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It’s 6 weeks between Claudine’s break up with Maya and the end of the fall season. They feel endless, dragging on and on with the torture of the woman she loves beside her, with the glares of her troupe-mates upset with her for ruining the dynamic in their group. It’s then that she decides to take the winter season off. She doesn’t realize at the time that she won’t be back for spring or summer, either.
She goes to France for the winter, spending a good amount of time with her parents for the first time in years. But after a couple months, it’s clear they’re worried about how she’s getting on, and to put them at ease, she goes back to Japan, promising to get back to auditions for the spring season. She does not.
In the spring, she splits her time between Yachiyo’s apartment and Kaoruko and Futaba’s villa. She knows she’s causing trouble for her friends, but she’s not ready to go back to work. She could request to change troupes, of course, but her problem is deeper than that, and she imposes on them a while longer.
It’s summer, 8 months after her breakup with Maya, when she rents a room in the apartment far across town from her old theater. Mostly to get out of her friends’ hair. Her new roommate is Daiba Nana. She is around the same age as Claudine, and they get along well. Nana likes cooking, and takes care of most of the housework as well, which is good for Claudine, who is fairly useless at both of those tasks. The rent is affordable enough, and she spends the first few days lazing about.
The new apartment is different from the place she shared with Maya, which was a tidy and modern, but cramped apartment adjacent to her old theater. Her place with Maya was all stainless steel and polished floors and calming gray walls. Nana’s apartment is airy, with the summer breeze constantly coming in the open windows due to the lack of air conditioning. There’s always the smell of something delicious coming from the kitchen. There’s a cozy living room, a spacious bathroom they share, and two separate bedrooms. The furniture and the floors are wood, and the walls are a warm yellow. Claudine’s room is still rather sparse, boxes still unpacked from when she moved in, but the room came with furniture, so she has a bed to lay back on.
It seems Nana’s been in this apartment for some time, but her girlfriend has just moved out. In this way, Claudine supposes they’re similar - both recently separated from their other half.
And in another way, they’re not.
Claudine lays on her bed, watching the ceiling fan spin around slowly on the lowest setting. Nana’s girlfriend moved out. She left Nana. Whereas Claudine moved out from the apartment she lived in with Maya. Although their split was mutual, she knows everyone blamed her. Even the friends on ‘her’ side, like Yachiyo and Futaba, thought Claudine was in the wrong. She pulls her fingers through her hair, sighing. She and Nana are in the same situation, certainly, but they’re not the same at all.
“Kuro-san, do you want to try some of this pasta?” Nana’s voice carries from the kitchen.
And she does. She really does want to stop dwelling on the death of her beautiful love and eat pasta instead.
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After a few nights, Claudine decides to get some fresh air, sick of spending all day and night in the apartment. She texts Futaba, then Yachiyo, getting a reply from Yachiyo first, and meets up with her at the station.
“Working yet?” Yachiyo turns on her right away.
Claudine averts her eyes, giving Yachiyo all the answer she needs.
“Oh, if the people knew what little orphan Arrie was doing now,” she muses.
“It’s fine, I still have some savings,” Claudine says dismissively.
They decide on a local bar with outdoor seating, settling at a small table as dusk settles in on the promenade. Wine is poured and Yachiyo settles back into her chair, as if shaking off the stress of her week. “How’s Fumi?” Claudine asks.
“She’s great, really great,” Yachiyo says. “She’s making her directorial debut next month.”
“That is… wow…” Claudine sips her wine, easily imagining Fumi leading an entire production.
“You should come. I’ll have her save you tickets.”
“Yeah, ok, I’ll try to make it.”
“You’ll be there. What else do you have to do?”
Claudine sighs. “You’re right, you’re right. I’ll be there. I’m happy you’re happy. I saw your costumes were in that Takurazuka production? That’s incredible!”
Yachiyo’s cheeks turn pink at the acknowledgement. “They were. There’s going to be a small feature in a magazine next month, I’ll send you the details if you want to look at the convenience store.”
“Of course! I’ll buy three!”
Yachiyo shakes her head. “But enough about me. How are you? How’s the new roommate?”
“I’m the same as always. The roommate, Nana, she’s good. She’s a great cook. Very nice. She’s also just had a breakup, so we’re both in the same boat.”
“Ok, Kuro, I love you, but you didn’t just have a breakup.”
“Ugh, lay off. I don’t know when her breakup happened either, we don’t exactly chat about those topics,” Claudine says.
Yachiyo shakes her head. “Well at least you can joke about it,” she says.
“There’s nothing else to do. I can laugh, or I can lay in bed and dwell on it for hours.” She doesn’t admit to Yachiyo that she does far more of the latter than the former.
“You can get back to work. You can get a new girlfriend.”
Claudine finishes her glass of wine before replying. “I don’t know, Yachiyo. I almost felt ready to get back to it. To go to auditions and start working again, and somehow I’m just… back to square one.”
“You’re not! Square one was a complete mess. Look how nicely you dressed today! But I get what you mean. Take a little longer, figure out a plan, but you can’t delay forever. You need to either go back to the theater or get a job somewhere else. Are you going to let her have that, or are you going to share that space? And well…”
Claudine looks at Yachiyo, wondering where she’s going next. “And…?”
“I have a friend who’s single…”
“Ya!” she swats at Yachiyo playfully, nearly knocking the bottle of wine from the table.
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A week after her night out with Yachiyo, Claudine lays on the couch in the apartment she shares with Nana, sweating from the sweltering summer heat. Warm air blows in from the street through the open patio door to the small balcony where Nana kept potted herbs.
Claudine knows she needs to find work soon, that her savings are going to run out sooner rather than later, but that doesn’t seem to be a motivating factor at the moment. Out of the corner of her eye she can see the laundry running just beside the kitchen, around and around in the washing machine.
She sighs, getting up with great effort and making her way to the kitchen to find something for dinner. Nana has been gone most of the day, presumably working late. She supposes it’s a lot to expect dinner to be prepared for her every night. Waylaid on her way, she finds a half empty bottle of wine which she uncorks and drinks directly from. As she’s rummaging through the fridge, the door opens, the familiar sounds of Nana’s shoes getting kicked off in the entryway.
She suddenly feels ashamed of herself, digging through the fridge in a tank top and boxers, hair piled on her head in a messy bun, wine bottle in hand. But she needn’t worry, because Nana doesn’t make the usual turn into the kitchen, but instead makes her way to her bedroom, and Claudine can hear her rummaging around with purpose.
