Month: December 2019

I was on my way home.

I made the venture into town to see a girl and she indirectly, yet clearly, reaffirmed that she was only interested in my friendship. Some dude she knew that showed up only exasperated the situation. Anyway, I decided to go home rather than insert myself among the general public any longer. I would feel less alone if I was actually alone than among a group who seemed content to live lives void of both reflection and my company. I also wasn’t exactly invited anywhere else.

I got a side seat on the train and a cute girl was in the corresponding seat across the aisle. I knew that that is about as far as train relationships go. Japanese people don’t seem to take well to foreign strangers on the train in my experience.

An old man sat next to me, and like most of the other passengers, quickly fell asleep. As he drifted from resting on and off my shoulder, the girl across from me noticed, and we shared a few smiles. We had a little thing going. I could tell by how she was preparing her bag that we wouldn’t be getting off at the same stop. Our smiles grew as the old man rested on my shoulder, and my heart shrank. As she got off the train, we waved to each other, cherishing our shared moment, hoping that our paths would cross again someday.

These days, I’m just tellin’ stories.

*this story was originally published in Sky Puddle

One day, I decided to hop on the next train for Akita City. I had the week off work and no plans. I booked my hotel on the way to Morioka Station. Once I got there, I bought some snacks and beer and had the perfect amount of time left to wait for my train.

I had an incredible train ride. The mountains between Iwate and Akita might be one of the most beautiful places in the world. I pulled myself from the window to eat my snacks, drink my beers, write a little bit. I felt incredible when I arrived.

But I didn’t have any real plans. I figured I’d go see the Sea of Japan, and then just walk around the city, go to some parks, and eat during the day. Then, at night, I’d go to bars and walk around.

On one such night, I had had about enough wandering around and stopped in a convenience store to use the bathroom on my way back to my hotel. There was only one bathroom, and the one person ahead of me was a gorgeous woman of about 23. I figured there wouldn’t be much time to talk to her, but we made eye contact and smiled a bit. Then we both looked away.

Some time passed. I said something to her about how long it was taking and she laughed. I asked her name.

“Michiko. You can speak Japanese?” She seemed surprised.

I told her my name. “Where are you from?”

“I’m from here! What about you?”

“I’m from America.”

“Oh, wow!”

“What are you doing out tonight?”

“My friend and I went out to eat!” She pointed at her friend on the other side of the store. Her friend came over.

“What’s going on?”

“Whoever is in the bathroom is taking a long time. This is Nathan.”

I said hello to her. Michiko told her a little about me. “Are you from Akita, too?” I asked her.

“No, I’m from Morioka.” She responded in English, which was surprising.

“Oh, you speak English? I live in Morioka!”

The three of us talked a bit. Michiko decided to knock on the door. It had been at least 10 minutes since I got there, and it seemed like Michiko had already been waiting for a bit. After another minute, we heard a flush, a guy came out and apologized. He looked like he had fallen asleep. Michiko went in.

Her friend’s name was Sayaka. She was studying to be an English teacher. Michiko was beautiful, but Sayaka was pretty cute, too.

“Since you live in Morioka, maybe we can hang out sometime? You can practice English and I could practice Japanese.”

We were exchanging information when Michiko came out. She wanted in on it, too. “Do you live in Morioka, too?”

“No, I live in Tokyo. I’m just here for the holiday.”

I was disappointed. We said our goodbyes.

“Good thing that guy took so long in the bathroom!” Michiko said.

They left and I finally went to the bathroom.

Later, I sent Michiko a message asking if she’d want to have lunch with me before we left town, but she had plans. We talked a little more and she quit responding. Sayaka never responded to the message I sent her.

And there you have it.


*Michinoku is an old way of referring to the Tohoku region.

These days, I’m just tellin’ stories.

I wake up to a siren.

I’m not sure if it’s a dream or not. The sound doesn’t stop, so I brush off some sleep, get up, and look out the window. It’s not coming from my house. It’s not from the neighbor’s. I’ve never heard this kind of siren before. It goes on for a long time, urgently rising and falling.

I look out the window and it’s finally started to rain. A cool breeze blows in through the window.

