Shaelan and the Shrew

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Shaelan and the Shrew

A story by Suzanne Helen James

" An hour after having entered the bar and had a good share of drinks to make her forget about the shitty day she had, Viola bumped into someone's backside. She was drunk enough that the blow actually made her wobble backwards. “Whoa there!” Viola heard as she was caught by the arm and then brought back to her feet. Her fingers gripped the arms that steadied her and she grumbled. “Who the fuck are you to help me?” She muttered at her rescuer, who stiffled a soft giggle which irritated the girl further. In response to the giggle, Viola attempted to kick the other person, only to trip forward on her heels. “Whoa there missy, you best be careful!” She then heard as her rescuer, female with a sharp irish accent, tugged Viola's arms to and held her by the waist, forcing Viola to collide against the stranger's chest with a soft thud. “Alrighty then”, she then said, “Time for you to go on home cause you've had a few too much drinks.”

But then as Viola was lead outside, the drunken woman suddenly elbowed her assistant in the stomach. “That's for fucking ordering me around” she muttered as her attack made the Irish woman recoil and release her grip on Viola's arm. “I can walk my own self home thank you very much” Viola huffed and raised her arm to wave at an incoming cab. When the cab sped by her, she gasped and growled. “YOU FUCKING SHIT!” The girl yelled and was about to run after the taxi when she was again tugged from behind and this time fell down in a puddle. Aghast at her soggy clothes and wet state, Viola turned her head to glare at the Irish woman, who looked at her with raised eyebrows and arms crossed as she failed to save Viola from falling.

“That's what you get for not listening to me,” The Irish-sounding girl said before sighing and sitting down next to her pouting companion. Viola turned away from her and huddled her knees to her hips. The other woman rolled her eyes at her actions and smirked. “Shut the fuck up and don't you dare laugh”, the other woman faintly heard as she covered her mouth and looked at the clearing night sky. A few minutes passed as the two didn't say nor move anything...until the Irish woman got up and stretched her arms.

“Well then,” she said expectantly, “Aren't we gonna get you another cab and get you on home then?”

A grumpy Viola responded by snorting under her breath.“You know what the fuck you can do?” She began, ”Why don't you fucking drive me home? Since you're the only one who's giving an apparent fuck about my well-being for some reason, why don't you just be the one to get it done.” While Viola's crude words visibly stung the Irish woman, she nonetheless sighed and shrugged before replying with “Alrighty then if that's what you want!” and tugged a grumbling Viola to her feet as they walked and stumbled to her vehicle."

Those greedy little eyes

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"Those greedy little green eyes"

A short story by Suzanne Helen James

My eyes looked down at the cradle as I watched him sleep. For the 14th time that night, a frown crossed my face, expressing the bitterness that was as sour as ugly green gummy worms. Gripping the handles on the white cradle, I narrowed my eyes and took another heated glare at my new little brother. Jeremiah was his name, but everybody shortened it to Jeremy.

I'd rather call him Germs. Or Goblin even.

Mommy and Daddy had brought him home less than 6 months ago, when Mommy had to go to the hospital. She stayed there while Daddy went to visit her every day. I stayed at home with Lynda, my babysitter. She had been hired because Mommy and Daddy had called her a “cheap easy.” I didn't know what it meant, but I did know that I didn't really like her very much.

As a big “big” kid (a teenager), Lynda was always talking about her “boyfriend”, her “hell of a life” and how she wished she was anywhere but here. When she was really mad, sometimes she would use big words. But she wasn't always like that. On the days when she felt in a good mood, Lynda would talk about her boyfriend and actually try and take care of things around the house, including me. On days when she was in a bad mood, well then Lynda didn't like anyone; she didn’t like her boyfriend, and even worse, Lynda would be mad at everything I did and not like me at all.

Unfortunately, I ended up picking a bad day for Lynda when I had asked why Mommy had been in the hospital for so long. Lynda, who was yelling on the phone, suddenly turned to me and said, “Well she's obviously gone cause she's having a baby, twerp! Now scram, Sam and I are talking!”

Later that day when I asked again, Lynda was still in such in a bad mood that this time she used big kid words, like “pregnant”, and “labor” and stuff…and didn’t even explain anything to me! Since I didn't know what they meant, I waited for Daddy and asked him when he got back home. When he told me what they all meant…

I was shocked. My jaw dropped. “Mommy was gonna have a baby?” I said slowly. Mommy was going to have a baby? Soon? Another little kid like me? I was excited! This was gonna be like having a little mini-me around! Someone to play with! Someone to blame things on when I'd really done it! Someone I'd protect from the dangers of girl cooties!

...Though if it's a baby girl, I could teach her how not to get cooties.

It would be months after that before I finally heard those footsteps from downstairs.”Guess who?” I heard as Mommy and Daddy came in the doorway. I bounced down the stairs and ran towards my new sibling. When Mommy had knelt to my level, the wide grin on my face had shrunk to a small frown. I swallowed slowly and squinted as I saw the little baby, wrapped in a red blanket. What was this? Who was this? Thin red stripes on his face for eyebrows, a teeny-tiny nose...and a small closed mouth. Was this the little brother that I was supposed to play with? Was this the little brother I was supposed to blame things on? He was so small. He looked so fragile. He looked like a soft, frail little doll. Ugh. I blinked and raised a dusty hand to touch him and instantly flinched. Mommy and Daddy giggled as he awoke to my touch. It was when he opened his eyes that I saw the softest shade of green ever. It was so bright, so...pretty and...shiny.

I don't know why but my eyes narrowed and my frown deepened. Without warning, I turned around and ran away to my room, leaving Mommy and Daddy confused. When I reached my room, I slammed the door and dove under the bed covers. Staring into the darkness, I laid on my stomach.

"Son?" I then heard from outside. Daddy was outside my doorstep, trying to understand what had happened earlier. Another knock followed. "Son? What happened down there? Are we feeling a little shy about meeting our little baby brother? Aww, that's alright...really! It's fine, you know. We're all feeling a bit shy in our first time, too..."

Yes, that's what my problem is. After a long silence, Daddy finally gave up. "Well...alright then, mister. Feel free to give yourself a time out until you've felt you're ready to face him. But honestly? You might've startled him when you woke him up, but I swear that those pretty greens of his were so happy to see you!" Ending with a chuckle, Daddy left me to my brooding. When left alone, I growled madly. I clutched at my bedsheets, making my fists burning with heat. I started to shake and hit the mattress. I slammed my head on the bed back and forth until I was starting to get dizzy and my forehead was getting sore.

And then a tear leaked down from my eye. I bit my lip and shut my eyes. I didn't want to cry, but...

"ooogh!!" I muttered in frustration and rubbed my eyes. The tears didn't stop flowing. I shook, squirmed and growled as my mind conjured up that baby's face. Those striking little green orbs. Staring at me so blankly...it irritated me. It made me mad. It made me cry.