“Nana-san, is everything alright?” she asks. They get along, she might consider them friends, even, but Claudine isn’t sure what their boundaries are, so she doesn’t feel it’s appropriate to follow Nana into her room. At least, Nana has never come into her room.
After a moment, Nana emerges back into the living room, two photo albums in hand, her brow furrowed. “Liar, liar, liar!” she repeats, opening the first one.
Nana takes the wine bottle from Claudine, taking a long swig. A red drip rolls down her chin. She puts the bottle down where it sits precariously on the carpet. Then she turns back to the albums, pulling out photograph after photograph, carefully shot images of the same woman, some with Nana and some without, and begins tearing them up. Her hands are shaking. “Traitor!”
Nana pulls at her hair with both hands. Several photographs are destroyed in front of her, smiling, happy memories torn apart or crumpled up, cursed with an endless chant of betrayal. It’s painful to watch, and perhaps some measure of empathy moves her to intercede.
“Hey, wait,” she says, moving the wine out of the way. She kneels down to get on Nana’s level, but it seems that only then does Nana remember that she’s there, and then Nana’s gaze is fixed on her, all of the anger and frustration in her eyes aimed directly at Claudine.
“This is her fault,” she spits, balling up two photographs in her fists and holding them out towards Claudine.
But Claudine looks at one of the intact photographs and is certain that the woman pictured, who she’s sure is Nana’s ex-girlfriend, is someone she’s never seen in her life. “This is whose fault?” she asks, not even sure what ‘this’ is.
Nana reaches for the wine again, taking a long drink before meeting Claudine’s eyes once more. “Tendo. Maya.”
Out of all the words, of all the names Claudine expected Nana to speak, it was not Maya’s. She knew of no reason for Nana to know of Maya. She had never mentioned Maya’s name. She didn’t know Nana’s ex’s name. There was no reason for their worlds to collide.
“Tendo Maya? My ex-girlfriend Tendo Maya? I’m sorry, you’ll have to help me understand,” Claudine says, crawling forward a bit on the living room carpet. The summer air is heavy. The atmosphere constricting. She feels like she might suffocate.
Nana bites her lip, seemingly holding back tears, pawing through the second album with the hand not clutching the wine bottle. She gets to a particular page, showing several photographs of herself, but mostly her ex-girlfriend, posing in front of a theater, Claudine’s old theater, to watch last year’s summer production. “She loves the theater. She-” she sniffs, the tears spilling over now. “She told me she looks up to Tendo Maya, she’s such a fan.”
“She’s not…”
“She is! My Junna, she left me… for Tendo Maya!”
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It has been two days since Nana’s breakdown in the living room. Two days since the revelation that Nana’s ex, Junna, is dating Tendo Maya. The photographs have been cleaned up from the living room floor, the whole apartment sparkling clean, as if the whole incident never happened, aside from the two albums tucked on a shelf in the corner of the living room, a startling reminder of that night, and of the fact that Tendo Maya now has a new girlfriend. There is a heavy atmosphere around the apartment, the two of them sharing a terrible and unfortunate truth.
Claudine’s usual staring-at-the-ceiling time is interrupted by Kaoruko coming into her bedroom with no warning, followed by Futaba with a timid knock. Nana must have let them in.
“Gods, are you still lazing about feeling sorry for yourself, Kuro-han? Come on, let’s go, you need sunlight.”
“Kaoruko, go easy on her,” Futaba says, but her warning is tentative. She doesn’t dare get between Kaoruko and her objective.
Claudine rolls off the bed slowly, accepting the dress that Kaoruko shoves at her, plucked from her closet. She changes from her pajamas into the dress, yawning as she ties the straps over her shoulders. She spends about three minutes doing the bare minimum with makeup, and turns back to Kaoruko, at her mercy for the day.
Kaoruko shoves a hat on Claudine’s head, presumably to hide her bedhead and not out of concern for her getting a sunburn, and they walk back out through the common area of the apartment.
“Good morning, Nana,” Claudine greets, as Nana stands in the kitchen preparing some sort of baked good.
“Good morning, Kuro-san. Will you be home for dinner?”
“I expect to be, as long as this one doesn’t keep me out all day,” she says, nodding at Kaoruko.
“I’ll have her home shortly. I can’t tolerate her that long,” Kaoruko replies, but it seems to Claudine that her teasing has less bite than usual.
“Excellent! I’m making okonomiyaki!”
Claudine smiles gently at her roommate, appreciating her friendly demeanor, but worried that Nana is not doing as well as she is pretending. She has largely returned to the way things were prior to discovering Junna’s new relationship, but to Claudine, this is stranger than if she had spent longer mourning the death of her relationship. She glances at the photo albums on the shelf in the living room as she leaves.
The three of them say goodbye to Nana, taking the elevator down to the street level.
“She seems nice,” Kaoruko comments, in the same way a parent might.
“She is. We get along.” The revelation of their exes dating sits heavy in her chest, building up, like something she needs to spill out, but the sun in her eyes seems to repress the urge. It’s hard to have this kind of conversation walking around her neighborhood in the daylight. It was the kind of talk for dark corners of bars, to be eased into with a glass of wine.
“I hope she’s not babying you too much,” Kaoruko chastises, looking Claudine over. “All you’ve done is mope for months. You knew this would happen when you broke things off, these are your consequences to deal with.” It’s the same exchange they’ve had dozens of times before, and perhaps that’s why it doesn’t sting as much anymore. Perhaps it’s why she doesn’t even feel like snapping back at Kaoruko. Even Futaba keeps her head down and follows dutifully along.
“I know. Of course I know. But it’s my right to mope, isn’t it?” With this, Claudine stands up a little straighter, trying to muster the same annoyance with Kaoruko’s nagging she had when she first came back from France in March.
“Sure. Until you’re begging Futaba and I for money.”
Kaoruko walks with purpose, leading the three of them to a public bathhouse, but one that Claudine hasn’t visited before. It’s opulent and rather empty, the exact kind of secret place Kaoruko would happen to know about. The three of them change and have a seat in a rather decadent mineral bath, and Claudine thinks that this isn’t so far off from laying on her bed at the apartment, just a slightly different variation and with better company.
“I saw Maya, the other day,” Kaoruko says, as if this was normal conversation and not the exact topic Claudine found incendiary. “She’s got a new girlfriend.”
