-I-
Today, the day after Christmas, she woke me up just after dawn. She said she wanted to show me something before we flew back to Stanford tonight. So as soon as the clock hit eight o’clock in the morning, we entered a sequestered florist shop downtown to get a bouquet of flowers—white gardenia. But it wasn’t for me obviously. It was for anyone residing in this mausoleum.
“Come in.” She beckoned me over as if inviting me into her house. “This is my family’s tomb.” She switched on the light to compensate for the murky morning. A small chandelier lightened up. She stood beside a tomb next to the exit; there were two tombs in here. She put the bouquet on one.
Even without her telling me, I knew whose graves were these.
There was a Portuguese scripture on the marble plating.
Durma em paz
Te encontraremos no fim dos tempos
Junko da Graça
Uma alma que vive na eternidade
'Sleep in peace. We'll come to you when time stops ticking. Junko da Graça. A soul that lives in eternity.'
My chest hollowed. Seeing your lover's name engraved on a tombstone is not one of the prospects you look forward to.
“This is the first time I read this in years actually. I already forgot what is written here.” She crouched down and fingered the cursive writing of her name. “Do you know that I am legally dead?” She looped her arm around my thigh and rested her head on my hip. “I am by law Jona da Graça, and this is where Junko was buried.”
I clenched my fists. “How can you sound so indifferent?”
“Remember that time in the Amazon? That day you told me why you hate July for no reason for taking Alex away?” She smiled when I nodded once. “It’s the same reason for me. It’s because I loved my brother very much. That's the only reason.” She sat on the floor, pulling my hand.
After a flock of birds ceased their cursory chirping somewhere nearby, she continued, “Years ago, if things became hard for me, I would look in the mirror and complain about random things to Jona. Aarón caught me talking to myself a lot. He must've thought I was crazy.” She giggled. “But he never said anything about it. Instead, he helped me. He would come to my room almost every night and talked to me about... anything, just to distract me until I fell asleep.”
“You sleep with Aarón?” The hellfire in the pit of my stomach rose.
"É isso que obtém da história?" [That’s what you get from the story?]
"Não, mas isso chamou-me mais a atenção." [No, but that caught my attention the most.]
She tucked my loose hair behind my ear, touching my diamond studs. “We technically shared a room.”
“Shared a bed, more like it.”
“You were nonexistent, come on. I promise I don't do that now after we got together.”
I grabbed her arm, suddenly realizing this was the best time to solicit her into my desire.
“What?” She frowned. “You’re not… that angry, right?"
“No. I mean, yes, of course, I hate it and I am always angry when it comes to him, but no, enough about him. Junko…” I faced her. “Will you move away with me?”
She mouthed “What” and said: “You mean move in with you?”
“I mean what I say." Tsk.
“Move away... where?"
“San Francisco.”
“You're asking me to move into the Smit's mansion?”
“No, into my own.”
“You have a mansion?” Her voice echoed four times inside the small mausoleum.
"What?" I hummed. “It would be undue to call it a mansion. It’s only eight thousand square feet. But yes, it's my own house. I signed the SPA four years ago. Never had the chance to move in."
She looked at me. Her eyes didn’t reveal anything. What Dominic said was pure malarkey. She didn't look as engrossed as he told me.
“Baby,” I held her hands, “I know your life revolves around Stanford. You have your gym there, yes, but we could work something out to—"
She yanked her hands away. Then she hugged me tightly. “I will. I will move in with you.”
That was actually the last scenario I had in mind—her agreeing right away. It was a stroke of luck, even.
“Actually, I…” she said, still hugging me, “I bring you here for a reason.”
The elation that was raising in my chest segued into curiosity.
Her eyes were gleaming with tears, but she wasn’t crying. She stared at the engraving on the marble for a short while. Then she clenched my hands. “I brought you here because I wanted you to know that my father buried me here. That my legal name is Jona. But…” She took a deep breath and exhaled deep. “This might be selfish after I asked you to decide things for me, but there’s one thing I want to decide for myself.” She put my palms on her freezing cheeks. “Luuk, I want my name back." She paused. "Can you bring me back to life?"
