Twelve Months of Kristal: 50 Loving States Maine

But something inside of me, just can’t let him go off to the bathroom while I pack my magical bag like a good little escort. “Wait, Hayato, wait…”

I run after him and grab onto his arm before he can get all the way to the bathroom. “Are you at all moved by what happened between Declan and Siobhan? What we helped make happen?”

He looks at the hand I’ve got wrapped around his wrist, then back up at me. “I am aware there might be confusion over this matter, given what transpired this afternoon. I will clear up that confusion now. This trip isn’t about romance or reunions. It is a mere closing of the deal. One that’s gone on far too long.”

We’re talking about Declan and Siobhan. But we’re not talking about Declan and Siobhan.

Us. We’re really talking about what’s happening between us. And he’s warning me not to attach more meaning to what he did for me than there actually is.

The melancholy melody to “Got a Feelin’” unspools inside my head as Denny Doherty comes to the realization that the person he’s fallen for is just playing head games with him and has no intention of ever loving him back.

I adore The Mamas & The Papas, but a lot of their songs held this dynamic. Love given and not returned.

Feeling like a fool, I drop his arm. And he walks away to the bathroom without looking back.

25

Monday, Monday

HAYATO

The sixth day of Christmas

I wake to a man whining about what an untrustworthy day Monday is. It’s The Mamas and the Papas, a band I’ve come to know all too well over the past year. However, the music isn’t coming from inside my head this time or even from Kristal’s phone.

I must have accidentally set the wake button on the nightstand’s 80s era digital alarm clock to radio last night. Yet, it doesn’t feel like an accident as the singer laments about the woman he can’t convince to stay.

I slap a hand down on top of the ancient radio player until the band stops whining in four-part harmony.

But when I turn over to go back to sleep, I find the bed empty. Kristal’s gone. Not far. The sound of the shower breaks through my early morning fog. She’s broken the new rule I established the last time she woke up before me.

Even more irritating than that, lying on the pillow where her head should be is yet another sketch of the old man.

Since Kristal isn’t here to see, I ball up the drawing and shoot it into the wastebasket sitting beside the room’s simple wooden desk. The makeshift basketball disappears into the trash, but the uneasy feeling lingers.

The song, the rule breaking, the latest drawing—it feels like everything is falling apart, even though we’ll finally be leaving today.

This is why Kristal finds me texting with my personal assistant when she emerges from the lavatory. Fully dressed, I note with disappointment. I’d hoped we might have sex again this morning since we didn’t get to last night.

Kristal had already been asleep when I finished my shower. At least she appeared to be asleep. Suspicion that she was faking had dogged me as I’d settled into the bed beside her and turned off the light.

“Good morning,” she says, her eyes bouncing near, but not quite settling on me. Or the bed.

“Good morning,” I answer. “Please, give me your phone number, so that I can put you in contact with my assistant. He’ll need your sizes in order to arrange a proper wardrobe to meet us in Japan.”

“Oh, you don’t have to bother him with that. My suitcase was made in Santa’s workshop, and it still has enough magic in it to provide me with everything I need.”

“Kristal-san, there are certain items that I would like you to wear that go beyond what even magical luggage would provide.” She refuses to meet my gaze, but I level her with a hot look as I clarify, “Certain items that I would like to take off of you in Tokyo.”

She dips her head in the shy way I’ve come to like so much. “That sounds fun,” she admits.

“Doesn’t it?” I agree.

But then she says, “And we could easily have fun like that in San Francisco, don’t you think? Plus, San Fran’s only a few hours away, not fifteen.”

I put back on my cold business face and remind her, “The deal is that you will accompany me wherever I want to go.”

“I know what the deal is, believe me,” she answers with a roll of her eyes. “But with only five more days to go until I have to report back to Santa’s Workshop, Tokyo feels really unnecessarily out of the way.”

I respond to her argument with an idea I’ve been pondering for a few days now. “Perhaps you should stay on in Japan for longer than the agreed upon dates then.”