Those green eyes stirred something in me. I didn't know what it was, but I knew that my little brother was going to take something away from me. Those green eyes of his told me so. And I don't know why, but I knew that I would hate him for it. I would never forgive him for watching me so innocently with those eyes of his.

At first it was his cries, invading my ears from far upstairs or on the living room radio. Mommy or Daddy would apologize and leave me by myself while they sped up to his room. But that's not what I wanted. Little did they know how much their apologies meant nothing to me, but instead I would rather have it if Germs wouldn't even be here, at their beck and call.

Then, it was his smell. Mommy and Daddy would laugh and joke and fill the air with his dirty diapers as they changed him. The smell of his poop and the weird smell of the diaper perfume wasn't pretty. But Mommy and Daddy would never notice my tongues at his direction, my grimaces or my disgust. No, I was too grown-up for that. And I was smiling too much.

But one day I decided that was this was enough. The green-eyed little monster had gotten

its time. I started going to school. I started to write, spell things, number things and draw pretty pictures. I was using all the tricks in the book. Even Lynda liked it and praised me. But when I started to fight for Mommy's attention, nothing worked. "Oh! Honey, did you draw that? That's a good- Awww, look at that, Jeremy's got a little thing up here..."

And what I drew was actually quite good.

When I fought for Daddy's attention, not even grabbing my own milk and cookies by myself had even gotten a glimpse of attention from him. "Hoh hoh! Someone's been a good boy!" I remembered, "I'm so proud of you! That's a-Jeremyyy! You little spiller! How could you do that?" When Daddy returned his attention to Goober, I remember not staying too long in order to avoid staring at those eyes. Those greedy little green eyes.

It would be a little longer after that that I would realize that I was too late..but I knew what was going to happen the minute I had stared into his eyes. I wouldn't stop trying though. I couldn't lose to that little Goober...I just didn't want to be stopped by those eyes.

It wouldn't be long before Mommy and Daddy would completely forget about me.

A letter of dear importance

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To my dearest…A letter of great importance.

I would like to say that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for hurting you in any way. It was brash and impulsive and I didn’t think of the consequences. As with everything else, I thought you wouldn’t take it very seriously. But you had been hurt and I had realized it too late. Again, I am very sorry for what I had said and done. With apologies out of the way, now I must clarify things. First of all…Yes, it was me who killed Mikhail by crashing his car, though that was…unaccounted for, somewhat. But…if you want me to, I will take responsibility for what happened. Partially. And yes, I had tried to poison that friend of yours, Adele. And it worked. But was it my fault if my temper got the best of me while I saw her kissing your cheek? You looked like you were enjoying it!

In my defense, I thought that in the end, drastic measures had to be taken. I hope you understand that I was simply listening to my feelings. My heart was telling me to react. Please respect that. Oh yes, before I forget…tell your father that yes, I will be attending Mass tonight. And my deepest condolences for your mother’s departure. But before you point fingers at anyone, I’d like to say that for once, I wasn’t the one who staged that murder. Again, this wasn’t my doing this time. By the way…do you remember that football jock you were interested in, Brian Kinney?

Well here’s what “little” of him I’m now holding in my left hand.

And frankly, it’s nothing special. I’ve desecrated bigger. And for a black man, he sadly disappoints. I’m sorry, but in the long run you weren’t going to be happy anyway, so I might as well be the one to break the news to you…before it might’ve gone somewhere where you might’ve regretted.

And then…then was her. You know who I’m talking about. You can’t hide it anymore, it’s too obvious by now.

She slouches a little sometimes. Sitting down. Looks like she’s recoiling into herself, like she’s trying to hide. She’s always in the cafeteria in the morning, doing something or nothing of the sort. Despite her slouching, however, when she walks on her feet, she walks with such grace and elegance that it would only seem fair that she owns the world…Well she certainly owns yours, doesn’t she? To save face in the eyes of your peers though, you always find time to constantly tease, belittle or just ignore her altogether…Yet, I know the awful truth, love. I know that “Little Miss Popular” defies the Status Quo, in secrecy. I know that in your home you take mere minutes to “talk” to her. On the net. And there, its like you two are in your own little precious world. And you two live your own little adventures. And it’s just the two of you. How precious, isn’t it?

You don’t think I know who it is? You think it could be anyone of your little bitches that follow you? Oh I’m afraid that she’s not a blonde, so that shortens the list. To make it easier, let me just give you her name right now. Although you probably have it etched into your mind already.

…Camlyn. C-a-m-l-y-n. Dawes. D-a-w-e-s. Camlyn Dawes. Does she ring a bell yet? Yes? Yes? Yessss?

Good for you, you remember!! And just so you know, I spared her. Yes, I spared her. Although she’s barely breathing. Don’t think she’ll make it much longer. So if you want her not scattered in too many pieces, I suggest you come home. You know where I am.

By the way, don’t forget that I love you!

XOXO…

~Your beloved…~

Line of consequence

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Line of consequence

Author- Suzanne Helen James

Rating- T

Genre- Sci-fi, drama, mystery

“So...why exactly have you asked us here, doctor Rothernathy?” came the quirky, monotonous and squeaky question, hiding no sense of positive emotion in the tone of their voices. The two voices seemed identical in their poses, and their facial expressions were perfectly robotic. The only thing that seemed to function properly was the miniscule things, the small details and quirks that couldn’t be noticed unless you were able to take a really good look at their mannerisms. On the right, where the mother was sitting, her left hand, hidden under her right, was quietly drumming a repeated beat. Her two forefingers rose up and down and quickened their pace as the tension increased around them. On the left, where the father was sitting down, his left leg, crossed over the other, was thumping in a similar fashion. Except that it seemed much more obvious that he showed more vulnerability than the mother had.

Either way, something was definitely feeding the ominous silence that had hung around the room for the last twenty minutes.

Looking shortly away from her papers, Doctor Clarissa Rothernathy removed her reading glasses halfway through her nose and glanced at her clients. Though her eyes reflected no worry or sign that anything was wrong, it was just a normal facade that she had learned to master over the years. In truth, she sympathized with the daughter and wished the best for her. Really did. But with her latest predicament, Clarissa wasn’t sure how exactly would the all-mighty patriarch and matriarch handle their child’s new turn of events. But then again, it was normal for them to react as they would. However, with this new rising society’s new topsy-turvy outlook, things were bound to go off the wire eventually. After all, things you thought you knew, it turned out they were wrong.  And people you thought you knew, in the end, it looked like you didn’t either. It seemed that everyone was merging into symbiosis, and few were really able to define their own identity anymore.  Shrugging off the distant thoughts from her mind, the red-head finally raised her head and decided to take a good look at the authorities in the eye. As clear and coloured eyes stared back into stagnant and gray ones, Clarissa clasped her hands together. Her fiery eyebrows furrowed down on her eyelids, making the effects of a serious, stern and utterly intense look. Though hers of course, held much more life than theirs ever would’ve.

