Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ eXXXcapades: Life and Times of Hitomi Kanzaki ❯ Burn Victims ( Chapter 2 )

Well, here we are at chapter 2, Burn Victims. Isn’t it exiting?! Of course it is! Weeee!

What I’ve decided is to have one chapter for each of Hitomi’s “lovers,” so the entirety of their romance is going to be thrown at you all at once. Yay!

I’ve gotten a few questions about this, and the answer is YES! This fic will be VxH in a big way. That doesn’t mean there can’t be something for DxH lovers, too.

About this chapter: I have two important flashbacks near the beginning, and I was afraid they might be confusing, so I labeled them. Please email me for clarification if that still leaves you all “Whaaa?” It was kind of hard for even me to read, and I know what I’m trying to say. I’m supposed to, anyway. And I don’t think I mentioned this before, but Dilandau and Hitomi meet while she’s finishing up the end of her sophomore year of high school. This chappy picks up a few months into her junior year, so they’ve had all summer to shmooze.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Escaflowne. But Esca owns my heart …

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Hitomi ran her fingers through her delicate brown hair, as though by simply touching it she could make it grow long again. She had cut it because Dilandau complimented a short-haired model in a magazine. “You should cut your hair like that.” It was an inconsequential comment to him, but Hitomi had obsessed for days over what he meant.

Does he really mean it? Or did he just say it? Does he like my hair the way it is? Maybe I should ask him. No, he’ll just give me that look. Why was he looking at that girl, anyway? Is that the kind of girl he wants? She’s just a picture in a magazine. But maybe that’s what he likes. Am I like what he wants? Of course. He’s with me isn’t he? Except for the fact that we never do anything or go anywhere outside the house. But we can’t. Mom would kill us if she found out. Why do we have to hide? We could move away from her. I would do that for him. But he depends on her for money. And so do I. We could get jobs. But when would I go to school? I’m only 16. But love has no age. Does he love me? He’s never actually said it, but I know he does. Or does he? Just cause he hasn’t said the words doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel the emotion. But why wouldn’t he have said it? I know he has this tough guy image, but he doesn’t have to be like that with me…

She was jolted from her thoughts as the car sped over a large speed bump.

“God damn it, did they have to make those things so fucking huge?” Yoko was on edge as she downed the remainder of her third coffee that morning. “You’re hair looks like shit, you know. I have no idea what possessed you to cut it like that.”

She had grown noticeably more irritable over the past few months. She was less patient, more angry than she should have been with the amount of sex she was getting at home.

I bet he doesn’t even get off with you anymore…

Hitomi had become increasingly colder to her mother as well. The changes between mother and daughter over the summer months occurred so slowly that they almost seemed natural. They had never really been close, but as the air turned crisp and autumn took hold of the season, it was as though they were strangers living under the same roof. There had been a hundred ways to side step her mother during summer vacation, but every day since the fall came, Hitomi woke up and put the coffee on, then timed the rest of the morning so that she and Yoko didn’t see each other until they got in the car. They listened to AM radio, mumbled half-hearted goodbyes when they pulled up in front of the school, and then tried to avoid eye contact over dinner before starting the routine again the next day.

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(FLASHBACK)

Hitomi felt the seeds of resentment begin to take root well before her mother did. About a month ago, she and Dilandau had spent an incredible afternoon by the pool before showering together and lying down in Hitomi’s bed. They accidentally drifted off and were awakened by the sound of the garage door opening and Yoko’s car pulling in.

“Oh, shit!” Dilandau exclaimed as he jumped out of bed, plunking Hitomi out of the comforting warmth of the crook of his arm, and struggled to put on his pants in his state of half sleep.

He hadn’t even kissed her goodbye as he bounded down the stairs to the side door and left Hitomi confused and alone in her dark room. She finally registered what had happened and gently placed her feet on the soft carpet, following the trail of light outside her door to where Dilandau had gone. She peeked around the corner, wary of being seen naked, and slowly crept closer to the edge of the stair railing when she heard no sound.

There was the source of the silence: Dilandau and Yoko with their arms wrapped around each other, their mouths locked in battle for dominance, Yoko struggling to ram her hand down the front of his pants as he took a handful of her right thigh and squeezed until she yelped, breaking the kiss and giving him full access to the white skin on her throat.

As she watched her mother and her boyfriend engage in foreplay ten feet away, Hitomi felt a heat rise up inside of her. Not the heat she felt the first time Dilandau looked at her with lust in his eyes. This made her muscles tense up and her stomach turn. She had the sudden urge to run down and push her mother aside, jump atop Dilandau, and say, “Mom, let me show you how he likes it.”

Any chance of that happening was dashed when she saw his eyes shoot open and settle right on her. She hoped for a moment that he would give her that same I wish this was you look she saw the night before they had made love for the first time. Instead he scowled and used his free hand to motion for her to get back into her room.

It stung as much as if he had slapped her. She complied anyway, fighting the desire to slam the door behind her, leaving Yoko to her conquest.

Hitomi didn’t turn the lights on. She lied down on her cold bed and tried to clear her mind. It wasn’t long before her cheeks were stained with hot tears. She didn’t wipe them away.

Yoko scolded her in the car the following morning for “being such so melancholy on one of the Lord’s beautiful days.”

“Look, there’s Ami and the baby! Oh, he’s so adorable,” she said with a grin, pointing to a young woman pushing a baby carriage down the cul-de-sac sidewalk. “See, Hitomi, there’s no reason for you to be so gloomy when there’s something to make you smile around every corner.”

Her cheerfulness made Hitomi want to puke. She rolled her eyes and pressed her forehead against the window.

“Here we are sweetie,” Yoko was almost singing. “And don’t wait up for me tonight. Dilly and I have tickets to the theatre.”

Hitomi got out and closed the door without looking back.

I can’t believe he hasn’t told her anything about that stupid nickname.

She pushed through the crowd of bustling teenagers and made her way to the empty girls’ bathroom. She patted down her hair, her long braid thrown over her shoulder.

Why the hell is she so happy anyway? She’s a divorced 40-year-old woman who has to sleep with guys young enough to be her children because no respectable man her age with go near her.

As she stared into the smudged mirror, she kept replaying Yoko and Dilandau together in front of the stairs. The way she had thrust herself onto him. Like she owned him. Like he was her play thing. But it was very much the other way around.

She never lets me have anything. Not even after I stayed with her. I could have gone with dad and left her all alone and she doesn’t even care.

She jumped as a gaggle of girls entered suddenly, breaking the quiet with their mindless chatter. They all went into separate stalls.

What would she think if she knew about us? That he needed her daughter to get warmed up for her.

It was perverse, but Hitomi couldn’t help but allow herself a satisfied grin. It wasn’t just her relationship with her mother that had taken a startling 180 degree turn. People in general were low on her list of priorities. She had never been The Pretty Girl or The Popular Girl. She was Hitomi, The Nice Girl Who Never Really Got Much Attention From Anyone. It wasn’t until after she’d begun sleeping with Dilandau that people started taking notice of the shifts in her behavior. She stopped raising her hand in class, no longer exchanged the customary small talk with acquaintances in the hallway, didn’t even bother to eat in the cafeteria anymore. Her mind was constantly on only one thing.

“What are you doing?” Fatima Urino stared at her with a hand on a jutting hip, her brows furrowed as she chewed a piece of sugary watermelon gum.

Hitomi hadn’t realize that she standing like a statue in front of the mirror. She stared back at the girl, shooting daggers with her eyes.

Fatima was a notorious bitch. She was responsible for more rumors than anyone in school and it was common knowledge that getting on her bad side was a one way ticket to having your name spoken in whispers by lunch period, but Hitomi suddenly found herself not caring what she thought.

“Fuck off, bitch,” Hitomi spat before turning on her heel and leaving Fatima glaring after her with her mouth open. No sooner had the door shut than Fatima had whipped out her gem-studded cell phone and sent a mass text message about Hitomi’s “mental breakdown.”

Just as she knew would happen, Hitomi walked through the cafeteria at lunch time amidst a flurry of gawking faces and pointing fingers. A few people even shouted things at her, but she wasn’t paying enough attention to decipher what was said. As she made her way to the grassy courtyard outside, her mind was a thousand miles from high school gossip.

She made herself comfortable under the shade of an old oak tree, grateful for the shade against the hot noon sun, the heat of the summer not yet gone.

A young couple held hands while walking past her to the cafeteria, the girl wearing a uniform identical to Hitomi’s. The boy was dressed in street clothes. He was most likely a college student. Maybe he had even known Dilandau before he dropped out. Girls with older boyfriends often sneaked out at lunch across the open lawn to eat at a restaurant or make out in the parking lot before class started again. In any case, the girl drew closer to the boy as crossed Hitomi’s path and whispered into his ear. He turned back to look at Hitomi with a ridiculing grin before continuing on and joining the girl in laughter.

Hitomi felt herself grow self-conscious. She crossed her legs and placed her backpack on her lap before setting back against the tree trunk and closing her eyes.

She let her mind wander back to Dilandau, the source of her pleasure and, more recently, her pain.

Their relationship was like a constant complex mating ritual, and keeping up with all the rules and expectations was exhausting. Despite what Hitomi wanted desperately to believe was a deep and profound connection between them, her heart ached at the feeling that there as still an invisible chain link fence separating them.

She didn’t know exactly what she had expected. She couldn’t find the words to express what she felt. Only pictures could speak the thousand words she wanted to scream. The first picture in her mind was of her and Dilandau asleep on her bed after the first time they had made love. A swirl of pink and golden light spilled through the window blinds, throwing a striped pattern across the worn-out lovers. The bright gleam of the setting sun fell on Hitomi’s eyes, and they fluttered open. She stretched and released a contended sigh before settling back into the crook of Dilandau’s arm.

She had been euphoric, elated, blissful. Every fiber of her being pulsed with a new energy. She was filled with something new, and it wasn’t just Dilandau. She thought back to when she was a little girl playing ‘castle’ in the tree house in the back yard. All she did was sit in a little plastic chair with a little silver tiara and wait for her Prince Charming for hours upon hours until her mother called her in for bedtime.

Maybe now I can stop waiting…

The second picture was the one that had stuck in her mind like the poster taped inside her locker. Dilandau’s expression as he shooed her away to her room while his hands roved her mother’s body. She had never seen him like that before, his eyes hot with annoyance, his brow twisted in disdain. It had been like a sword through her gut, twisting her insides until she writhed in pain.

Hitomi felt the sting of tears and quickly wiped them away before they could spill over onto her face. It was when she looked that she saw a familiar figure moving toward her across the lawn.

Allen was a beautiful tall blonde who was Hitomi’s oldest and only friend. Though her antisocial behavior had made her a social pariah in the opinion of almost everyone at school, he was loyal. Not that he had many other options in the way of friends. Allen’s parents were extremely old fashioned and had raised him to be a gentlemen. It was his manners and romantic personality that, quite ironically, made him a social outcast.