“Oi, Kaoruko,” Futaba warns. If she was complacent allowing the conversation to flow along before, she seems to find this to be a dangerous zone, and Claudine agrees.
But Kaoruko will not be swayed. “Seems like she’s learned, from the first time around. This girl seems to understand where the line is drawn and wouldn’t dare toe it.”
Claudine imagines a line, dividing Maya’s life, set down in white marking tape. Her relationship on one side, and the stage, massive and glittering, and all-consuming, on the other. She wonders if it was truly hubris to ask Maya to move the tape for her. “Is that so?” Claudine nearly growls. Or at least she means to, but her voice, within the cavernous bathhouse, ends up sounding rather hollow.
“We had dinner with them, after Maya’s show last weekend.” Kaoruko says, a means of explanation that explains very little.
The irritation grows, the desire to tell Kaoruko about Junna’s identity as Nana’s ex. But still she holds back. The bath is indoors, but there’s too much light streaming in. She’s too naked, too exposed, too sober. With Kaoruko, she feels it’s best if she holds some cards close to her chest. “Let me guess: she seems nice.” Claudine can hear the spite in her voice, but she’s sure Kaoruko will grant her this, at least.
Futaba raises an eyebrow, positioned between the two and watching this conversation like a ping pong match.
“My opinion doesn’t really matter, does it?” Kaoruko shakes her head, adjusting the towel holding her hair in place. “There you go again, Kuro-han, letting Maya get the upper hand. Getting on with her life in the theater like nothing happened, getting a new girlfriend, while you just sit around.”
“Easy for you to say!” She covers her mouth with her hand as her shout echoes around the cavernous bathhouse. Embarrassed, feeling the gazes of the few other patrons, she exits, rushing back to the dressing room before she can hear Futaba chastising Kaoruko, before the two of them can catch up to her. She is dressed and on her way back to the apartment before she is conscious of what her body is doing.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
A few nights later, Claudine finds Nana out on the balcony, sitting in the warm evening air. The apartment is calm: dishes drying on the rack, dinner put away, and living room straightened up. Outside is the same, with the plants wet from a recent watering, and Nana fresh from the bath in her pajamas, a can of beer in hand.
Claudine comes and sits beside her, unsure of what to say, but sick of spending hours and hours alone. It’s not that she’s sure Kaoruko, Futaba, and Yachiyo are unavailable, but she’s sick of being lectured every time she goes out. She knows she’s at fault for her misery, but they never seem to understand that being with Maya- staying with Maya- was like having the most irritating itch that she could never scratch. Yes, she is lonely now, but she was lonely before too. Nana doesn’t lecture her. She can just sit in peace.
“Ah! Look!” Nana’s voice is quiet, but urgent. Claudine turns and Nana nods, her chin pointing straight ahead.
And Claudine sees it, the faint outline of a bird on a wire distantly across the street. “Is that…?”
“A bluebird!”
“Like in the fairy tales…”
She turns back to Nana, who nods. “The bluebird of happiness. Ever elusive to someone like me.”
As Nana says it, the bird, already distant, flits away into the darkness.
“Do you believe things like that?” Claudine asks, suddenly curious about Nana. She doesn’t seem the type to buy into folklore.
Nana stares out into the Tokyo nothingness, her expression a rare departure from her normal comforting smile. Now, she looks pensive, not exactly upset, but her eyes are filled with a sort of forlorn resignation that isn’t unfamiliar to Claudine. “No, not really. I just use them in my job,” Nana says after a while.
Claudine realizes then that they never talk about Nana’s work. They might speak about her cooking, or what she was watching on television, but perhaps since Nana knew better than to ask about Claudine’s employment situation, Claudine had been granting her the same courtesy. “Are you a writer?” she asks now, the beer making her braver.
“A playwright,” Nana corrects.
“Ah.”
Nana laughs then, turning back to look at her. “Do you hate playwrights or something?”
Claudine joins her laughing, noticing the soft slope of her nose, and the way her bangs are just a bit overgrown. Nana is charming, in her own way. “No, not at all. I’m sorry. I think that because of my breakup with Maya, and leaving my troupe, I’m just biased against the theater right now.”
“Well there’s a lot of different circles in theater,” Nana says. “You should come to one of my plays, see some new faces. I’ll give you the VIP treatment.”
Claudine rolls her eyes, but finds herself agreeing. She is curious, wondering what kind of world Nana would write, what ‘other circles’ exist in the theater world besides those dominated by Tendo Maya. She wants to stop staring at the ceiling and begin pursuing the bluebird of happiness. “Yes, sure. It’s a date.” She blushes at her phrasing, but Nana doesn’t seem to notice, turned back to the skyline.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The play is excellent. Claudine and Nana sit in a special section for press and VIPs, and Nana points out special features of the play: set design choices, elements of the script that allude to classic literature, her favorite actresses and more. The direction is superb, the pacing is excellent, and the story is thrilling, tragic, and romantic. Claudine is sad when it’s over, moreso when she gets an earful from Yachiyo.
“Kuro, what the hell? You don’t pick up the free tickets Fumi set aside for you for last night’s show, and then you show up tonight as a VIP?”
Claudine’s eyes widen as she remembers only then that she told Yachiyo she would come to see Fumi’s directorial debut. She hadn’t connected the dots that this was the same play until she saw the pair approaching her in the staff reception as the crowd began to thin. She bows, apologizing to Fumi. “I’m really sorry, Fumi, after you made that effort, too,”
“It’s really alright, Kuro-san,” Fumi says, shaking her hands in front of her in acceptance of the apology. “We really just wanted you to come see the play, and you’re here now, so it’s fine.”
“Honestly, Kuro,” Yachiyo chastises, letting go of Fumi’s hand to gently chop Claudine on the head.
Claudine ignores her, appealing to Fumi. “Well it was really excellent! Nana’s writing and your direction were just amazing! I nearly cried!”
“Thank you.” Then, as if she was done with the subject, Fumi turns to Nana and Claudine together. “Do you both want to go get dinner?”
They agree, allowing Fumi to choose since this play, this run, is her moment, and end up at a wine bar not far from the station. Claudine walks beside Nana, laughing as she turns to pull the ‘VIP’ badge from Nana’s shirt where it remained, forgotten, long after the show is finished.
“But it really is strange that you’re roommates,” Fumi muses, once they are seated and she and Yachiyo are gazing across the table at Claudine and Nana.