After all, they do say that it’s all in the eyes, wasn’t it?

Before trying to diminish the ongoing silence brought on her part, Clarissa was in the midst of deciding if exactly the parents were ready to face the truth. And by the way it was looking, if their own daughter had convinced her own psychiatrist to tell her parents the news, then the least Clarissa was to do is to make them see what exactly they would be facing in the coming future. Clarissa had been known often for giving people all sorts of hidden tests in her evaluations or her many meetings, and unbeknownst to the parents, this wasn’t an exception. It may have been a different case but it still required the similar methods nonetheless. Looking up at the parents as she crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, Clarissa then made magic of her face and her with the blink of an eye, her face softened and her expression turned into something a little more lighter. She was at her best when she smiled anyway.

“Now Mr. and Mrs. Odonell,” she addressed casually before pausing, “...Despite her introverted moments, Julie-Ann was mostly always active and on her feet, wasn’t she?” At what was disguised to be a simple question, the parents both nodded in response. A short silence resumed again before the mother’s hand was raised slightly, making Clarissa fan her hand downwards in approval of a potential question.

“...However doctor,” she paused and drew the raised hand to her lip,”...I do have to say that in recent years, in fact ever since we had even moved here, Julie-Ann has been showing a bit more of her introverted side, as you’ve seen of course.”

Giving another acknowledging nod, Clarissa folded her lips into a pensive frown; though it might’ve looked a bit exaggerated with her eyes half-lidded this time around. The red-head was now smiling a bit more eagerly, and it looked very much that not only was she keeping something from the couple, but it was looking as if she was enjoying herself at watching them think so fruitlessly.

Yes, it looked like she was really having her way with the unsuspecting couple.

After another short-lived silence where all parties were to come up with an answer, it was once again time for the main person to speak her mind.”...Has this introverted side of your daughter exceptionally affected your daughter in any way before this? Or perhaps, have you noticed any introverted moments when she’s around people she’s familiar with? When she’s with boys, how is she acting than when compared with girls?” Again, Clarissa still held her mischievous face, complete with her thumbs dwindling on her chin. The fact that she was asking all these questions was all part of the test. These small hints were all part of the puzzle. Looking at the pair’s eyes, Clarissa knew she had seen a short flicker of light when they had blinked at her question. Perfect. They were getting closer to seeing the truth. The pieces of the puzzle were all getting together. It may not be a pretty picture when they put two and two together, but at least they would’ve been confronted to the truth.

Chuckling as she watched the confused parents consulting themselves for advice, the young woman just felt like laughing. Really, really hard.

Oh, she would definitely get some good champagne tonight.

Non-fiction project: Interview with Doug Masuhara

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In 2009, I had been on a trip to Japan and beforehand, was tasked to write an Interview with a Japanese-Canadian in order to learn more about different aspects of their culture. That resulted in the following conversation with Taiko Instructor, Doug Masuhara.

When I had gone to Japan last year with my school, I thought I knew what everybody else did;  that the country was known for its food, its impact on pop culture and its infamous secrecy on European societies, which spawned centuries. It's also known for its double-entendres, as Mr. Mehl said; “What you thought was true might not be; however, there is also another side to that.” When I did my project on Japanese culture, I was drawn to the sport of Taiko, Japanese drumming....and soon,  after a bit of searching here and there, I found myself sitting in front of Richmond Taiko instructor, Doug Masuhara.

Questions!

Question # 1: “If Seiichi Tanaka had brought Taiko to the United States, who do you think had brought Taiko up here in Canada?”

Doug: “Seiichi visited Canada in the mid to late 70s. In the past, second generation Japanese-Canadians were asking for a redress from the government, who they felt should apologize for the WWII internments. This caused a resurgence in their native cultures. At the Powell Street festival, Seiichi's troupe performed there and the crowds were amazed. Through the workshops to and from San Francisco, members of the workshops joined together and created what is known today as the Katari Taiko troupe; they became the very first Taiko group in Canda, and grew to prominence in the mid-80s.

Question # 2: “Do you think more Japanese-Canadians should include Taiko as a way of cultural preservation?”

Doug: “Yes, yet it's not for everyone. Because it's a powerful and visual art form, it can draw people in. Now whether or not the people watching want to take the next step is up to them. As a 3^rd generation  Japanese-Canadian, I have more of a Canadian background. When I saw the Kodo Taiko show, it had caught my interest; yet I hadn't done anything about it until 8 years ago, where I truly got involved in Taiko.”

Question # 3: “Is Taiko still being used as a spiritual outlet today?” (In the 1500s, the Taiko drum had been used to scare enemies, send codes, and was used in Buddhist and Shintoist rituals.)

Doug: “Yes, but more so in Japan. In North America, prior to the late 60s, Taiko still held traditional and cultural aspects in its ceremonies. Then Reverend Masao Kodani, of the Shenshin buddhist temple in California, began to introduce Taiko as more of a musical ensemble. Soon after, he founded Kinnara Taiko, one of the first North American Taiko groups.”

 Question # 4: “How is the future of Taiko drumming looking?

Doug: “Taiko will, no doubt, continue to expand. In the Taiko conferences, new Taiko groups emerge regularly. Many non-Japanese people have taken interest in Taiko through the new troupes. In Japan, there is re-emergence of Taiko and many groups are forming. Some groups, like Uzume Taiko, take it further and often mix Taiko with art forms such as dance and musical instruments.”

Question # 5: “With Kodo coming to the Orpheum theater this January, the Taiko craze is just rising. If we can't enough, when can we see you guys perform in the coming months?”

Doug: “Most groups have their websites, and even offer workshops throughout different times of the year. In summertime, with the B.C. long weekend, the Powell street festival is going on! Local groups are presenting, and best of all...it's FREE!!”

(Traditionally, the festival was at Oppenheimer Park, on Powell street, but now with renovations, it's moved to Woodland Park!)

...Now looking back on it, I could say that while the trip itself was marvelous and amazing, it was the discoveries I made while preparing for the trip that made it all worthwhile. Although, you have to admit that the sushi there was something else entirely...

Thanks for reading!

See you on the flipside

Suzanne Helen James.

23/11/10.

Non-fiction project: a 2010 interview with Miko Kuro

((Masterpost here))

This was something that I had written in 2010 as part of an arts and culture project designed to discover special and unique events happening in Vancouver.

When I had started this project last summer, it had gone through a series of bumps on the road and even went to a full stop for a little while. Eventually however, I did resume said project, and all that research eventually lead me to the site of "Miko Kuro's midnight tea". Though one may think it's but a simple japanese tea ceremony, it's in fact an extraordinary evening mixing together traditionalism with the freedom of the new media, fusing together the old and the new. Because I was unable to make it to the Vancouver ceremony, I asked to get my facts straight from the "Miko" herself, despite the seperation of countries, miles and computer screens. (Turns out she was in Seattle and i'm well, here in Vancouver). The end result was a series of questions and answers which helped shed more light on this exciting, innovative and growing concept.