“Hey there, stranger. I’m looking for my friend Hitomi. Gorgeous green-eyed girl with brown hair. Have you seen her, by any chance?” His blue eyes sparkled.

“Maybe. What’s it worth to you?” Hitomi’s insipid spirits lifted when she heard his voice, and she scooted over to invite him to share her shady spot beneath the tree.

She felt guilt rise in her as she watched him sit, possessing grace that was envied by even the prom queen herself. He had grown taller over the summer months, slimmer and more lanky. No matter the physical changes, he retained his aura of content confidence. Hitomi knew in her heart that even if she were to ignore Allen for a year, he would act as though nothing had ever been wrong whenever and if ever she chose to strike up a conversation again. She had been so absorbed with Dilandau that it was really no surprise that Allen would think she had somehow fallen off the face of the planet.

“So, my dear, I haven’t seen you in a while,” he said while giving her a warm half-hug. “What have you been up to?”

Hitomi felt the flood gates open. She was in desperate need of a friendly ear, someone to listen and understand. It made her realize how much she missed Allen’s presence in her life. “How much time do you have?”

She managed to convince Allen to skip the rest of the school day with her, and they spent the remainder of the afternoon in the park across the street. They sat on the rusted swings as she told him everything. She hadn’t meant to, but as her story progressed she couldn’t help but release all the anger, frustration, and hurt that she had kept hidden even from herself. She heatedly told him about her mother’s behavior since the divorce. She gingerly told him about her first time. She cried when she told Allen how she felt about having to keep her relationship with Dilandau a secret. She cried harder when she told him about the incident the previous night.

Throughout her narration, his expression of concern mixed with compassion didn’t change. There was no judgment in his eyes, no disdain. He didn’t gasp or shake his head or interrupt. He just listened. After she was done, he let a comfortable silence settle before taking his turn to speak.

“Have you thought about going to live with your dad? I mean, I know you felt bad for your mom, but she shouldn’t have done that, Hitomi. She’s not a child, she’s supposed to be your parent. You can’t take back what she’s done, but at least if you live with your dad, maybe you and Dilandau would have a chance at making things work.”

It was a typical Allen response, Hitomi thought. Even if he didn’t agree with what she was doing, though she couldn’t tell whether or not he did in this case, he would always put his energy toward figuring out how to make what she wanted possible.

“No,” she sighed. “That’s a whole other set of problems. He and my mom used to work for the same company, the ad agency. He was a photographer and she worked her way up to partner. When they separated, mom used her rank to make sure he got fired. Now he’s doing camera work in South America for a nature show. I haven’t spoken to him since he left last year.”

“Wow. Are you serious?” It was a rhetorical question, but his eyes were wide with incredulity at her remarkable situation. “What about your brother? Is he running wild in the Amazon or something?”

Hitomi couldn’t help but laugh. “No, Allen. The last time he wrote to me, he said that he was living with Arminda in Brazil. He’s still going to school there.”

“Oh... Arminda?”

“My dad’s girlfriend.”

He stayed quiet for a moment, reflecting on all she had told him. “Jeeze, Hitomi, I sure have missed out on a lot, haven’t I?”

He sounded remorseful. It pulled at her heartstrings.

“It’s not your fault, Allen. I haven’t been around as much.” She put a hand on his knee, and their eyes met when they both looked up.

Up close, there was something different about him. She just couldn’t put her finger on it. The Allen she was used to was a bright ray of sunshine, a ball of positive energy twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. He chatted with strangers in elevators and grocery lines and helped little old ladies cross the street. The Allen she knew was a guy who would call her every day after school to make sure she had gotten home safe. Thinking about it, she couldn’t recall hearing from him on the phone in months. He wasn’t as talkative, he seemed almost withdrawn. He no longer wore his long golden hair down. It was pulled back in a ponytail and had lost its sheen.

He noticed her studying him. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Allen, is everything OK with you? I know we’ve been focused on all the crap that’s going on in my life, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear about what’s going on with you.”

She reached out for his hand, and he returned her grasp. “Everything’s fine.” He didn’t look at her as he said it. He cleared his throat, trying to buy a second to change the subject.

The school bell did it for him. It’s ring was shrill in the peace, and soon droves of students poured out from the doors, breaking the harmony of their moment for good.

“Oh, damn it, I need to catch the bus, and my books are still inside my locker!” Hitomi stood up and took a step toward the street but then turned back to Allen. “I’ll give you a call this weekend, OK? I promise we’ll spend more time together. Yes?”

Allen nodded. “I would be devastated if you didn’t.”

She gave him a parting hug and jogged back over to the campus without looking back.

The bus pulled up to her street about twenty minuets later. By the time she walked inside to Dilandau’s waiting arms, her promise had already been forgotten.

(END FLASHBACK)

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“Oh, Dilly, YES! Uggh! Harder! Oh, my god! Ahhh! I’m coming! I’m coming!!!”

Hitomi had learned to block out Yoko’s exaggerated screams. She sat at the desk in her room putting the finishing touches on a Jack the Ripper cartoon she was drawing for Dilandau. He had encouraged her to take up drawing, and the results had surprised her. Never considering herself the artistic type, she was overjoyed to find that she had a knack for putting the images in her head down on paper.

She held it up, looking for flaws or gaps in the line work. She would have to wait until tomorrow after school for him to see it. Yoko had grown increasingly guarding of Dilandau, and the only time Hitomi could talk or do anything else with him was when Yoko was presenting a potential ad campaign to a big important client.

Hitomi and Dilandau had tried to make sure that there was never any evidence of their liaison. They always showered and dried their hair after sex. They were always in separate rooms when Yoko came home, and Dilandau usually preferred to meet her at the door. They never spoke to each other when she was around. They sat at opposite ends of the dinner table. There were a hundred other details that had to paid close attention to, but Hitomi was a pro by the time the air turned crisp and the leaves started to turn color.

She dearly wished that had been true when she made one very bad slip up.

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(FLASHBACK)

“The Accident,” and she and Dilandau referred to it, occurred on a day that Hitomi was late for the bus and Yoko was early coming home from the office. By the time Hitomi rushed into the house, there was only half an hour until her mother’s arrival.

“Where have you been?! She’s gonna get here soon,” Dilandau had said angrily, but he didn’t let her answer before his mouth was over hers.

“Test…last period…”she gasped as he moved down her neck, already pushing her shirt off. “Had to…finish…oh, God…” She lost herself in his essence. He was freshly bathed and dressed in a white button-down shirt and slacks for the play he would be attending with Yoko. His skin was soft, and he smelled of soap. He was cleaned up nice and Hitomi thought he had never looked more sexy. Of course, she thought that every time she saw him.

He slid his hands down her hips, her thighs, grabbing two perfect handfuls of her round ass and pulling her off the ground. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, trying to press all of herself against him. He carried her to the living room couch and sat so that she straddled him. As his mouth moved lower down her chest, she busied her hands with unbuttoning his shirt, anticipating the contact with his hot flesh. He pulled her closer, his hand on the small of her back, lips sucking greedily at the top of her breast. She was paralyzed as he continued his way to the border of her bra, leaving her skin flushed and wet. When he was there, he flicked his tongue quickly under the lacy barrier, teasing her. He had licked her hard willing nipple, sending waves of electricity surging through her body.

She took his head and pushed him away, clasping herself to his neck while he was caught off guard. She applied pressure, starting him off slow. He relaxed and put his hands to work undoing the hooks of her bra. She kissed and sucked along his throat, taking pleasure in the deep moans and sighs that she caused. She did it harder, but was careful not to leave any marks behind. He gasped and clutched her hips. She felt him grow hard against her thigh. He moved a hand across her stomach, causing her to jump at his touch. She felt him smile and he took hold of one of her tits, squeezing and releasing. She moaned out loud, feeling a rush of heat to her loins.

In a second he had flipped her over, so quickly she barely had time to register what had happened, and was then on top. He didn’t stay there for long. She felt her heart jump as he locked eyes with her, dark and sinful, playful and longing. He slid off he couch, kneeling on the carpet before her. She could see her naked chest rise and fall as she watched him. He places his hands on her knees, their ascent up her thighs torturously slow. He reached her ass, and she lifted herself, knowing his goal. He wrapped his fingers around the hem of her panties, guiding them down off of her.

She felt her breathing grow more irregular. He maintained his seductive eye contact, enjoying the internal havoc he was causing to her. He flicked his tongue over her wet mound, and instantly she was set ablaze. He traced her lips, teasing and taunting her with the suggestion of pleasure. She gripped at the pillows beside her, trying to stifle whimpers. She knew the game he was playing. He delved inside her, just for a second, along the core of her gratification. She couldn’t help but cry out, instantly regretting it.

“Aww, Hitomi, are you done already?” he asked, the pseudo pain in his voice giving way to his mocking tone. “Well, then I guess there’s no need for me to be here anymore.” He put a hand on the floor as though he were rising.

“No,” she said in a desperate voice. She knew it was sad, but she couldn’t help herself. “I’m not done. Please…” She understood now why her mom was such a sex maniac for him.

He tried to fight back a smirk. “Please what?”

“Please finish.” She was growing frustrated.

“Finish what? What do you want me to do?” He was testing her, trying to see how far she would go to have him, measuring the depth of her need.

“Going down on me,” she responded without a second thought.

“Hitomi! I’m shocked!” He was really laying it on thick now. “A proper little school girl like you using such language? I don’t even think you know what that means. What exactly is it that you want?” He slipped a hand behind her knee and caressed the sensitive spot, keeping her in the game.

She was getting frustrated, her craving for him outweighing her annoyance at his childish performance. There was only one way to get what she wanted.

“I want you, Dilandau, to use your tongue to stimulate my cunt, that’s my vagina, with the focus of your efforts on my clitoris until I climax. There, do you get it?”

“You’re such a bad girl,” he said, no longer fighting the smile that played at the corners of his lips. Even when he was teasing, he wasn’t a tease. He leaned forward and gave her the big prize for winning.

It wasn’t until the next day that Hitomi realized the mistake she had made. The morning was filled with weird instance that she didn’t think were related until a later time. While she was in the shower, she heard a loud thud come from her room. She was startled at first at first but shrugged it off as a noise made by the creaky old house. When she finished dressing, she looked without success for her favorite lip gloss. It wasn’t under the bed, under the dresser, in the bathroom, or anywhere else she searched. She finally resolved that she might have accidentally put it into the washer with the dirty clothes.

As she opened the door to the laundry room, she let out a startled scream.

“Oh, my God, mom! I’m sorry, you just scared me.”

Yoko was still in her robe, her hair down and wildly tangled, holding a white shirt in her hands. “Oh, it’s fine, Hitomi.”

Her daughter didn’t give a second thought to her disheveled appearance when she spotted her lips gloss atop the washer lid.

“Hey, there it is!” She picked it up with the enthusiasm of someone without a care in the world.

“That’s yours?” Yoko’s expression was one of bewilderment.

“Yeah, mom. I’ve always worn this shade.”

“Oh,” she said, turning back slowly. She said nothing else, so Hitomi turned and left to make herself a cup of coffee.

