The final nail in the coffin was Tammy receiving the house. I thought I could survive paying alimony and child support, but the judge’s house ruling drained any spirit I had in the tank. Considering Tammy tore apart our family by having an affair with her personal trainer while I was away on business trips and filed for divorce after I tried to keep our family together, I should’ve kept the house.
Alas, the memories we had built over the last fifteen years in the house would remain after I departed. I didn’t want to leave, but I had no choice. A stranger in a black robe with deep lines fragmenting her face and soulless eyes piercing at me demanded I do so. Her verdict seemed to serve as retribution for the man who shattered her charcoal heart. The gavel slammed on the sound block, piercing right through me.
The last fifteen years seemed pointless. I had worked so hard to provide the best possible life for my family, only to be isolated from them after toiling away for years. My visitation rights were limited to one day a week. I could somehow handle losing my possessions, but being separated from my children for most of the week gnawed at me. It felt like chunks of my heart were being bitten away and the tension in my head gave me migraines.
After court, I walked along the lake aimlessly for hours. My mind was empty, yet it felt bogged down. I was clueless about my future and where life would lead me. It all seemed pointless. Why start something new when its demise seemed inevitable?
During summer, the kids went across the country to stay with their gran for the holidays, stripping me of the one day of joy that kept me from ending it all.
Seeing them via video call wasn’t the same. I wanted to hold and kiss them to feel that my life had meaning and the last fifteen years weren’t wasted.
Two weeks after their departure, I could no longer handle being cooped up in the studio apartment. I wanted out. I needed an outlet, but I wasn’t certain what that was.
Photos of Japan displayed in the window prompted me to step inside and speak to the agent. She told me about the ancient traditions, the samurai culture, people’s staunch belief in abiding by the rules, spotless streets and Mount Fuji. Order, new experiences, cultured people—everything I needed.
I bought a return ticket and went home to pack my bags. And just like that, I was off to the Land of the Rising Sun.
Not knowing what to expect, I felt a tinge of anxiety but more excitement. Whatever awaited me in Japan couldn’t have been worse than what I had endured at home.
The plane’s tires screeched as we touched down in Tokyo. Nothing in my life, apart from location, had changed, yet I felt better. The distance from home kept its grief at bay from my mind.
The following day, I explored the city. The bustle, the uniformity of the people to obey the street rules and the overwhelming opportunities in Tokyo felt grander than the limitations of a small town such as Eureka Springs.
Even in the busiest part of town, nobody bumped into anyone as they were fully aware of their surroundings and respected each other’s personal spaces. The numerous times I visited New York for business, I wasn’t fortunate to experience a day without somebody bumping me aggressively, spilling my coffee on my suit.
Although people surrounded me wherever I went, I felt alone. That’s because I was. I thought I needed alone time, but I yearned for company.
That night, I decided to check out the cocktail bar on the roof patio of my hotel. An attractive female DJ played deep house and then increased the tempo as the evening progressed.
Sitting at the bar, I looked around and saw mostly tourists, gazing into each other’s eyes and smiling. I longed to feel their connection and enliven my heart.
To my right, slumped on the couch, was a young lady. She stared at a glass and occasionally swirled the wine. The despondent look on her face prompted me to snort a laugh. I felt we had something in common.
I couldn’t remember the last time I walked up to a woman to strike up a conversation, so the mere thought of doing it made me straighten my back and grunt. My heartbeat sped up, and I swallowed to moisten my parched mouth.
I thought I’d bother her. She seemed lost in her thoughts, the way I was. Maybe we should exchange those thoughts, I thought. It could do both of us wonders.
I stood from the high cocktail stool and drowned the remainder of my whisky. My knees felt wobbly, and I had a strong urge to plunk my bum back onto the seat and not dare to even contemplate another silly idea like that. But my heart yearned for adventure. It was starved for excitement, clung onto a connection and pleaded with my ego to be set free.
As I took a step away from the bar and what felt like one leap closer to danger, my heartbeat kicked into fifth gear. But it wasn’t fear, nor anxiety. It was fuelled by pride. In that moment, I was Clark Kent ripping off his shirt and revealing the S logo, the slave being freed from his shackles and the bird who flew away on a whim.
I stood beside her, her head slouching as she looked down at the glass. Her oblivion gave me a chance to regain my composure. I inhaled a deep breath and exhaled out of my nose.
“Excuse me. I don’t mean to interrupt.”
She looked at me. Her eyes revealed sadness, yet not opposed to hearing me out. The look on her face screamed a cry for help. At least, that was my interpretation.
I added, “I wanted to let you know that you’re a very beautiful lady.”
