Urban theory

Urban theory; chapter 5

I have never felt so cheap and used as I do now. Why is it different? Or maybe it’s not him or even what we did last night. It’s just the morning. Free Saturday all to myself. Even the thought makes my brain hurt.

He’s almost done dressing and looks over me smiling. Adorable smile, little air headed, but still.

He wants to know if I’ll be visiting the club in the next days. I wish he would just go away.

We kiss for a good bye and he leaves. Finally I think and roll over in the bed. Can’t help to think that I was such as irritating little boy to Oni.

No, I’m not going to think about him. Not after two months. He hasn’t even called me. Well I trough my phone in the river and took every effort to disappear, but I got another phone and another apartment. He would have found me if he wanted.

Let’s see, do I have anywhere to go to. Where on earth is my calendar? Should probably clean my room before she kicks me out. Not that she would be too tidy herself.

It seems that it is the costume night. Don’t know if I will find the will to go. I don’t even have anything to wear. Thought I kinda promised to my friends. What’s this? A business card? With a photograph? Why does he seem so familiar and where did I get this?

He laid down to his stomach playing with the card when he faintly remembered some blurry image in back of his head. It was the time when he’d ventured the bar alone and nearly got him self an alcohol poisoning.

It still sometimes seemed like yesterday as he had left from Oni, but that night in a bar felt to be years back even as it had happened after. He compared his very, very drunk night to his usual slightly drunk nights. Had anything changed in these months? He still drank and partied trough nights and in days he thought. Where was his live going?

He wasn’t into psychoanalysing him self or his little too reckless behaviour and instead concentrated to think how the hell he had come home that night. Unwontedly he remembers his scary thoughts at the time. It was a pure miracle he’d ended up home that night as getting home wasn’t then his top priority. More likely to the cemetery.

He looks at the card in his hands. Was he the guy he had been dancing with? He was a Co of a company that manufactured robots. He remembered that the law firm he’d been working in had represented this company in some inside matters. Did the young manager remember him, after so long time?

The night was confusion, but not as much a blur as it had been. He realized he had been crying then. He had thought he didn’t. Now he could almost feel how the tears had formed their path down to his cheeks. Mere thought made him feel embarrassed and he moved on in his thoughts.

He had a memory of sitting in a limousine and the man giving him this card. The other man had talked nearly the whole way to Ayame’s flat. He’d heard about his resignation. Told him he admired his courage and if Rikimaru ever needed anything or wanted to talk he could take contact with him. Had he even winked him that there might be a job open for him when he’d wanted it?

Nice man, but not a nice man to owe with, Rikimaru thought. His business wasn’t all even near legal. It was hard to believe, he looked so young and innocent in the picture. Maybe he should give him a call someday, just to thank him or forget it and but all in fault of being so pissed he couldn’t possible remember.

He didn’t want to be dragged back to work as a lawyer nor did he want to mix with criminals. While on to that thought Rikimaru had dressed up and made his way to the kitchen. The moment when he stepped out of the room silence that dominated the flat made him wonder if he was alone in there. It was Saturday, Ayame shouldn’t be at work? He walked to her closed door and was about to knock when he heart a silent snoring from the room.

He smiled and sneaked away letting her get some sleep. It had been a hard week for her. From Monday to Thursday she made well over twelve hour days and on Friday, she wasn’t home when he went out. Poor girl, he thought picking up the morning paper from the floor. She worked too much. It was partially the only thing she had time for. He made some porridge and read the paper while eating it carefully for not to burn his tongue.

The weather forecast predicted rain for the next week, maybe even thunder. Nice, some change for the contentious monsoons: Rain with a sound. There wasn’t anything else that would have interested him to read. Something about new plants in the park and another article buss traffic. He leaved trough it and the cartoons, of course, before he comes across the big headline he’s managed to miss at the front page.

Van Gogh hits again! 150 000 dollar painting stolen, the title said. The headline was written so disturbingly big that it hurt to watch.

He read on the article. It was taken from a gallery he had never been. The painting that had been stolen had been donated to the gallery just last week. The security was on code red and alert round the clock, but still they had no clues of how it had been taken, when exactly had the crime accrued or had the burglar left marks of his visit. They just assumed it was the gang of three art thief’s that had become famous by stealing a Van Gogh last year. The three were never caught even they probably were behind some other missing artworks.

Rikimaru paused and thought if Ayame was handling the case as she had come home so late. Or was she seeing someone behind his back? He heightened the thought in his brain until his eyes catches a line of words in the text in front of his face. He nearly swallowed the porridge in a wrong throat. The painting that had been stolen was named; Liquid heaven.

His painting, Rikimaru’s brain cramped. The painting that they had discussed. The painting he himself gave the idea for. The cursed painting that had brought them together like a fairy godmother and then left them hanging on their own and now it popped back to fitness his self destruction. Why else would that stupid thing be on the paper on the one morning in the week he actually read the damn paper?