“Yes, I’m surprised we didn’t put the pieces together sooner,” Claudine says. She gestures the waiter over, asking for Nana’s favorite beer since she knows Nana doesn’t favor wine.
“Well I didn’t have a lot to go on,” Yachiyo says. She still seems to be pouting over Claudine skipping out on the play the night before, and honestly, Claudine can’t blame her. “Kuro just says she has a roommate named Nana, and Fumi has a Nana on her staff, but in all of Tokyo how am I supposed to assume those are the same person? You are both too casual, use some surnames.”
“But we’re friends!” Fumi whines, obviously having already started on the wine at the theater reception. This personality is far from the strict girlfriend Claudine was used to, the one always keeping Yachiyo in line.
“Sure, sure. Hang out with your friend some, I need to talk to Kuro about something.”
Fumi seems more than happy to talk about the success of the play with Nana, but Claudine is not pleased to be dragged away by Yachiyo. They go to stand on the far side of the bar, Claudine taking her wine glass with her for something to distract her.
“What are you doing?” Yachiyo asks, cornering her immediately.
“What are you talking about?” Claudine rebuts, rolling her eyes at Yachiyo.
“Daiba-san. Are you dating your roommate?”
Claudine pauses, wine glass half to her lips. “No. We’re just friends.”
“Mhmm. A friend who flirtingly pulls the sticker from her shirt and special orders her favorite beer from the waiter.”
Claudine feels her cheeks flush, but stands her ground. “Yachiyo.”
“Claudine.”
Finishing the glass, and recognizing the conversation was going nowhere, Claudine moves past Yachiyo, returning to her seat and slipping seamlessly back into the conversation. At some point, later in the evening, she feels her thigh brush up against Nana’s. She thinks of Yachiyo glaring at her earlier. Now, Yachiyo is distracted, fawning over Fumi who is drunkenly worrying about the next night’s performance. She feels the absence of Maya, and every cutting blow of Yachiyo telling her that her misery is her own fault. Claudine doesn’t move her leg.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________
“Oh, there’s nothing between Saijou-san and I. There never was and there never will be.”
“Tell me about your breakup.”
“What?”
“I want to know.”
Claudine laughs, shaking her head at Nana. “No you don’t.” It’s been two weeks since the play. They’re close now, talking about nearly everything, but for some reason this has been off limits. Anything to do with Tendo Maya has been off limits, as if this subject might scare away that bluebird who never dared come near their apartment anyways.
Claudine sits in the bath, her usual wine in a glass perched on the side of the tub, her hair piled as usual atop her head, but she has left the door open. Just around the corner, Nana is perched on the counter, sipping her favorite beer and plucking her eyebrows.
“Was it quiet or loud?” Nana asks, which Claudine thinks is a strange question, maybe even a nonsensical one, except that she understands it perfectly. “With Junna, it was quiet, so much so it nearly snuck up on me.”
Claudine thinks about her breakup and realizes that it doesn’t cause her quite as much pain anymore. The vice that had threatened to crush her lungs when thinking of Maya is now more like an unpleasant hug, taking some of her breath, but still allowing her normal thought.
“I’ve loved Maya since we were teenagers,” she begins. “In our world, the status quo was that ‘dating is not forbidden, but no one can know’. There was intense pressure to appear single, at least in certain troupes.”
Nana’s voice echoes from the other room. “You have to give the fans the illusion that they could be with their favorite actress.”
A weight seems to fill Claudine, a knowledge that for Nana, this was more than just an ‘illusion’. Her voice replies back softer than she anticipates. “Exactly.”
Claudine takes a moment, takes a breath before continuing. “But something happened. Maya had to answer for it, and I could just feel it - how it really frightened her. There was this bond between Maya and the stage that left no room for me. I used to be able to…”
She trails off, pulling her fingers up from the bath water and staring at them blankly. She wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence. She decides instead to sip the wine, setting the glass back down carefully before speaking again. “I suppose I was loud, in the end. I wanted to do anything for Tendo Maya to move her attention back to me. I disrupted the whole production, the whole troupe.” She sinks her fingers back under, and leans her head back against the wall behind the tub. “But Maya is always quiet.”
There is only the sound of the can as Nana takes another sip.
“I feel like I’m going crazy. Everyone tells me I’m the one who did something wrong. She stayed true and kept her career, even got a new girlfriend who’s fine with this arrangement. I… I couldn’t even go back to the troupe. God, what a mess. I feel like I’m going around in circles and I can’t move forward.”
She hears Nana step off of the bathroom counter and is surprised when she comes into the room with the bath. Nana sits with her back against the tub, perpendicular to Claudine, facing the doorway. She spares Claudine her gaze. “People like you and I… I don’t think we’re wrong,” Nana says, each word slow and intentional. She sips the beer again. “Everyone always blames the ‘loud’ one. I think we love too passionately. Too intensely, and that’s scary for most people.”
Claudine thinks about each moment she had Maya’s intense and passionate love, and each moment she knew Maya was holding back, whether it was for propriety’s sake or for her career, or for any other reason. “A shame,” she says.
Nana turns to look back at her, leaning on the edge of the tub. Her round, green eyes are like emeralds gazing at Claudine. “A real shame.”
Claudine wants to blame the wine, but she’s barely drunk half a glass. No, she has no excuse for leaning forward, for bringing her lips against Nana’s, except that she’s craving any form of intimacy, and Nana, out of everyone around her, seems to understand her exact form of loneliness, her exact need. “I’m sorry,” she says, pulling away, “That was selfish.”
Nana tasted like beer and a hint of something sweet, but her lips were soft and gentle, and the kiss was good, all things considered.
“I didn’t mind.” Nana looks at her still, just observing. She’s not turned off by the kiss, Claudine can tell, but she’s not lustful either. Perhaps she feels the same: that they’re two souls that are lonely, told by the world that they need to get their broken hearts in order, but unable to do so just yet.
“Want to join me?” Claudine asks.
Nana smiles gently and undresses, slipping into the tub across from Claudine. The tub is large, but not that large, so their legs mingle, and Claudine reaches for her wine, her usual distraction. As she sips, she looks at Nana properly, admiring her features and how opposite they are to Maya’s. Golden hair instead of chestnut. Green eyes instead of violet. A different jawline. She wonders if Nana is thinking the same about her and Junna.
“It’s been a long time,” Claudine says, placing the now-empty glass down. She needs a new crutch, she can’t keep drinking every time she is uncomfortable.
“Since what?” Nana asks her.