Yoko dropped Hitomi off at school in her robe, explaining that she didn’t feel well enough to go to work. Hitomi missed that red flag, too, not remembering that Yoko had gone to work the with cold sweats and hot flashes the previous year after having a hysterectomy. She had said then that illness was simply a state of mind and was no excuse for missing a day on the job.

Everything came together that afternoon. Dilandau was waiting for her in her room.

“Hey, what a nice surp--”

“Shh!” He cut her off, closing the door behind her. “Your mom’s asleep. If she wakes up and I’m not in the room, she’s going to flip out.”

“What are you talking about? Why would she--”

“Because she knows!” He was talking in hoarse whispers, his face red.

Hitomi’s heart dropped. “What do you mean ‘she knows’?” She prayed it wasn’t what she thought.

He sat her down on the bed, his shoulders rigid. “She found lipstick stains on my collar. She said it matched the one you have.”

“Oh…oh no. You’re lying.” She looked at him hopefully.

“Why the fuck would I lie about something like this?”

Something in Hitomi’s mind clicked. “Oh my God, this morning! I heard a noise!”

“Oh, really? That must have been so exciting for you. Was it the first time?”

She shrugged off his sarcasm. “No, it must have been her. I couldn’t find my lip gloss this morning. She must have gone into my room and gotten, then taken it to the laundry room to compare it to the stain on your shirt.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What was I supposed to do? Go into her room and say, ‘Hey Dilandau, I think my mom is on to us’?”

“Yes.”

“No.&# 8221;

“Well, you should have. While you were baking cookies in HomeEc, I was fending off a raving madwoman screaming crazy accusations at me about fucking her daughter.”

“You are fucking her daughter.”

“She’s not supposed to know that!”

“Shhh! Calm down. You’re gonna wake her up. Now, tell me, what did she say? What happened? What is she going to do?”

“Nothing now. I talked her into believing some bullshit I don’t even remember about where the stain came from.”

“Does she believe you?”

“Fuck no. But she wants to, so she’s gonna act like it’s true.”

Hitomi threw herself backwards onto her sheets, whishing she had been standing on the side of a cliff. “Oh God, what the hell am I supposed to do?”

“You don’t have to do anything now that I’ve gone and fixed things for you. You shouldn’t have been wearing lipstick anyway. I told you that shit always gets people in trouble.”

“I forgot. It was an accident.”

“Famous last words.”

(END FLASHBACK)

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Hitomi hung up the Ripper sketch and went back to her desk. The banging in the other room had quieted and the shower was running. She reached under the right-hand drawer to where her diary was taped. She had hidden it months ago, reasoning that she could never be too careful considering her delicate situation.

She thumbed through the pages, randomly stopping on an entry that had been written about a year ago.

I saw Matt in the hall on the way to 4th period today. He is sooooo cute. I thought he was waving to me, so I waved back, but then his girlfriend came out from behind me. I am so stupid! I hope no one saw, especially him. Why would he be saying hi to me anyway? Or any guy? None of them talk to me. I’m a sophomore now and I’m going to be 16 in the spring, and I’ve never even had a boyfriend! I’m such a loser! I wish I didn’t feel like this. Why can’t I just be normal? I just…

Hitomi stopped reading the entry and flipped over to another.

Well, diary, I’m almost 16. I still don’t feel different. I hate how everybody talks about being 16 as the greatest thing in the world, like it’s the high point of our lives. Well, if this is it, I might as well just kill myself. But then again, maybe not. Mom is like in her 40s and she still gets plenty of hot guys. I wish I could be like her. She’s so confident and beautiful. I hate being a teenager! I HATE IT! I wish I was grown up so I wouldn’t have these problems. :’( But I know in my heart it won’t be this way forever. Someday I’ll meet a guy who loves me for who I am. It’ll be that much more special because I didn’t just pick any boy from the hall and go out with him like a bunch of other girls do.

Hitomi flipped through the pages again to the back, searching for the next blank one. She took a pen from a plastic cup on the desk and put it to paper.

Mom still won’t let me near Dilandau. Her secretary calls every half hour when she knows we’re home alone together. She takes him out to eat for dinner more often. She’s not making an effort to hide how she feels about me anymore. I don’t understand why she tolerates it. Maybe she’s just embarrassed that her daughter is showing her up. Maybe she thinks that I’ll tell everyone if he leaves. IDK. I just know that I’m getting sick of her attitude.

Oh, and she’s been showering him with gifts ever since The Accident. First she bought him a touch screen cell phone. After that I think it was a new game system. I know for a fact that she’s going to buy him a motorcycle for Christmas. She left the dealership’s business card on the kitchen counter, on the fridge, and on the coffee table. Plus, I think there’s a helmet in the garage. No, wait, this is rich: there are two helmets. One is black and the other is pink. I guess she thinks they’re going to take long rides across the countryside together. What a moron. Like he would ever be caught dead with her on the back of his bike.

As for me and Dilandau, we’re doing OK. The sex is still awesome. We can’t really do it after school anymore because of the whole calling thing, but sometimes he manages to sneak into my room after she’s asleep. We go down on each other more. There’s really not much of a choice. Not that I’m complaining.

I still try to ask about him and my mom once in a while, but he still won’t tell me anything. He just says that it’s a necessary thing and to leave it at that. I’m not trying to cause any more trouble. That’s the last thing I need. I can’t help but wonder what things are like between them, though. I wonder why he picked her. He could have had any girl his age, but he chose her. And why me, too?

IDK. Our relationship is so complicated. That’s all I ever call it, too. Our “relationship.” There’s really no other way to say it. He’s not really my boyfriend, but we defiantly are something. I’m just not sure what.

Like the way he treats me is so…weird. When we’re alone, he tells me that I’m his “juicy piece of pussy” or something like that. About how I’m such a great fuck and not to get too attached. He tells me that sort of thing, but he doesn’t treat me like I’m just a piece of ass. The last time we had sex was at night, and when I woke up he was stoking my hair. He had this dreamy look in his eyes. It was so peaceful. He looked like an angel, almost. And then during our first time he was so gentle. And he always asks me how I feel and if it’s good for me and what I want. He says it’s just sex, but he is such a considerate lover that I know it has to be more than that.

I haven’t made much leeway in the realm of conversation. He doesn’t like talking about himself. Mostly we talk about me or politics. He’s very into government affairs and diplomacy. You wouldn’t think that at first, but he is very knowledgeable about current events. He really cares about what’s going on in the world. I just wish I knew for sure how he felt about me.

Hitomi laid down her pen and stretched her fingers. She got up from the chair and undressed. She usually slept naked just incase Dilandau was able to get away from Yoko during the night.

She pulled the covers over herself and tried to sleep, but her brain had plans of its own. She ended up staring at the ceiling and thinking about Dilandau and their “relationship.” They were so different, but the attraction between them was almost suffocating. She was sheltered and naïve, he had a hard exterior and kept his feelings to himself. But when they made love, all of that indifference melted away. He cared, and he was afraid. Hitomi was sure that she was falling in love with him.

She thought back to her old diary entries, wishing she still believed in that sort of love, when a boy meets a girl and they feel something they had never felt before and they live happily ever after. She knew better now.

Love isn’t just about two people. It’s about all the complications in their lives, all the things that try to keep them apart. Two people are never alone in love. There is always something trying to come between them.

----

A few months went by, Christmas came and went, the New Year was celebrated in the usual fashion. Dilandau got his motorcycle from Yoko as predicted, Hitomi got a hand crafted acoustic guitar from her father, and her mother landed a major account, meaning that she would be gone all day every day for the first two weeks of January, leaving Hitomi and Dilandau with time on their hands and the house to themselves. Sort of.

“Hello? Hi, Momiji,” Dilandau didn’t stifle his irritation. It was the sixth call from Yoko’s assistant that day, and the tired routine was interrupting his and Hitomi’s favorite daytime TV shows. “Nothing. Just still trying to watch my show. Uh-huh.”

Hitomi couldn’t help but smile at how cute he looked when he was aggravated. They had spent the whole of the day lying together in Yoko’s king sized bed, both naked from the waist up and snacking on gummy bears and popcorn.

“I don’t know,” he continued in his drab tone of voice. “Maybe she died. Do you think I spend all day following Hitomi around?”

She laughed, causing his head to bob up and down on her stomach. He swatted at her to make her stop.

“I know it’s your job, Momiji, but don’t blame me for you dropping out of junior college and spending your life as a doormat for people who are actually doing something with their lives. Hello? Hello? Bitch,” he spat as he pushed the End button.

“Some people are so testy,” Hitomi soothed, popping a red bear into her mouth and swishing it around until it liquefied.

“Give me one of those,” Dilandau said. He was trying to look at her, but her breast was in his line of vision. “You’ve got some big ass tits, Hitomi. Maybe you should get them reduced. They could cause back problems when you’re older.”

She knew he didn’t mean that. She didn’t respond, too wrapped up in the drama playing out on the big screen in front of them. An obese woman was confronting her dwarf husband for having a love child with her stripper cousin. The woman puller herself up and out of the chair before flinging it across the stage and trying to wrap her hands around the throat of a fake redhead with a bad weave and a red sequin dress.

If only she knew what my life was like, she’d consider herself lucky.

Hitomi turned her head from the excitement on TV to a flicker of movement she saw from the corner of her eye. She was looking at the zipper of Dilandau’s pants. Nothing moved until -- there again! His bulge has pulsed, a sure sign that an erection was well underway.

Hitomi groaned internally, growing frustrated with the new “be sexual without sex” thing they were trying out. Actually having sex during the day was impossible because of Momiji calling nearly every 15 seconds, plus the fact that Yoko had a bitch fit if she found out that he didn’t answer within three rings, and the sexual tension was mounting.

Dilandau had a theory that if he and Hitomi displayed sexual behavior around each other like nudity, natural erotic body functions, and even masturbation throughout the day that it would satisfy their desires. It seemed to be working for him, but she was ready to throw in the towel and throw him on his back.

She continued staring, feeling her blood quicken. She grabbed her left breast and massaged the supple mound of flesh, paying special attention to the soft pink nipple. His bulge pulsed again, sending a shock through Hitomi. She felt a tiny drop of sweat run down the side of her face.

The motion of her hand finally caught Dilandau’s attention. He turned his head and quickly got up from his lying position, facing her while on all fours.

“Thank God,” Hitomi said, and slid off her shorts.

“Damn, I didn’t think you’d actually do it, but I’m glad that you are.”

She stopped with her panties halfway down her legs and cocked her head at him. “What?”

“You’re going to stuff the muffin.”

Hitomi was both confused and slightly grossed out. “OK, first of all: eww. And secondly: what exactly do you think is going on here?”

He rolled his eyes as he always did when he felt like she was catching on too slowly. “You are going to masturbate,” he said, punctuating every syllable. “And I am going to enjoy watching you. Hell, maybe I’ll even get off.”

