The Bride's Kimono Read online

  I groggily opened the door to a young Japanese woman who looked much like the other women I’d seen drinking downstairs but was very tense. She had a page-boy hairstyle that swung over her face when she bowed.

  “Please forgive me for disturbing you. Aren’t you Rei Shimura?” After I nodded, she said, “Oh, how lucky I found you. The lady at the front desk wouldn’t tell me your room number. She would only give the telephone number, and that was unfortunately engaged.”

  “So how did you find me?” I asked.

  “Hana-chan had written your room number on a paper in our room. It took me a while to find, but at last I did.”

  “Oh,” I said, finally making sense of this woman, who had referred to Hana Matsura using the familiar, affectionate “chan” suffix. “You must be Hana’s roommate, the one who so kindly changed seats so I could have a place with my luggage.”

  She ducked her head and smiled. “Yes. I’m Kyoko Omori. I know Hana-chan enjoyed that time with you. She said you were a nice new friend. That’s why I thought you might know where she is.”

  “I’m afraid that I can’t help you. Hana said she would meet me at the hotel at four-thirty, and I’ve been here since four without seeing her.”

  “How strange. She agreed to meet me at the mall’s shuttle stop at four, and she wasn’t there. I’m worried now because the last shuttle bus came back, and she wasn’t aboard.”

  Suddenly I understood Kyoko’s fear. So many Japanese tourists thought that stepping outside the group was dangerous. Hana’s missing the shuttle—even though the mall was just a few minutes away—represented the worst of the unknown.

  “How well were you and Hana getting along today?” I asked.

  “Fine, of course!”

  “I don’t mean to be rude, but she did say you had a small argument yesterday.”

  “She did?” Kyoko put a hand over her mouth. “Oh, I’m embarrassed now.”

  “She said something to me about wanting to spend some time privately with American…friends.” I used a euphemism because I wasn’t sure how much Hana had told Kyoko, and Kyoko seemed to be rather innocent.

  “She has no friends here,” Kyoko said sharply. “She wanted to find boyfriends. I think everyone knew that plan except for her fiancé.”

  So Kyoko had the same opinion of the plan that I did. I said, “I can understand you being worried, but I think we should just give her some time.”

  “Rei-san, would you be brave enough to take a taxi with me there? Just to check if she is enjoying a dinner or dancing—I’d be so much more comfortable knowing.”

  So this was what she’d wanted from me all along—but had not said immediately. Maybe she couldn’t stand it that Hana might have a good time without her. Raising a flag of worry was one way to be invited along to a place where she hadn’t been asked.

  “I’m actually rather tired,” I said to Kyoko.

  “Oh.” Her face clouded. “Yes of course. Well, I’ll see you later.”

  “I’ll look for you in the lobby tomorrow morning,” I said, trying to close the door without seeming unfriendly.

  “We are all leaving early for a shopping trip to another mall called Potomac Mills. That’s why I’m worried. If Hana-chan is not in the lobby at eight, she’ll miss that trip.”

  I sighed, sensing how extremely worried Kyoko was. “Okay. I can spend, oh, I don’t know, an hour with you for a quick run around the mall. But after that, I absolutely have to come back. I’m very, very tired.”

  “Thank you for your kindness, Rei-san! I will not forget it.”

  Another taxi ride, because the shuttles had stopped running. It was just five minutes until I saw the Nation’s Place mall. At first glance, it didn’t look that immense, but as the driver rounded a corner, I saw how it stretched on and on. The mall had been designed to resembled a big white gift box, with ribs of shining golden lights where a ribbon would go. There was a dramatic conflagration of lights on top of the mall that looked like a gift bow.

  “Sugoi,” Kyoko murmured, her first words since we’d gotten into the cab.

  I smiled to myself. Sugoi was a Japanese adjective that could be used in two ways—to say “fabulous” or “frightening.” Kyoko might like the way the mall looked at night, but I thought it was monstrous, both for its aesthetics and size. The thought of running through the mall in an hour now seemed an impossibility.