Interview with Miko Kuro

By Suzanne Helen James

For "Taking a Slice of Life's Pie"

November 2010

1) "Who, or what is Miko Kuro?"

A "miko" in the Shinto (traditional indigenous Japanese) belief system is a shrine or temple maiden -- something of a caretaker. Someone who prepares the space for the ritual. "Kuro" means dark or black. As a character that I created, Miko Kuro is a Caribbeanized Japanese ghost. Imagine Wide Sargasso Sea's Antoinette character as a Japanese ghost geisha who serves tea to strangers at midnight -- this is the essence of Miko Kuro. 

2) "Why not make this a regular artistic musical gathering? Why add the tea culture element?"

Um, it's called Miko Kuro's Midnight Tea because the tea gathering is the heart of the event. I'm not sure how you came about the description "regular artistic musical gathering" but that is about as inaccurate as calling it a baseball game.

3) "Explain the concept of the tea ceremony and the four seasons."

The Midnight Tea ceremony is a complex idea I began to put together after three pivotal life events. The first of these was receiving a substantial grant from the City of Austin to adapt a poetry manuscript I had written into a community arts event which was held at the Asian American Cultural Center for two consecutive years. The second coincided with the first as I had developed a curiosity about the traditional Japanese tea ceremony and began to study in the Urasenke tradition with Suzuki Sensei that same year. Finally, my return to the Northwest, where I grew up, gave me the grounding to put together these seemingly disparate elements.
 
The first year I hosted Midnight Teas every month for thirteen consecutive months at 45WEST STUDIOS in Vancouver, BC. Vancouver has always been home to me, even though I have lived in many places and travelled fairly extensively. And the art-lovers, seekers, and midnight mavens of the city seemed to emerge as if called or drawn to this project and I am still in awe of the amazing people I've met through this underground art endeavor. 

4) "What kind of variations have you done to the midnight ceremony?" (I saw on the site that you had a 1920s ceremony. Do you plan anything else as such, like other theme parties?)

The 1920s or "Special Tea" was a significant departure from the other 19 Midnight Teas that have taken place in that it was essentially a private party for a former tea guest. The idea of a theme, along with the guest list, etc. were all decided by the event's sole patron, who had gone to a previous tea event and wanted very much to celebrate her upcoming wedding in a similar manner.

Otherwise, it is extremely rare for the Midnight Tea to conform to anything as simple as a theme. This year, the Vancouver teas were held seasonally, because I was traveling more and hosting events beyond 45WEST. 

5) "Would you think that this kind of event would be a success in its native Japan?"

Since there are many different kinds of people in Japan, as there are everywhere, I have no way to gauge the potential success of the Midnight Tea there or any where else for that matter. The Midnight Tea does not claim to be anymore "Japanese" than it is anything else. Yes, the principles that I learned while studying chado (the way of the tea) definitely inspired me to create Miko Kuro's Midnight Tea, but the culture of the tea exists in its own universe and is forever shifting depending on the guests who participate.

One of the notions I hope to dispell by doing this work is the thought that culture is a static thing. Culture, like people, and language, is in flux. We are all in conversation with each other and our personal micro-cultures exist within a neverending tide of shifting cultures that crash and coincide and intermingle constantly.

Tea came to Japan by way of China and India before that. So what many people may think of as culturally Japanese, was borrowed, shared, lent and exchanged from its inception. 

6) "Despite the innovation and the originality of the event, you've probably faced criticism for moving away from the traditionalism. Why then mix these two opposite elements?"

I haven't actually. I have served tea to tea ceremony senseis and the senseis of senseis, and not one felt the need to comment on that. It's obvious to most people that the reverence I pay to the tradition of ritual making and tea service is genuine and that the authenticity of the Midnight Tea project is derived from my own spirit. Miko Kuro's Midnight Tea is my art -- like a painting that has come from the depths of my soul. It can't be co-opted, it can't be replicated, imitated with any success, or anything like that because it is an extension of me, my aesthetic, my creative  agenda, and my perspective in the world. Beyond that, it is a tradition in its own right. All traditions began as innovations. Practice creates a body-memory and practitioners of chado recognize that. The elements of the Midnight Tea ritual that are always in place, no matter where or when the ceremony is held, establish this tradition. In a hundred years, maybe there will be a Midnight Tea school where students can learn "the way of the Midnight Tea" ... who knows? 

7) "Did you see any support from the Japanese-American community?"

There are so many communities that have come together to support this project, I am so very grateful for this widespread involvement! Certainly Japanese-Canadians have been involved since the beginning, as featured artists, guests, and as Midnight Tea volunteers. However, only two teas have been held in the United States so far, which is why I make the Canadian distinction, but yes ... our goal has always been to include as many people as possible, regardless of their ethnic, religious, sexual, or educational backgrounds. The people who want to be part of this project seek it out and become part of it. People are people, and looking at everything in terms of pure demographics isn't very organic. I prefer organic to contrived. 

8) "When you brought the tea ceremony elsewhere in the world, did you ever adapt it to suit the destination?"

Since the tea ceremony is a fully immersive and interactive event, I don't have to "adapt it" --- it adapts itself. The guests are co-creators in the Midnight Tea ceremony, so if they are Canadian, they bring a Canadian element. If they are French, they bring a French element and so on. I look forward to seeing what the Midnight Tea will look like in China and India ... and anywhere else where we are invited to go actually!

9) "Who suggested to start bringing Miko Kuro's tea ceremony upstairs to Canada?"

See #3 -- The tea began (per the website) in Canada. 

10) "If Miko Kuro could invite any famous figure to the tea ceremony, dead or alive, who would it be? And why?"

I think it would be pretty rad to serve Midnight Tea at the White House and invite people like Gloria Steinem and the Dalai Lama to let loose at midnight ... the possibilities are endless!

"Well, that's about it! Once again, I thank you for giving me your time and your insight and I do wish you the best for your baby in the winter months!

Ps; Tell me when the Vancouver Spring tea starts. I'm thinking of volunteering."

The next Midnight Tea will be held at ARTXCHANGE GALLERY in Seattle on May 14, 2011 and has been supported by a grant from the City of Seattle.

All of these questions were answered by the Miko, who shall be referred as such for respect of privacy and confidentiality.Though her real name could be displayed, I didn't ask for her permission to use it, therefore I can't, and I would think it better if it wasn't because I was interviewing the Miko in character. To find out more information on future Miko Kuro's Tea Ceremonies, visit the main website: http://www.mikokuro.com/, where you can also access pictures to previous ceremonies and the guests who've played there as well.

Well, with that said,

See you on the flipside.

Suzanne Helen James.

26/11/10.

First Screenwriting draft

((Masterpost here))

This is my first attempt at screenwriting for a project that hopefully will move forward as well. This isn't even complete and in fact is being revamped. But this is really my first effort at getting the formatting right and doing the transition from prose and long-form fiction writing to the practice of writing for stage and screen.

