Lady Red

Good morning HISOKA, the time is 8:00 am. Your train on the ORANGE LINE will be arriving in ten minutes. Your shift at PAN-GROUND COMMUNICATIONS will start at 9:00 am. You have a meeting scheduled with the REGIONAL DIRECTOR at 9:30am…

The faint yellow text emerged like tiny specks of stardust on my Kiyoshi Optics implant, every letter popping up just above my field of vision as if written by an invisible typewriter – methodically rhythmic, just the way I like it. Programmed thanks to the Times Square™ Marquee software in my eye.

The day started like any other, I grabbed a ham and cheese croissant and placed it in my briefcase next to my black leather day planner. The sandwich was from a local French style bakery on my morning commute to Thorncliffe Station. Even though the commute from our apartment to the transit hub is a mere fifteen-minute stroll, I always make sure to leave two hours before my shift to avoid any complications. Mariko always hated that, but like my mother used to say, “Routine is key”. I never believed in it growing up in New Chiba’s industrial zone, but my parents were honest workers. My father was a pipefitter and my mother a vat-mixer at the Good Earth Foods plant. I owe it to them; without a consistent routine I would not have been the first in the family to graduate from New Chiba University and to become the Communications Lead at Pan-Ground. I only wish they were still around so I could thank and tell them that I love them. Sadly, I never had that chance. The thought haunts me still, enough that it stopped me in my tracks as I entered the station.

My parents were involved in a traffic incident. I still remember that awful day as if it were yesterday. The official report from the NCPD stated that it was a hit and run and it was a bunch of bosozoku hooligans who were responsible – they were never caught, of course. My day turned upside down after that incident, I did not even know what had happened until I received a phone call from the police. I remember up until then my prime concerns were to get to work on time and not to miss my train. I felt so ashamed and disgusted at myself. I often wonder if anyone else ever felt the same way that I did, but I hope no one has. The grief is unbearable, it has been five years since then and I still feel weak. I hope Mariko never felt this way, I could never imagine her being this vulnerable if she were in my position.

“Routine brings order and quaint harmony.” My mother would say, “Routine is key.”

With a handkerchief I dried up the tears from my left eye and neatly folded the cloth before returning it back to my blazer pocket. I have been meaning to get the remaining tear ducts surgically removed, but I still have not found the time or the money to have the operation. For now, I must at least look like I am strong. Taking a deep breath with my chin held high, I navigated the maze of tunnels in the subway station to find the Orange Line. I was lucky to find a seat today at the train station, normally swarms of traveling workers would have claimed all the seats in the terminal by now as they wait for the Green Line to Tokyo. Today was different, as I took a seat, I noticed that only the Orange Line commuters were in the station. I recognized some familiar faces in the crowd of beige and neutral tone business attire as well as some construction workers. Everyone here must be going to the business sector. How curious, maybe they shut the cities’ borders today.

Your train on the ORANGE LINE will be arriving in five minutes, gather your items and wait for its arrival.

The familiar text appeared on my cybernetic eye, right on schedule as always. It is time for the first bites of my breakfast. I grabbed my day planner and placed it beside me before I reached for the croissant and peeled the sticker from the paper packaging. Carefully, I slid the sandwich out just enough to take a bite while leaving my hand protected from the grease. I always savoured moments like these when everything goes according to plan, like the first bite of the day. It is always the best one especially when it is still so warm and buttery. But I hate the mess it leaves behind, every crumb an inconvenience, every flake another complication. Shaking my head, I quickly brushed the thoughts away like the bits left on my blazer and instead I began to focus on the more positive aspects of my life.

I know I am still a fortunate person; I have a mid-level corporate position with a livable salary, a roof over my head, good health, and Mariko most of all. I looked down at the buttery stained paper packaging and it reminded me of how Mariko and I first met. It was shortly after my parents’ passing when I found myself burdened with grief. At the time, company policy stated that we were only allowed three bereavement days. On the first day I buried my parents at Heiwa Park Cemetery, by the dawn of the second day I was bedridden. Staring at the ceiling and unable to sleep. On the third day I began to wander the streets with no clear direction. Eventually I came across Vie de France, the local French bakery. I collapsed on a patio chair lightheaded, it felt like the world spun around me like I was in the eye of a storm until my vision turned to black. When I came to, it was late in the evening and early in the morning. Mariko was sitting across from me with a warm but crooked smile and piercing eyes with a neon blue glow. In front of her was a cup of coffee, cream, sugar and a ham and cheese croissant on a saucer plate. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun and she was wearing her coveralls, stained with motor oil. Her hands covered in black grease; she brushed a stray hair away from her eyes leaving a gray smudge across her forehead. I sat there dumbfounded. I was a speechless, stunned, broken mess. While Mariko sat there, dirty, and unkempt with a piercing gaze in a state of contentment. She was beautiful. I was captivated with the sight and continued staring with a dumb look on my face.

