Epilogue
Althoughtheheightof summer was behind them, the air was still thick and warm by the time fall arrived. Only now the nights came earlier. Aya could hop the train from work and be home by the time the sun went down. The perfect opportunity to change into something more comfortable and spend a cool evening with her girlfriend.
Assuming Genevieve was in the country, of course.
Nearly three months had passed since they affirmed their feelings and agreed to the terms that would carry them forward. The first few weeks were the most chaotic, of course. Mango’s opened to little fanfare, but as guests were encouraged to post pictures on social media and Aya helped her girlfriend do a local newsletter tour showing off the remodel and the signature drink, more guests arrived every week. Bottles were purchased for safekeeping by people who liked the place enough to come at least once a month. Reviews were published, both online and in the travel magazines. Genevieve’s focus on the English-speaking market was a smooth move. A foreigner-friendly place for both locals and tourists alike was welcomed. Genevieve had done well in anticipating a lower profit from Mango’s than most of her other bars around Asia. That way, when the second month’s profits came in, she and Aya held in their excitement until they were back in Genevieve’s apartment, where they popped a bottle of champagne and sat down to plan events for the rest of the year.
Congratulations to me, a woman who never expected to get into the hospitality industry. Genevieve asked for advice based on Aya’s experience as a former patron of many of Shinjuku’s bars, but Aya wasn’t unconvinced she had some skill, too. There were no plans to make the switch from real estate to hospitality, but Aya could feel smug about it. In fact, she insisted on it when she was by herself.
Granted, being alone didn’t easily come those days. Even when Genevieve wasn’t in Japan, Aya was often checking on things at the bar or spending time with her sister and the kids. Mari was delighted with the private tour of Mango’s, although when she found out where the name came from, she about died of embarrassment on the bar floor. “It’s where both of your kids came from, right?” Aya had asked her when she finally came to. “Not even! Both were cesareans!”
Aya liked being busy, though. While she didn’t need her girlfriend around to have meaning in life, she did enjoy those moments the most. Watching Genevieve enter a room after a long absence was like drinking the most refreshing drink on a hot summer’s day. She had that effect on everyone, and Aya didn’t mind knowing that.
Genevieve was hers, after all.
She felt that the hardest when Genevieve closed Mango’s to the public one Saturday night in October. Instead, the doors were opened to a private party, one filled with twelve guests who were handpicked by the owner and her girlfriend.
“Remember, you’re not working tonight,” Genevieve said to Nyla, who stood behind the bar and perused the bottles on the backlit display. “Don’t give Kana too hard of a time.”
“Why not? I hired her for you.”
Aya chuckled. Genevieve caught her finishing up some paperwork before taking the binder to the small back room that doubled as an office. “Hm? You understood that, huh?”
“You think I haven’t picked up some Mandarin these past few months? You’re not the only one expanding your lingual horizons.”
Genevieve looked her up and down before turning on the orange neon sign on the back wall. ”Shinjirarenai,” she loudly sighed, as if Aya wasn’t supposed to hear that.
“You’re saying the Rs wrong!” Aya called over her shoulder. “It’s supposed to be like an L and D having a mating ritual!”
“And your English R isn’t made of five golden stars, love,” Genevieve teased her back. The only one who wasn’t laughing was Kana the bartender, whose understanding of English was high, but she was much too shy to speak it much.
Nyla’s girlfriend was the first to arrive, although her best friend, Cindy Ling, and partner, Rose Wu, were right behind her. Aya hadn’t much time to talk to them over the past few months, but she recognized them immediately: especially with Cindy’s trademarked red lipstick and stiff black ponytail. The delicate feminine woman sitting in her lap once they were at a table must have been Rose, a woman Aya had heard plenty about from Genevieve. Mostly, she’s been waiting for a formal marriage proposal for at least a year. At this rate, Aya and Genevieve would be having a symbolic wedding before Rose and Cindy legally tied the knot in Taiwan.