Enjoy and comments are appreciated. I will also post some additonal project information as it goes forward.

Thank you for reading!

Clickety Clack

A first draft by Suzanne Helen James

  [INT. A DARK, CLUTTERED ROOM]

 In the early hours of the morning, a girl sits on her bed
 and types on her computer, bulging eyes glued on the screen.

 She glares and grunts and occasionally slaps the monitor in
 frustration.

                              ANNA:
                    Come on, Striker...don't let me
                    down! You can do it! Only a few
                    more bases to go! You can do it!
                    Destroy that bastard!

But then a single shooting sound finishes her as Anna groans
in defeat and falls back on the bed.

She takes off her headset to ignore the sounds of her
fighter being shot down.

A huge explosion brightens her screen as her plane is

destroyed, but she's not willing to watch the virtual
carnage.

There's no point after all since it's game over.

When the room darkens and all quiets down, a beeping sounds
rouses her attention back to the screen.

                              ANNA:
                         (mutters)
                    Can't fucking believe this..that
                    fucking bastard shot me down again!
                    Fucking shit...urgh. Fuck. This.
                    Shit.

One of her tabs sounds off with a notification. With a roll
of her eyes, Anna sighs and opens it.

It's a dating site, and she has a message.

She opens the message and skims it quickly. The message is
dated from 2 hours ago...which was when she logged onto her
RPG account and began the war to save the universe.

                              ANNA:
                         (under her breath)
                    Fuck.I completely forgot to respond
                    to her. Damn you striker!

Taking a deep breath, Anna formulates her thoughts to
respond. Glancing up and down at the whole message again,
she cracks her knuckles and begins to type.

(shot to the screen as her words she types appear on the

screen)

                              ANNA: (V.O.)
                         Dear...No, that's not right.
                         (pause)
                    ...Um...Hey there Joegirl! Hope you
                    are doing well! I'm sorry my
                    message was late...No no, that's
                    not right.

With a shake of her head, Anna erases her message and starts
over again.

                              ANNA (V.O.):
                    Hey ho, Joegirl! It's me, Anna.
                    Sorry i'm late...but like...I had
                    gotten...busy...?

Anna shakes her head and rolls her eyes. Busy seemed too
obvious...

She blinks slowly as she glances at the time. Much too late
to have the proper response to such a nice message.

                              ANNA:
                         Yep. Much too late for this.
                         i'll try again tomorrow.

          

With a shrug, Anna turns on her lamp and closes her
laptop,which she places on her bedside table.

                                                          CUT TO:

          INT.A COFFEE SHOP- MORNING

Anna sits at a table, head turned to the window mindlessly.
Though she looks relaxed, she chews slowly on her lip and
keeps tapping her finger on her cheek.

Her thoughts revolve around the message that she didn't send
to that Joegirl..and more than that, her mind keeps
reminding her of the utter defeat that she still reels from
at the hands of her top rival, SKYKING21.

The vibration of her cellphone brings her back to reality
and she takes her phone out of her pocket.

Her friend SYLVIA sends her a text to tell her friend that
she's on her way.

Along with the text, there's a link below Sylvia's message
that Anna scrolls over, deciding to listen to it later.

Deciding to chat with her friend while she waits, Anna
begins the conversation with what occurred last night.
(shots back and forth between sylvia and anna as their texts
are narrated)

                              ANNA(.V.O.):
                    So, I totally and utterly tanked
                    last night...

                              SYLVIA(V.O.):
                    Aww (sad face emoticon) D'you mean
                    you got defeated again on that game
                    of yours or did a girl actually say
                    no to you?

                              ANNA:
                    Oh no, no! Not girls. Yeah, the
                    game. I was this close to actually
                    beating that level...but was once
                    again thwarted by the efforts of
                    that dreaded SKYKING21.

                              SYLVIA:
                    Sigh. Sorry to hear that, girl. But
                    seriously though...how could
                    someone spend most of their time
                    online playing video games when
                    there are beautiful women out there
                    to befriend and get to know?!
                    Speaking of beautiful, have you
                    touched base with your lady
                    Joegirl91 yet?

                              ANNA(.V.O.):
                         Sigh...actually, I had gotten
                         distracted by said game when-

          

Anna doesn't finish her sentence because she hears a gasp
and looks up the table to see Sylvia, in a huff, marches
over to Anna and slams her hands down menacingly on the
table.

Anna recoils further in her seat at the tall brunette's
pointed and decidedly mad stare behind her aviator shades.

                              SYLVIA:
                         (eyebrow raised)
                    ...You said...you got...distracted?

                              ANNA:
                         (hesitates before answering)
                    ...I'm afraid I did. I couldn't
                    help it! My inbox was filled with
                    requests from other members of my
                    flight squadron asking for my
                    immediate assistance! I had to do
                    it to save the galaxy!

                              SYLVIA:
                    ...How are you sure that they
                    weren't ads from the many many
                    games you're already suscribed to?
                    They could've been baiting you to
                    go back and aid their noble cause
                    of swindling a lonely girl like you
                    purely for money!

                              ANNA:
                         Hey! I'm not lonely! I have
                         friends from all over the
                         world and a family...who I've
                         successfully deluded into
                         still thinking I'm straight!
                         (pauses to look down at her
                         phone sadly)
                    Still.

                              SYLVIA:
                    Oh. (beat) Sorry.

                              ANNA:
                         (distant)
                    ...It's ok.

Anna's last line made Sylvia frown in regret.

She feels like she's hit a nerve with that last one.

With a sigh, Sylvia moves away from her friend and relaxes
with a stretch.

                              SYLVIA:
                    ...No, really,I'm sorry about that.
                    D'you wanna talk about it over some
                    of Liz's coffee? My treat.

                              ANNA:
                    Sure. Since you're paying.

Sylvia smiles and rolls her eyes as she walks over to the
coffee counter, where we meet the handsome barista LIZ,

who's currently busy currently making a drink for another
customer.

                              LIZ:
                    Hey there S! Nice to see you today!
                    i'll be right with you! Are you
                    gonna have the usual?

                              SYLVIA:
                    You bet! And we'll take them to go
                    today!

                              LIZ:
                    Oh? You're not staying this
                    morning?

                              SYLVIA:
                    Nah, not today. Anna's got class
                    and I've got rehearsal for my gig
                    tonight! Which reminds me...can I
                    count of you to promote my upcoming
                    open mic?

                              LIZ:
                    Oh yeah! After the turnout last
                    time, Gail was completely estatic!
                    Just tweet me the details and I'll
                    make a reservation for whenever you
                    want it!

                              SYLVIA:
                    Will do! Thanks Liz! You always
                    know what's best! And also,(looks
                    behind her) while you're at it...

Sylvia smiles as she sees a cute girl staring at her from
the corner of her eye while she's waiting in line. When
their eyes meet, the girl giggles softly and looks back in
her book.