  “Which entrance would you like?” the driver asked.

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “Are the bars and restaurants all in one area?”

  “Certainly. They’re mostly through the New York entrance, and on the second floor. Shall I take you there?”

  “Please. And, um, can you tell me if there’s a place inside that’s known for its singles scene?”

  “Japanese ladies like Rough Rolling and the Hard Rock Café. They like to see the men wearing the blue jeans and tattoos,” the driver added, a bit unnecessarily.

  How appetizing, I thought as I walked through the mall’s doors with Kyoko. And how stupid I was to let a woman I hardly knew drag me off to a shopping mall in search of someone who was having a good time by herself.

  “This doesn’t make sense,” Kyoko said after studying the big, bright mall map close to the doors we’d just passed through. “I cannot seem to find Rough Rolling. Maybe it is my poor English.”

  Taking the hint, I stepped up to look. “You probably didn’t see it because it’s on the second floor. See? We take the escalator and it’s right next to Austin Grill.” There were about two dozen bars and restaurants along the second floor—I’d poke my head in the likely ones, as quickly as I could. Hana, with her dyed hair and makeup, would stand out.

  By looking at restaurants and nightclubs, we were just circling the tip of the iceberg. The map showed a dizzying list of shops on its two floors; some shops had names that I’d grown up with, and others were completely unfamiliar. Banana Republic, Guess?, J. Crew, and Talbots were old familiars. Oilily and Anthropologie were new to me.

  I grabbed Kyoko’s wrist when we got off the escalator on the second floor. The nightclub area was so crowded that I was afraid I’d lose her. Waiting lines snaked down the mall’s marble hallway, where bouncers studiously examined driver’s licenses and the faces of young people holding them.

  “Let’s go in the Mexican place first.” How I’d missed Mexican food. I stepped right up to the hostess’s station and told her I just needed to quickly survey the area for a friend.

  “Fine,” she said, not even looking up from the list of waiting customers. Kyoko and I walked through the restaurant’s smoky bar. People of all ages were drinking, smoking, and tossing tortilla chips at each other. No Hana.

  We went to the next stop, Rough Rolling, which had a black metal-and-steel design theme. I couldn’t see past the bouncer standing in front of a mesh door with his arms folded. Behind the door was the discordant sound of heavy metal music. A long line of young people wearing black leather waited. We managed to convince the bartender to let us in for a minute, but there was no girl in a red cowboy hat, black leather jeans, and a T-shirt with a bumblebee.

  An hour later we’d been through all the bars. Hana wasn’t around, and none of the hosts remembered seeing a young Japanese woman with artificially brown hair, a red cowboy hat, and black leather pants. I told Kyoko I was going home, and she was welcome to come with me. She agreed, looking sadder than ever.

  In the cab, I looked at Kyoko, and her face was in her hands. She was crying.

  “Come on, it’s going to be all right, Kyoko-san.” I felt guilty for my earlier feeling of being tired of Kyoko’s stress.

  “But what if she stays out all night? We’re supposed to go to Potomac Mills, where I know that Hana wanted to purchase some household goods. If she hasn’t returned by eight in the morning, she’ll lose her chance!”

  “She’ll come back,” I said wearily to Kyoko. “I promise you, she’ll come back.”

  8

  In my hotel room,
the telephone’s message light was blinking. My parents had called again. I decided I’d better call them immediately, tired as I was. If I didn’t make a preemptive strike, they were liable to call me back when I’d fallen asleep.

  “So you were out this evening? Were you having dinner with friends?” my father asked after he picked up the phone in San Francisco.

  “No. There’s a Japanese tour group staying here, and one of the tourists needed help with something, so I took her to the shopping mall. How are you two?” I tried to change the subject, because I didn’t want to have to explain more about Hana.

  “Oh, we’re looking forward to your visit! Have you gotten your tickets yet?” My mother had gotten on another phone to join the conversation.

  “I’m afraid I haven’t had time. Let’s see, we were talking about me coming on Saturday, right?”

