“Yes,” Solomon answered without thinking. “Hana, are you okay?” No matter how many drinks she’d had, she tended to sound sober.
“Tell me about her. Is she Japanese?”
“No.” Solomon wanted to keep her on the line. About five years before, after she moved out of Etsuko’s apartment, she took a long string of hostessing jobs in Tokyo, refusing to tell anyone where she lived. Etsuko didn’t know what to do anymore; she’d hired an investigator but had little luck tracking her down. “Hana, tell me where you are, and please call your mother—”
“Shut up, college boy. Or else I’ll hang up.”
“Oh, Hana. Why?” He had to smile, having missed even her petulance. “Why are you so difficult, Hana-chan?”
“And why are you so far away?”
Hana poured herself a smaller glass of wine, and Solomon heard the glug of the liquid hitting the glass. It was morning in Tokyo, and she was sitting on the bare floor of her tiny apartment in Roppongi, which she shared with three other hostesses. Two were sleeping off the whiskey tea from the night before, and the third hadn’t returned home from a date.
“I miss you, Solomon. I miss my old friend. You were my only friend. You know that?”
“You’re drinking. Are you okay?”
“I like to drink. Drinking makes me happy. I’m very good at drinking.” She laughed and swallowed a thimbleful of wine. She wanted to make the bottle last. “I’m good at drinking and fucking. Soo desu nee.”
“Can you please tell me where you are?”
“I’m in Tokyo.”
“Still working in a club in Roppongi?”
“Yes, but at another club. You don’t know which one.” She had been fired two nights ago, but she knew she could get another job. “I am an excellent hostess.”
“I’m sure you would be excellent at whatever you decide to do.”
“You do not approve of my work, but I do not care. I am not a prostitute. I pour drinks and make conversation with incredibly boring men and make them feel fascinating.”
“I didn’t say that I didn’t approve.”
“You lie.”
“Hana-chan, why don’t you go to school? I think you would like college. You’re smarter than most of the kids here. Maybe you can study in America; learn English first, then apply to a college here. Your mom and my dad would pay for it. You know that.”
“Why don’t I finish high school first?” Hana replied tartly. “Hang on, is your girlfriend with you now?”
“No, but I have to meet her soon.”
“No, you will not meet her, Solomon. You will talk to me. Because you are my old friend, and I want to talk to my old friend tonight. Can you cancel? And I will call you back.”
“I’ll call you. Yes, I’ll cancel, then I’ll call you back.”
“I am not giving you my number. You cancel with girlfriend-o, and I will call you in five minutes.”
“Are you okay, Hana?”
“Why don’t you say you miss me, too, Solomon? You used to miss me desperately. Don’t you remember?”
“Yes, I remember everything.”
When they met for lunch after being apart for three years, she gave him a crimson-colored cashmere sweater from Burberry as a graduation present. “It’s cold in Manhattan, nee? The sweater is bloodred and hot like our burning love.” During the meal, however, she would not come close to him. She wouldn’t even touch his arm. She had smelled wonderful, like jasmine and sandalwood.
“How could I forget you?” Solomon said quietly. Phoebe would be coming by in a few minutes. She had the key to his room.
“Ah, there. There is my Solomon. I can tell when you are hungry for me.”
Solomon closed his eyes. She was right; this felt like hunger. It had been nothing short of physical pain when she had left him, and he’d had no words to describe her departure. He loved Phoebe, but it wasn’t what he’d felt for Hana.
“Hana-chan. I have to go now, but may I please phone you later? May I please have your number?”
“No, Solomon. You may not have my number. I call you when I want to speak to you. You do not call me. Nobody calls me.”
“And you get to leave when you want to leave,” he said.
“Yes, I do get to leave, but Solomon, you will never tire of me, because I will never ask anything of you. Except for today. I want you to talk to me so I can go to sleep. I cannot sleep anymore, Solomon. I do not know why, but I cannot sleep anymore. Hana-chan is so tired.”
“Why won’t you let your mother help you? I’m in New York. You won’t even tell me your number. How can I help—”
“I know, I know, you are studying and becoming an international businessman of the world! This is what your rich papa wants, and Solomon is a good boy and he will make his pachinko papa proud!”