Page 27 of Up All Night
“You okay?” I asked.
“I’m okay. Can’t sleep.”
Dear friends, I wish I could tell you that we spent the whole night awake because we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. I wish I could relay some of the more poignant things he talked about, namely what was on his mind with matters back home and his upcoming move to America. I didn’t talk much about myself. There wasn’t anything I wanted to say on a night like that, and anything Ididhave to whine about wasn’t anywhere near his level of worry.
I was a woman on vacation. Hadrian was a man still trying to find his place in the world, wherever that place was. It hadn’t been Turkey. Or Greece. Maybe not Japan.
But we did stay up all night. I forewent catching up on some much needed sleep so I could listen to him gush about his family, what he loved about his job (and what he didn’t,) the differences between Japan and Greece… he showed me music videos of his favorite artists back home, I confessed that I am obsessed with Turkish pop music (nobody he liked, of course, but we all can’t be huge fans of Hande Yener and Gülsen) and he told me that one of the reasons he had to leave his home country was because he was on “a list.” Because he protested the regime that had moved into his home – and because that same regime tried to make him one of their own. It was so eerily close to other moments in history that I could only shake my head. Whatcanyou say to that? Especially when I try to stay abreast of what’s happening around the world, but there are obvious blanks in my worldly knowledge.
And especially since we were in bed. Naked. And we barely knew one another.
“I go to America,” he said with more conviction. “If I can make more money in America, then I can bring my family to America. First I bring my brother so he can make more money. Then I bring his wife and children. Then I bring our parents, our other brothers and sisters. Brother’s wife’s family. My sisters’ in-laws. Everyone we know will come to America.”
“Good luck,” I told him. “It’s hard in America, but I think you can do it.”
“Japan is hard. America will be hard. Everything is hard, but we survive, yes?”
It’s those sorts of statements that put a lot of your own troubles into perspective.
I was endeared to this man that I barely knew. I wouldn’t say I was in love with him, goodness, but I had already decided I wanted to see him again before I left. Not just for the great sex, but because talking to him was more mentally stimulating than most of the other foreigners I met in Japan. I suppose that went for me as well.
I had no idea how to take it when he got dressed at five in the morning and bent down to kiss me goodbye.
“Sorry, I need to go.” His thumb lingered on my brow. “I use phone later. Message you.”
I didn’t believe him, but it was nice of him to give me that little bit of hope. This was a one-night stand. He knew I was leaving soon. He had his own plans to make. I was probably his last real fling in Japan before he went off to America to try to make his dreams come true. What else could I do besides cling to my fond memories and hope that he would message me again?
He wouldn’t. I knew he wouldn’t. Yet I said, “All right. Talk to you later,” as he went over the brief checkout procedure and told me to finally get some sleep.
Hadrian left a closed-off man. Me? I was opened up in more ways than one. I was also going to suffer from a serious lack of sleep yet again.
At least this time it was worth it.
