I woke to a start
ding dong!!!!!
freak-out moment
my hair an absolute mess, and who could possibly be at the door on a day like this?
I pulled myself up from the futon, tripping over the crash helmet which was currently a permanent fixture next to where I slept. I stuck my glasses on my face half-hazardly. I wasn't expecting any packages.
A week after the Fukushima earthquake was a strange time to say the least.
The initial earthquake even in Tokyo was massive and mind-shattering that day, and a couple hours later, as I was walking miles home in a stupefied daze with a bunch of other stranded commuters, the first aftershock, nearly as big as the initial earthquake shook the streets.
Arriving home, I was glad to find my apartment building intact, but the initial feeling of relief was short-lived as the news about the death toll in Fukushima came rolling in.
And the aftershocks kept coming every couple of hours.
BIG aftershocks.
After a day or two, one would think that they would have stopped, but, no, like a madman had a hold of a shock torture clock, they kept coming.
As if this weren't bad enough, the news about the radiation was leaking out. Comparisons to Chernobyl were being made, and Tokyo was only 200 miles from Fukushima.
"Do not go outside," the newscaster said.
"And if you absolutely have to go outside, don't breathe."
All bottled water disappeared off of every store in Tokyo's shelves within two days after the disaster, and tap water was said to be unsafe at this point.
The initial earthquake even in Tokyo was massive and mind-shattering that day, and a couple hours later, as I was walking miles home in a stupefied daze with a bunch of other stranded commuters, the first aftershock, nearly as big as the initial earthquake shook the streets.
Arriving home, I was glad to find my apartment building intact, but the initial feeling of relief was short-lived as the news about the death toll in Fukushima came rolling in.
And the aftershocks kept coming every couple of hours.
BIG aftershocks.
After a day or two, one would think that they would have stopped, but, no, like a madman had a hold of a shock torture clock, they kept coming.
As if this weren't bad enough, the news about the radiation was leaking out. Comparisons to Chernobyl were being made, and Tokyo was only 200 miles from Fukushima.
"Do not go outside," the newscaster said.
"And if you absolutely have to go outside, don't breathe."
All bottled water disappeared off of every store in Tokyo's shelves within two days after the disaster, and tap water was said to be unsafe at this point.
The doorbell rang again.
I tiptoed up to the door and peered through the peephole-
a man with a mask?!
My pulse rate rose the height of a skyscraper in Shinjuku.
I tiptoed up to the door and peered through the peephole-
a man with a mask?!
My pulse rate rose the height of a skyscraper in Shinjuku.
The peephole was steamed up.
Who on earth?
My phone rang, making me jump a half a foot. I looked around, startled--- where the heck was my phone anyway.. ah!
"Um, hi! I'm outside your door right now. Are you home?"
"Yeah. . . hold on. . . So sorry!"
"Yeah. . . hold on. . . So sorry!"
I said, opening the door.
H smiled a huge smile under the mask.
He handed me a cake, or should I say a big chunk of cake, wrapped in cellophane.
"For you. I made it."
"Thanks!" I said, floored.
From a man who said he never cooked, a cake?
Then I remembered, H worked as prep cook at a restaurant— not just any restaurant, either— one of the most famous retro (as in the Japanese sense of the word “re-tu-ro” harking back to Western style culture which became popular in the 60’s) cafes in Tokyo called Rojinasabo in Kunitachi City in Western Tokyo where we lived down the street from one another. The menu consisted of things like doria- a kind of baked risotto, wafu (Japanese style) spaghetti dishes, beef stew, and various kinds of chiffon cake for dessert.
It’s weird to live in one of the largest cities in the world— but a city within a city where you live in such close proximity with others that there are things like public baths-- in fact, there was one right next to where I lived.
H was a kindred spirit.
"We're leaving for Kumamoto today - my sister and I - just to see my parents. They've been worried,” he said.
"Yeah, mine are super worried, too."
"You know," he said, "I have a feeling it might be a good idea to get out of Tokyo for a while." He took a breath, pensive. "I went back and forth about it, but well. . ." he let the sentence trail off in the nuclear wind.
I nodded and a sound emerged from the back of my throat.
“But,” he added, “This cake, well, I think you’ll enjoy it. I made it myself."