The siren fades into the distance. So I go back into bed, uneasy. I wonder what it could have been, and a sleepy thought comes to mind. Maybe there was a fire somewhere. But it’s raining? As I drift back to sleep, my ears are straining to hear what else could happen. But there’s just deafening silence.

These days, I’m just tellin’ stories.


*this story was originally published in Sky Puddle.

I was coming out of being blackout drunk. My phone died as I made my way to the train station. I knew I had just left a restaurant, and that I had eaten with some people that I had first met earlier in the day at a beer festival. I recalled calling an older woman the devil, too.

I got to the train station about 5 minutes after the last train for my little mountain town had left. I was stuck in the city for the night and didn’t feel great. I turned around and went back to the main downtown area. I’d stay at an internet cafe.

Not right away, though. I was in between too drunk and not drunk enough to go to sleep on the padded floors of an internet cafe. And I was really just feeling kind of lonely. I didn’t know where to look for any of my friends, and I didn’t really think about it anyway. I thought of Eri, the “massage therapist,” and how she would probably be out on the corner. Maybe she’d go to the family restaurant Gusto with me. In Japan, restaurants specializing in generic Western food are called “family restaurants.” Gusto is always open and would be a good place to get rehydrated before going to sleep because they had a drink bar.

I found Eri, and after turning down a massage, I asked if she would go to Gusto with me. She said she had to work. I said I’d pay, but she said it didn’t matter.

I walked around in that red-light district. I don’t really know why. I wasn’t interested in any of the services offered there. I had been there before in a similar state, and a woman who I had met locked eyes with me. She didn’t like me. I had been more interested in her than she had liked. I didn’t understand anything about her life and didn’t understand that I didn’t understand that at the time.

We locked eyes and she turned away. I wanted to invite her to Gusto but decided against it. She must have noticed how I was just walking around, it was a pretty small area. I really didn’t want to go to Gusto alone yet. I went back to Eri to see if I could charge my phone there. She said only if I got a massage, and an actual massage would be a lot cheaper than what she normally offered.

I went up, and she kept asking if I was sure a regular massage was all I wanted. “That and Gusto,” I said to her. She wasn’t interested. I plugged my phone in and took my shirt off. She put a towel over my back and started rubbing. I asked her why she massaged over a towel and she was shocked. She asked if it was ok to touch my back directly, and I agreed. After 5 minutes at best, she asked if I was sure that I didn’t want anything else. She said she couldn’t go to Gusto before I could ask. My phone had a little power, and I decided to just go to Gusto alone.

I don’t think I had ever been there while they were still serving dinner, and I was a little disappointed. I didn’t really want any meat, I wanted pancakes. But I had to settle for meat unless I wanted to wait for several hours. I ordered the drink bar, and probably had 5 cups of water and 3 of juice. I ate about half my meal, and then I had the drunk poops. I think I fell asleep on the toilet for a while or something. I have no idea what happened but it suddenly felt as though I had been in there for a very long time. I washed my hands, came out and my food had grown cold. I finished it, paid my bill and left.

I got to the internet cafe, and they were sold out of the more comfortable cubicles–the ones with the padded floors and pillows. There was a room with a chair left, and I took it. I took my shoes off, reclined and put my feet up and promptly fell asleep.

I woke up about 5 hours later, at 6 o’clock on the spot. I was grateful that I had gone to Gusto. I was happy that I had resisted paying for any sexual act, too. I was quite confused about what had happened while I was blacked out. I realized that a woman I had been flirting with was married to an acquaintance. Not only that but that I was at their house with a bunch of people, playing with their kids, acting a fool the very same day. At that very moment, I swore to myself to always eat before attending a beer festival. I didn’t think to charge my phone before I fell asleep, so as I looked through how I had used my phone during that period, it quickly died.

Staying the 5 hours in the cafe earned me a free light meal. I ordered it, and it took forever to come out so I tried to sleep more, but I was growing to hate the chair. The food finally came, and it was a tiny portion. I didn’t want to go to Gusto again, and it would be the only place open for a while. I had eggs, bread, fruit, and coffee at my place anyway.

By the time I got home after walking to the train station downtown, riding to my little mountain town, and walking home from the station, it felt like a week had gone by.

These days, I’m just tellin’ stories.