  “We’d hoped for earlier, but Saturday is fine,” my father said. “I’m very proud that you’re doing those lectures at the museum. You must give that job your full attention.”

  We said good night. I snapped off the light, checked my alarm clock, and had snuggled down to sleep in the hotel bed when my doorbell rang.

  The peephole was too high for me, so I called out, “Who is it?”

  There was no reply. Probably Kyoko hadn’t understood my English. I knew it could only be her, at this hour. I unlocked the door and opened it with the chain on.

  In the two inches of space, I saw a sliver of reddish-gold hair, ruddy skin, and one green eye looking right at me.

  I slammed the door shut, but Hugh Glendinning pushed it back open.

  “Thank God I found you. Give me a chance to speak, Rei. Please.”

  “Apparently, you don’t want to know me anymore. Well, I feel the same way, so just leave!” He’d caught me off guard, and I couldn’t check my emotions.

  “Shhh,” he whispered. “Do you want the whole hotel to hear you? Just let me in for a minute.”

  “How did you get my room number?” I didn’t think I’d told Allison or Jamie.

  “I asked this Japanese girl peeking out of her room down the hall if she knew you. I thought, if there was a single Japanese person in the hotel, you’d most likely have befriended her.”

  “Gee, that really narrows it down, given that I’m in the thick of an OL tour group. I was just out at the mall trying to find one who’s missing. Actually, I’m rather tired from a fruitless search, so I’ll say good riddance, I mean good night—”

  “I’m not leaving. I’ve waited too long to see you.”

  I looked at Hugh, and realized two things: first, that he would stay until the hotel’s security threw him out, and second, that he’d said something rather strange. He’d waited to see me. What did that mean? He’d been out of communication with me for the last year, so I couldn’t imagine the excuse. I also knew I’d never get to sleep if I didn’t hear it. After a few seconds of deliberation, I unchained the door.

  Hugh strode into my room, taking in the rumpled bed and faux-antique furniture with a slight wrinkle of his beautiful, beaky nose. After a moment he made as if he would sit down on the room’s only chair, which was hung with the underwear and stockings I planned to wear the next day. I stopped him.

  “It’s too crowded in here. Let me, um, get dressed, and we can go downstairs.” I turned my back on him, as if that would give me more privacy, and pulled on a pair of ancient jeans under my ancient Lanz flannel nightgown. Then I realized I was going to have to do something about my top part, so I slunk into my bathroom, shut the door halfway so I could keep an eye on what he was doing in my room, and put on the blouse I’d worn earlier. I slid my feet into my Hello Kitty sandals and quickly brushed my hair.

  “There’s a lounge downstairs,” Hugh said. “It doesn’t look great, but I think it would serve the purpose.”

  “I was there earlier. They have good prices on wine by the glass.” I realized after I’d said it that I didn’t want any more wine. I didn’t want to be any fuzzier than I already was.

  Hugh made a beeline for the table where I’d lounged miserably by myself during the afternoon. He settled down in a wing chair upholstered with what looked like plane-seat fabric. I took the chair across from it.

  “It took me hours of calling around to find you were here,” Hugh said as we sat down. “I’m surprised that you chose to stay smack in the middle of nowhere. You used to be such a downtown girl.”

  “You could have asked Allison where I was staying.”

  Hugh shook his head. “I can’t let them know that I know you. That was the whole problem at lunch today. Thank God you understood and went along.”

  “Believe me, the last thing I want to offer you is understanding,” I snapped. “At the restaurant I clammed up because I was confused—and more than a little hurt. I couldn’t believe you had forgotten me so quickly. But then again, I should have known. I haven’t heard a peep from you in eleven months.”

  Hugh moved forward and reached toward me. When I turned my palm outward, he stopped. “All right, I’d better start the explanation by saying that I feel bad about being out of touch. That’s why I arranged for you to come to the museum.”

  “No!” I was paralyzed with horror. “I thought they really wanted me. So how did it happen—did you pay them or something?”