I must confess it took me three seconds to understand what she said. I wasn’t normally that slow. Once I added up the three-second puzzle, her meaning was as clear as her eyes.
"Let's do that. Let's get your name back."
-II-
“Promise me.” Junko stood in front of her father’s office, a hand over the door.
“Jesus. Junko, I’ve promised a thousand times. I'll... refrain from saying anything unnecessary.” I was about to twist the doorknob, but she gripped my wrist. She might be a female, but she was still a man, filled with testosterone.
“Swear on God’s name,” she muttered. “That you’re not going to do unnecessary things either.”
"Baby, give it a fucking rest. Once we step into his room, everything will change, for heaven's sake. Who's giving any tinker's damn on what I'll say or do to him? We're moving away after we’re done here.”
“I care.” She shook her head. “That’s totally contrary to what you promised me this morning. You can be—"
I pulled Junko's arm and kissed her so deep, the staff nurse at the reception counter coughed unnecessarily loud.
“What... What was that for?” She wiped her wet lips, nudging me the same time the door opened.
A voice said on my right, “I would like to know that as well. Jona?”
Junko jerked away from me when a lanky boomer stood in front of the office, staring at us with golden eyes that I knew so damn well. However, they didn’t mesmerize me the way Junko's did. Just seeing the amber in them burn the pit of my heart like Hell's stones.
“Dad.” Junko gripped the hem of my shirt.
Her father put glasses on. I always thought Junko looked Japanese, but looking at this insufferable shlepper, she looked exactly like him.
Would it be outrageous if I asked her to do plastic surgery?
“You care to let me know what you’re doing in front of my office, Son? We don’t have an appointment today.”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
The white male receptionist approached us. “Dr. da Graça. I’m terribly sorry for the intrusion. Your son—"
I stepped in front of him and faced Dr. da Graça. “We don’t need an appointment. There won’t even be a lot of palavers involved. I’m Dr. Luuk Smit. Why don’t we talk in your office? I’m sure you won’t enjoy anyone listening to our conversation.”
“Pai. Eu... eu tenho algo a dizer. Podemos conversar por um momento?" [Dad. I... I have something to say. Can we talk for a moment?] Junko said. Her heart thumped against my arm.
Dr Da Graça looked at the receptionist and gave him a curt nod. The guy left us. Then he entered his office, leaving the door open for us.
“Dr. Smit? Are you my son's private doctor? His orthopedic, perhaps?” He folded several documents on his desk. “Please sit.”
“I'm not a physician. I'm a linguist from Stanford. Professor Luuk Smit." I pulled a seat and got comfortable, pointing at the seat next to me to Junko. My eyes still hadn’t left the old man. "That aside, I'm Junko's… your daughter’s lover.”
His face paled at the mention of Junko's name, or gender, or perhaps at the fact that I said ‘lover’. His lips became as thin and white as the papers on his desk. He looked straight at Junko. His back appeared as stiff as a board.
As if he was demanding a telepathic “Explain”, Junko said to him, “É... o que ele diz. Estamos em um relacionamento." [It’s... what he says. We’re in a relationship.] Junko's hands were trembling under the desk. When I grabbed them, they were frigid.
“Seu relacionamento não é da minha conta. O que você precisa explicar é por que ele te chamou de Junko." [Your relationship is none of my concern. What you need to explain is why he called you Junko.]
"Eu posso responder a isso." [I can answer that.] I rubbed Junko's knuckle. She clutched my thumb into her trembling hand. Her small fist appeared smaller. "Tendo dito isso, você se importa de ouvir uma história? Não é todos os dias que você começa a ouvir uma palestra de um especialista como eu." [Having said that, do you care to listen to a story? It’s not every day you get to hear a lecture from an expert like me.]
He looked bitter. Typically, he would expect Portuguese to be foreign to me. “What nonsense is this?” The tips of his ears reddened. Another goddamned similarity to Junko.