Genevieve warned her girlfriend that Rose didn’t speak English or Japanese. From the looks of things, Rose wasn’t talking to anyone outside of her innermost circle. Besides, there were plenty of other people she could talk to whose names weren’t Aya Sugiya.
There was Wendy and Lisa, for instance, who entered with such haughty pomp that more than a few spines straightened in apprehension. Genevieve welcomed Wendy with kisses on the cheek and a hug that almost looked sisterly. I told her everything, of course. Genevieve had been pleasantly surprised that Wendy had gone out of her way to help a couple save face. “I honestly thought she was too self-absorbed for that.” Even after Aya described Wendy’s supposedly selfish reasons for doing so, Genevieve shook her head and said, “She must like you to come all the way to Tokyo to help. There was plenty she could have done in Singapore or even Taiwan.”
Eight women, not including the bartender on duty, were already packing the small bar. There were only eleven seats in the whole place, and since everyone knew everyone else here, they wanted to crowd around the bar to yell out where they had recently traveled and who had made the most money in business deals that past month. Lisa pushed two of the back tables out of the way so she and Wendy could have an Instagram photo session in front of the orange sign. First, it was Lisa, posing both cutely and provocatively in her bright red backless slip dress, then Wendy, who couldn’t keep her hands off her demure girlfriend. Genevieve egged them on as long as the obnoxious couple promised to promote the bar on their social media. Unfortunately, this caused a landslide of group photos in front of the sign. When the last couple of guests arrived, it had to all be done again.
Aya stayed behind the bar. She wasn’t a mixologist, but she liked having the counter separating her from the groups of friends and frenemies who let loose once they were in this out-of-the-way Tokyo bar. The top-shelf spirits flowed, including some of Genevieve’s private stash she had been amassing in Japan. Aya insisted that everyone try some of the premium sake she had secured for the high rollers who occasionally came through the bar before hitting up the “big” co-ed clubs in Shinjuku. As Kana poured, the women fought over whether sa-ke was better than baiju, the native liquor of China.
“Sa-ke, baiju, soju, it’s all the same!” Nyla spat over them all. Once again, Aya was proud she could understand that much in Mandarin now. My speaking skills are absolute shit, though. A few tones existed in Japanese, but not to the extent languages like Mandarin and Cantonese commanded. Aya was always afraid to try. Yet wasn’t she studying Mandarin on Duolingo for a reason? Not to just get herself laid every time Genevieve was in town?
“Wa, look at this collar!” It took them all long enough to notice the choker around Genevieve’s throat. To be fair, she was wearing a black dress that night, and the collar Aya selected for her blended in. Wendy’s astute, slightly inebriated eyes spotted it first, though. “Is it different from your other one? Where did you get it, Genny-ah, because I want one for Lisa!”
When Genevieve humbly told her friends Aya had surprised her with it, everyone was shocked. Except for Nyla, who rolled her eyes as if she couldn’t believe everyone hadn’t figured out Aya was capable of giving Genevieve what she liked in the bedroom.
“She really is special,” Genevieve said, fingers brushing against the hook in her collar. “I can’t wait to bring her back to Paradise.”
A few snickers rippled up and down the bar. Before anyone could ask if Genevieve was allowed back yet, a man knocked on the door before sliding it open and bowing his Yomiuri Giants baseball cap in apology.
“Please pardon my interruption, ladies!” As his masculine voice boomed across the crowd, everyone – whether they spoke Japanese or not – stopped to listen and wonder what the hell kind of problem had occurred. “I think I found a lost soul trying to locate you!”
The door opened the rest of the way. Much to Aya’s shock, there stood Mari, dressed in the same club outfit she had last squeezed into back in 2003.
“Kitaaaaa!” she cried, posing in the doorway as if she were a teenage idol. “Aya! Jyunebiebu! Your big sister is here!”
As she pushed Toumo aside to get to Aya, most of the guests were beside themselves in laughter.