小さな優しさ (Chīsana Yasashi-sa)

How can I sell Ookami's smile? There is this sad sweetness to it. Never a direct gaze, always with his eyes to the side or towards the ground. He had a shy confidence that burned over me. Was this all a game to him?

It was almost summer, but there was a chill in the air that required a coat. Ookami walked into the water, with that sweet smile pointed to the side. The water glistened behind him. It's cold, and he wanted a picture of himself standing in the sea. Black sunglasses, black jacket, bare feet. Looking down and to the side, pretending to be shy of the camera. Maybe he was just scared it might see the real him.

A moment by the sea with haste, then Ookami and I made a quick sprint back to the city. We were going to a friend's birthday party that night, and Ookami needed a costume. Dressing up was the one thing that seemed to give Ookami true joy. It was one of the few times his shyness disappeared as Ookami melted into the safety of his costume.

I first met Ookami just before I got divorced. My marriage was lonely when it was working, but it was cold and isolating when it was ending. My one moment of joy each week was my Japanese class. It was my chance to change myself, but I wasn't perfect and needed a tutor. Ookami was the third tutor I tried. He was shy, extraordinarily handsome, brilliant, and kind to me. This is how it starts, a simple act of kindness.

At our first tutoring session, Ookami pointed out my messy penmanship and he lent me his pen for the lesson. As the lesson finished, he reached across and placed his soft hand on my forearm. He said I could keep the pen. It was an unexpected touch to seal an unexpected kindness. I caught his dark black eyes for the first time. He had to give me a moment. I fell into a thousand little pieces on the floor.

We became good friends, then lovers. I was wrapped in the warmth of him, buoyant above the pain of my divorce. I noticed he did not have a lot of money, so I paid for all that I could. My simple act of kindness was initially followed by Ookami's small refusal. As time passed, my kindness became unchecked by Ookami. The expectation was set, but I was happy, and we enjoyed life together.

Ookami's favourite costume shop was a small quirky shop called 'Snog the Frog'. I swear he would have tried on every costume in that store twice. The only photos I have of Ookami smiling are when he was trying on a costume at the shop. That day, Ookami's choices had settled between a rabbit and a wolf. His uncertainty bounced back and forth between the two, and after the second go at the rabbit costume, Ookami found something.

One of the previous wearers had left their valuables wedged into the head of the rabbit costume. Ookami pulled out the Ziplock bag and showed it to me. Inside the bag was some cash and a dead mobile phone. There was around $400 in the bag. I could see the money was teasing Ookami and it forced a hidden memory to the surface.

Bouncing back and forth between honesty and need, he resolved his dilemma by recalling his own folly. Every year in his hometown in Kashima, Japan, they held a mud festival called the Gatalympics. He talked about losing his own valuables contained within a Ziplock bag during the sumo mud wrestling tournament. This was the first time I had heard his story, but it was so familiar. Had I dreamt this?

Ookami had come to Australia before my short and stormy marriage started. I had been chatting to someone on an app back then who told a similar story. Sumo mud wrestling, losing their stuff, the clear plastic bag. This is how doubt creeps in. Was he the person I was chatting with?

My simple query was met with a vicious denial. His anger was surprising and stacked on top of discontent. He claimed the night was now ruined. His eyes burned, he played defense, he feigned ignorance. He produced a smile hidden beneath an air of contempt. His eyes were screaming at me, saying 'so what?'. All in response to a simple question. We left the costume store and went home. Ookami disappeared that night while I was sleeping.

Behind the anger in his eyes, there was another lie. About three months after Ookami disappeared, I had managed to put together some pieces from other people. For the first couple of years in Australia, Ookami had catfished and honeypotted his way through life. From my best guess, I was mark number five. He was never very creative at lying, so he used to incorporate a lot of his own life into his lies. Lies he sold lonely people like me.

Somehow with me, the confidence scam turned into comfort. The line blurred, Ookami mixed business with pleasure and he became loyal to the worst of masters – love. But he was not a wolf that simply woke up and chose violence, this was in his nature. Despite the affection for me, he couldn't shake the failure of being burned by his mark. This is the impossible game he must have played.

Some days it feels like I was abandoned there on the beach, looking out at the sea in the distance. I now sway through waves of concern and try to avoid touching the deep worry. How do I stay afloat? It's an overwhelming sea of grief and I feel so heavy with all this anger inside me.