“Since I’ve shared a bath. Since I’ve kissed a woman. Since I’ve…”
“Slept with a woman?”
She wants to feel surprised, shocked, that Nana would make such a crude suggestion, but she knows that was why she kissed Nana, why she invited her into the tub, why she started the sentence in the first place. So she doesn’t stop Nana when she moves forward, kissing her once again, her hands reaching for Claudine under the water. She reaches back, the motions familiar, comforting, everything muffled and slowed a bit by the bath water. Nana is good and in just a few minutes she’s close, her head back against the ledge of the tub and Nana’s face buried in her neck, her fingers working magic when Claudine thinks of Maya. The thought of Maya thinking of her, no, seeing her fucked by someone else sends her over the edge and she climaxes against Nana.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________
It’s nice, being with Nana. They eat together, always Nana’s cooking, talking about their days. They drink together, Claudine’s favorite French wines, and Nana’s favorite beer. And they have sex. On the couch, in the bath, once in the stairwell, but never in the bed. The bed is for lovers. Claudine doesn’t mind if Nana closes her eyes or turns her face away. She might do the same. This is just a respite, and she knows it. But sometimes she thinks that it wouldn’t be so bad if it lasted a little longer and a little longer.
It’s painful, in those moments when she can feel how deeply Nana loves. It is exactly what she craves, and though it is a love not meant for her, she pretends it is, giving Nana the same treatment. In this way they continue on for nearly two months: more than roommates, as intimate as lovers in some ways, but not in love.
They sit together on the patio one night, listening to the cicadas hum, watching the last hues of orange turn to deep blue over the horizon. The air is dense and electric, and the humidity is oppressive, making Claudine sweat though she’s just out of the bath. She still comes out and sits near Nana, though. Without air conditioning, it’s the same inside. She wonders if they’ll be able to watch a thunderstorm as she hears a distant rumbling.
Nana has her usual beer in her hand, and Claudine sits with her wine beside her, but she doesn’t touch it yet. For once, she feels sated.
“Do you believe in fate?” she asks Nana. It’s a heavy opening, but it’s a heavy night.
Nana is quiet for a moment, but Claudine knows she’s heard. She keeps staring at the skyline, not bothering Nana with her gaze. They never stare more than they need to.
“I used to,” Nana says. “I used to think Junna and I were fated to be together forever.”
“Fated lovers, huh?” Claudine muses. She hears Nana take a swig from the beer. She thinks of Maya, her own fated lover, their bond immortalized in a photo neither of them knew was taken. She remembers the way Maya grabbed onto the back of her shirt the night they broke up, pulling her close, wetting the back of her neck with tears. How it was physically painful to leave, but the small lightning bolt of passion from Maya that night was too little, too late.
She sighs. “Ok, forget fated lovers. What about this situation, though? What are the chances of me moving in with you?” she asks.
“I don’t know. I told you Junna was her fan. She knew everything about Tendo Maya. Perhaps she mentioned your name once or twice, so it stuck out to me out of the few people who applied for the room in the apartment.”
“It’s still weird…”
“It’s still weird.”
The thunder rumbles a little closer, but Claudine can tell the sky isn’t going to open up. Not yet. Now Claudine picks up her wine, taking a sip before turning to Nana. As if gathering the courage before facing the green eyes. “So if not fated lovers, then fated meetings at least?”
“Paths crossing by destiny…”
“Spoken like a playwright.”
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Claudine goes with Nana to work, just to ‘observe’, her first step towards employment since leaving her troupe ten months ago. She’s always performed in musical theater, she’s never entertained the possibility of auditioning for a ‘regular’ stage play, but watching the show Fumi and Nana put on has had her thinking about shifting gears.
Unfortunately for her, Yachiyo is also there, working on costumes for the new production. She sits beside Claudine as she watches the rehearsal, some beadwork on a tray before her. “Ok, don’t even think about denying it. You’re totally sleeping together,” she whispers, her eyes on her work.
Claudine’s eyes scan the room for Nana, even though she’s not there, she’s tucked away in some back office reading and writing and working on revisions to the script. She doesn’t miss the way Yachiyo looks up to watch her, and she tries to disguise her movements as just rearranging herself in her seat, though she knows it’s futile. This time, Yachiyo has caught her red handed. “Yes, kind of.”
“Kind of?”
“Yes, we are. But it’s complicated.”
Yachiyo hisses, annoyed. “It’s always complicated with you.”
She pretends I’m someone else... “She’s not over her ex.”
“And you?”
Of course I’m not. “I don’t know.”
Yachiyo rolls her eyes. “Well figure it out. You can’t just do whatever you want with the excuse that Maya broke your heart. You broke your own heart.”
In a way, Claudine knows Yachiyo is right. She could have mended things with Maya. She could have accepted the state of their relationship, like everyone else did in their industry. She could have kept her head down. But she wonders if that was true. The vision of that stupid tape line, the gnawing in her gut, the woeful inadequacy of her relationship with Maya would have continued to pile on and pile on and she didn’t think she had the constitution to bear it.
She shakes her head, ignoring thoughts of Maya at least for the time being. “What do you think?” she asks Yachiyo, abruptly changing the conversation. “Could I act in a play like this?”
“A drama?”
“Right. Instead of doing revues.”
“I don’t see why not. You’re the most dramatic woman I know.”
Claudine swats at Yachiyo, causing beads to spill onto the theater floor. Yachiyo glares at her and begins picking up the tiny rolling beads, and Claudine smirks, escaping before Yachiyo can return the favor.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
“Oh, there’s nothing between Saijou-san and I. There never was and there never will be.”
Claudine’s hands shake as she stands in front of a theater she’s never set foot in, never even heard of, as August is in full swing and for theaters, the autumn season prepares to get underway. She thinks of turning around, returning to the safety of the apartment, eating lunch with Nana, if she’s home, or resting on the balcony and hoping to see something interesting on the street below. She thinks that if she’s frugal, she can last through the autumn without a job, a full year to reset after the devastation that was pulling herself apart from Tendo Maya. Still, heart hammering, she walks through the door, telling herself that it’s only an audition. She can always run home afterwards, hiding in shame from a failure at dramatic acting, or she can choose to turn them down if she does well enough to get selected.