Sylvia winks at her and waves as the line moves forward.

She just loves getting a cute girl's attention.

                              SYLVIA:
                         (snaps her fingers to point at
                         the girl) Actually, if you can
                         also get me whatever that
                         cutie by the 3rd stool there
                         gets too. It's on me.

                              

                              LIZ:
                    Well actually, you'll be happy to
                    know that it's her first time here,
                    so your treat will certainly have
                    her coming back!

                              SYLVIA:
                    Perfect! Then I will get the
                    beautiful newcomer your best
                    Cappucino Latte on me, please!

                              LIZ:
                         (chuckles) Whatever you say,
                         superstar.

          
As Liz finishes her order, Sylvia keeps her eyes on her new
girl with winks and smirks going her way...until her phone

rings and she receives a text from Anna, who is decidly
pissed that their drinks have taken this long when Sylvia's
the only one left who's waiting in line.

When Sylvia looks up to see her friend...she sees their
table empty and groans.

With a grimace, Sylvia sends an apologetic text and turns
around to see Liz handing her two medium-sized hot coffees
with sleeves.

                              SYLVIA:
                    Thanks Liz! You're the best!

With another huff, Sylvia rushes to meet up with a smirking
Anna, sitting down at the steps of the shop outside.

As the two leave, Sylvie's crush who sits at the stool grins
as she twirls a piece of paper with the brunette's number on
it.

A rainy morning 4 years in the making

((Here on the Masterpost))

A Rainy morning 4 years in the Making

A story by Suzanne Helen James

...It was a rainy morning. A rainy monday morning. It was now 5 am. Of course, the time had been passing by, but I knew I couldn't stop now. Nope, I wasn't allowed to stop myself here.

If that were to happen, I don't think i could've ever forgiven myself. After all, I only had a few lines left in the manuscript. It wasn't going to be that hard. I was going non-stop for the past 5 hours since about last night. Again, my procrastination had gotten the best of me and here I was, typing and slaving away at a computer when in normal circumstances, I should've been asleep. Recuperating on my loss of energy. But instead, I was far from sleepy. I was half-asleep, with the dim lit of my lamp above me. My bed of course, is quite messy and I haven't really moved from it since 11pm. Or probably less.

Or at least, that's what I would've though, if the phone hadn't rang. Now, usually when I'm like this and the phone does ring, the natural thing to do would be to leave the ringing be and let the message go to my voicemail. That's what I wanted. But then, I only heard one ring and it wasn't constant. So, for some reason, I looked away from my laptop screen and looked towards my living room, illuminated with the flickering lampost I forgot to turn off. My gaze was fixed on the nondescript sight, the ringing buzzing in my ears. With a single blink, I rise from my bed and widen my bedroom door to get a full view on my living room. The empty room was a bit cluttered with bits and pieces of cans and clothes here and there. The couch though, was occupied; I think it was somdeone I might've recognized. I frowned a little and scratched my head. I should really start to clean up sometime soon. Hearing the ringing again brough my attention back to the phone. I picked up the receiver and then dialed 9. Without another thought, I then unlocked my door and walked out the hallway. Thank goodness that no one was awake in the morning to see a skinny black girl in an old spaghetti-strap tank and short shorts looking like she had just gotten run over.

Though you might as well say I had, because that's what I felt like.

Ignoring the thought of the elevator, I then take the stairs until I finally reach the main floor. Note that I was also barefoot. And even though the janitor made sure that no debris, grime, dust or anything remotely disgusting strayed on his floors, I knew that his work would all be in vain. Feeling my face contract from a frown to a more agressive scowl, I groan and bide my time, trying to ignore the light squishing sounds I feel under my delicate feet. This also reminded me that I was in serious need of pedicure in the very near future. Muttering to myself at my lack of hygiene, I reach the door and push the handle open when I see her face.

And then, my world freezes.

She was drenched. Freezing, most likely. Her brown eyes reflected the color of bleak, black mud. Her hair was plastered to her face and her heck with wetness. And crap, oh crap, she just looked like she was going to die. Or rather, she looked like she had just attempted to die and royally failed. As our eyes meet, my face isn't so menacing anymore. Infact, my expression softens when i see her. I looked at that familiar face, who apparently I couldn't bare to forget even though God knows I tried. I looked at her wrinkled blue coat, and then I just closed my eyes. Now I would have to remember this, too. Swallowing my saliva, I extend a hand towards her and she grabs it frantically. Throwing caution to the wind, I then wrapped my arms around her. I feel her cold, panting and I think I feel her crying.

Well, at least this shook up my morning. Realizing that it had been a while since we hugged out here in the freezing rain, I sugh and finally seperate from her. Without saying or doing much else, I still grab her hand as I walk back inside. In the elevator, I had the intention of letting go of her hand, but she doesn't at all. Infact, she holds onto my arm as in clinging onto it for dear life. Blinking at this unorthodox behaviour, I still don't say anything. And of course, neither does she. By the time, we reach my floor, I realize that I still hadn't exactly said anything to her. But then, it's not like she said anything to me. It was just like that with us. We were the kind of people who were very talkative yet very private and quiet all at once.

Although, with each other in question, it's more complicated than that.

Scrounging my key from my small pocket, i unlock it and with a strong swing of my taken arm and my free one, I throw her inside the apartment. Slamming the door shut, I lean against it, gawking at the grinning girl on the floor. Now this was the time to actually examine the situation. Though it was a situation that I was no so happy with. Even though it did seem that I did, with the hugging in the rain and all. As for her, she was now on the floor, legs crossed and gawking around the messy apartment. Usually at this time, something rude and random should've come out of her mouth.

At least it would've 4 years ago. But that was then. This is now. Things can happen in a little bit.

“Jennifer Sekiguchi,” I then say, the words rolling out of my mouth. When was the last time I had uttered that name in such...confusion? In such curiosity? And maybe, anguish...? Jennifer looks up at me with those eyes of her and smiles defeatedly. It's like she wanted to say, “Yes, yes, i know. It's me. The one and only Jennifer Sekiguchi. I never realy treated you like a friend very much, yet I still wanted to have you in my life. If I'm reaching out to you now, it's likely that I'm actually breaking down inside.”

...Or something of that vague description.

“You want anything?” I then ask as I scratch my head. Still smiling faintly, she nods and raises her hand at me. I pull her up and running a hand through a wet mop of jet black hair, I scoff and ruffle her hair. Giggling, she then took off her coat and handed it to me while I pointed to the couch and the person lying on it. “Don't use that; someone's probably recuperating.” “...Wow, Lilsters. You sure can party hardy.” This was coming from the girl who once “studied hard and partied hard.” All in good stride, I guess. Lilsters was her odd nickname for me. I never really considered giving her one, but once in a while that name would pop up and I would just shrug. Who was I to care what was in her head? All I was suppose to want was her health and her well-being.