She let out an exasperated groan, threw her hands up in the air, and fell back into the pillows. Her panties dangled loosely around her knees. “I thought you wanted to do it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “It? Haven’t we graduated past fifth grade yet?”

“Shut up,” she half-yelled, throwing a pillow at his face.

He easily blocked it. “Hitomi, you know I don’t want to have sex because I can’t enjoy myself if I have to stop and pick up the phone every five minutes.”

“You don’t have to stop,” Hitomi pouted, her arms crossed like a little girl who had just found out she wasn’t getting a pony for her birthday.

He sighed. “You can be a whiny bitch all you want, but it ain’t gonna happen.” He turned his attention back to the sobbing obese woman with marital problems.

Hitomi did something then that she didn’t know how she got the courage to do. Maybe it was sexual frustration. Maybe it was irritation at how she was throwing herself at him and still getting nothing back. Maybe she was fed up with being controlled. In any case, she broke the cardinal unspoken rule between them.

“Do you love me?”

He didn’t respond at first, but she saw his muscles tense. He didn’t turned to face her. She felt her cheeks flush with anger.

“Do you?” she asked again, her words cut with an edge.

“Hitomi,” he got up and sat facing her. “That’s the stupidest question I’ve ever --”

“It’s a yes or no answer, Dilandau,” her voice was louder than she had meant it to be. “Call it making love or fucking or fornicating or banging or knocking boots or doing it, I don’t care. What I want to know is, do you do it because you love me?”

He turned his face from her and seemed to be collecting his thoughts. He looked to have gone inside himself, genuinely searching for an answer.

“I…like you, Hitomi,” he started.

Her heart sank. But his hesitation gave her hope that he was going to give her an honest and thorough explanation of his feelings. His expression was introspective and thoughtful. But as he opened his mouth to speak again, he shook it off and replaced it with his signature half mocking grin.

“I mean, you’re a pretty cool chick, but let’s be realistic here. You and me together, what real chance to we have of making it? I say we just have fun and -- hey, hey, where are you going? Hitomi!”

She was already out the door and angrily stomping through the hall to her room. Her face was stained with hot salty tears. She slammed her door shut, making sure he got the message. She threw herself on the bed, clutching a stuffed cat. She waited for him to come after her, straining to hear the sound of footsteps on carpet. Nothing. She waited to hear the sound of her doorknob turning. Sill nothing. She was alone, the silence a deafening ringing in her ears.

Hitomi kept waiting for him until she heard the garage open and Yoko’s high heels clicking on the linoleum floor. She took a shower, put on her pajamas, and locked her door.

Sleep was elusive that night, and she fell in and out of consciousness regularly but was always aware of her surroundings. Then, at about 4:00 am, she heard the doorknob jungle. It rattled harder the second time, then stopped.

She didn’t sleep at all after that. Twin rivers of silent tears flowed.

-------------------

Things only grew steadily worse in the Kanzaki house from then on.

Hitomi and Dilandau didn’t speak to each other for nearly a week. Slowly but surely they saw more of each other, watching TV in the living room, making breakfast at the same time, getting laundry from the washing room. They didn’t mention what had happened, but they didn’t make love again either. Hitomi was fine with that. She had been hurt more deeply than she ever thought she could be, and sex with her person who was the cause of that pain was the very last thing on her mind.

Dilandau’s relationship with Yoko, however, was getting more and more rocky. They fought more than they fucked, and Hitomi began to loose sleep because of shouting matches that began when Yoko got home and continued in bursts of anger until the wee hours of the morning. Though the roads were still slick with winter ice, Dilandau started taking his motorcycle out to end the fights, with Yoko screaming out the front door that she didn’t care whether he came back or not. She usually called him within half an hour, apologizing and begging him to come home.

The more frustrated she became with Dilandau, the more she took it out on Hitomi.

“My God, don’t tell me you’re wearing your hair like that! - Have you put on weight? Maybe I should buy you a gym membership for your birthday. - You never do anything around here! I’m going to fire the maid so you’ll have something to spend your time on. - Christ, Hitomi, you spent my hard-earned money on that?! Take it back. Now, missy! - Do you ever eat?! You’re skeletal! Do you want everyone to think I don’t feed you? - It’s about time you got a job. Maybe I can get you something in the mailroom of my office. - Stop watching TV. You need to study. It’s going to be hard enough just getting you into a college as it is. - Are you still studying? Go outside and play or something. No man will ever want to marry a flabby bookworm. - I’m going to call your school and get permission to have your uniform made longer. It’s got to be embarrassing for you to walk around in that outfit with your thighs looking like that.”

Hitomi tried to take it all in stride, knowing that karma would take care of things for her. It finally did in a big way one night when she accidentally stayed in the kitchen too long and came face to face with Yoko over a bowl of cereal.

“Jesus, Hitomi, are you eating again?!” Yoko acted as though she would be the one packing on the pounds for her daughter’s crimes against Atkins.

Hitomi said nothing, munching calmly on a spoonful of Awesome-O’s

Yoko scoffed at her before turning on her heels and marching up stairs.

Figuring that she had already faced the worst of her mother’s wrath, Hitomi decided to relax on the comfy recliner in the living room and enjoy the 60” plasma screen. After about 20 minutes of flipping through blooper reels and World War II documentaries, she was ready to admit that there was nothing good on and call it an early night. That’s when the real drama began.

“You ungrateful little shit! I could have you out on the streets in a second!”

The yelling was Yoko, loud and clear as if she had been shouting in Hitomi’s face. There was some rustling, but no one yelled back.

“Not such a big man now, huh?!”

Hitomi got up and walked to the stairs for a better view of her mother’s bedroom door. It swung wide open with such force that it hit the wall behind it. Dilandau exited first, bounding down the steps as he zipped up his black leather jacket. He stopped at the bottom when he looked up and saw Hitomi.

It was a blank stare at first, but then his eyes filled with something like remorse. He opened his mouth to say something, but he was cut short before he had a chance to speak.

“Where do you think you’re -- oh… I see now,” Yoko stood at the top of the stair case wearing her loosely closed robe, and one of her saggy breasts had found its way out of the folds of fabric. “What, do you want me to dress like a slutty little school girl? Is that it? Do you want me to look like my 16-year-old daughter so you can get it up?”

Dilandau didn’t stick around to hear what else she had to say. He headed for the garage. Yoko was fast on his trail.

Hitomi wasted no time climbing up to the balcony, knowing what would probably happen next. Within moments, Yoko was tearing open the front door.

“Go, you bastard!” The sound of Dilandau’s motorcycle was resonant above the obscenities that spouted from her mouth. “I don’t care if you ever come back! Do you hear?! Don’t you fucking try to come back!”

Hitomi made a bee line for her room before her mother had a chance to notice that she had seen everything.

What the hell was that all about?

She decided to put the bizarre incident from her mind, being satisfied with simply knowing that Yoko was miserable.

Hitomi settled in for the night, snuggled into her soft bed comforter, and prayed for sleep.

How many times have I done this? How many sleepless nights have I wasted worrying or hoping or longing or thinking or analyzing since Dilandau came into my life? I can hardly remember the last time I actually woke up rested.

She tried to tell herself that she didn’t care anymore, that she could push Dilandau from her mind if she wanted to. She told herself that he had no one to blame but himself for ending up unemployed and living with a psychotic middle-aged woman. It was all his fault that he was unhappy and alone. Her conscious was clear because all his problems were just that - his.

But that’s the problem with relationships. When you don’t know where you stand or even what kind you’re in, it’s hard to ever know when you’re out.

Hitomi lied to herself for hours as she stared up at the ceiling. She went over in her mind again and again how much she didn’t care and would lose no sleep over Dilandau’s situation.

She finally admitted that she was wrong some time around midnight when her doorknob clicked. The door shut gently, and the person who had opened it lifted her covers and climbed into bed with her. She pretended to be asleep as he wrapped an arm around her waist from behind and placed a tender kiss on her temple.

She slept.

------

Hitomi and Dilandau rekindled their liaison once again without reason or discussion, adding further to Hitomi’s confusion about the nature of their relationship.

She began to fear that he would never let her in. Dilandau was fine with giving the details about who, what, when, where, and how. He fell short when it came to the all important why. He told her a few tidbits about his relatively recent life. He had majored in engineering at the university. He had met Yoko at a bar the night he dropped out and had decided to drink his worries away. He didn’t mention why he left school or why he picked Yoko. He didn’t talk to his parents anymore. He wasn’t from around here. He didn’t have any friends. He hated old Kung Fu movies. He loved any film by Twisted Pictures. He didn’t like music in general. It was all shit. He hated cats. That was as deep at Hitomi managed to delve.

He did answer one ‘why’ question. Why didn’t he work? Because he “didn’t fucking want to. Get over it.”

Hitomi took his advise. Like Dilandau, she began trying a new technique to solve her problems - total avoidance. In an effort to see less of her mother, she signed herself up for the volunteer tutoring program at her school once winter break was over. Monday through Friday from 4 pm to 8 pm, she helped freshmen with math and biology.

It worked like a charm. Aside from the morning car ride to school, she and Yoko were out of each other’s hair.

Her long hours away from home presented a problem for her and Dilandau, but he soon found a creative solution.

----

Hitomi wandered the halls of her school one particularly drab afternoon. No students had gone in for biology tutoring, and she was left with an hour to herself until math started.

She walked through the science wing of the building, pushing thought the exit at the end of the corridor and found herself under the covered walkway that led to the student parking lot.

She stopped mid-step, excitement generated by what she saw, and immediately turned back into the hallway and walked as quickly as she could without attracting attention. She made it into the main hall, turning left and heading for the art supply closet.

Her heart beat heavily within her chest, and tiny goose bumps traveled up and down her body. She reached for the door handle and began to turn it when --

“Hitomi!”

“Ahh!”

&n bsp;

She jumped back, clutching her hand to her chest, adrenaline moving through her like a jet stream.

Mr. Anwar, the principal, stood slightly aback with a confused look on his face. “Uhh…sorry to scare you, Hitomi. I just wanted to congratulate you. The teachers have given me wonderful reports of improvement in the students you’ve been tutoring.”

She tried to remain calm and hide her apprehensiveness. Thanks, that’s super, now you can leave! “Thank you, Mr. Anwar,” she said with a plastic grin. “I just love tutoring those kids. So cool.” She felt herself grow ridged, trying to keep herself from exploding.

He smiled back uneasily. Her perplexing behavior was making him uncomfortable, but he was still trying to be polite. His eyes darted to the supply closet. “Oh, how rude of me. Do you need any help?” He reached for the handle.

“No!” Hitomi grasped it before he could touch it. She looked up at him, and the startled expression on his face said it all. Fucking God, he thinks I’m totally psycho! Well, it’s his own fault for not getting the Hell out of here. “I, uh…I’ll be fine.”

“OK…” was all he said as he backed away and turned down the hall, the glow of the florescent lights reflected on his bald spot.

As soon as Mr. Anwar was out of sight, Hitomi slid behind the door as quickly as she could, and felt around for the light switch. Suddenly she felt hands on her, turning her around.