“It’s a very short one. I will amend it a bit so even someone like you can comprehend the esoteric anecdote, trust me.” Ignoring his stupid red face, I continued, “One day, there was a genius who visited an anachronistic village amid his adventure around the world. Tired, he walked into a motel to rest his old bones. But on his way there, he saw an elephant tied to a small tree, sitting with her circus trainer.” I paused. “The elephant was the Asian elephant species, by the way, if you’re curious.”
I didn’t see it as I was still looking straight into the father's eyes, but I could feel Junko's eyes on me. Her breathing became louder.
“Where are you going with this?” the doctor asked.
“You'll see in a minute. Anyway, the genius couldn’t help but realize something was odd with the rope that bound her leg. It was flimsy. The elephant could step away, and the rope would break effortlessly. So the man asked the trainer, how long has she been tied with that rope? The trainer said, since she was six. The elephant is twenty-four now.”
Junko’s hand jerked under mine.
“Has she never tried to run away? The man asked. Then the trainer laughed. He said, no, I tied her to the tree when she was small. The rope used to be big and strong. That’s why every time I tied her after our show, she thought the rope is still strong, so she never tried to run away. I trained her to think so.”
I knew Dr. da Graça get the story because his face was basically purple from whatever emotion his toxic heart could contain.
“The story ends there in the original version. You get the moral of the story. But I'm the omnipotence in this story now. So let me rewrite the ending a bit.” I leaned forward ever so slightly. “The day that man came to the village was the day the elephant was fated to be free.”
Junko sniffled. My blood seethed seeing her crying because of the bastard.
"Because I've cut that damn rope. She'll live however the hell she wants from now on.”
Her father jerked up and circled the desk. He grabbed Junko's arm, forcing her to stand.
I locked his wrist until he let go. “Keep your fucking hand to yourself.”
He shoved me and stepped closer to Junko. When he talked, his voice was almost pleading. “What is this man trying to insinuate? Have I ever forced anything on you? Did I ever tell you what to do?" He paused, his eyes searching for something on Junko's face. "O que lhe disseste?" [What did you tell him?]
Junko looked like she wanted to say “No”, which was smothering for me to watch.
“Have I not care for you, Son? I’ve been taking care of you for years.” He rubbed his forehead. “Have I ever forced you to do anything against your will?”
Junko looked down, her tears fell silently. As much as I hated the situation, I wanted to hear what Junko had to say.
“No, Dad. You’ve never forced me,” she said.
“Junko—”
She put a hand on my arm while rubbing her face with the other. She shook her head.
“Of course. Whatever I did to you, I did it to help you," her father said. "I knew how it felt to live with regrets, and I didn’t want you to go through that. You were so young. You had a lot of chances to correct your wrongs. And I gave you the chance. And you've been such a good son to me all these years, Jona,” her father said in a saccharine voice, yet full of mala fide intent.
Junko touched her father's hand. “Do you love me, Dad?”
He stroked Junko’s cheek. “Of course I love you, Son.”
“Then will you love me if I am not your son anymore?” She didn’t cry anymore. Her eyes contained an emotion stronger than sadness.
His eye twitched. “You're a man. Why wouldn’t you be my son?”
She looked at him for what felt like a minute. It wasn’t exactly that long, but the silence was as thick as glue.
“Answer my question, Dad. Will you still love me the same if I am not your son?” Her voice was pressing, and it pressed hard.
“No,” he answered with rancor, without a second thought. “I only have sons. You and your brothers. I don’t have a reason to love you otherwise.”
Junko held my arm for support. In the split second before she let go, her hand shook violently. “Then you'll not love me if I'm still your daughter?”
He looked like Junko had just slapped him across his face. “Don’t cross that line, Jona.”
“Why? I’ve been toing your line my whole life.” She smiled, but it wavered in the next second. “You’ve never forced anything on me. But you've never stopped me either. You enabled my bad decision. You gave crazy ideas to me. You made me believe that I was responsible for Jona's death.”
Before I could act, he slapped Junko so hard, her upper body slammed onto the desk.
“My daughter was dead! I raised you as a man, and you will stay a man your whole damned life.” He reached for Junko's face again.