  “It’s nothing like that. I’ve been in Washington for the last seven months, and in a fit of boredom, I agreed to join a committee at the museum. And I’ve…well, I’ve been thinking of you. A couple of months ago, I overheard that they needed a replacement speaker for the kimono opening. I gave your name to someone who knows Allison’s assistant without saying that I knew you personally.”

  “How could you?” I breathed. “Do you know how that makes me feel? I would never have taken crumbs from you. Now I’m going to have to leave. No doubt I’ll have to reimburse them, out of my own pocket, for the plane and hotel.”

  “That would be rash, especially seeing as the events around your visit will be listed in The Washington Post tomorrow. Please stay the week at least. I think it will genuinely help your career.”

  “You couldn’t have done this because you cared about me. If you cared, you would have stayed with me in Japan.”

  “I wanted to be with you, but not in Japan. Remember?” Hugh said softly.

  “I recall a certain political agenda was more important to you than anything,” I said, remembering how Hugh had left shortly after the citizens of Scotland had gotten the right to govern themselves. The new parliament needed legal advisers, and Hugh was eager to be one.

  “Well, devolution isn’t going smoothly,” Hugh said. “With the style of decision making that we Scots have—let’s say a bit argumentative—there is no clear path. I dragged myself all over the country trying to broker agreements between people. The more I looked into things, the more I began to question what we were doing. I mean, Scotland’s gained the right to make decisions that England can’t. Even though I’m a nationalist, I see that as being unfair. That kind of unfairness can lead to trouble.”

  “So you were busy worrying, hmm? Too busy to even let me know you’d dumped me.”

  “You’re the one who wouldn’t marry me.” Hugh kept his eyes on me, and now it was my turn to blush.

  “Okay, I admit I’ve been indecisive, but I still wanted…not to lose contact. But you stopped writing, and your phone was disconnected. No further information available, the British Telecom operator told me.”

  Hugh bit his lip. “Sorry. Why didn’t you do a Web search? It’s easy to find my e-mail address—”

  “I don’t believe in e-mail!” I bleated so loudly that the people at the next table turned to frown.

  A waitress approached us with an expectant expression. I ordered mineral water, and Hugh tea.

  When the waitress left, I said, “How can you stand tea in America?”

  “What option do I have?” Hugh sounded bleak. “Anyway, let me try to explain why I—did the cowardly thing. When I
got to Scotland, I fell into my old ways with my friends from university. I found I was drinking with them for hours every evening, and going to raucous house parties on weekends in the Highlands. I drank too much, and during this time, I began to transfer the idea of Scotland breaking from England to my own life and to my breaking from you. There were too many memories of you that hurt—I wanted to stop remembering.”

  I stared with concentration at the tablecloth, not sure whether I felt more wounded or disgusted. So, without me, Hugh had dissolved into a frat boy—or whatever they called them in the U.K.

  “Tell me about the Honorable Fiona,” I said, looking up at last.

  Hugh appeared startled. “How do you know about her?”

  “Someone showed me a Tatler with your photo in it.”

  “A rotten photo.” He wrinkled his beautiful nose again, and suddenly I wanted to punch it. “There’s not much I can say about her. She’s the daughter of a lord and considers giving and attending parties a proper career. My friends said this was the one to build my life with, but I saw after about a month that she drank even harder than I did—she was an alcoholic. The situation was so…difficult. I couldn’t just drop her and go on with my work—she was the powerful one. She turned people against me.”

  “Poor Hugh,” I said sarcastically.

  “Yeah, right. I finally made a call to a headhunter. I said I wanted to get the hell out of the U.K., but I wanted to go to an English-speaking country. I’ve been working here since January, and while I can’t say I love your country, it’s made me a new man. I work just fifty hours a week doing international contracts, the thing I can do in my sleep. On Saturdays and Sundays I play rugby on the Washington Mall with a bunch of guys from all over the world who are slowly making a better player of me. I sometimes go to museums. Half the time I’m there, I hear your voice commenting alongside me ‘classic vegetable dyes,’ or, ‘typical example of Gifu-prefecture lacquer,’ bits like that.”