Jon Athan - Am I Beautiful?

Miki’s face scrunched up, as if she were about to cry. She covered her mouth with her hand and giggled.

“I’m sorry,” Adam said. “Was that cheesy? Should I go? Yeah, I should go.”

“No, don’t,” Miki said, still laughing. “Please don’t. Just give me a minute.”

She sniffled and took a sip of her drink, then she smiled and breathed deeply through her nose. ‘ You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen .’ No one had ever spoken to her like that before. She had only heard those words in her favorite romance movies. The compliment sent her into a tailspin. She was as excited as she was scared. Doubt crept into her mind, filling her head with ‘what-ifs.’

What if he’s lying?

What if I say the wrong thing?

What if he’s trying to steal from me?

What if he’s telling the truth?

Visions of love flashed in her mind. She imagined herself at a candlelit dinner in an upscale restaurant with Adam, having a picnic with him under a tree’s cherry blossoms, and joining him on trips to exotic countries. In less than fifteen seconds, she envisioned a perfect future. The human imagination was a powerful thing.

Her heart fluttered in her chest, her atria flapping like a hummingbird’s wings. She unwittingly tapped her foot, the thuds clashing with the 80s rock song playing from the speakers. Her fingers trembled as she caressed her glass. She smiled, then her lips sank into a neutral expression, then she frowned, and then she smiled again. She couldn’t hide her jitters.

“You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever met,” Miki blurted out as Adam got up to leave.

She stood from her stool, pressed her body up against his, and looked up into his eyes. She felt his warm breath on her face. Their mouths were open, lips shaking with excitement. They leaned in towards each other, inch by inch—close, closer . They closed their eyes before their lips touched. They shared a deep, passionate kiss.

Adam put his hands on her hips while Miki ran her fingers through his feathery black hair. Dallas and Hayato clapped from their booth. Yuki lowered his head in disapproval. The couple ignored them. They leaned away from each other. Miki let out a shuddery sigh and smiled. Adam smirked and nodded. Their doubts and worries were whisked away.

Miki said, “Do you… want to go somewhere private?”

“You have somewhere in mind?”

“Well, there are many hotels in the area. They’re called ‘love hotels.’ They’re… They’re short-stay hotels. Hourly, you know? They have TVs with a lot of movies, karaoke, snacks and coffee. And they’re cheap, too. I can… I can pay if you want.”

Adam wasn’t stupid. Some people may have used love hotels to pass the time, but those rooms were primarily used for making love . It was right there in the title: Love hotel. Miki wasn’t inviting him to watch movies or to a night of drunken karaoke. She was asking him to spend the night with her—to make love to her.

He thought about his wife. They had a healthy relationship. They argued every once in a while, but they always made up before bed. They were struggling to have a baby, but they weren’t angry about it. He had no reason to cheat—other than his high libido. He stopped thinking with his brain, stopped feeling with his heart, and allowed his lust to lead him through the minefield of adultery.

He grabbed Miki’s hand and said, “Let’s go.”

They hurried out of the bar. They roamed the streets of Kabukichō—Tokyo’s red-light district—while chatting about Japan and searching for the perfect love hotel for their affair.

Wide-eyed, Dallas looked over at the bar and asked, “Where’s Adam?” Hayato, drunk out of his mind, rambled incoherently at Yuki. Dallas knocked on the table and repeated, “ Where’s Adam? ”

Yuki sat upright, stretched his neck out, and scanned the bar. He saw some expatriates and salarymen. He shrugged at Dallas.

Dallas muttered, “Ah, shit, maybe he went to the bathroom.”

“The woman is gone, too,” Yuki said.

Hayato mumbled something, but they didn’t understand him.

Dallas looked at the empty stool at the bar and whispered, “Adam, man, I’m sorry.”

“ Arigatou gozaimasu, ” a Japanese salaryman said as he bowed and held the door open.

‘ Arigatou gozaimasu ’ translated to ‘thank you.’

Adam stood on the sidewalk outside, his back to the salaryman. He had spent an hour at the office, a travel agency called Express Dream Tours in central Tokyo. He pitched his business proposal and, although they didn’t sign any contracts, he managed to arrange a second meeting. Business was going well, all smiles and handshakes.

But he now stood motionless, his limp fingers barely hooked around his briefcase’s handle. Tourists and salarymen pushed past him, hurrying to their next stops, but he didn’t react.

“ Da… Daijōbu desu ka? ” the salaryman stuttered upon noticing the sudden change in Adam’s behavior. He grunted to capture his attention, but it didn’t work. Translating his question to English, he asked, “Are you okay?”

Adam didn’t respond. He just stood there and kept looking straight ahead. The salaryman glanced back into the office, then he shuffled out of the building and walked around Adam. He examined him as if he were marveling at a sculpture in a museum, running his eyes over him repeatedly—from head to toe and toe to head.

He waved his hand at Adam’s face— no reaction . He checked Adam’s eyes and noticed he was looking right past him, as if he weren’t even there. He stood beside Adam and tried to find what had shocked him. But Adam’s thousand-yard stare was fixed on something the salaryman couldn’t see.

It was a normal Monday morning in Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo’s business district. It was chilly outside, but not cold enough to freeze a person in an instant. And, although it looked like Adam had witnessed a violent death, there were no grisly accidents out there, either.

Just as the salaryman turned to leave, Adam said, “I think someone’s following me.”

The salaryman glanced to his left, then to his right. The crowd was active, people walking around them on the sidewalk. Men unloaded a truck in front of the local Family Mart—a convenience store—but they didn’t appear to be watching Adam. He inspected the sidewalk across the street until his eyes stopped on a woman in a long beige coat— Miki Someya . She tinkered with her cell phone while occasionally glancing over at them. She wasn’t trying to hide in plain sight, though. She was just waiting for Adam’s business meeting to officially end. She respected him and his work.

“That woman?” the salaryman asked as he pointed at her.

Adam pushed his arm down gently and said, “Yes. Please don’t point. I don’t want to cause a scene.”

“You do not… know her? She is bothering you?”

“I know her, but she doesn’t know me.”

The salaryman furrowed his brow and cocked his head to the side. He wasn’t fluent, but he knew enough to communicate in English. Adam’s sentence sounded like a riddle—a verbal puzzle. It didn’t make any sense to him. He clicked his tongue, one hand on his hip while he scratched the back of his head with the other.

Adam saw the confusion on his face. He couldn’t explain himself thoroughly without a confession, and the mere thought of confessing made his skin freckle with goosebumps.

He said, “I mean, she shouldn’t know that I’m here. I wasn’t planning on meeting her. We’re not close friends, okay? Do you understand?”