She held the gaze for some time and eventually curled the left side of her mouth. I saw that she hadn’t completely snapped out of brooding, but I made an impression on her.
I extended my arm and said, “I’m Jonah.”
“Lizzy.”
Lizzy wasn’t what most people would consider conventionally beautiful. The dark eyeliner accentuated her pale skin, and her burnt-orange French grabbed the eye’s attention before the rest of her black hair.
Her slouched shoulders made her look emotionally drained, and her lack of facial response hinted at an unwillingness to talk, yet I persisted.
“I’m new here. It’s my first time, actually.” I chuckled awkwardly.
Lizzy didn’t seem phased. But she maintained eye contact, making me believe that if I struck the right chord, she would liven up.
I briefly looked up and frowned, then looked at her. “Did you know that Japan has as many vending machines as citizens? Or, at least, I think that’s right.”
Her stare was unwavering. But then, she tilted her face downwards, closed her eyes and shook her head while smiling.
She looked back at me and said, “What made you say that?”
“I don’t know. It’s the first thing I thought of to avoid awkward silence.”
“Interesting. A for effort, but an F for facts. It’s about five million vending machines.”
“Aah, I see. You seem very knowledgeable about the place.”
“I’ve lived here for the last five years. Since I graduated high school, I had a desire to visit. When I got here, I fell in love with the place. I just had to stay. I love it here.”
“Hope I’m not prying by saying that you don’t look too happy.”
“That’s a sneaky way to get up in my personal affairs,” she said, sneering.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to step over any boundaries.”
“No, I like it. It’s cheeky, but you’re trying. I gotta admire that.”
I smiled. “Where you from?”
“Los Angeles. Born and raised. You?”
“Arkansas.”
“Small-town living, huh? This must be a drastic change for you?”
“Not really. Most of my business trips were in big cities like New York, Chicago, Los Angeles?”
“Were?”
I looked down and nodded. “Yeah. I quit a few days before I left.”
“Why?”
“I needed a change. Crazy, right?”
“No, I know how you feel.”
“You do?”
“I was in a relationship for about a year after high school. I was young and stupid. Fell in love with him from the word go. He ended up being an authoritative, abusive jerk. No matter how many times he hit me, I could never walk away from the relationship. I knew it was toxic, but I stayed. Until one day, when he punched me so hard that I flew across the room. I had to get out and not just leave the relationship, but the country. So here I am.”
“Wow. That’s something.”
“You miss home?” asked Lizzy.
“There’s nothing waiting for me there. I don’t have a job, lost my house and it seems like my kids as well.”
“You got kids?”
“Two. I recently got divorced.”
“How old are you?”
“Forty-five. You?”
“Twenty-four.”
We stared at each other for some time. I wanted to ask her about her mood, but I felt that I’d come on too strong.
“Have you ever been married?” I asked.
“No. I just got out of another bad relationship. A few days ago.”
“Were you in love with him?”
“Oh, yeah. Still am. It’s fresh in my mind. What can I say? I keep attracting the wrong type.”
“If you think a broken heart is bad, try losing your home to a cheating spouse and then having to pay for children who you never see.”
“That does sound rough.”
There we were, Lizzy and I in Tokyo—two peas in a depressed pond. But engaging her raised my spirits, and I could see it did hers, too.
I looked at the empty seat across Lizzy, and she offered it to me. I gladly accepted the invitation.
We spoke about her dreams of travelling the world. She kept emphasising the need to be a free soul by doing as she pleased.
As we delved deeper into our pasts, I gleaned that she was damaged goods like me. But I felt that she was a good person. Nobody chooses hard times. We make bad decisions. And sometimes, no matter how much you vet a person, they turn out to be completely different.
The waitress told us that the bar was serving the last round. Our conversation felt like it lasted minutes throughout the hours that flew by.
I took Lizzy’s phone number and thanked her for the pleasant chat. Her lips stretched.
I called her the following day. Her voice tone revealed her misery and her response to my request made it clear that she was not in the mood for outdoor activities.
Knowing that wallowing in pity compounded misery, I told Lizzy that I was on my way to her apartment and would drag her out if I had to.
Dragging wasn’t necessary because I managed to convince her that she would feel better if she got some sun and things off her chest by talking to me.
We walked around the city after I bought us ice cream.
On the bench, she told me that she found out that her ex had slept with some floozy after they broke up. I could tell that it really bothered her, probably because she hoped for a reconciliation.
About two hours later, I walked her to her place. I didn’t expect her to invite me inside.
We made out on the couch, then went to her bedroom. She sank to her knees and ripped my zipper apart. She quickly pulled down my jocks, and my hard dick sprung out. Lizzy shoved it into her mouth and moistened it with her saliva as she bobbed back and forth.
