Mi casa
I did not have chance to write one, but I wrote a new story. I just put my draft.
Mi casa su casa
Frankly, I never want to remember that time. But that night, some how, I happened to run into my old friend from high school. When I saw him, first, I thought what a bad luck I got. It was at Shinjuku-station. It is one of the biggest stations in the world. People can hardly meet by accident. I found him first; even I did not have time to turn my face away. Actually I was way too frightened, so I could not avert my eyes from him. He made a significant grin on his face and came up to me. He did not say anything for a while.
“Hey, how have you been?” I asked first. I knew what he was thinking about.
“Well, well, well,” he grinned from ear to ear.
I remembered perfectly that time, that I tried not to remember for about ten years. I am from Tokyo and grew up in Tokyo. I have not out from Tokyo, except went to India for 2 months from my curiosity. I got a chance to listen this music from India, “Calcutta” by Dr. Bombay. He said he drove his taxi with his feet, besides without license. I wanted to know when he used his feet, how he hit the clutch to change the gear. So I went to India with one of those high risk airlines that could crash every one time out of hundred.
Anyway this is not the point that I was saying. The guy, who I had met unfortunately at Shinjuku-station, was my club mate. We were in wrestling club; and what I felt fear from him was, that he was going to talk about the day of the last game of school life. I can remember vividly what happened that day. I was in the locker room of a big gymnasium for the meet. I was third year then, it was the last year for high school kids; and I was the most likely to win that meet. I kept winning the Eliminations to the final. The final was held the day. I was ready to win, because the guy who I was going to beat was I had near been beaten.
I sat down on a bench in the locker room. In the locker room, there were a few guys who got through the elimination as I did, including my old friend. Wrestling is fallen into some sorts of classes. I was on “free style 55kg” class, and my old friend was on “63kg class”. There was the other guy from our school. This is the guy who flicked in my mind once in a whole for ten years and I tried to get rid of it.
I warmed well up, was ready to fight. I could get an opportunity to go up to a national competition if I won. Ten minutes before of the final, I would change my clothing into my fighting suits; I dare call those stretchable, polyester clothes fighting suits. I took off my underwear and tried to get my jockstrap out of my bag. In a short, I forgot to bring it. It was the jockstrap I had been using every single important meets. This was the right time for it to be used. It was this peace mark on the front. I had felt like I was bearing the burden of the world goodwill on me when I wore it.
Anyway, I opened the bag all the way up, as a matter of course I could not find one; I was not David Copperfield at all. I did not have any skill to take pigeons out from a box or cut a girl with a chainsaw and put it back together after that. Anyway, I was speechless, even I did not care I was in pervert look, without underwear and all. It was nine minutes before the final. I wonder what would happen if I showed up in public without jockstrap and fought. I did not want to picture myself without jockstrap even I could win. It is disgusting to see somebody wear a fighting suit without a jockstrap. All of a sudden then, this guy who just finished his final, he lost it, he was on lighter class 40 some kg, I suppose. He found me in a trouble. He did not say anything, just was looking at me. He took off his suits, and then he suddenly stripped his jockstrap out off his fork and handed it to me. We were not too close friends, because everybody said the guy was too feminine. That time I was ashamed that I thought that way. I put on his jockstrap without any word. When I was go to the meeting place, I just whispered,
“Thanks,”
I surely won the final. That moment was one of my splendid times in my life. But the next day, this rumor that I shared a jockstrap with the feminine guy every time was spread out. Of course only my old friend could know it at the locker room. The rest of my high school from then, maybe a half year, they called us “Jockstraps”
My old friend and I were sitting on chairs at a Starbucks with too much bitter coffee. I prepared that he would start off talking about my most regrettable memory. But instead he asked me if I had heard from the feminine guy. I felt oddness that something was coming off. He started telling me that he was jealous of me about using the feminine guy’s jockstrap. To make long, long story short, he crushed into the feminine guy. He gossiped that disgusting rumor from his jealousy.
I told him I had not heard from the feminine guy for years, but I knew where he lived. I gave him an address of the feminine guy. My old friend could not help showing his joy. If there is a perfect joyful smile, I can say his smile was that.
After I parted from my old friend, I felt like I was wearing my old jockstrap which got peace mark on it. I delivered one kind of goodwill that night.