“Well, I am in legal age to do so. No supervision, no limits but my own.”

Not adding much else to the conversation, I return to the living room, with two glasses of freshly-squeezed Orange juice. At this time of morning, alcohol is far from the solution. Especially you needed to calm down...from whatever it is that needs calming. Using the free and clean-looking couch, I then place the glasses on the glass table. I then take full account that she's still sopping wet and she'll catch even more of a cold if left in such damp conditions. Catching that too, the smirking Jennifer rose to her feet and placed a hand on her hip. “Where's the fabled bedroom?” She taunts. “I'd like to actually see what it looks like.” Rolling my eyes, I point behind her and she runs off towards it, taking off bits and pieces of her wet clothes along the way. As for me, I just snorted and slurped my OJ. It was quite juicy and fruity.

Thank you, Minute maid.

Coming out of my bedroom in a blanket, a sweater and some tights (of course, these are all MY clothes), Jennifer then returned to my side. Still smiling, she then draped the blanket on us. Yes, she was as giddy as ever. It was amazing how vunerable she had been only but probably 20 minutes ago. But then...I looked again. Under that sparkle in her eyes, there was something deeper there. With that bubbly, energetic voice, there was something deeper. I knew better than to fall for her happy trick. Again, note the emphasis on how she came to be at my doorstep; drenched, beaten down (emotionally) and weak. So for her to make a comeback was just amplifying the signal that she was just desperate for comforting and healing...and all that mumbo jumbo that in this case, actually seems to make sense.

So I might as well do my job and do it well.

“Cut the act, Jennifer. You came to me drenched, crying and hurt. Obviously something must've happened back home. I haven't seen you in 4 years and this isn't exactly a way to say hello.”

Eyes widening as I stabbed through her, she blinked and then flopped her head on the other side of the couch. Dead and center, but hey, she asked for it. I get a hug and bonding, I'd also like a full-on explanation for why she's back. Especially when I shouldn't want her back at all. A few minutes of silence reigns betyween us, but this time it's different.

I can actually tell that there will be a positive outcome out of this conversation.

Sighing, the Jennifer I remember from outside finally lets her guard down. She sighs and frowns befeore saying anything else. Snuggling under my blanket, she lays her head down on the armrest and closes her eyes.

“Well, if you wanna know where exactly to start from...first off, I came out to them.”

By them, she obviously meant the parents. I ndodded and gulped another mouthfull of Orange juice. “...I'm guessing they didn't take it our too well.” Naturally, the parents wouldn't take it off well, but it wasn't the time to dwell on that. She nodded and ran her head through her hair. I suddenly had an urge to do that again. Damn it.

But nonetheless, Jennifer continued on with her story.

“...At school, I fell for this girl. It was actually love at first sight. We were pretty tight...But then, I was kinda scared where she wanted to introduce to the parents.”

“...Uh huh. So? What does it matter? You love her, you meet the parents, end of discussion. Not so hard.”

Then again, I hadn't gone through that process in a little bit; my love life had dried up the last little while. Blame my budding writing career. And I suppose my growing lack of empathy for others. But...Jennifer was a different story once upon a time. It's weird how things end up.

“...But then, I was thinking about my own parents.”

“And what, you freaked out?”

Another silence as I again pierced her psyche. Goodness, it really was interesting to see how these things happen. I had once been in her position, and she had once been in mine. With the roles reversed, I say that this is one heck of a monday morning. A rainy one, but a monday morning nonetheless. Sighing, I then relax on the couch as well. All I was to do now was listen. After all, the few times we actually interacted without any negative repercussions was when either was down in the dumps, our friends were away and of course, our parents couldn't REALLY understand what exactly was going on. So that's when I suppose would be the last resort when she called me.

And now, it was exactly that moment again. Except with a different atmosphere, a different time and a different place.

“...Yeah,” she said, I freaked out big time. So...for the last year, I kinda dropped University altogether for now...”

“...And you've been out on your ass for the last little bit. Well, how's that feel, then?”

“...It feels...interesting.”

“...So then, why involve me into this? It seems to be more of a learning curve for you than anything.”

Her face then turned sour and confused aas she reflected on my answers. She must've thought that since I was once the hopeless dreamer, I was suppose to tell her thing to cheer her up. Well, that wasn't exactly the case anymore. Looking back on that, what I was doing 20 minutes ago was just acting out of age old impulses. Then again, 4 years wasn't that far of a stretch. Back in the present, Jennifer stayed silent. On my side on the couch, I sighed and shuffled my feet to the left to accomodate her a little. Accepting the invitation, she takes in the small space and I feel cool toes on my thighs. We had never really been this...I guess the word would've been close, but intimate seems to be more like it.

...Again, she and I are a complicated subject.

“...Well,” I then said, “...If you wanna bunk here, I suppose you're welcome to do so as long as you want. Just do your workload and we'll be fine.” By that time, Jennifer had fallen asleep. Muttering to myself, I sighed and grumbled. If I moved away, it would disturb her sleep and that just wouldn't be nice. Not to mention, she's not a heavy sleeper at first sight. And of course, my manuscript, still in the laptop...in my room.

Well, that was just more electricity for my bill. Oh, how nice indeed. Do note the frequent use of sarcasm here.

After that interesting morning, Jennifer had “officially” moved into my apartment. It was oddly convenient that my actual roomate had decided to move out the afternoon following Jennifer's sudden arrival. It was also eerie how everything seemed so calm, so...peaceful. So alright. When we talked, Jennifer was a bubbly, excited, lively human being, always asking questions about my current life. I, of course, was the polar opposite of that; grmupy, sarcastic and always on my guard. And the funny thing was...4 years ago, Jennifer had once been in my position and I had once been in hers.

People in my life came and went, but now Jennifer was part of that life. It was so strange how she easily slipped in and out of my apartment and her presence felt...good. It wasn't alarming, it was out of context, it was just...good. Warm. Amicable.

Again, note that she and I are people. And people do change. Even switch personalities if they want to.

From that rainy Monday onward, the rest of the week went on like this. The actual subject of why she was here, in my apartment, trying to be the perfect roomate, was never really brought up again. After all, despite our friendly demeanors towards each other after a 4-year hiatus was also something of a defense mechanism. Especially for Jennifer, who I knew better, but hadn't really said much.

It was on a Saturday afternoon. We had grown into the habit of sleeping in the afternoon and waking in the evening. However, this was an exception. I was the first one to awaken and by that time, Jennifer would still be in a deep sleep. Delicately moving my feet away from hers, I then rise to my feet on tip-toe. Before returning to my room, I then look back at her face. Her eyes closed, she looked different. Then it occured to me that I might've never sen Jennifer sleep. Ever. Though that was normal, we never invited each other over for sleepovers.

Though if we had sleepovers together, there wouldn't be a point to gawk at the sleeping face of another human being. Though...there would be reason to watch her face. Thinking back on it, I do exactly that. Dark eyes locked on her face as her chest breathes up and down. Her fingers trembles are she dreams.The look of peacefulness she has on her face.

