“He told you that?”
“No,” I sighed. “But he might as well have. I don’t think he thinks of me as family. Not his real family.” My voice weakened. I was trying to picture myself in Paris now, but the picture was even more confusing than ever. I saw a scared little kid gripping her big sister’s hand as their dad ushered them into a cab to the airport. I saw all those years of resetting a countdown, of resetting myself for another fall.
Jamie put both his hands in my sweatshirt pocket and touched his forehead to mine. His eyelashes caught the morning light. “You could have talked to me about that.”
“But I didn’t want to talk. I know it sounds stupid, but I didn’t want to care about anything when all of this has to end.” As soon as I said it, I realized it was true—I’d hurt him because I couldn’t face being let down. Not again. Not by someone else I trusted. I pressed my foot against his. “I couldn’t,” I whispered.
“Because you were leaving?”
“Yes. And because I’d probably never see you again and because I loved you…”
He pulled his head back, but his hands dug deeper into my pocket. “I love you.”
I tucked my face into his neck. Honestly, it freaked me out a little—saying it, hearing him say it back. Maybe we were being rash. Maybe it would be better if we’d just kept it to ourselves.
Why make this any harder than it already is?
“Well, I shouldn’t have blown up at you,” he said. “I shouldn’t have just walked away.”
“But I shouldn’t have gotten drunk,” I said. “Or kissed David.”
“Yes. I will concede that point to you.”
I laughed into his neck. A bicycle bell rang behind us, and Jamie led us closer to the storefronts. My suitcase clunked along behind.
“We should talk about something else,” I said. “Something not me. How’s everything with your parents?”
Jamie frowned. “My parents?”
“Yeah,” I said tentatively. “Mika mentioned that they’d been fighting the other day. About—your birth mom?”
He drew back. “She said that?”
I started to panic. Oh God, I had no idea why I’d picked that topic. It was clearly a mistake. “Sort of. Not really. She said she’d overheard them in the lobby, but she didn’t go into detail or anything.”
“Right,” he said, but his eyes were distant. Lost in a haze.
“Right,” I said, floundering now. “But it’s fine. Let’s change the subject.”
Across the street, an advertisement for a new superhero movie was painted across a huge white wall. I stared at the bright splashes of red and played with the ties of my hood.
“Everything is so screwed up right now,” he said. “My parents keep fighting because they don’t want my birth mom to see me after she bailed last Thanksgiving, and they can’t decide what to do if she tries. And that’s the thing. If they say she can’t, she can’t. Until I’m eighteen, I don’t have a choice.”
“Jamie,” I said. “All of that sucks.”
He shrugged. “It’s not like there’s some obvious answer. It’s not like I feel at home with any of them.”
I took a small step back. And I thought about the first time I’d left Tokyo. How that moment had always seemed like the one where I’d lost my home—my family.
And then I thought about what Jamie had said when we sat above Shibuya Crossing. About belonging. About how you can still choose where you belong.
I gripped the straps of my backpack. “I don’t think it works that way.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, just because you don’t have this perfect place to always go to, it doesn’t mean you don’t have a home. That can be everywhere—wherever you want.” I pressed my hands to his chest. “This can be home.”
The distance fell from his eyes, and he wrapped his hands around mine. “You know what the weirdest thing about this week is? That most of the time, it’s like I’m not really back. You’re the one person who makes me feel like myself. You make me feel like I’m actually here.”
“Is that why you love me?” I whispered.
“No.” He placed one hand inside my sweatshirt hood and touched his thumb to my cheek. “I think that is me loving you. I think all of those feelings are the love ones.”
“In that case”—I took a deep breath—“I love you, too.”
CHAPTER 36
SUNDAY
I HAVE TWO HOURS LEFT WITH JAMIE.
I have one.
I don’t have any.
CHAPTER 37
SUNDAY
THE NARITA EXPRESS IS THE TRAIN that will take me to Narita Airport, where I will get on the plane that will take me to Newark, New Jersey.
“Okay,” I say.
Jamie and I are standing in Tokyo Station, outside the Narita Express ticket barriers. I’m holding my ticket with one hand and his hand with the other. “Okay,” I say again. “My train leaves in fifteen minutes, but let’s not stand here. If my mom and sister aren’t on the platform yet, they’ll be here soon, and I actually can’t say good-bye to you in front of them.”
“Don’t be upset,” Jamie says. “There’s nothing to be upset about. Let’s just say good-bye in an easy and casual manner.”
“That was such a stupid statement, I have no words for it. I’m not going to punch your arm and say, ‘Later, bro.’”
He grins. “That wasn’t my point. My point was, it’s not a big deal, because we’ll see each other soon.”
Someone’s suitcase bumps mine. This is the most crowded place we’ve been all morning. Full of people with heavy bags and heavy, determined looks on their faces. “Come on,” I say. “Let’s just… Come on.”
We walk away, but there’s no place private enough for us to stand. This is one of the largest, busiest train stations in Tokyo. We flatten ourselves against the wall of a fluorescent hallway teeming with passersby and hold each other by the elbows. I know my hands are shaking, but I’m not mortified or anything because his are, too.