The audition goes as well as Claudine can hope, but she forgets most of her performance when the silver-haired actress takes the stage. Every move she makes is intentional, and every word she speaks is delivered perfectly. Everything extra has been cut away. Watching her reminds Claudine of first setting eyes on Tendo Maya all those years ago and the feelings of that encounter. This woman holds a similar beauty, in a way. Now, Claudine sits quietly in her seat and watches as this woman commands the stage, trying to repress her blooming curiosity, trying to quell her desire to be noticed, to garner the interest of this woman.
It seems she gets her wish as the woman slips into the seat beside her after the break, as it’s time to watch the second half of the auditions. “Je ne pense pas vous avoir vue ici auparavant?” she asks, her French perfect.
Claudine smirks, wondering how this woman knows she speaks French, but chooses not to question it. But she’s flattered that this woman noticed that she’s here, she’s new, she’s different. “En effet, c'est ma première fois,” she replies back, confirming that this is, indeed, her first time here. Perhaps she wants to test if the woman only knows one phrase, or perhaps she is just tired of only speaking Japanese.
“Je vous ai trouvée superbe.”
This compliment, both outright generous and coming from the woman who has caught her eye, makes her blush, and she turns her head away slightly to recover. Now Claudine is caught off guard, because she is getting everything that she wanted but after so long she doesn’t know what to do. She’s out of practice. “Thank you,” she says, after a pause, switching back to Japanese. “I’m Saijou Claudine.”
“Yukishiro Akira. It would be a pleasure to work together.”
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Claudine isn’t sure what causes them to break the unspoken rule, to have sex on the bed. Perhaps it was that the previous time they had sex, Claudine caught Nana with her eyes open and realized that it was because she had her eyes open as well, that she was fully present, not in some toxic, Maya-laden fantasy. Perhaps it is just that a bed is more comfortable than the cramped couch.
But she lays back on her bed, Nana’s head between her legs, staring up at the familiar ceiling, and contemplates with the small part of her brain able to make coherent thoughts about how dazzling Nana is. She wonders if she’ll ever understand the depth of Nana’s love, or if she’s really only latched onto the corner of a star not meant for her. She calls out Nana’s name as she comes.
Afterwards, she lights a candle and grabs two beers from the fridge, slipping on a T-shirt. She climbs back into the bed, Nana settling back onto her thighs, wrapped in the sheets. She likes it, like this, the two of them in bed together. They’re two puzzle pieces that don’t quite fit, but they’ve forced themselves together and they fit alright. Nana turns her head to the side to take a sip from the beer, turning away from Claudine. The ceiling fan continues overhead, churning the air of this endless summer.
“This was her room, wasn’t it?” she asks.
She wonders why she’s pushing now, when she always gives Nana such a wide berth. The photo albums, sitting out on the living room shelf, seem to have an energy about them like cursed objects. The image of that night, with those photographs and the wine-stained chin, it was usually enough to keep her from bringing up Junna. But tonight, with Nana wrapped in the sheets, on this bed with Claudine, she’s feeling bold.
“This room was Junna’s, yes,” Nana confirms.
They both know it’s a formality, that Claudine has really figured as much out already. An apartment with all the furniture provided was suspicious enough, but to then find out Nana had just broken up with her girlfriend?
“We had space together, and we had space apart,” Nana continues, sipping the beer again. It’s a bad habit they share.
Claudine understands a lot from just that phrase. In fact, the next swallow that she makes, just saliva, seems to ache badly, tears stinging her eyes. She understands very well. “And that’s how someone can slip away so quietly,” she says.
Nana nods against her thighs. “I know it’s wrong, but when I find that happiness, I want to pin it close, to possess every bit of it.” Claudine knows she’s just a substitute for Nana’s true happiness, that she’s just filling in some deeper, perhaps endless gap, but she thinks of every lovingly prepared meal, every time Nana stayed up on the balcony waiting for her to join, every batch of sweets Nana asked her to taste, every smile Nana likely pasted on just for her benefit. And she just consumed it all, trying to fill in her own emptiness.
Now Claudine’s tears do fall, right from her chin onto Nana’s cheek. Nana is so, so bright, and she feels so, so empty. All she wants is for Nana to pour from her seemingly endless spring of warmth into Claudine’s attention-starved well more and longer. But they do not love each other, so she cannot allow herself to indulge in Nana’s kindness any longer. If she wants even a chance at escaping the endless summer, a chance at moving forward with the play, with Akira, with her happiness, and if she wants the same for Nana, then she needs to quit borrowing Nana’s radiance.
“I want you to find that bluebird,” Claudine says, another tear hitting Nana. The word ‘happiness’ is too difficult, too unattainable to vocalize at this moment, so she uses a substitute. To Nana’s credit, she continues looking away, which Claudine appreciates. “So we need to stop this.”
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________
It’s nearly September when Claudine gets the call that she’s been cast in the play she auditioned for. When she texts Yachiyo, she insists they go out to celebrate, and even calls Futaba and Kaoruko. As Claudine dresses, she notices the absence of the usual sounds in the apartment - no cooking, no cleaning, no Nana.
She finally sees Nana sitting on the balcony, but she sees her through the glass - the door is shut for once, the air inside and the air outside for once are separate. Claudine opens the door, poking her head out to say goodbye before going to meet her friends.
“I’m meeting Yachiyo downtown if you want to come,” she prompts.
Nana barely turns her head, her knees drawn up and her arms resting on them. Beer can clutched in her right hand as usual, and an abandoned plate of orange slices beside her. “Enjoy yourselves,” she says, turning Claudine down without turning her down. A soft smile graces her lips, and Claudine thinks she looks very pretty then, in the sunset, long limbs and golden overgrown hair and all sorts of mystery within.
“Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Claudine keeps the door open a crack to keep the apartment from overheating, biting her lip instinctively as she passes the shelf with the photo albums on her way out.
But the quiet of the apartment and the subtle changes within are forgotten almost immediately upon stepping out, especially once she tells Yachiyo about her small crush on her co-star.
“Akira?!” Yachiyo almost yells, despite the fact that they’re in a (very public) bar. “Yukishiro Akira?”
“What?” Claudine presses, suddenly defensive. “I think she’s nice.”
“Nice, talented, hot, you name it,” Yachiyo concedes, shaking her head and rolling her eyes.
“Then what’s the problem?” Claudine asks.
“Nothing!” Yachiyo sips her wine, sighing. “Remember ages ago, when I told you I would hook you up with a friend of mine who was single…?”
