memories 4
I felt guilty towards Fabian. After all, he really loved me a lot, a lot. Too much, I always said. Not enough, he would reply. Then a whisper: never enough.
Some people say, that to love is more tiring than to be loved. It’s a blessing to be loved.
It can be very painful: the pain that stems from the guilt of not being able to reciprocate.
We got married in 2003. He was Verena’s friend from university. After I returned to Germany, Verena introduced him to me at a party. We saw each other for about six months. Then he proposed, and I accepted. It wasn’t a decision that was made in the heat of passion. At least not on my part. He was a nice person, a very good boyfriend, a very good husband.
I had said ‘Yes’, not because I love him, but because I thought it could help me forget him.
It was impulse, but not that kind of impulse everyone else at that time had in mind.
As everyone else commented on how picture-perfect we were, I saw in Verena’s troubled eyes her doubt.
Only she would know.
**
I was jogging around my neighbourhood when a bicycle suddenly whizzed by me. It was her. There was a smile on her face, that kind of nonchalant smile. I started running after her bike. I was really sprinting, but the distance between us seemed to grow. She turned around the bend.
I slowed down a little as I neared the turn before increasing my pace again. She was just in front. But I was already exhausted, and my strides became smaller. However, she seemed to be slowing down.
She came to a stop and I caught up with her, panting.
She smiled. “Why are you here?”
I finally caught my breath, “I don’t know. Because of you?”
She laughed, and then stuck out a hand, “I am Kae, and you are?”
I took it, “I am Woo Suk.”
“Woo Suk. So I guess you live around here?”
“Yeah, on Hauffstrasse. What about you?”
“That’s a secret,” she said, winking. “Anyway, I have to go. Bye!”
Yet again, she left just like that, so abruptly.
**
5 February 1998
I finally got the chance to try out my Japanese! Ran into him at the supermarket again. At almost the exact same spot the last time round. I said ‘Kombanwa.’ He broke into a smile and returned the greeting. Then he said something which I couldn’t catch. I could only smile and shake my head. He explained that he was asking if I had had dinner. I said not yet, but I was going home to cook. He asked what I normally cook. I told him pasta, lasagne, pizzas and salads. He cooks Japanese food on weekends. I told him I have never tried that before. And he said I could come over to try.
We exchanged numbers. He is called Kazuki.
**
Her name is Kae.
Ka-e.
**
9 February 1998
I went shopping for chocolates today, because I read that in Japan, girls would give chocolates to the guys on Valentine’s Day. The guy would return the favour on 14 March, White Day.
I got something nice, but what am I to say, when I give it to him? I think girls also give chocolates to colleagues on that day as well, or to friends. Maybe I will just tell him that I am giving him to remind him of home.
When should I give it to him?
**
While waiting for my laundry, I decided to take a walk around the washing salon, to see what was there. I have been here for around 5 weeks. This was the third time I was doing my laundry, but the first two times, I just waited for forty minutes in the salon. So this time round, I decided to do something different.
I found a café and entered it, maybe have a cake and coffee. I looked at the selection of cakes and decided on the Nougat one. As I was about to order, the waiter gave me an apologetic smile; a customer was paying.
He called out, “Kae!”
My jaws almost dropped. Did I hear right?
Then Kae appeared from the back. Her eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed playfully as she recovered from the initial surprise.
“What would you like?” she asked.
“This, and a latte macchiato.”
“Ok,” she nodded. Then in a softer, almost whispery tone, she asked, “Are you following me?”
“No,” I whispered back.
“Take a seat,” she nodded towards an empty table at the corner.
I complied.
“You work here?” I asked when she came around with my order.
“Yeah. I got to support myself.”
“And those kids at the Media Park?”
“That’s more for interest. But I do get paid for that as well. Enjoy.”
From my seat, I observed her as she worked, serving the cakes, making the drinks, all done meticulously.
It was time for me to leave.
“Tasted good?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. 5,80.”
“Here. Exact.”
“Thank you. See you.”
“See you.” I turned back to her. “Hey, are you free next Tuesday?”