“What the Hell took you so long?” Dilandau’s voice was low and heavy with lust.

She didn’t bother to answer. She knew he didn’t really care.

Before she could think, Dilandau had bent her over, forcing her to support herself by putting her hands on the wall. She let herself be dominated, wanting only to feel the passion that he generated in her.

He reached under her skirt, dragging down her panties, and positioned himself behind her. She braced herself, feeling the hard throbbing of her own pussy, the flow of her own juices. His cock brushed against her ass, hot and hard, and she imagined it’s thickness, the long firm shaft that she so desired.

He put his hands on her hips and placed the tip of his pulsating member just between the lips of her wet mound, not entering, but certainly not intending to leave.

Hitomi bit her lip in a desperate attempt to keep from crying out. The door of the closet they were in didn’t lock from the inside, opened outward, and there would be no way to stop anyone from walking in.

“What do we say?” Dilandau crooned, his voice dripping with velvet seduction. He snaked his hands up over her stomach and undid the buttons of her blouse.

She dared not say anything, certain that she would scream if she opened her mouth. She thrust her butt backwards in a futile attempt to capture him inside of her. He moved back with her, and she was no closer to getting it than she was a few seconds earlier.

“No, no, no,” he scolded, his fingers inside her shirt inching their way under her bra and around her sensitive nipples. “What do good little girls say when they want something?”

She whimpered. “P-P-Please…” she managed to sputter out.

He entered her, only a tiny bit more, her juices flowing down the stiff length of his dick. “What was that?”

She thought she might die, every cell in her body was shrieking in unison for more. More touch, more sensation, more energy, more electricity, more pleasure, more passion, more pain. We need more!

“Please, Dilandau, fuck me. Please, please, please, pleahhhhssses,” her words melted as he entered her, all of him at once, strong and fast.

She pushed back, wanting to feel more. He pounded her from behind, long motions at first, then shorter bursts, creating friction that set her skin ablaze with fire hotter than the sun.

It was then that Hitomi realized that she didn’t care anymore. She didn’t care if she got hurt or if they would never be together forever or if she wasn’t his one true love. She didn’t care if her mother hated her or if she didn’t speak to her ever again or disowned her after she was old enough to be on her own. She didn’t care that this was taking over her life or that it was all she thought about or that it was the basest of human instincts. She realized that there was no use fighting it, that there was nothing better than this. All of human civilization, innovation, advancement, achievement, everything was done with one ultimate goal in mind. Sex.

People went to work and got jobs so they could get money to go on dates, buy gifts for people to seem impressive, or pay prostitutes for sex. They made art to express their deepest feeling, hoping a kindred spirit would recognize their meaning, all so they could meet, fall in love, and have sex. People went to the gym to work out and become physically appealing while at the same time looked for someone else who was also physically appealing with whom they could have sex.

Yes, it had finally come to pass that Hitomi realized, as she stood slanted against a wall of a supply closet in her high school art wing, Dilandau ramming his dick into her from behind, sweat plastering her hair against here forehead, a delirious smile of absolute bliss splashed across her face, that there was nothing that would ever be better in life than sex.

-----

“So what the fuck is up with your mom driving you to school and you coming home on the bus? You’re a rich little princess. Why don’t you have your own pink foreign car or something?” Dilandau gave her space to answer by shoving another spoonful of cookie dough ice cream into his mouth, his eyes glued to the movie screen.

It was a particularly drab Friday night. Yoko was in an airplane terminal waiting to board her flight to an international conference, Hitomi and Dilandau met up in the art supply closet for a replay of their last encounter there, went home and wrapped up an incredible lovemaking session on the pool table her mother had bought him, found that there was nothing good on TV, and decided to make an evening of their boredom.

“Well, it’s kind of hard to drive without a driver’s license.”

“No it’s not. But OK, why don’t you have a license?”

Hitomi chewed inattentively on a strand of red liquorish, putting together an answer in her head as she watched the trivia slides that the theater played before the movie started change in seemingly random order.

What actor won an Academy Award for their role in Beach Babes?

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Pamula Anders

“You know my mom. She hardly noticed me before. Why would she give me anything now that she can’t stand me?” Hitomi took a sip from the jumbo sized beverage in the cup holder between them. “Give me some of that.”

Dilandau nodded as he handed over the cold pint.

“And besides,” Hitomi continued, taking a moment to roll the creamy soft serve around on her tongue and separate the dough from the vanilla, “if I could drive, that means that I would have some degree of independence, and I know she loves the fact that I have to rely on her for everything.”

They were the only two people in the theater, and they had the best seats to themselves - top row center. As they snacked on the goodies they sneaked in using Hitomi’s oversized handbag, she studied him. He was totally relaxed, leaning back in the seat with his black army boots propped up on the chair in front of him. He had one arm around Hitomi and the other in and out of a bag of extra butter popcorn. His silver hair framed his face, which at the moment had a quality of angelic tranquility.

Hitomi wondered at how Dilandau was a walking, talking paradox. It was he who suggested the movie. When she had gotten dressed, he came up from behind her as she pulled her slightly longer hair into two short ponytails and planted a sweet kiss on her the skin of her shoulder that wasn’t covered by her dark green tank top. She had been afraid to mount his motorcycle. As she shakily settled down at the back she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. They road the feeders, avoiding the highways, and Hitomi buried her face in his cool leather jacket, pretending that she was a rollercoaster instead of a speeding deathtrap. With all the force she used to secure herself to Dilandau, she thought she might snap him in two. Then he did something that surprised her. He put his hand on hers, strong yet gentle, his caress a comfort, like they were old lovers. At the cinema he let her pick the movie, opened the door, held her hand, and carried what they had bought at the concession stand up to the seats. He smiled and laughed easily all through their conversations. He was considerate and attentive, affectionate and genuine. It had almost made Hitomi regret her newly adopted pessimistic philosophy on sex and love. Almost.

What kept her certain that keeping love and lust in two different chambers of her heart was his behavior when they were alone. The sex was one thing. It was sometimes hot and fast, others slow and smoldering. He was always in top of his game and always thoughtful of her needs. The real contradictions happened when they started and when they were nearly done. More often than not he made her beg. He enjoyed hearing her plead for his cock, telling her what to say and how to say it, wanting to know that she would do anything to have him. Before they came, he sometimes pulled all the way out, in one instance actually making her get down on bended knee and implore him to finish inside of her. He called her his “tender strip chick,” “Lolita,” “baby doll fuck toy,” and (the one that absolutely disgusted her) his “juicy piece of pussy.” From time to time he made fun of her feelings for him, promising to stop when she told him that it honestly hurt her, but inevitably starting with it again. He bought her birth control pills, which she fully agreed was a good idea, but he always had to add that he “didn’t want to father snot-nosed uptown brats” with her.

Instances like that made her glad that she had decided to put her feelings for him on a shelf and just have fun. She told him so, and he had seemed taken aback, dare she say bothered, that she had opted to assume a man’s approach to sex. He didn’t bring it up again, though, and neither did she.

“What movie are we watching, anyway?” Dilandau wiped his buttery had on the velour cushion next to him.

“Dos Cosas.”

“Is that Spanish or something?”

“Yeah,” she closed her eyes as his hand massaged the back of her neck.

“What is it about?”

“There’s this crazy old man who tricks a girl into thinking that her twin sister is an evil spirit by stealing her dreams and replacing them with stuff he made up.”

“Dreams like growing up and becoming a teacher or dreams like falling off a building and never hitting the ground?”

“Falling off a building.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” an overhead speaker boomed between spurts of static, “we regret to inform you that we are having technical difficulties with our feature film. In place of ‘Dos Cosas,’ we will present ‘Titanic’.”

“God damn!” Dilandau hated chick flicks more than he hated a box full of fluffy kittens.

“Well,” Hitomi sighed, turning to him, “shall we go bitch at the manager for our money back?”

Dilandau was about to say yes when he paused, a devilish grin making its way across his face. “No,” his words were dark velvet. He moved the soda between them to the side and raised the arm rest before pulling her close and placing a hot kiss on her collarbone. “Let’s show Jack and Rose how it’s really done.”

-----

“Yes! Oh my God, that’s it!” Hitomi clapped her hands. “Mika, that’s exactly right. I bet you could do matrices in your sleep now. You’re going to do great on that algebra test tomorrow.”

The young girl across the table from her smiled, her brown eyes glistening behind her smudged glasses. “It’s all thanks to you, Hitomi.”

Hitomi smiled back. She was pleasantly surprised how much she enjoyed tutoring and sometimes waited after the proctor said she could go home that Monday just incase her favorite pupil showed up. “Let me get the sign out sheet and then we can head on over to the parking lot and wait for the bus.”

“OK,” Mika said in her squeaky voice. She clumsily stuffed her papers and books into her backpack.

A few minutes later the odd couple was walking down the empty hall toward the bus pick up. From afar they could have been sisters, similar hair color, identical skin tone, matching uniforms, same style of shoes. Up close, however, they were polar opposites.

Hitomi was in her third year of high school. She was more certain of where she was going, knew where all the offices and classrooms were, was fully aware of the pecking orders, clicks, and social ladder. She had lost most of her baby fat, her body was lean but still curved in all the right places, her skin was clear, she learned to manage her hair. She had matured and blossomed, growing more confident in herself and becoming less worried about others’ opinion of her. She felt more like herself with every passing day. Her relationship with Dilandau had played a hand in that, and she was glad to feel like she had put her awkward phases behind her.

Mika, on the other hand, had just begun her gawky passage through puberty. She was a freshman and understandably intimidated by her first year in a bigger school. Hitomi often saw Mika walking from class to class with her head lowered and her eyes on the floor. She was a bit overweight, had just started getting breasts, rarely had less than four pimples on any given day, thick glasses, and was about to go in for braces. All odds were against her, and some upperclassmen had made a daily routine of picking on her as she exited the lunch line during the previous semester. Hitomi had put a stop to that personally with an idea she picked up from Dilandau. She taped their harassment on her cell phone an posted it on the internet. It wasn’t long before the video circulated around school and got back to the principal, who promptly made sure the offenders were kicked off the cheerleading squad. Mika had a long way to go, and Hitomi was sympathetic. She didn’t understand why people couldn’t just look past her less than perfect outward appearance and see what a great, funny, caring, intelligent girl Mika was.

“Hitomi, can I ask you a question?” Mika was looking up at Hitomi.

“Sure. Algebra or biology?”

“Umm…chemistry.”

  < p>“Chemistry?” Hitomi cocked an eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to take that you’re sophomore year?”

“How do you get a boyfriend?”

“A boyfriend? Mika, trust me, you’ve got plenty of time before you need to start worrying about --”

“No, I don’t Hitomi. Don’t say that because we both know it’s not true.” She had tears in her eyes.

Hitomi was caught off guard. She check to see if anyone was around and pulled Mika into an empty classroom.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” Hitomi handed Mika a tissue from the teacher’s desk as they sat and put an arm around her shoulder.