Mi casa su casa
Frankly, I never want to remember that time. But that night, some how, I happened to run into my old friend from high school. When I saw him, first, I thought what a bad luck I got. It was at Shinjuku-station. It is one of the biggest stations in the world. People can hardly meet by accident. I found him first; even I did not have time to turn my face away. Actually I was way too frightened, so I could not avert my eyes from him. He made a significant grin on his face and came up to me. He did not say anything for a while.
“Hey, how have you been?” I asked first. I knew what he was thinking about.
“Well, well, well,” he grinned from ear to ear.
I remembered perfectly that time, that I tried not to remember for about ten years. I am from Tokyo and grew up in Tokyo. I have not out from Tokyo, except went to India for 2 months from my curiosity. I got a chance to listen this music from India, “Calcutta” by Dr. Bombay. He said he drove his taxi with his feet, besides without license. I wanted to know when he used his feet, how he hit the clutch to change the gear. So I went to India with one of those high risk airlines that could crash every one time out of hundred.
Anyway this is not the point that I was saying. The guy, who I had met unfortunately at Shinjuku-station, was my club mate. We were in wrestling club; and what I felt fear from him was, that he was going to talk about the day of the last game of school life. I can remember vividly what happened that day. I was in the locker room of a big gymnasium for the meet. I was third year then, it was the last year for high school kids; and I was the most likely to win that meet. I kept winning the Eliminations to the final. The final was held the day. I was ready to win, because the guy who I was going to beat was I had near been beaten.
I sat down on a bench in the locker room. In the locker room, there were a few guys who got through the elimination as I did, including my old friend. Wrestling is fallen into some sorts of classes. I was on “free style 55kg” class, and my old friend was on “63kg class”. There was the other guy from our school. This is the guy who flicked in my mind once in a whole for ten years and I tried to get rid of it.
I warmed well up, was ready to fight. I could get an opportunity to go up to a national competition if I won. Ten minutes before of the final, I would change my clothing into my fighting suits; I dare call those stretchable, polyester clothes fighting suits. I took off my underwear and tried to get my jockstrap out of my bag. In a short, I forgot to bring it. It was the jockstrap I had been using every single important meets. This was the right time for it to be used. It was this peace mark on the front. I had felt like I was bearing the burden of the world goodwill on me when I wore it.
Anyway, I opened the bag all the way up, as a matter of course I could not find one; I was not David Copperfield at all. I did not have any skill to take pigeons out from a box or cut a girl with a chainsaw and put it back together after that. Anyway, I was speechless, even I did not care I was in pervert look, without underwear and all. It was nine minutes before the final. I wonder what would happen if I showed up in public without jockstrap and fought. I did not want to picture myself without jockstrap even I could win. It is disgusting to see somebody wear a fighting suit without a jockstrap. All of a sudden then, this guy who just finished his final, he lost it, he was on lighter class 40 some kg, I suppose. He found me in a trouble. He did not say anything, just was looking at me. He took off his suits, and then he suddenly stripped his jockstrap out off his fork and handed it to me. We were not too close friends, because everybody said the guy was too feminine. That time I was ashamed that I thought that way. I put on his jockstrap without any word. When I was go to the meeting place, I just whispered,
“Thanks,”
I surely won the final. That moment was one of my splendid times in my life. But the next day, this rumor that I shared a jockstrap with the feminine guy every time was spread out. Of course only my old friend could know it at the locker room. The rest of my high school from then, maybe a half year, they called us “Jockstraps”
My old friend and I were sitting on chairs at a Starbucks with too much bitter coffee. I prepared that he would start off talking about my most regrettable memory. But instead he asked me if I had heard from the feminine guy. I felt oddness that something was coming off. He started telling me that he was jealous of me about using the feminine guy’s jockstrap. To make long, long story short, he crushed into the feminine guy. He gossiped that disgusting rumor from his jealousy.
I told him I had not heard from the feminine guy for years, but I knew where he lived. I gave him an address of the feminine guy. My old friend could not help showing his joy. If there is a perfect joyful smile, I can say his smile was that.
After I parted from my old friend, I felt like I was wearing my old jockstrap which got peace mark on it. I delivered one kind of goodwill that night.
posted by TCK at 1:42 PM
2 Comments:
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Takashi, I am so impressed by your ability to write stories in English. Sorry to hear that you work with the meanest girl in the world. But, on the bright side, you won't have to work with her forever.
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