She raised an eyebrow. “I might be. Why?”
“There’s a movie I want to catch. But there isn’t anyone here whom I can call…”
“Are you trying to date me?” her eyes twinkled.
“Oh well…yeah.”
“Your treat?”
“Sure.”
“Give me your handphone. Do you have one?”
“Yeah, here,” I passed it to her, a little doubtful as to what she wanted to do.
She fiddled a little with it before handing back to me, “Just message me the details. See you!”
I looked at the number on the screen. “Ok. See you then!”
**
14 February 1998
Saturday. Valentine’s Day. I looked out of the window the whole day, but saw no sign of him. It is unlikely that he should have a date, right?
It’s far too late now. I think I will just go and ring his bell tomorrow morning.
**
15 February 1998
I went down at 10, I thought this would be a reasonable time, not too late, not too early. He should be up. Number 10. ‘Yoshinaga.’ That must be his surname. I pressed on it.
“Yes?” it was his voice, no question at all.
It took a second ‘yes’ from him before I found my voice. I identified myself and told him I have something for him. He said “Oh.” I was expecting him to tell me to come in, and expecting to hear the buzzing sound that accompanies the unlocking of the door. Instead, I heard footsteps down the stairs. Suddenly, the door opened, and he stood there, his hair a little messy.
“This is for you,” I said, thrusting the package into his arms. He was still looking very surprised when I said, “Enjoy your Sunday, bye bye.”
And I ran right across the street, all the way up to my room.
I forgot to say all that I had thought of saying.
How silly of me.
**
13 February 2006, the date on my handphone read. Monday.
I typed the message, read it, corrected it, read it again, then corrected it again. After the fifth round of correction, I was finally satisfied.
I scrolled through my address book till I reached K. Kae. I hesitated.
Then, sucking in a deep breath, I pressed ‘Send.’
I waited for her reply. An hour passed. I thought maybe her phone wasn’t by her side. Yet another hour passed. Maybe her battery was flat. Then another. Maybe she had something planned, and wouldn’t be able to make it. I finally decided to go to sleep; it was already past midnight.
What if she had tricked me, and given me a random number?
Some people say, that to love is more tiring than to be loved. It’s a blessing to be loved.
It can be very painful: the pain that stems from the guilt of not being able to reciprocate.
We got married in 2003. He was Verena’s friend from university. After I returned to Germany, Verena introduced him to me at a party. We saw each other for about six months. Then he proposed, and I accepted. It wasn’t a decision that was made in the heat of passion. At least not on my part. He was a nice person, a very good boyfriend, a very good husband.
I had said ‘Yes’, not because I love him, but because I thought it could help me forget him.
It was impulse, but not that kind of impulse everyone else at that time had in mind.
As everyone else commented on how picture-perfect we were, I saw in Verena’s troubled eyes her doubt.
Only she would know.
**
I was jogging around my neighbourhood when a bicycle suddenly whizzed by me. It was her. There was a smile on her face, that kind of nonchalant smile. I started running after her bike. I was really sprinting, but the distance between us seemed to grow. She turned around the bend.
I slowed down a little as I neared the turn before increasing my pace again. She was just in front. But I was already exhausted, and my strides became smaller. However, she seemed to be slowing down.
She came to a stop and I caught up with her, panting.
She smiled. “Why are you here?”
I finally caught my breath, “I don’t know. Because of you?”
She laughed, and then stuck out a hand, “I am Kae, and you are?”
I took it, “I am Woo Suk.”
“Woo Suk. So I guess you live around here?”
“Yeah, on Hauffstrasse. What about you?”
“That’s a secret,” she said, winking. “Anyway, I have to go. Bye!”
Yet again, she left just like that, so abruptly.
**
5 February 1998
I finally got the chance to try out my Japanese! Ran into him at the supermarket again. At almost the exact same spot the last time round. I said ‘Kombanwa.’ He broke into a smile and returned the greeting. Then he said something which I couldn’t catch. I could only smile and shake my head. He explained that he was asking if I had had dinner. I said not yet, but I was going home to cook. He asked what I normally cook. I told him pasta, lasagne, pizzas and salads. He cooks Japanese food on weekends. I told him I have never tried that before. And he said I could come over to try.