“Oh, Hitomi, I just…I’m in high school now and I’m going to be 16 next year, and I’ve never even had a boyfriend! I’m such a loser! Boys don’t notice me. They won’t even talk to me. Why can’t I just be normal?” She buried her face in the tissue and sobbed.

It pained Hitomi to see her young friend so hurt. She thought back to her diary. It was almost like Mika had the exact same thoughts that were going through Hitomi’s mind a year ago.

“Mika, I know it seems like everything’s a mess and nothing makes sense, but trust me when I say that things will get better.”

“But when? I’m so sick of feeling awkward and like I never know what to say and like I’m always about to do something wrong. I’m tired of being fat and ugly…”

“You’re not fat and ugly.”

“…and wearing glasses and breaking out all the time. I should just lose my virginity to whoever will do it and get it over with.”

“Mika, don’t say that!”

Now it was Mika’s turn to be surprised. Hitomi had never raised her voice at her like that.

“I’m sorry, I just -- Mika, you’re better than that. You’re not one of the pseudo-popular girls who gets her self esteem by taking her top off and dancing on a table at a house party. You’re smart and wonderful and you deserve to wait for someone who will really care about you. High school romance is fake, its an excuse for horny teenagers to grind against each other without admitting to themselves that they’re whores who are throwing away they’re innocence to conform to what all their stupid friends think is cool or normal. Those girls, the ones who have a new guy every two weeks, the ones you envy, and I know you do because I was jealous of them once too, they have no self identity. They don’t know who they are, so they depend on other people to decide that for them. You’re not them, Mika. You’re a good person, and please trust me when I say that now is the time for you to focus on yourself and what you want to do with your future, not worry about someone else and their problems. High school boys are stupid and superficial, anyway. They’re no good. When you’re older, you’re going to meet a guy who has got it together and who will be…mature enough to treat you the way you should be. Okay? You’re beautiful, and you just need to take care of you.”

Mika was crying more, silent tears streaming down her face. “I just wanna be like you, Hitomi.”

The older girl pulled her into a hug. “No, Mika, you’re better than me.”

They missed the bus, and Hitomi called them a cab. They talked on the way to Mika’s house, a small two bedroom one bath apartment, nothing like the large brick houses with picket fences lived in by many of their classmates, and Hitomi remembered she was on scholarship to the school. As they waved goodbye and Mika bounded up the sidewalk, an old woman with graying hair and kind eyes meeting her at the door, and Hitomi wished for a moment that she could trade placed with the youthful girl, never thinking before that she would want her old problems back. She longed for them now, for troubles she knew would eventually work out.

------

Later that night, Hitomi sat at her desk and tried to work on her latest drawing, a sketch of the Virgin Mary. She couldn’t concentrate. She kept replaying her big speech to Mika over and over in her head, wondering how much of it she herself actually believed. How much stock had she put in her own virginity?

Did she love Dilandau when they first had sex? She certainly had feelings for him now, but at the time she was only infatuated. She hadn’t waited for her one true love, for the man who would whisk her away on his noble steed and ride off into the sunset. But she had valued her carnal gift. After her first time, she had felt elated, like a new person. She felt like a queen and it was as if she had finally known what it was like to escape the awkward stages of adolescence and experience true womanhood. But she was lucky that she lost her innocence to someone she ended up loving. That still didn’t change the fact that she had given into her hormones and let herself be seduced by someone who she had been in lust with. It bothered her that she was being so honest with herself, but she was in it deep and there was no longer any need for romantic illusions. It didn’t matter anymore. What was important was the fact that they were together now. Or where they? Really together? Hitomi felt a headache coming on, but she let herself ask all the burning questions anyway.

What exactly were her feelings for him since she decided to keep love separate from sex? How was that even possible? Yes, she did have feelings for him. She did love him, but she no longer considered sex an expression of that love. Sex was base, physical, a sensation. It was something you could do with anyone, no matter your feelings for them. Love was when Dilandau lied next to her and watched her sleep. It was when he stood behind her and guided her hand as she sketched, together creating shapes and lines that became people and places. Love was when he went out in public with her without Yoko, risking that someone might report their appearance to her mother, just to make Hitomi happy. It was a glimpse in his eye when they made love, so sudden she almost thought she imagined it, like the flicker of a candle, when he looked down at her and his face softened and his eyes filled with something indescribable. She knew that when he looked at her that way, she was the only one he was thinking about, the only girl in his heart. It’s how she knew that, despite his macho, distant, juvenile, harsh treatment of her, he did love her.

Hitomi understood that her love life was not exactly how she had hoped it would be when she was seven years old. She hadn’t grown up and become a doctor and fallen in love and had sex and had children and lived happily ever after. She had gone a little out of order. Alright, a lot out of order. But she was here, in love. She was no longer the desperate little puppy following Dilandau around the house. She was done with her short stint as an ice queen. She was now somewhere in the middle, level with Dilandau finally. Yes, during sex she let him believe that she was addicted to him and played into his fantasy, but in the real world she had sacrificed a great deal to be with him and was stronger because of it. She didn’t put any stock into what he said when he was testing her limits. If she wanted to, she could have him begging for more, but she chose to take the high road and not be a tease. She knew that he was aware of what she put up with to be with him, how much easier her life would be without him around, and that he valued her struggles.

Hitomi looked at the clock.

12:09 AM

She had school the next morning followed by another evening of tutoring. She slept that night, uninterrupted and deep.

-----

Y dont u cum 2 skool nemore

Hitomi pressed Send on her phone, hoping Dilandau would respond to her text message soon.

She looked up and down the student parking lot, searching pointlessly for his motorcycle. It was nearly 7:30 pm, and no one had shown up for tutoring. Hitomi was bored and lonely, and her time alone made her realize that Dilandau hadn’t visited her at school in almost a week and a half.

She glanced at her phone as it sounded.

Dont feel like driving

Hitomi exhaled with a frustrated groan. She headed back to the main office and picked up her backpack, said goodbye to the receptionist, and decided to walk home to clear her head.

It had also been a week and a half since she and Dilandau had ventured out into public on their movie night, and Hitomi figured that he was trying to keep a low profile to make up for their boldness. That didn’t change the fact that she felt so sexually deprived it made her wish she was a virgin again.

She walked along the wet footpath in front of the school, the grey concrete turned brown by the rain that had fallen earlier that day. The air was thick and humid, hanging on her body like a winter coat. Spring was just around the corner.

Why is he doing this to me? He knows we can’t be together at home anymore.

She kicked at a baseball-sized rock in her path, only to find as it exploded in a hail of chunks that it was a clod of mud. She grimaced at her soiled shoe.

Aww, and it’s all over my leg! Uggghh! This is all his fault. If he had come for me today, I could have ridden home with him and I wouldn’t have gotten all this stuff on me.

She wiped at it with her hand, which only served to spread the mess and add to it a mud-smeared palm. She stood up straight and, with an exasperated sigh, threw her head back, looked up to the cloudy heavens, and asked silently ‘Lord, why me?’

She continued on her way, trying to think positive thoughts.

My birthday’s coming up soon. Can’t wait for mom to roll out the red carpet.

She heard a splash as ice cold water seeped into her shoe.

Oh, a puddle! Jesus Christ! OK, world! I get the point! I’ll stop being negative if you stop doing this crap to me!

She marched on with one squishy shoe.

I’m going to start applying for colleges next year. Picking one won’t be hard. I’ll just go to whichever one is furthest from my mother.

Hitomi paused, bracing herself for another mishap. Nothing. She let out a sigh of relief. She continued walking.

I’ve never made a wish on my birthday candles before, not even when I was little. I guess I knew somehow that I would have to save up all that wish power for when mom eventually turned into a psycho bitch from Hell.

Hitomi heard the hum of a motor as a car drove past. It steered to close to the curb, but by the time she realized that, she was already drenched in a curtain of freezing dirty water.

Alright, screw you, world! Just go fuck yourself!

She threw both her middle fingers up in the air before waving down a taxi.

------

Hitomi hoped for a little sympathy when she got home. Or at least some peace. She found neither.

She could hear Yoko screaming before she even came through the door. She entered just in time to catch Dilandau’s back as he stomped down the hallway to the garage. She was caught in the crossfire as Yoko chased him down the stairs.

Just as the middle-aged brat was about to set foot on the second step from the top, she slipped on the carpet and bounced down the rest of the way on her ass, her trademark bathrobe flying up around her waist.

Hitomi didn’t have time to disguise her expression of disgust before Yoko composed herself and fixed her attention on her daughter. Her dark eyes were filled with a mix of embarrassment and anger, each one fueling the other.

Hitomi thought Yoko might shoot laser beams and melt off her flesh then and there.

“Where the fuck have you been, Hitomi?! Do you know what time it is?! School let out hours ago!” Her hair was wild and her words were cracked and hoarse from all the yelling she had already done.

“I was at tutoring, mom.” She tried to keep her voice level. Seeing her mother in this state was borderline terrifying.

“Tutoring?! Until eight fucking o’clock in the evening?! Don’t lie to me, missy. Where the Hell were you, huh?”

“Mom, I was--”

“With some boy, no doubt. Or a man, maybe?” She inched closer to Hitomi.

Hitomi felt her heart speed up and her hair stand on end. She backed up a little.

“You were with a man, I can see it in your eyes.”

Hitomi felt her knees buckle as she backed into the front door, the cold glass chilling her skin.

“Mom, you can call the school. Ask them.”

Yoko’s eyes were glazed over. “Look at how dirty you are. You can’t wash away all of your filth. You let him touch you, didn’t you? Yes, you did.”

Hitomi felt herself about to panic. She saw no way out. Could she hit her mother if she needed to?

Yoko pushed her face only centimeters from her daughter’s nose. Her face was twisted in rage. Her teeth were bared like a rabid dog. She was bent, her limbs stiff and muscles tense. She looked like she was about to kill somebody. “You let him put his hands all over your body, you little slut. Didn’t you?”

Hitomi felt tears well up. Fear rushed through every part of her. She was a cornered animal. “No, mama --”

“DIDN’T YOU!”

Yoko raised her hand high over her head and brought it down swiftly on Hitomi’s face.

Hitomi watched it happen in slow motion, the way many people describe watching a car crash. She couldn’t move, only stare at her mother’s palm as it came close and closer, disappearing from view a split second before she felt a sharp, deep pain rip through her face. Her head snapped to the side, and for a moment Hitomi thought she might pass out. Everything went silent as she was rendered momentarily deaf. She crumbled to the floor like a rag doll, sliding along the door behind her. She put her own hand gingerly to her face, finding it surprisingly wet, an unexpected warmth. She looked at her hand, a bright red ribbon of blood splashed across her palm.

She looked up at her mother. Yoko’s hand was now over her mouth, a look of horror only partially masked. She was wide-eyed, a deer in the headlights, rigid and shaking. She stared at Hitomi as though she were some kind of freak, a monster come to destroy her, a demon come back to haunt her.

She reached for Hitomi, extending and unsteady hand, then pulled it back suddenly, uncertain of what she was supposed to do.

