
“So, you got married huh? That’s wonderful. How long has it been?”
Yuka’s shoulders relaxed at his cheery tone.
“It’s been about four years. We have a 7-month old baby too. So life’s quite hectic.”
“Oh! Belated congratulations are due then. Must be a lively household.”
“You have no idea.” She smiled. “And…what about you?”
“Single and pretty much mingling about. Buying gifts for my friend’s babies in fact.” He sighed and made a comical expression, rolling his eyes.
Yuka laughed. He was still the same. Light-hearted and easy to talk to. Even after all that had happened. Tipping her head back, she took a deep breath and took in their surroundings.
Her hands cupped tightly around the coffee mug, trying to get its warmth to seep through her chilled body. They were seated in a brightly-lit Starbucks café, the biggest one in Ginza. Haruki sat in the opposite seat and placed a warm, reassuring hand over hers.
“It will be fine. Just tell him the truth. I’m sure he’ll find a way to accept it. It’s your happiness after all”.
Her fingers stiffened on the mug. “How can I hurt Ken like this? I never imagined such a situation would arise, where I would need to break someone’s heart.” Her voice was panicked and desperate. She started to rock her body back and forth on the chair. “I genuinely loved him”, she whispered brokenly, “and would have continued to do so if I hadn’t met you”.
She curled up into a ball, hugging her knees, as though she could somehow be absorbed inside herself without ever having the guilt of hurting someone else hanging over her head. Haruki remained silent. What could he say? She had to tell Ken the truth, one way or another. She would never allow herself to be happy if she lied to spare him any heartbreak. Her phone vibrated.
“Hello, Ken? Yes, I will be there in about fifteen minutes. I have something I need to tell you….”
Yuka’s eyes flew open and she firmly dragged her mind back to the present.
That’s enough. Leave the past in the past.
Around them, Christmas lights glittered. Snowflakes, feather-light and beautiful started to drift down from the sky, disappearing like ash as soon as they touched the ground. The musical clock on one of the storefronts noisily came to life and struck eight times. Yuka gathered her bags and on the other side, Ken did the same. They both stood up, faced each other, and bowed, as was the custom.
“Well.”
“Well.”
“Happy Holidays.”
“Merry Christmas.”
Yuka smiled and prepared to walk away. However, a faint voice behind made her stop.
“Yuka, wait..”
She looked back questioningly at Ken and was struck by a strange, almost wistful expression on his face.
“The person who you married…is it Haruki?”
Yuka felt a sudden tightness in her chest. Running a tongue over dry lips, she replied.
“Yes.”
The outside world melted away until it was only the two of them, standing in a small circle, painfully aware of the other’s existence. It was exactly like that night, years ago. Her face, framed by the orange glow. His neck, wrapped with a thick scarf. Snow falling around them.
Ken’s lips quirked upward. “That’s good. I wish you both a lifetime of happiness,” he said in a soft voice.
She nodded her thanks, feeling a hot pricking behind her eyes, and turned to head back to a brightly lit home, welcomed by a pair of chubby fists waving at her and an apron-clad husband stirring something delicious in the kitchen.
He on the other hand would reach a noisy party, filled with young men and women drinking, eating, and making merry without a care in the world. At least, for the moment.
They walked away, to each, their own, leaving behind whispers of a silent question hovering on the lone bench.
What if things had been different?
It was a dangerous whisper, thankfully swept away by the wind to disappear somewhere high atop the skyscrapers of Tokyo.