“Oh my God…”
Claudine laughs with Yachiyo, and listens to Yachiyo talk about costume woes for her next production. She thinks about Akira, and their encounter at the audition. She wonders what would have happened had she taken Yachiyo’s initial offer and met Akira a couple months ago. She doubts she would have been ready. No, only now, after a pause that lasted nearly the entire summer, does she feel ready to continue with theater, to fully face both the stage and the woman Yukishiro Akira.
It doesn’t take long for Kaoruko and Futaba to join them after finishing up at some art auction or benefit gala or whatever elite society function they had that evening. “Kuro-han, did you go, in the end?” Kaoruko asks, with the air of a mother hen who knows full well that Claudine did go to the audition but half expected her not to.
“Of course I went,” Claudine replies, even though it had taken great effort to drag herself to the doors. She isn’t going to let Kaoruko see her sweat. “I got the part, too,” she brags.
“She met Yukishiro Akira,” Yachiyo says, with a coded wiggle of the eyebrows. Kaoruko seems to store this information away for later, but surprisingly, it’s Futaba who pounces on it, as she pushes her beer aside.
“Yukishiro-san? Kuroko, you better be careful.”
This makes Claudine pay attention, because Futaba is usually the most enabling of her three friends. She feels the slightest draft of cooler air come in through the open windows of the bar, the slightest reminder that August is coming to an end, and the nights are not the wretched hot sticky mess they have been for the last two months.
“Yukishiro is like Maya, in a lot of ways,” Futaba says. “She’s an elite actress of dramatic theater. I just… don’t want you to get hurt in the same way.”
She mulls this over for a moment, before Yachiyo cuts her off. “Nonsense,” she says. “Akira isn’t like that at all. Sure, she’s incredible, but she wants someone beside her, she’s lonely, really. She doesn’t want to stand alone on the stage. I have been trying to set her up with Kuro for ages!”
Claudine looks between them - Yachiyo’s reassuring expression, and Futaba’s slightly furrowed brow - and wonders who is right.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Attending the audition, returning to the stage, ending her tryst with Nana - it’s all the culmination of a dizzying interlude begun by one magazine interview. But time stopped must resume, and the chill of autumn and rigors of a regular work schedule are a clear indication that time is certainly moving again, and not the languid, liminal space of summer.
In the play, Claudine has the part of the secondary love interest, she and another woman battling it out for Akira’s affections, she ending up loser, at the end. But in real life, she gets the date, not even a week into rehearsals. She finds herself across the table from Akira at a small French restaurant, L'oiseau, one that she didn’t know existed, admiring the way Akira’s face is a perfect mixture of soft and smooth and angled and precise, and the way her hair is silvery in the candlelight.
Akira turns away the wine menu - a sin to Claudine at a French restaurant, and with dinner in general - and perhaps she sees the confusion in Claudine’s face, for she offers a small apology. “I can call the waiter back if you would like something to drink, I apologize,” she says. “I have stopped drinking. I find it dulls my senses, and leads to me not being able to articulate quite as precisely.”
Well that’s the point, Claudine thinks. I want my senses dulled. I don’t want to feel the way I do. But then she thinks that Akira has a point: they’re here to get to know each other, not get drunk, and she’s been trying to end her endless summer, so her wine-soaked days should probably go too. “It’s fine,” she concedes. “This change is probably good for me.”
The food is good, and she eats well, talking with Akira about her work. Akira has lived a life parallel to hers: starting in ballet as a child, going to an acting training school in a different part of the country, moving into dramatic theater. She has risen to fame parallel to Claudine and Maya, but on a different stage, and in her own sphere of loneliness.
“So that’s it,” Akira asks, fork pushing around the last bits of food on her plate. “You just decided to come to our audition because you wanted to try something new?” she asks. She’s not accusatory, just curious.
Claudine wonders how much she should talk about her ex-girlfriend, her first love, her soulmate perhaps, on the first date with Akira, and she delays by sipping the ice water. “I left my troupe,” she says. “I performed there for eight years. I was in excellent standing. But my partner,” she sighs, wondering how to word this, “She only had eyes for the stage. And I think that would have been alright, for most people, but-”
“It’s not.”
Claudine is surprised. Enough that she looks up from where she is studying the flickering candle on the table to meet Akira’s steady violet eyes.
“It’s not enough,” Akira repeats. “One must look at the stage, certainly, but also at the one she shares it with.”
Her heart could have burst.
She thinks that Yachiyo is right, that she may have a future with Akira. One where they can perform beside each other on stage and have proper time for each other outside of the stage. The relationship she’s wanted all along. She thinks that Futaba might be right: that Akira resembles Maya in a way that’s a little close for comfort, that those violet eyes are just a shade off, and that she might be deluding herself with the next best thing. But she wonders if it’s really the next-best if Akira will look at her, will see her, will give her all the things she lacked with Maya. Perhaps, in that case, this is better.
As they leave, Claudine spots cards advertising the restaurant on a table besides a bowl of mints. They are printed with bluebirds. She takes one and puts it in her bag, holding to it like it’s a token.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
As autumn colors the leaves, Claudine begins to notice other changes in her life as well. She’s getting on well in the play, rehearsing long hours, made easier by the friendships she’s made with the cast and crew and the inclusive culture at the new theater.
She’s been spending more time with Akira especially, and they’ve been slow, cautious, getting to know each other in the tentative, polite way that a couple much younger than them might, going on proper dates and dropping each other off at the door, reserving extra hours at the rehearsal studio to practice together, texting often (though Akira is terrible at texting).
But as these new obligations take up Claudine’s time, she can feel the shift within the apartment. She might come home to her dinner wrapped up and waiting for her, but Nana already gone to bed, or Nana soaking in the tub with the door shut.
One night, after rehearsals, Claudine heats up the leftovers Nana has prepared for her, a little guiltily. She wonders why Nana still makes the effort to make two meals, since Claudine is never around. Perhaps Nana just doesn’t know any other way, she thinks. Claudine wonders if she’s done anything in this relationship besides take, take, take, eating Nana’s cooking, living in the apartment Nana took care of, receiving Nana’s misguided love.
Claudine can see Nana, sitting out on the balcony, a mug of tea steaming in her hands. It’s chilly, so the door is shut, and Nana is there - visible through the glass but somewhat inaccessible, and the idea hurts Claudine, even though she caused this. She swallows thickly, taking her heated food out to the balcony, wondering idly if Nana has been avoiding her because Claudine has gone on ahead of her, chasing after a happiness Nana feels is unattainable.
