just in tokyo - a city guide book

april 10, 1992


It had been raining off and on for about half an hour. The thunder rattled loudly outside, and the lightning illuminated the far away streets. The rain made Malakai feel better underneath his thick blankets. The rain had wakened Malakai from his half sleep and now he sat, propped up against the wall, watching the rain fall across his window in sheets. He was alone that night, again, his off and on girlfriend Carmen had been working late, and she hadn't been calling him after work like she used to. He saw his relationship with her heading for an end, but he didn't care for her much anymore. He had initially been powerfully attracted to her, but that attraction ended once he came to know her more intimately. She had a body that inspired an untrained eye like Malakai's, but she was the least passionate girl he had ever been with. Even after they had been together for several weeks, each night she acted as though she'd never seen a penis before. The clumsy naivete of her bedside manner left much to be desired. As he watched the rain, he decided that she was not worth his time.
He threw the blankets aside and stood up. Stretching towards the ceiling, he rubbed his smooth hairless chest and chewed at the air. "Fuck her." He picked up the lighter lying on the floor by his bed and lit it, holding it up in front of his face and peering at it curiously. "Amazing, fire, is pretty amazing." He dropped the lighter and walked over to the window.
Down in the street below his apartment, he saw a couple running from their car in the rain into the hotel across the street. The woman's shoe fell off in a puddle and the man ran back to pick it up while she waited under the awning. Malakai pulled a chair over to the window and sat backwards in it, leaning his arms against the back. Licking his lips, he pushed them against his arm and stared out into the rain. Lightning lit the sky. Malakai began giving his wrist a hickey. A bit of spit came out of the corner of his mouth. He wiped it off against the other wrist. "Nothing to do." He held on to the back of the chair and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. The chair slipped on the wooden floor and Malakai landed on his ass. Getting up, he sat the chair up again and walked back over to the bed. Sitting down, he stared at the phone. He scratched the back of his neck. Leaning over, he picked up the receiver and dialed Carmen. Three rings, no one answered. Hanging up, he kept his hand on the receiver. Malakai ran through his list of names in his head. "Molly, Heather, Beth," some of the women he'd chased after at one time or another. They'd all been saleswomen in his department at the department store. Where were they now? He picked up the phone and dialed Heather. She answered on the seventh ring. "Hello?" came the sleeping voice. "Heather?" "Yes?" "I'm sorry." "Hello? Who is this?" "This is Malakai, Heather, I'm sorry." "What the hell are you doing calling me like this? Don't ever call -" Malakai hung up the phone. "Why did I do that?" "Fuck them." "I'm glad I fired her." "She's not as pretty as Carmen." "Yeah."
He turned on his bedside lamp. Its brightness blinded him. He turned it down. He picked up the book he had been reading and turned to the page where he'd left off. He couldn't focus on the text. He turned to the last page and read the last paragraph. He threw the book at the window. He walked out to his refrigerator and looked inside. There was nothing he wanted to eat or drink.
He walked back into his bedroom, picked up the phone and dialed Heather again. She answered on the fifth ring, more awake this time, "Hello." "Fuck you," he hung up the phone. He really hated her. What had she ever done to be nice to him? He had gone out of his way to be friendly to her, and she never was as nice to him. "Fuck her."
He turned on the television and began flipping through the channels. He saw nothing that interested him, so he turned it off. He put a tape in his stereo and turned it on softly. He listened to it, tapping his leg along with the tune. He punched the off button hard, the music bored him. He rose and walked into the bathroom. Dropping his shorts, he sat on the toilet. Malakai rested his arms on his legs and put his head in his hands. He didn't have to go to the bathroom, so he stood up, put on his shorts and flushed the toilet.
He walked back to his bed and laid down on top of his blankets and closed his eyes. He ran through his week. Nothing interesting had happened, it had been a typical boring week at the store. None of the girls in his department seemed cute anymore. He gave them a hard time, there wasn't much else to do. "They think I'm an asshole, so what?" He tried to sleep. Nothing came. He opened his eyes and stared into the low light. Its soft glow made everything look golden, covered everything with a slow haze that annoyed him. He turned up the lamp's harsh brightness. This annoyed him more, so he turned it off. Now he could see nothing but the glow of the streetlights on the ceiling. He waited for his eyes to become accustomed to the dark. His room looked the same as it always had. He got up and picked up the pair of jeans lying on the floor and put them on. He put on the shirt lying under the jeans and pulled on a pair of canvas shoes. He felt like going out. He walked over to the window. The rain had let up, and it was no longer thunderstorming. He looked down into the street. It was empty except for a slow driving big american car that was turning the corner away from him. There was no place to go at this hour. He took of his shirt and shoes and sat on the bed. He heard some thunder in the distance. He thought about Heather, and regretted calling her. He felt guilty for waking her up. He thought about calling her again, but, "That would be dumb." He slid under the covers and lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. There was nothing to do.
- J. Hall (4/1?/92) (after a Bulls game with jesse and we saw basic instinct - I got depressed watching Sharon Stone)

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