“You
know what’s amazing about Tokyo?” Robin wondered,
peering through her living room curtains and out onto the streets below her Azabu
Court apartment.
“What, honey?”
Lily’s voice held a curiously tremulous quality, betraying her curiosity.
Robin
turned toward her bed, an island of vanilla in the oatmeal-colored room. “It’s like New York – only with even more neon.”
“But
isn’t it amazing? Have you seen any cherry
blossom trees or…” she hesitated.
“Harajuku
girls?” Marshall threw in from somewhere in the distance.
“They’re
not in season – the trees, I mean,” Robin corrected gently, sitting on the bed. “I promise I’ll send pictures in April.”
“Wow…you’re
not gonna be here in April.” Lily’s
voice sunk an octave as this truth sunk in.
“I’m okay, I’m okay,” she immediately insisted, as if recalling Ted’s
speech. “Change is good,” she mantraed
aloud.
“Can you
send me a couple of pictures of Central Park?” Robin hadn’t cared much about it
when she was there, but now that she lived halfway about the world…
“Oh,
sweetie, you don’t even have to ask – I’ve got a couple of old shots hanging
around somewhere, I can put them in the mail on Monday…”
Robin
smiles as the late morning light filtered into her room. Her friends are physically distant, but they
haven’t given up the ship; she and Lily talked once a week, and Ted emails her
regularly (mostly to babble in her general direction about his upcoming
wedding), while Barney joshes with her via text message (she has, to her utter
amazement, taken to reading his blog).
“Thanks,
Lily.”
“As I
tell my kindergarteners; that’s what friends are for…”
***
She spends
the rest of the day in the Asakusa district, drifting down streets seemingly
unchanged by human events for over a hundred years. Old men peddle by on bicycles, purchases from
the fishmonger tied to their handlebars by thick ropes of twine and smile at
her when she walks past, preoccupied, window-shopping and learning the lay of
the land. She made note of a smoke shop
– maybe they carry the Montecristos she craves for her post-network-debut-celebration.
That
evening, as she loiters in the Sensoji Temple, a young girl in a prep academy
uniform approaches. Holding out a white card, she asks, “Do you speak English?”
in a stiff, formal voice. Robin indicates
she does, and then tries in vain to give the girl directions to a specific streetcorner
in Shibuya. The transaction finished, the
girl smiles, and then she hands Robin the card.
Was the girl helpful? Had she
clearly used the language in a natural and articulate manner? Fleetingly, it occurs to her that she can’t
escape her Westerness; an ancient childhood wish to dissolve into the crowd
returns. Robin checks a box on the
girls’ card and sends her off into the world, relieved she hadn’t been called Sparkle-san.
***
The
following day brings the bitter sting of her failed hubris – the humiliation of
being a monkey’s sidekick. She wanders
through the Kabukicho district, staring into the universe of neon, worn down by
the loss of what had been promised.
Well,
there was the promise of exotic food.
Robin rejected dried tamarind in favor of freeze-dried shrimp, which she
gobbled like popcorn. Walking right into
a pachinko parlor, she spent fifty thousand yen on a losing game.
***
Just
before she takes her position behind the anchor desk for the last time, her
cell phone bleeps.
<I>Good
Luck,</i> the text message reads.
<I>Thanks,</i>
she replies.
<I>5000
$$$ if you dance with the monkey.</i>
<I>That’s
probably animal abuse.</i>
<I>C’mon,
Scherbatsky, I know you need the cash.
Word on the street says you’ve got a hardcore pachinko problem…</i>
<I>I
can quit any time I want. I just choose
not to.</i>
<I>Let’s
sweeten the pot. I know a guy who distributes
those things. Dance with the monkey and
I’ll track one down, free of charge.</i>
<I>…I’ll
do it for two minutes.</i>
<I>Three
minutes.</i>
<I>Two-fifty.</i>
<I>Two
fifty nine…</i>
<I>You’re
WAY too addicted to the Price is Right…</i>
<I>Two
fifty-nine going once…</i>
<I>I’m
not going to auction off my dignity…</i>
<I>Did
I mention the vintage Montecristo I have in my hand right now? It has a really expensive twin brother.</i>
<I>Fine. But I’m NOT going to go cheek-to-cheek with
him -you’ve never seen Jojo snap a carrot in half with one paw..</i>
<I>And
you’ve got a deal!</i>
Unfortunately,
Jojo, being surprisingly vindictive for a highly-paid rally monkey, refuses to
cooperate with Robin’s plan. All parties
escape fully intact, excepting a marshmallow that lost its life after being thrown
at great force up Robin’s nose.
That
morning, she deposits a resignation letter on her boss’ desk.
(When
she moves in with Ted a few months later, the Pachinko machine arrives as a
housewarming gift, alongside a full box of Montecristos)
***
When Ted
calls, Robin’s completely surprised. She’s aware of the general code that says
heading to the ex’s wedding isn’t really a good idea, and therefore didn’t
expect the invite, but she’s surprisingly happy to be included.
In the too-warm
interior of the cab, she rests her chin against her palm and watches Tokyo ooze
by. It still has its strange neon glow,
even in the middle of the day, even in the slumbering garden of the Shinjuku Gyoen. She thinks it’s a shame that she never got to
see the cherry trees in full bloom, but knows, somehow, some day, she will.
It’s a
far-flung April, but it will arrive.