Tears fell in streams down Hitomi’s face, the ones on the left mixing with blood before falling from her chin and staining the white tile floor. Her shoulders shook as she began to cry out loud, soft sobs starting in her chest and fighting their way out through her tight lips.

She stretched her hand out toward Yoko, scared and unsure, reverting to a child’s instincts to seek out their mother when in pain.

“Mommy…” It was barely a whisper, raspy and trembling.

The sound of her voice seemed to free Yoko from her trance. “Oh my God,” she murmured, as if she really were speaking to God. She abruptly turned around and ran up the stairs, the soft thumping of her bare feet filling the air.

Hitomi watched her go. It seemed like a hundred years before her mother finally reached the top, shut her door, and turned the locks.

------

It was nearly midnight before she heard the sound of Dilandau’s motorcycle enter the garage. She checked her face in the bathroom mirror. The gash on her left cheek was only an inch long and didn’t look serious enough for medical attention, but that didn’t stop it from hurting like a motherfucker. Hitomi put peroxide and a gauze pad on it, only making it more obvious.

She guessed that the cut was caused by one of her mother’s rings. Yoko’s finger were thin and boney, and the gems on the top of her rings usually caused them to rotate so that the stones were on the same side as her palm.

Hitomi heard the side door open, followed by footsteps on the stairway. She entered her room just as Dilandau opened the door. His cool expression changed as soon as he saw her face.

“What the Hell happened?” He shut the door after himself and moved across the floor to where Hitomi was standing by her desk. He held the right side of her face carefully in his hand as the fingers of his others delicately traced the outline of her bandage on the left. “You still haven’t answered me.”

She gripped his wrists and moved them from her face, her eyes locking with his. She lost control of her visage and began to weep, letting lose a torrent of emotion as he pulled her close to him.

He sat her down on the bed, stroking her hair as she cried into his chest. “Hitomi, who did this to you?” His voice was hard with anger.

She still couldn’t speak, her breath gone from her lungs.

“I swear to fucking God, Hitomi, whoever did this to you is gonna pay.”

She forced herself to breathe in and out, calming her staggered panting. She pulled away from the comfort of his embrace.

“Shhhhee…did…it,” Hitomi stammered, looking down at her lap, ashamed of her weakness.

Dilandau put his hand under her chin and forced her eyes to meet his. They were a clear, cloudless red, shining brilliantly like freshly polished rubies.

Hitomi thought back to the blood on her hand, then to her mother’s ring.

“Hitomi, who hurt you?”

“Mom. My mom hit me,” she managed to answer before being overtaken by another wave of devastating sobs.

“Yoko did this to you?” Dilandau’s brow furrowed, his abhorrence evident.

Hitomi nodded, and he drew her back into his hold. He held her through the night until she exhausted herself and tossed and turned in fitful sleep.

--------

She awoke the next morning feeling groggy and tired. Her eyes were swollen from crying and her face was sore. Dilandau wasn’t in the bed. She checked the clock on her nightstand. 12:43 PM.

Hitomi threw her legs over the side of the bed and made her way to the bathroom. She peed, washed her hands, and began to study herself in the mirror. She removed the gauze with care, groaning at the pain caused by unsticking the bandage from her wound and peeling off the medical tape. The cut was still red, and there were blue and yellow bruises all along her cheek. She put a fresh dressing on the gash and went back to her room.

Dilandau was waiting for her with an aspirin and a glass of water. He still looked concerned, almost disapproving, as though he were scolding her skin for breaking.

As Hitomi sat she took the medicine with the water, the coldness of it like spikes down her throat, and put the glass on her nightstand. She felt dazed and numb, the world around her illusory. She tried to snap out of it, to anchor herself in reality, refusing to be broken by her trauma.

“She wanted to kill me,” she said, clear and dryly. “You should have seen her. She was about to snap. The look in her eyes…like a starved animal. I just kept thinking, ‘I’m going to die. My mother is going to kill me.’”

She heard Dilandau take in a deep mouthful of air.

“Hitomi, we have to end this.”

She turned sharply to face him. “What…?”

He was leaning against the door frame, and she could see behind him a duffle bag.

“It’s gone too far,” he said, not moving from his spot. “This is my fault. I have to make sure that this doesn’t get worse than it already has.”

“No,” she said, her expression giving away her confusion. “You don’t have to leave.” She got up and walked toward him, but he moved into the room and sat down with her again. “Or we can go together. I can go with you.”

He shook his head. “I fucked everything up, Hitomi.” He turned his head from her. “I just wanted to love you…”

Her heart overflowed at his words. “Then don’t leave, Dilandau. Stay here and protect me. We can --”

“No, we can’t! Whatever you’re about to say, forget it! Don’t you see? I’m the reason your life is so fucked up. I’m the reason your mom fucking hates you. Because I couldn’t leave you alone, now you’re going through all this shit that you were never meant to experience. Not a girl like you, Hitomi. You’re supposed to go to college and marry some rich guy and have a big house in the suburbs and a cat and dog and all that fairytale crap, not get knocked down by your mom because she’s jealous that you’re getting porked by her boyfriend. Don’t you understand? We were never supposed to happen. We were a mistake.”

By the time he realized what he had said, it was too late.

Hitomi felt her gut wrench. She forced herself to hold back the tears. No. No more.

“Get out.”

Her words were low, laced with venom. Her eyes were narrowed and her body was stiff.

“Hitomi, I didn’t mean it like that. I was --”

“No! You listen to me.” She stood up, her fists clenched into tight balls. “I gave you everything. I gave you everything I had. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, nothing I wouldn’t give up. I changed my whole life, I…I love you so much, and you don’t care. You don’t even fucking care! I gave you my virginity, my innocence, and it meant nothing to you! I don’t mean anything to you! And you don’t care! You don’t care how much you hurt me or that it kills me to see you with someone else! And I know that it’s impossible and it will never work out, but that doesn’t matter to me. What matters is that I love you and we can’t be together and that doesn’t bother you. You don’t think I’m worth fighting for. Not even a little bit. I gave you everything, and I’m nothing to you. I feel so much and you feel nothing. Nothing!”

Hitomi was out of breath, sweat forming on her brow.

Dilandau stood. “Just listen to me. I --”

“No, stop it. I’m done listening to you,” she put her fingers to his lips, quieting any objections. “I’ve done everything you’ve ever ask of me without question. Now I’m requesting the same courtesy. Just go.”

He turned and went out into the hall, picking up his bag. She didn’t watch him, only stared hard at the blank wall that he stood in front of seconds before. She heard his boots on the stairs, and closed her eyes. The sound of his steps paused and changed direction. The air in her room shifted as he moved through it to her side. She kept her eyes shut. She though he was about to say something when she felt the softness of his lips on her undamaged cheek. It was so light and sudden that it could have been the wind.

She waited until she heard the garage door start and rushed down the stairs. As she opened the front door, she saw him and his motorcycle zoom past in a blur of black and silver. She ran out to the middle of the road and watched him get smaller and smaller until he disappeared from view. She stood there until she could no longer hear the roar of his machine and went back inside.

------

Hitomi didn’t return to school until the following Monday. No one but her teachers and Mika and noticed her absence. She floated from class to class in a haze, present in the real world but lost in her own.

“I know that something bad happened, and that you might not want to talk about it, but I’m here if you need me,” Mika wrote in a note that Hitomi found inside her locker. It was signed with Mika’s beautiful twirling handwriting and punctuated with a heart, and it was responsible for Hitomi’s first smile in days.

The passage of time meant nothing to her, and she didn’t notice how much had gone by until her saw her birthday circled with balloons on her homeroom teacher’s calendar.

Another year closer to death.

She and Yoko didn’t speak at all anymore. Hitomi road the bus to and from school, taking her meals to her room and doing laundry well after midnight during the week. Every now and then there as a hundred dollar bill on the dinner table, and she promptly deposited those into a savings account she had opened.

She figured life would continue as it was until either she or her mother kill the other, the poison of their hatred always present in the house.

Things did changed, as they inevitably do, one day as Hitomi waited in line to board the No. 22 bus home. She saw a flicker of movement in the corner of her eye, but it was gone by the time she turned. As she settled into a plastic seat near the back, she saw what had caused the movement parked outside the window. A familiar motorcyclist sat atop a familiar black motorcycle. He revved the engine when he saw her see him. She turned her face forward, and ignored him as the bus slowly started forward. She closed her eyes all the way home.

The routine continued. Every day after school, Hitomi got on the bus and closed her eyes until her classmates shouted at her that they were at her stop. Every day, he revved his engine to make sure she knew he was there.

Her birthday was like any other day. At school, her homeroom teacher forced a less than enthusiastic class sing her the traditional birthday song. She got a B on her calculus quiz. Mika left a card in her locker.

As Hitomi doodled in her art class, nibbling at a cupcake that had been brought for another girl’s birthday, an office runner left a note with the teacher.

“Hitomi, there’s something for you at the main office,” Mrs. Juliqu said while scribbling a hall pass. She smiled as she handed it over. “Looks like someone else knew it was a special day.”

Hitomi saw a bright arraignment of balloons and flowers tied to a teddy bear, and her heart jumped. Could he have…?

“Hitomi?” the receptionist asked.

She nodded.

“Go ahead and sign for it here.”

She scribbled her signature and turned her attention to the gift. All her favorite colors and flowers were there. Green, blue, lilies, and daisies. Her spirits lifted, and she dared to hope. She opened the card, reading the message printed neatly in her mother’s handwriting.

One more year and then you’re out.

Hitomi dumped the bear and the rest in the garbage can on her way back to class.

-------

As Hitomi boarded the No. 22 bus and settled into the plastic seat, she closed her eyes and waited to hear the usual sound of a motorcycle engine. Nothing.

She opened her eyes, searching the parking lot, and saw him pull up beside the bus a few seconds later. The driver pulled the lever that closed the doors and shifted the big yellow monster into drive. It started to move, slowly like a waking giant, and the black motorcycle would follow until they reached the main road.

“Wait! Stop the bus!”

Everyone groaned as Hitomi stood up and darted to the front. The doors had hardly opened before she squeezed through and ran around the front, hopping onto the back of the waiting motorcycle.

She didn’t know where they were going, or even if the rider she was holding on to was who she thought it was, but she was getting further away from where she had been, and that was all the convincing she needed.

They drove until the feeder roads turned bumpy and then to dirt, then onto a little privet one way. The trees that sheltered the path from the sun were green and leafy, unlike the barren trees around the city. They stopped at a small cottage at the end of the drive.

Mildred’s Bed and Breakfast, the sigh on the lawn read.

She got off the bike, and the rider followed suite. He removed his helmet, shaking his brilliant silver locks lose.

“Dilandau…”

“Diland au! You’re back!” A stout woman with graying hair bounded down the three porch steps. “Oh, and you’ve brought your…uh…” She looked up and down at Hitomi’s school uniform.