Fuck.

He suppressed the urge to tier the paper and stuff it in the garbage with rotten apples and looked the walls of the kitchen like looking for some short of a sign of hope. He sighted realizing he was far from over this guy. Why, he asked himself. No, this time he was going to be cool about it. No strange fits, drugs or walking over a road with out really looking or hearing. He turned the page and wondered what next. Maybe he should read the text. It said; Open classes for art devotee! He turned the page.

Open jobs.

Not a bad idea, Rikimaru thought. He should put his mind and body in use in order to get away from his free time. It seemed to become dangerous even to read the papers.

Rikimaru stepped into a nice looking bookshop that had looked for shop assistant in the paper. The door had a bell, but no-one seemed to have heard it. “…Hello? …Is anyone here?”

Footsteps came behind some shelve. Old and crinkled man in his 70’s looked behind shelve, narrowed his eyes to see if he’d heart someone. He walked closer in the same time cleaning his classes with his sleeve. “Can I help you?” He said smiling.

“You had a job offer on to days paper? I was hoping the place is still open…?”

The old man put the classes on his nose and looked at him up right. The age had weight down this already short man and he looked like a midget standing so close to Rikimaru.

“…Hhmmm…Yes, I was actually looking for someone younger…”

“…Younger?”

“…No offence but I don’t think this job will be very challenging for your age and it’s a part time. I can’t lift up these books anymore, not like I used to, so I need someone younger to do it for me… Little cleaning around here and some… And I can’t bay you much… This business isn’t exactly blooming like it used to…If you still want the place… lets say for two days in a week…? You can have it…?”

“…I’ll take it…”

“Great… Now come here…” The man said walking to where he had come from. “You can start right away?”

“…Yes, I was hoping so…”

It didn’t take long as Rikimaru was already and completely sank into assorting just arrived books to the upper shelves. He had been working seven hours and the clock was closing six pm. It was Saturday so the shop had closed already at four. Only a few customers had come but all of them had bought pile of books.

Most of the books or at least the half were rare that you didn’t see in the other bookshops and the other half consisted for what was keeping them in business; new books like Potters and cooking books like 101 vegetarian dreams. There were also cartoons, rare and not so rare and a whole two shelves dedicated to Japanese manga. Rikimaru filled the empty pars of shelve according to the author’s last name, which he thought seemed a very incoherent way to arrange them, especially the manga part. Fiction was mixed with fact combined with horror. He came across with a book he’d read few years back, since he was still studying. Not a very good book, just something he had to read to pass. great book to pass.

Title written in bright red letters caught his eye. On the cover of the book was printed a picture of lotus flower and the title read; Kamasutra. Once before he had seen that book, he remembered. It had been on Jin’s living room table while Jin still lived with his parent’s. Jin hadn’t admitted it was his but tolled him and Ayame it was his big sisters or parents. Jin had blushed helplessly while Ayame had read some parts of it out loud. Rikimaru smiled for the memory, a shy Jin, who would have guessed that now. He put the book back remembering all too well what it hold in.

It was nice to remember something good for a change, he thought. Lately he had had nothing but the bad ones.

“Fine book isn’t it?” The old man said grinning. Rikimaru hadn’t noticed him, sneaky old man.

“…Yeah…”

“…My wife was originally Indian so she brought those books in these shelves… I had my daubs, after all this was highly valued shop then… Well… She convinced me, told me about the books historical value and so… “ He smiled shortly. “…She passed away five years ago…”

“…I’m sorry…”

“Well… that’s live I guess… You can go for now… I’ll see you at Thursday?”

Rikimaru nodded.

“…At eight? The books load comes at half nine, you can unpack those and… do little arranging, that will be a shorter day than this…”

“Okay… I’ll see you then. I’ll take these in the back and be off…”

It was ten to seven pm. when he came home. The flat was dark and silent. Was she still sleeping, he thought already worried? He put the lights on and walked to her door that was open. She wasn’t there.

He sighted unhappy missing her company. Had she left a note in freezer door? He put the lights on the kitchen as well but noticed that the white door had nothing on it. Instead there was a paper box on the table and a yellow post-it stamp on it.

Ayame’s handwriting said; Had to go to work till Monday, enjoy the peace. Dan called to remind about the costume night. Um, cold pizza under this note… Bon Apetit! Miss your sexy ass, love Ayame.

He had to smile for it. She just couldn’t use the opportunity for someone finding the little paper and making some miss assumptions that he would have to explain like; honestly she’s only my roommate, a good friend and that’s how we joke. People really didn’t buy that.

He put the pizza in the microwave looking at the clock, it was something over seven. The party started at nine. What on earth would he wear?