Leaving Madeleine - Part 10
"Do you like Murakami?" Kiyoko asked, seeing me with the book.
"One of the few contemporary authors I read. Always wondered what he's like in Japanese."
"Probably same."
"Probably, " I said. " 'Language is dead' they say, but I think that's only an excuse for bad writing.
She brought the tea. "I don't understand."
"Nevermind. Not important."
I sipped the tea. It burned my lips and tongue. I quickly pulled the cup away from my mouth.
"Careful, it's very hot!"
"Yeah," I laughed and so did she. "Let it cool down a little.
I put the cup down on the table.
"So where are these clothes?"
"Hm! Follow!"
Kiyoko sprouted into action like someone shot off a starter pistol and led me to one of the many racks of clothes. She slid some pieces aside and pulled out a light grey suit, presenting it to me like a newborn baby. She located a generic, white Calvin Klein dress shirt and gave that to me also.
"Okay?" she asked.
I nodded. She led me to the bathroom. I went in and shut the door.
I could tell right away that the pants were hemmed too short. Once I got them on, they were a little tight as well. I sucked in enough to zip them up and fasten the clasp. The shirt fit perfectly and was itchy and creased enough to determine she had just bought it. The jacket seemed to be a a thirty-six. Sometimes I was a forty, but most of the time I was a thirty-eight. Never was I a thirty-six.
I looked at myself in the full length mirror that hung on the back of the bathroom door. The site wasn't flattering. "What am I doing here?" I thought to myself. But it was too late now. I unlocked the door and stepped out.
After quick eyeball inspection and a brief silence, Kiyoko burst into laughter. She was embarrased about it, but the more she tried to stop, the more fitful her laughter became. She covered her mouth with both hands trying to contain it.
I laughed too.
"It's your suit, honey," I said.
"I'm sorry. So sorry!" she was bright red.
I shook my head, turning a little red myself. She finally regained control and started taking measurements and making adjustments, little giggles escaping like aftershocks.
"You are too big!"
"I'm North American."
She moved her hand along the inside of the waist. I thought about kissing her, but pushed the thought away. She took a tape measure and wrapped it around me.
"Let go," she said, tapping my stomach.
I did as I was told while picturing the croissant I ate earlier. She took the rest of my measurments and was very delicate doing the inseam. A couple of times, while down there, she'd look up with her big, wide eyes and just look right into me. Every time she did, I'd get lost with her. But as soon as she pulled away, I'd think of Madeleine. About how I would have to introduce a secret between us. About how in someway, me being here was her fault just as much as it was mine. About how I was just as weak as every other man.
Kiyoko stood up.
"All finished!"
"One of the few contemporary authors I read. Always wondered what he's like in Japanese."
"Probably same."
"Probably, " I said. " 'Language is dead' they say, but I think that's only an excuse for bad writing.
She brought the tea. "I don't understand."
"Nevermind. Not important."
I sipped the tea. It burned my lips and tongue. I quickly pulled the cup away from my mouth.
"Careful, it's very hot!"
"Yeah," I laughed and so did she. "Let it cool down a little.
I put the cup down on the table.
"So where are these clothes?"
"Hm! Follow!"
Kiyoko sprouted into action like someone shot off a starter pistol and led me to one of the many racks of clothes. She slid some pieces aside and pulled out a light grey suit, presenting it to me like a newborn baby. She located a generic, white Calvin Klein dress shirt and gave that to me also.
"Okay?" she asked.
I nodded. She led me to the bathroom. I went in and shut the door.
I could tell right away that the pants were hemmed too short. Once I got them on, they were a little tight as well. I sucked in enough to zip them up and fasten the clasp. The shirt fit perfectly and was itchy and creased enough to determine she had just bought it. The jacket seemed to be a a thirty-six. Sometimes I was a forty, but most of the time I was a thirty-eight. Never was I a thirty-six.
I looked at myself in the full length mirror that hung on the back of the bathroom door. The site wasn't flattering. "What am I doing here?" I thought to myself. But it was too late now. I unlocked the door and stepped out.
After quick eyeball inspection and a brief silence, Kiyoko burst into laughter. She was embarrased about it, but the more she tried to stop, the more fitful her laughter became. She covered her mouth with both hands trying to contain it.
I laughed too.
"It's your suit, honey," I said.
"I'm sorry. So sorry!" she was bright red.
I shook my head, turning a little red myself. She finally regained control and started taking measurements and making adjustments, little giggles escaping like aftershocks.
"You are too big!"
"I'm North American."
She moved her hand along the inside of the waist. I thought about kissing her, but pushed the thought away. She took a tape measure and wrapped it around me.
"Let go," she said, tapping my stomach.
I did as I was told while picturing the croissant I ate earlier. She took the rest of my measurments and was very delicate doing the inseam. A couple of times, while down there, she'd look up with her big, wide eyes and just look right into me. Every time she did, I'd get lost with her. But as soon as she pulled away, I'd think of Madeleine. About how I would have to introduce a secret between us. About how in someway, me being here was her fault just as much as it was mine. About how I was just as weak as every other man.
Kiyoko stood up.
"All finished!"
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