“Sister,” he said. “She’s going to help me survey your place to decide if we want to reserve it for our parents’ anniversary.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” the smile returned to her face. “Well, young lady, I’m Mildred, and this is my humble home.” She gestured toward to cottage. “I hope you find everything to your liking, dearie. You know, when I was your age, my parents --”

“Mildred, please,” Dilandau interrupted, impatience biting at the edge of his words, “My…sister and I…,” his focus shifted to Hitomi. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

“I’m sorry, dear,” she seemed not to notice his annoyance. “I’ll let you two look around. Just come to the reading room if you need anything. That’s were I’ll be.”

When she was gone, Hitomi and Dilandau didn’t move. They each drank in the sight of the other, fearing that if they budged, they would somehow be without alone again.

Hitomi was the first to speak. “So, now what?” She tried to seem aloof, not wanting to let him see her exhilaration.

It hade been a few weeks since she had sent him away, and his absence tore at Hitomi’s insides every waking moment. She told herself that she had done the right thing, that their separation was the only way they could survive, but she couldn’t deny how complete she felt just being near him. She wanted nothing more than to throw her arms around his neck and beg him to take her away. She had gone this far. She could go further.

“There are some things we need to talk about.”

His tone was cool and nonchalant. She couldn’t tell if he was being distant or just guarded. Their last encounter had caused her pain, but it had left him wounded as well. She had underestimated his feelings for her, and she regretted it more than all of her past mistakes combined.

Hitomi followed him into the quaint little house with blue trim and potted plants, through the living room with plastic covered furniture, along the halls that were lined with portraits and snapshots of family members at reunions, weddings, graduations, recitals, barbeques, and a million other events. They stopped the door at the end of the hall, and Dilandau put a rusted key tied to a red ribbon into the lock, turned, and ushered Hitomi into the room.

He headed for a tray atop the bookshelf that was lined with assorted liquors, a couple of glasses, and a bucket of ice. She looked around, studying the painting of a sailboat that was mounted above the fireplace. Opposite of that was a four-poster bed with a hand embroidered quilt. A small doily-covered table and set of chairs were by the window. She moved the lace curtain to one side, taking in the view of the garden out back. There were several rows of tomatoes, carrots, lettuce, an apple tree, peach tree, rose bushes, a pond and fountain, and beds of flowers she couldn’t classify offhand.

“Sit down.”

Hitomi turned. Dilandau was downing a glass of vodka. He quickly poured himself another. She settle on the corner of the bed and ran her fingers over the carvings on the wooden post.

“How long have you been here?”

“Ever since that first day I waited for you outside your bus. I’m paying for it with my job.”

She laughed a little, knowing he was being sarcastic. He was mad, and he had a right to be, but so did she.

He joined her on the bed. She knew he was staring at her, and she forced herself to meet his gaze. His eyes were intense, and they bore through her soul. She bit her lip, fighting the urge to throw herself on top of him. There was sexual tension, yes, but more than anything she simply wanted to feel him, touch him, know he was real.

“I missed you,” he said, the misery in his voice was like a dagger in her heart.

“I missed you too,” she reached out to put her hand on his, but he pulled away.

“Hitomi, I was right when I said that we had to end it. You know that?”

She didn’t want to admit it. It hurt too much. “Yes.”

“I need to tell you everything. There are things about me…things that affected us…” He seemed to drift off, his eyes growing distant.

“Dilan --”

“Hitomi, I have to tell you everything. Let me talk. Don’t ask questions until I’m done, OK? Then I‘ll answer anything you want.”

She promised.

He finished the drink in his hand. “When I met Yoko, I thought it was just going to be sex. I thought I would just get a few free drinks, fuck her, and leave the next morning. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but that’s how it was.”

He tossed the glass from hand to hand, his eyes lowered. “Then, I was hooked.”

Hitomi crossed her arms and looked away, not that he noticed her aggravation.

“The first time I saw you, I couldn’t believe my eyes. You were so perfect. Everything about you was just…I don’t know. Fucking amazing. I don’t even know how to say it. But I went back with Yoko the next night and the next just so I could see you. She yelled at me for walking around the house, but I didn’t care. That’s why she was so attracted to me. I was the first guy she had who disobeyed, and it turned her on. But I ignored her because I wanted to see you. I know it sounds fucked up, but that’s how it is.”

He exhaled and rose slowly, as though he were an old man with tired aching joints. He walked back to the bookshelf and continued talking as he poured another drink. “Sex isn’t that big of a deal to me. I started having sex when I was twelve, so I’ve been doing it for almost half of my life. That’s why I wanted to have you so badly. I don’t know any other way to express my feelings.”

He took a swig. “At least, I didn’t before you showed me. The way we do it, Hitomi, when it’s slow or fast, when we’re together period, I’ve never done it like that before. It’s not just about the feeling or getting off. It’s like when I’m with you…all I feel is you. All I see, all I smell, all I taste, all I hear is you. I know it doesn’t seem that way because I’m a fucking pig, but it’s true. I’d never made love before I met you. It fucking killed me when you told me that you were “separating love and lust,” but I felt like I didn’t have a right to say anything because we couldn’t be together properly. I couldn’t tell you how to handle yourself when I couldn’t even be a good boyfriend. I know it’s hard to believe, but I do love you. I love you so fucking much, I can hardly keep myself from touching you.”

He put a shaking had on his left temple, frustration mounting. He wasn’t used to explaining himself, exposing his emotions like this. He didn’t like being so revealed, but he was doing it anyway. “Not like that. I just want to hold you… Now, are you still listening? ‘Cause this is where the shit gets really fucked.”

He smiled to himself, sadistic and sardonically and without joy. “I couldn’t get it up for Yoko anymore. No, that’s an understatement. She fucking disgusted me. They way she would prance around in that stupid robe thinking she was fucking hotass shit…” He shuttered.

Hitomi snickered. She turned back to Dilandau when she felt the mattress sink. He was leaning forward, his hands clasped between his legs. He held a lighter in one.

“I only wanted you. That’s when she started taking it out on you. She knew what was going on the whole time, but she didn’t care until it started interfering with her getting fucked. I swear, Hitomi, I hated being with her. The only way I could do it was if I thought of you. I screamed out your name so many times… That night, when she hit you, I told her I didn’t want to have sex, and she went off. I went off too. I couldn’t help myself. I held my tongue for so long that I snapped. I told her good it was with you, how fucking awful it was with her, how she made me want to vomit, and how I got up every morning because I knew it would be another day with you in it.”

He unclasped his hands and pulled a cigarette out from behind his ear. Hitomi wondered if he had it when he was wearing his helmet. He lit it. “The morning after she smacked you around, I confronted her. Told her I was gonna call child protective services and have her ugly mug plastered across the ten o’clock news. She just laughed and told me that I had to choose. I could stay with her and she would forget about my little ‘infidelity.’” His hands rose and fell as he gestured with air quotations.

“Or?” Hitomi dared to ask.

He turned to her, sprinkling ash on the floor before taking a long drag.

“Or she was going to call the police and have me charged with statutory rape.”

Hitomi‘s eyes went wide. “But how could she? I mean, it was consensual. I --”

“What did I say about questions, huh?” He was smiling again, this time for real. He stood up again and put out the cigarette in the glass he had used for drinking.

“I tried to talk her out of it, but she had her mind made up. She said that it didn’t matter if it would ruin your life. As long as we weren’t together, she would win. That was exactly how she said it. When I left, I thought I could move on. I ended up in a city about 600 miles from here. One night I was sitting some stranger’s den, drinking and smoking, and some chick in a skirt climbed onto my lap. I fucking pushed her off, onto the floor, because I was so disgusted. I don’t want that life anymore, Hitomi. All I want is you.”

----

They talked for the rest of the day and into the night. Most of their energy was focused on restraining themselves. Old habits die hard.

He was true to his word and answered everything Hitomi asked.

He had never known his mother or father and had been raised by an uncle and cousin. He ran away when he was ten because his uncle had tried to shove him in the dryer during a bad LSD trip. He bounced around until he was finally put into the foster system when he was twelve. He lost his virginity to his foster sister a month later. She was thirteen, a horny stoner preteen with braces. They stopped having sex because he was afraid she would give him an STD. He ran away from his last foster home on his seventeenth birthday and lived with some friends. That fell through when he ended up sleeping with a girl who turned out to be someone else’s pregnant girlfriend. He moved out and decided to try his hand at college. He got his GED and got accepted. All he had to do was take a bunch of remedial courses. Unfortunately he became bored out of his brains in Elementary Algebra and gave up on his dreams of becoming a pyro technician.

After they had fought and he left, Dilandau drifted as he had said earlier. When he came back, he took a job as a gas station cashier. Once he had saved up some cash from his sixteen hour shifts, he quit and came to Mildred’s. He did repairs around the house, and she let him stay for free until he was done. He was down to his last night there when Hitomi finally came to him.

When all the questions were answered, they made love for the last time. Everything was perfect. Every touch, every motion, every turn and thrust was practiced and perfected. She straddled him, her supple breasts bouncing as she road him. Their eyes never broke their connection. She felt for the first time all the emotion for her that he had kept locked away and protected. His hands on her thighs were firm yet gentle, squeezing hard only when his orgasm became difficult to delay. They would come together, he said. It would be like nothing she had experienced ever before.

Hitomi couldn’t help but cry. It was no longer sorrow. She had never felt so complete. Every one of his soft moans and groans made her heart skip a beat. When they came, her orgasm swept over her like a tidal wave. He spooned her, and they slept until the afternoon sun filtered through the curtains and bathed their bodies in light.

As they said goodbye, they shared their last deep kiss. He gave her a birthday present, a red pendant on a gold chain. He said he bought it from a gypsy, and that it was blessed to protect the wearer from jealous spirits.

Hitomi didn’t beg for him to take her. She knew it would only bring him pain to have to say no. They had gone over it for an hour the night before. Once Yoko knew she was missing, she would send the police, privet investigators, air force, and national guard after her. She was not going to let them win. It had to be this way. Maybe in another time or place they could have been together, but not here.

When Hitomi watched him drive off, she was back on the street in front of her house. She had hoped the first time he left that she would meet him again, but this time she knew that it was the last time she would ever see Dilandau.

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  Epilogue

Hitomi finished her senior year at high school as one of the top students in her class. She accepted a scholarship from the university furthest from home.

At the graduation ceremony, there was one empty chair on stage right in the middle of the row of honor students. While her classmates threw up their hats, hugged, cried, and promised to keep in touch, Hitomi was taking the check Yoko held between them.

“We’re even. I don’t want to see you again.”

“We’ll never be even, mom.”

Yoko turned on her heels and marched back into the house. Josh was waiting for her in bed.

Hitomi rolled her eyes and tucked the check into her wallet. She knew how much it was for. It wasn’t enough.

She got into the cab, settled in next to the guitar her father got her for Christmas, and closed her eyes. “Jiro Airport, please.”

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Review if you want more! Liked, didn’t like, hated, loved, want to scream or praise, go ahead. I really want feedback about the plot, characters, my writing, whatever you think needs to be addressed.

See you at chapter 3!