“I did,” replied Tomoka. “It was such a strange clinic. Both the doctor and nurse were drunk. And on top of that, they prescribed me a cat as if it was some kind of a mood stabilizer.”
“Drunk? Prescribed a cat?”
“Now that I think about it, maybe it’s their strategy to mess with people’s minds or, maybe, their lives. But I’m okay. None of it affected me.”
Yet, for the past ten days, after closing the store for the day, Tomoka had completed only the essential tasks before heading straight home. And even today, after quickly finishing tidying up, she hurried back home to her apartment.
She opened her front door, tossed away her high heels, and rushed inside.
“Tank, I’m home!”
After a soft meow, Tank, with his beautiful long-haired white coat, approached her with graceful steps. His dark brown tail resembled a fur collar. The moment Tomoka saw the cat, her face softened. Tank had occupied her thoughts all day—Tank lying down, Tank eating his food, Tank stretching to scratch at his toy.
“Come to Mommy,” she said, her arms wide-open, but she was interrupted by a sharp reprimand.
“Tomoka, you have to wash your hands first.”
Daigo, wearing an apron, peeked out from the kitchen. The delicious aroma of cooking lingered in the air. Tomoka snapped back to reality.
“Oh, Daigo, you’re here today, too?”
“I guess. Hey, don’t do that. You should wash your hands before touching Tank.”
With a huff, Tomoka went to the bathroom to wash her hands. Usually, she didn’t need to be reminded to do what was right. It had just slipped her mind today because Tank was so adorable.
“Here, Tank. Come here. Come to Mommy.”
Without even changing her clothes, Tomoka rolled onto the carpet. As if moving to a beat, Tank approached with fluid steps. From Tomoka’s vantage point closer to the floor, Tank looked even cuter. When she purposely stayed still, Tank sniffed her steadily from head to toe, rubbed his flank against her, and left a trail of fur.
“Show me your paws.”
Tomoka held one of Tank’s white paws. From above, it looked like a plump clenched fist. When she flipped it over, she found pink paw pads. She gently ran her finger over them, marveled at the peculiar texture. They were soft and elastic like silicone. No, it was more like gummy candy. It felt satisfying to the touch. Tomoka closed her eyes.
“Tomoka, dinner is ready.”
She knew she was being summoned, but Tomoka couldn’t let go. Tank’s paws were too irresistible. Without changing his expression, Tank suddenly withdrew his paw. He turned his backside toward Tomoka and sauntered away.
“Wait, Tank. Let me smell your paw!”
“Stop being silly. Let’s eat,” snapped Daigo.
Tank was curled up in a makeshift bed of cardboard box and T-shirt. Tomoka took her seat at the table. Daigo had already begun eating.
“Maybe you shouldn’t get too attached to the cat. Don’t you have to return Tank in a few days?”
“I know. I’ve been thinking about it,” said Tomoka. She was irritated that he’d reminded her of something she was trying not to think about. He’s the one who needs to be more thoughtful. She frowned.
Daigo and Tomoka had been dating for five years now. It had all begun when they’d exchanged a few words at an eatery where Daigo had worked as a cook, when Tomoka was still a budding designer for hire. Both of them had dreamed of owning their own businesses one day, and a few years later, Tomoka achieved that dream. Daigo, on the other hand, hopped from one restaurant to another, and presently, he was a cook at an izakaya. His days and nights were completely reversed—he always left the house in the evenings and returned after midnight.
To avoid missing each other, they decided to live together. Daigo was conscientious and good at chores and cooking. Things were easy when they were together, so that was enough—or at least that’s what she told people.
“Hey, Daigo,” she began.
“What’s up?” he replied.
“About that conversation we had the other day—what do you think? You know, about going to see my parents. My parents keep asking when we’ll come see them. Of course, there’s no deep meaning in just meeting them. Just a casual visit.”
“Sure,” Daigo said lightly between bites.
Tomoka’s eyes widened. “Really? When can we go?”
“Anytime. I just quit my job and have plenty of free time.”
“I see…you have a lot of free time…” He quit. Again.
She sipped on the miso soup. The broth was rich, and the daikon radish was tender and full of flavor. Daigo, being a chef, consistently whipped up delicious meals. But despite being in his thirties, he was without direction and had a Pollyannaish outlook. Since they’d met, he’d changed jobs more times than she could count. He’d been at the last izakaya for only a short time yet had already quit.
The reality of Daigo’s unemployment gradually registered with Tomoka. They had been in their twenties when they met, and Tomoka had been absorbed in pursuing her dream and had perceived his easygoing nature with optimism. But before Tomoka realized it, she’d turned thirty-two. Deep down, she wanted him to start seriously considering their future. If he didn’t find a steady job soon, they would never be able to get married.
“I’m sorry,” said Daigo, looking up over the rim of his bowl. “I’ll start looking for a job right away. But I’m happy to meet your parents while I’m still unemployed if it’s fine with you.”
“Oh, no, um…You must be busy with the job search. We can see them once things are settled.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
When she saw how apologetic he looked, her anger melted away. I just have to get my act together. I have to do things the right way. Be more dependable. The thought lifted her sinking spirits.