But as she sits down, Nana doesn’t recoil from her. It almost feels the same as it always has. She assures herself that their schedules have just not been aligned, that things are the same, they’re just having an odd few weeks.
She knows the answer is somewhere in the middle, forged by the repeating nights of wine and beer, and curtailed by Claudine’s termination of their affair in the bed Junna once slept in. What a mess, she thinks, leaning back against the wall of the apartment and taking a bite of the food. It is delicious.
It’s quiet, eating beside Nana. Every once in a while, Nana will sip her tea, but otherwise they mostly sit in comfortable silence. But somehow, it’s alright. When Claudine left Maya, she disappeared completely. She has not gone back all this year. She has not called or texted. Nor has Maya. But here, with Nana, it’s possible that she can still be present, to try to help as Nana pursues her own version of happiness.
“Your dinner is delicious as always,” Claudine says at last.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. Tomorrow I want to try a stew recipe,” Nana says, starting in on the details of the dish.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Claudine wakes up beside Akira, both of them tangled in Akira’s sheets. It’s chilly now, well into the fall, and Claudine reaches lazily up to find the blanket and add another layer.
“Don’t do that, we need to get up,” Akira says, but even so, she snuggles closer, hanging out in the space between asleep and awake, her entrancing hair catching Claudine’s eye as it always does as it rests across the pillows.
“We have a few minutes,” Claudine assures her, pulling her closer, listening as her breathing slows again.
It’s Sunday now, which means a matinée show, so Claudine watches the clock. She thinks of the night before - of them glowing as the curtain went down, hands clasped - greeting their friends afterward. She thinks of coming back to Akira’s apartment - late - and falling into bed with her, their bodies meeting as if their connection was imminent from the moment they stepped on the stage.
Claudine lost in the context of the play, but she was competitive, wanting to prove to Akira that she was truly the only choice. Akira had similar feelings, it seemed, as Claudine learned intimately of her touch once again. For the second time in her life, Claudine was told by Akira: “Je vous ai trouvée superbe,” this time in barely a whisper. It was too much. This woman truly was too much.
Now, hours have passed, and they have slept, and they prepare to do it all over again: the show, the socializing, the return home. She wakes Akira gently after a while, and is greeted by a kiss to her neck.
“I need to go home and shower, I’ll meet you back at the theater,” she says. Everything is still new, she doesn’t yet keep things at Akira’s, but she knows it’s only a matter of time. Everything about them fits together so well, she’s sure her things would fit in this apartment.
Akira nods. “We don’t have the late show tonight,” she says, more of a suggestion than a fact.
“True,” Claudine says.
“There’s a European-style Renaissance Faire in the park downtown… if you wanted to go…”
Claudine smiles at her, glancing over at Akira’s bookshelf of renaissance-era plays and even the prop jousting lance set in the corner. “Of course. Sounds great. I hope they have those massive turkey legs so I can watch you eat one.”
“Turkey legs?”
Claudine shakes her head. “Never mind.” She gets out of bed, changing back properly to her clothes from the day before. “It sounds like a good time. I need to run if I want to make it to the theater in time, but I’ll see you in a couple hours.” Akira leans forward, kissing her once more before she sets off. It’s unexpected, but very welcome.
The air outside is crisp, as expected in the autumn. Claudine wouldn’t mind the walk, but she’s in a hurry, so she takes the train back to her own neighborhood. She’s been away the past two nights, only stopping home to shower and change, and she feels bad. She texts Nana, letting her know she’s on her way, in case Nana has time for breakfast, or at least coffee. Then she stops at the convenience store around the block from their apartment to at least pick up Nana’s favorite beer and some snacks as an offering.
“Oh,” comments the cashier in surprise, and then seems to catch herself. “Sorry, it’s just that there’s usually only one person that buys this kind of beer,” she says.
The cashier is cute, and now she’s blushing a little pink. Her name tag says ‘Hisame’ in pretty handwriting. Claudine smiles at her, wondering how many times she’s watched Nana come through here to pay attention to that. “It’s not for me,” Claudine says. “It’s a thank you present to a friend.”
Hisame nods, scanning the beer and snacks carefully and bagging them up - the heavy beer on the bottom, then the lighter snacks on top. Behind her, pinned to the wall above the cash register, hang dozens of polaroid photos: landscapes, food, friends, fireworks, and Claudine finds the effect very lovely. “You like her, don’t you?” she asks, mostly out of curiosity.
Now Hisame really blushes, as if accused of something she was trying to hide. “I- I don’t know!” Then, quieter, “She doesn’t even know I exist. I just find her… fascinating.”
Claudine nods. “She is.” She hands over her card to pay, digging around in her bag while Hisame finishes the transaction. When she gets the card back, she trades with Hisame - handing her the bluebird card from the restaurant at the end of summer. “Well… it’s up to you, but if you want to get to know her better, then give her this.”
Hisame’s eyes widen, and she holds the card gently, as if it might break. She nods, tucking it under the counter. Claudine takes the bag and leaves.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________
As she approaches the apartment, Claudine nearly drops the beer when she makes eye contact with a distant figure who looks distinctly like Tendo Maya. She knows it’s not her - Maya lives and works completely across town, she has no reason to be here - but the illusion stills her, makes her come face to face with the reality that she hasn’t encountered Maya at all since the end of the previous autumn season when she packed up her things and left the troupe, nearly a year prior.
The woman breaks her gaze first, turning away, rejoining another, shorter woman, and only then does Claudine think that this might actually be Maya. Because Junna lived here for quite some time. Junna works around here, and perhaps, from a block away, this could be the pair of them, though she’s never met Nana’s ex.
A chill runs through her as the Maya-like figure turns around, just once, to look at her still-staring self, to meet her eyes one last time before walking away. It’s like an omen, that their once beautiful relationship has run its course and they’ve now completely gone their separate ways, but it doesn’t make it any less sad.
She knows why she loafed around for all of winter and spring. She knows why she hung out in the non-relationship of the endless summer, soaking up love but not giving any back. She knows why only now has she finally gotten what it takes to begin again in a relationship: because loving Tendo Maya took something from her, and she will probably not ever get it back.
Loving Akira is good, fantastic even, but it’s different. Everything about her life now is different. Where she lives, where she works, who she loves, how she loves. The play continues after the interlude, but Act 2 is not the same as Act 1, the cast has been swapped.
She shakes her head, clearing it. Her fingers are tingling a bit from the crispness of the morning. She adjusts her grip on the bag and goes inside.