We exchanged numbers. He is called Kazuki.
**
Her name is Kae.
Ka-e.
**
9 February 1998
I went shopping for chocolates today, because I read that in Japan, girls would give chocolates to the guys on Valentine’s Day. The guy would return the favour on 14 March, White Day.
I got something nice, but what am I to say, when I give it to him? I think girls also give chocolates to colleagues on that day as well, or to friends. Maybe I will just tell him that I am giving him to remind him of home.
When should I give it to him?
**
While waiting for my laundry, I decided to take a walk around the washing salon, to see what was there. I have been here for around 5 weeks. This was the third time I was doing my laundry, but the first two times, I just waited for forty minutes in the salon. So this time round, I decided to do something different.
I found a café and entered it, maybe have a cake and coffee. I looked at the selection of cakes and decided on the Nougat one. As I was about to order, the waiter gave me an apologetic smile; a customer was paying.
He called out, “Kae!”
My jaws almost dropped. Did I hear right?
Then Kae appeared from the back. Her eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed playfully as she recovered from the initial surprise.
“What would you like?” she asked.
“This, and a latte macchiato.”
“Ok,” she nodded. Then in a softer, almost whispery tone, she asked, “Are you following me?”
“No,” I whispered back.
“Take a seat,” she nodded towards an empty table at the corner.
I complied.
“You work here?” I asked when she came around with my order.
“Yeah. I got to support myself.”
“And those kids at the Media Park?”
“That’s more for interest. But I do get paid for that as well. Enjoy.”
From my seat, I observed her as she worked, serving the cakes, making the drinks, all done meticulously.
It was time for me to leave.
“Tasted good?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. 5,80.”
“Here. Exact.”
“Thank you. See you.”
“See you.” I turned back to her. “Hey, are you free next Tuesday?”
She raised an eyebrow. “I might be. Why?”
“There’s a movie I want to catch. But there isn’t anyone here whom I can call…”
“Are you trying to date me?” her eyes twinkled.
“Oh well…yeah.”
“Your treat?”
“Sure.”
“Give me your handphone. Do you have one?”
“Yeah, here,” I passed it to her, a little doubtful as to what she wanted to do.
She fiddled a little with it before handing back to me, “Just message me the details. See you!”
I looked at the number on the screen. “Ok. See you then!”
**
14 February 1998
Saturday. Valentine’s Day. I looked out of the window the whole day, but saw no sign of him. It is unlikely that he should have a date, right?
It’s far too late now. I think I will just go and ring his bell tomorrow morning.
**
15 February 1998
I went down at 10, I thought this would be a reasonable time, not too late, not too early. He should be up. Number 10. ‘Yoshinaga.’ That must be his surname. I pressed on it.
“Yes?” it was his voice, no question at all.
It took a second ‘yes’ from him before I found my voice. I identified myself and told him I have something for him. He said “Oh.” I was expecting him to tell me to come in, and expecting to hear the buzzing sound that accompanies the unlocking of the door. Instead, I heard footsteps down the stairs. Suddenly, the door opened, and he stood there, his hair a little messy.
“This is for you,” I said, thrusting the package into his arms. He was still looking very surprised when I said, “Enjoy your Sunday, bye bye.”
And I ran right across the street, all the way up to my room.
I forgot to say all that I had thought of saying.
How silly of me.
**
13 February 2006, the date on my handphone read. Monday.
I typed the message, read it, corrected it, read it again, then corrected it again. After the fifth round of correction, I was finally satisfied.
I scrolled through my address book till I reached K. Kae. I hesitated.
Then, sucking in a deep breath, I pressed ‘Send.’
I waited for her reply. An hour passed. I thought maybe her phone wasn’t by her side. Yet another hour passed. Maybe her battery was flat. Then another. Maybe she had something planned, and wouldn’t be able to make it. I finally decided to go to sleep; it was already past midnight.
What if she had tricked me, and given me a random number?
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