She looked up at me, engulfing my dick. It was so hot. I couldn’t remember the last time Tammy blew me. It had been too long, and she definitely wasn’t as skilled as Lizzy.
A few minutes later, Lizzy stood up and grabbed my hand. She led me to her bedroom and undressed. She lay on the bed and spread her legs wide open. I smiled and lay on top of her, sticking my dick inside her wet pussy.
She dug her nails into my upper back and then dragged them down. I thrust, and she clenched her teeth. I saw that she liked freaky sex, so I sped up.
Several high-pitched groans shot out of her mouth, encouraging me to thrust. Since Tammy and I hadn’t had sex in more than a year, I wanted to unleash my sexual frustration out on Lizzy.
I kept up the fast momentum for about twenty minutes. Both of us breathed heavily and sweated. I loved hot, sweaty sex. The best part was that my partner was twenty-one years my junior.
Lizzy got on top of me as I lay on the couch, and she rode the crap out of me. A few times, I almost erupted, but I held it back to continue the pleasure.
Her hip thrusts perfectly motioned. I saw that she had quite a bit of experience. She pressed her hands on my chest, straightened her back and bounced up and down on my dick as she craned her head back and sputtered groans. It looked like I was drilling her from the bottom, but she was doing all the work. I loved watching her convulse as she continued the bouncing.
After that, I stood at the foot of the bed and pounded her from behind. She screamed loudly, and I smirked, feeling proud of myself. That was one of the best experiences in my life.
As I was about to cum, Lizzy shuffled around to face me and opened her mouth wide. She looked up at me as I unloaded in her mouth.
During the following week, we spent every day together. Our bond strengthened, and I felt that we had something special. I embraced our potential future, but I was uncertain of how Lizzy felt.
Thinking about our future for a few days, I decided to call Lizzy to find out how she felt. Her phone rang but no answer. She didn’t call back after several hours. Worried about her well-being, I called again. No response.
I paced in my hotel room, wondering what could’ve happened to her. I thought about calling the police, but I figured that I should check her apartment first.
On my way out, my phone beeped. I read the message.
‘Jonah, you’re a great guy, but I’m leaving Japan tonight. All the best.’
What? What does she mean, she’s leaving Japan tonight? Where the hell did that come from?
I called her again, but she didn’t answer.
The only way for me to convince her to give us a chance was in person. I called a taxi and dashed to the airport.
My foot tapped the car mat when we reached a red light. I had no idea where she was going, so I had to get there well before her to have sufficient time to check all the flights to figure out where to wait for her. It was a long shot, but I had to try.
At the airport, I checked the departure board and saw several flights to Europe, America and Australia. I went to each boarding gate and looked around. Lizzy wasn’t there, but I thought that she could arrive any minute.
Two hours had passed. I had switched from patrolling each boarding gate several times. It felt pointless, but it was the best strategy I had.
At eight o’clock was a flight to Los Angeles. I went to the boarding gate and looked at the people congregating in front of it. As I scanned the throng, I spotted a woman from behind who looked like Lizzy.
I squeezed in between people to shift to the right to identify my target. Yes, it was her!
As I shuffled in between people, I stopped. A man from the side approached Lizzy and handed her what resembled boarding passes. They kissed and then headed for the gate.
I assumed that the man was her ex. She had never gotten over him, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if she begged him to get back together.
I watched them enter the jet bridge, holding hands. Again, the universe found a way to screw me over. The big difference that time was that it didn’t take fifteen years of marriage and two kids for me to discover that I was with the wrong woman.
After everybody boarded and the gates closed, I accepted that Lizzy and I had no future. I was alone again, confused about how to navigate my future.
Back at my hotel, I felt lost and duped into getting heartbroken. I felt that meeting Lizzy was a waste of time. But my aching heart wanted me to believe that it happened for a reason.
That night, I decided to call the airport and move my return date forward. I would leave the following night.
On the plane, I couldn’t stop thinking about Lizzy and our time together. I wish that it could’ve lasted forever, but I realised that her path was different to mine. Meeting her resurrected a part of me that I thought would never feel alive again. More importantly, being with her showed me that there’s always hope.
The journey to that realisation began when I decided to visit Japan. Since there was hope in Japan, there was hope for me in the U.S. as well.
Had it not been for my desire to explore the unknown, feel a connection and secretly hope to find love again, I would have wondered what could have been. I would have fallen into a deeper depression, felt enslaved by my circumstances, drowned in my sorrows and excluded from exuberance.
I’ve learnt that my heart will never lead me astray. It tugs at me when I choose the safe route, reminding me that the magic is outside of my comfort zone.