It was then that I knew what the small things in a person was. Narrowing my eyes, I closed my eyes and moved away from the slumbering Jennifer. This was just another passing fancy. Though it had already happened once, no need for it to happen again. Shaking my head, I returned to my room to finish those last darned pages of that manuscript I promised.

...An hour later, an awoken Jennfier stumbles into my room, though I ignore her. By ignore, I meant don't look at her yet reply at her “Hello!” with another “Hello.” “So, what are ya doing?” she asks, flopping down on the floor next to me. Not even getting a glance at her, I keep my focus. “Short story column,” I said in a monotone manner. “Gotta finish it as quickly as possible.”

“...Can I help?”

“...Sorry, but I don't see how your help would be beneficial at this point. Besides, I'm almost done this part. Just a few pages more to go.”

“...I see. You're pretty set on focusing on your career, huh?”

“Yep. Writing is the goal for me.”

“...You were always so deadset on things. Chased it through the end.”

This conversation was again interesting because she was trying to drive it and I was most likely diverting away from it. Either way, I was still focused on the computer screen and not so much the distracting Jennifer. Glancing at the clock on the lower left corner of the screen, I tried to boost her morale. She could talk to me, just not gain my full attention.

Again, the reversal of roles was something fascinating for me.

“...So Jen...”

“Yeah?”

The Jen nickname wasn't something I used personally, but when I had used it, she seemed a lot happier...so I might as well, right?

“...Tell me more about your coming here. You seem to be more in a talkative mood, so you can explain to me more. But again, feel free to live and bed here, just as long as you do your own workload.”

Nodding as she understood, Jennifer then smirked and shrugged. “Well...the girl in question had been really cute. And really supportive, too. She was really adamant on me meeting her parents...and all that.”

“...Of course, of course. So then...what happened?”

“...As you know I bailed out!”

“And why was that?”

Another silence from Jennifer as she bit her lip. I shrugged and clicked and clacked on. If she really wanted it to, then she would tell me things at her own time. That was the way things were. It was a very efficient waiting game. Especially with her, beacuse she was a very impatient girl. Even 4 years down the road, she still had her tantrums. So then, I asked to spice up the conversation...

“Did you and Mikhail Sorovich get back together or something?”

Well, this was certainly a trick question because 4 years ago, Jennifer had taken an interest in the guy. 4 years ago, I had met Jennifer under different circumstances. And 4 years and 6 days later, after a bittersweet transition phase, here she was, drenched, shivering and crying. And in that same day, here we were again, trying to talk to each other without ripping our heads off.

Just like the good old days.

Well now I know that nothing's really changed. 4 years down the road and still some funny stuff. I know that this time, the converation might take a bad turn.

Scoffing lightly, Jennifer elbows the edge of the matress near my knee. “Well...I guess he and I still talk every once in a while. But no, we never did get back together...so he wasn't the reason.” I nod in understanding and continue on...

“...Jennifer...why did you really leave University?”

I knew that THAT question would be a glassbreaker because I knew better. I knew her better by now. I've always known. It was all going to come and bite her in the ass. She just expected it and ran in my direction so she could avoid it. Thus time, the silence had a different feel.

Oh well. If she didn't like it, she never had to bring it up.

“...You really wanna know?”

This was fun. I nodded and pressed on.

“...Yeah. I'm curious as to why one person would suddenly disrupt your entire future like that. I mean, come on now...you were in the same situation, yet she most likely continued on her education...and if you really loved her, you would've stayed. You would've stayed and not broken her heart. But...nope. Apparently, you're so screwed up that you ran away from it all; from her, from the parents, from yours...and you came to me. Not your friends. Not your exes. Me. And we're not much of friends to begin with-”

I would've finished my sentence , my Jennifer-bashing and might've gotten somewhere if I hadn't gotten pummeled to the matress by violent hands pushing me down on the bed. It was then that I saw them again. Those brown eyes burning through my own vision. My eyes widened as I was reflected in her eyes. Her fists grabbing the straps of my tank top and burning my shoulder with heat. My glasses flew over my head and landed on the floor and imediately, I felt another weight towering me. Okay, I guess now would be where she was thinking “Enough is enough.”

Although in Jennifer's mind, it would end up a little more complicated than that.

“You wanna know WHY I didn't go back?”

Obviously, the answer is yes.

“...I didn't go back there...because I was scared...” Yeah, we've gotten to that part more than a few times, “..I was scared that I wouldn't love her enough...and...and...damn it!”

“..And what?” I thought, “I suddenly popped into your mind?”

Well, wasn't this a turn of events. She was afraid of not loving her enough...was this because she was in love with someone else? Had she been in love with someone else all this time? If so...Then why hook up with that girl in the first place? Why ruin all your academic potential for one girl? Why run away from it all and abandon it all at a drop of a hat, for a grumpy, sarcastic struggling writer who just happened to be that girl you always used a last resort? If your friends are away and you need to shop, she asked me. If the parents were being assholes and disrepecting her private space, she whined to me.

...And in this case, if there was a girl that you've always loved but coudn't yourself to tell it to her face until now, well, Jennifer once again asked me. Not just because I was the girl in question.

I had been pretty stupid like that. Stupid to the point of ignoring why she really did what she did. Stupid of ignoring her emails all this time and trying to focus on my career. I thought I would've liked to have a future that wouldn't involve her. But that was pretty stupid too. Because it was Jennifer Sekiguchi we were talking about. The name came into my thoughts rather differently this time.

It wasn't filled with anguish. The curiosity was still there. The confusion was all but gone.

And note that this was before she dove down to kiss me.

The kiss itself was awkward and surprising. I felt her tongue invade my mouth, hungrily like it had been ages since she'd swapped spit with another human being. Though, it had only been...less than a month if Jennifer's story had any meaning to it. Well, it had been 6 years since this all began, but 4 years since we've actually parted. Of course in the six years, nothing had actually occured. It was all in subtetly. It was always like that with us.

Either way, this kiss must've been taken forever for her to muster. Who would've figured that it would've taken her until she was 21, a University dropout and on her knees to realize that she loved me?

Though it was too quick to jump back into this with the thought that this feeling might be love. I might've been kissing back because I needed some entertainment in my life. It just so happened that she had been the one spark in my life that who would always flicker. And well, she might've come to me because she needed to escape from parental pressures, find something else to satisfy her and stalk me. It was even worse that I easily complied with her little schemes. I couldn't been hard to find, but she found me.

Minutes later, we parted from our first kiss. “...Well, Jennifer...” I managed, “...Is there...something you want to tell me?” Then I saw it again, the flicker, the spark. It was hers. And then, she laughed. I hadn't heard a laugh like that in years.

...On that rainy monday morning, 4 years later, she found me.

And now what will happen the morning after the rain?

That's left for us to see.