An overwhelming possessiveness took over my sanity, one that made me maul the varmint against his desk. He gave a loud cry of pain when his head hit the edge of the desktop. I let him go. His finger dangled like a broken branch. It took me a second to recall I had snapped his middle finger when I pushed him down.
He moaned in pain, bowing while clasping his wrist.
I said, “I told you to keep your filthy hands to yourself.”
“I am your daughter." Junko clenched her shaking fists. "You named me Junko, and help me God, I swear I will live as a woman from now on.”
He straightened his back; the wrinkles on his face deepened. Blood trailed down his nose from the cut between his eyebrows. His mouth hung open, but he didn’t say anything.
Junko pulled me to her. She started to the door, then turned to face the bastard. There wasn’t a spark of doubt in her eyes.
“I came here with a different expectation in mind. I was so delusional that I wanted to believe you would still love me regardless. But no, you don’t love me. So you have no right to tell me what I should do! You have never told me what to do before, and I will appreciate it if you keep doing that in the future. Let’s go, Luuk.”
“I have lost a son once!” He tried to stand as straight as he could, his eyes were raging red. “Jona, I will not lose you too.”
Junko gulped, shaking her head. “We've lost him eighteen years ago.”
“I gave you a second chance, you ungrateful son of a bitch,” he said, verging on screaming. “Yet you got involved with this scoundrel and rebel against me?”
“He cares for me. I love him."
He grimaced as if Junko was the most disgusting bugs out there. “Love? You're just a whore like your mother.”
Junko clutched my wrist so hard, she almost impeded my blood flow.
“Once you got this man in your pants, you betrayed me too. She thought I didn’t know she slept with Kurosaki. You thought I didn’t know you encouraged her infidelity." He threw his pen to her, spewing his crock of shit. "I tried for twelve fucking years to have you twins with your barren mother. And you killed Jona just like that. And that slut cheated on me. I should've let you die that day. You should be grateful I saved you. You should be grateful I even let your whore of a mother die in the most peaceful way.”
My muscle was twitching to punch this fiendish out and out rotter, but Junko grabbed my arm when I moved. She scrutinized her father, but she didn’t look like she was penitent about it. But then her eyes widened.
“The opioid... You gave it to her on purpose. You knew she was addicted to it.”
“What are you talking about? You were the one who fed her the drugs. Like Jona, it was your fault she died too.”
It was the moment I threw my coveted punch. My fist crashed with his nose, balls to the wall. Red smeared his jaw. Junko grabbed my elbow when I arm-chocked him from behind when he fell on his knees. He slapped my arm desperately for air.
"Getting into Hell for killing this bastard doesn't sound so nasty now, don't you think so, sweetheart?"
Junko looked like she didn’t care if I killed him, but she still asked me to stop.
I could feel his strength drained together with his wheezing and trashing. Once I was sure he had lost consciousness, I released the chokehold. After three seconds, he wheezed for air again. His saliva trailed the corner of his mouth.
"Junko won’t let me kill you myself, that's unfortunate for you." I fisted his shirt. "But the beauty of promises is that I don't have to give a crap about technicalities. Because I swear to God, I’ll turn your life so miserable, you'll want to kill yourself.”
Junko pulled me up, not saying a word. We exited the office. Reaching the clinic's entrance, I turned to her. I didn’t need to ask her if she was okay; she wasn’t. Her face was pale, as pale as the wall. She pushed the glass door, but her legs gave up as soon as she stepped outside. I caught her midair. Her whole body was trembling. So I carried her in my arms and sat her down on the waiting seat.
I couldn't feel her breathing. She was like an infant whose instinct prevented her from breathing underwater. "Breathe. I’m here, you’re safe,” I said into her ear and rubbed her back.
“Luuk.” Her voice shook as hard as her body.
“He can’t hurt you. I’ll keep you safe, I swear.”
She shook her head. “I... Just now... I was so angry." She looked at her palms. “I really wanted you to kill him just now.”
“I can still go back inside, sweetheart." I hummed, wiping a drop of sweat on her temple.
She rested her forehead on my shoulder, shaking her head. “Just take me away from here. Please.”