Mariko chuckled with the same crooked smile, “Sometimes the smaller things in life are worth living for. Just like this moment.”

She poured some sugar and some creamer in the coffee before mixing it with a spoon for three seconds. She spun the spoon around the coffee cup and time seemed to slow down, every revolution felt like minutes, every sound of metal scraping on porcelain, absolutely deafening. Without warning, Mariko tapped the lip of the cup breaking my gaze like a hypnotist.

“Hey Blue, I bought this for you,” said Mariko. And as she stood up and began to leave, she leaned forward and grabbed my chin, the palm of her hand cupped around my jaw and her fingers around my cheeks. “See you around!”

“Wait,” I cried out, “Who – wh - what are you doing?”

“I am a mechanic, I fix things.” replied Mariko.

It did not take long before I saw her again, every day I would make the commute to the bakery in hopes of seeing her. And every second or third day she was there, two hours before my shift. We would sit at the same spot with a coffee and a croissant. After two weeks, we became an item.

“You are ridiculous!” she would say every time we met, “your corniness makes me gag.”

We would laugh about this every time; I knew she hated constantly meeting like this. But I also knew she secretly admired how frustratingly persistent I am. We would sit together for an hour on those mornings, our coffees getting cold and me a rigid corporate desk jockey and her a strong, passionate grease monkey. I admired her because she was everything I was not.

Your train on the ORANGE LINE will be arriving in two minutes, stand behind the yellow line.

The thought of Mariko brought a smile to my face, I finished my sandwich and began to gather my things when a strange figure sat right beside me her leg brushing up against mine. A lady in a red velvet dress cut just below the knee with many soft folds up to her shoulders and a tarnished black gold flower brooch on the left side of her breast. She wore a black wide brimmed hat with scarlet accents and a large pair of sunglasses darker than the night. In her hands she pulled out a small black book from her handbag covered in mysterious stains. Incidentally, she placed the book right next to mine before taking out a pack of New Chiba Silvers. She placed a cigarette in between her cracked lips and pulled the tip of her left thumb back producing a jet torch flame from a chrome tube in her thumb. The lady in red took a short drag from her cigarette and quickly noticed that I was rudely staring at her. I tried to avert my gaze, but I sat frozen with fear as she turned in an unnatural way to face me. She rested her arm along the back of the bench with her right hand still gripping the cigarette, it creeped around my left side like a snake. Slowly, she cocked her head to the side as she leaned forward wearing a malicious grin on her face. The wide rim of her hat casted a shadow on the world around me. Everything became dark, the only thing I saw were a pair of radiant amber eyes shining through the lenses, staring into my soul.

Your train on the ORANGE LINE, has arrived. Your shift at PAN-GROUND COMMUNICATIONS begins in fifty minutes.

The sound of the station speakers chimed, announcing the arrival of my train. The lady blew a thick cloud of blue smoke in my face and her infernal eyes vanished from sight. When I regained my vision, she disappeared along with the sound of the maglev train heading to the business sector. I missed my train.

Cursing, I smacked the sides of my head in frustration, “I’m so stupid! Shit!”

The next train on the ORANGE LINE will arrive in twenty minutes.

I leaned my head back and breathed a deep sigh, it has been five years since I was late to work, five years since I have been set back. I wiped another tear from my left cheek, as I looked down, I realized that terrifying woman left her little black book and had taken mine by accident. I do not know what compelled me to rummage through her book, perhaps it was out of spite.

Your train on the ORANGE LINE has arrived.

As I flipped through her book, every page had a half-written haiku, blood stains, random names, and numbers inside. Lotus – 500, Banzai Bangers – 325, Dragon Boys – 1000, Amber Heights, Copper Cloud and more. I kept flipping through until I reached the middle of the book when I found twenty-thousand euro bucks in twenty, one thousand Eurodollar notes between twenty blank pages.

You are now late for your shift by ten minutes…

I sat silently for what seemed like ages trying to process everything that has transpired thus far. Staring blankly at the ground with a book full of blood money.

Hisako, where are you? This is your boss, you are late for the meeting. You better be on your way.

Twenty thousand, a tiny fortune. Mariko and I could use this money, but who died for this cash?

Hey Blue, it’s Mariko. It’s almost lunch time, I haven’t heard from you in a while. Are you at work?

A wave of emotion swept through my mind and sat heavy on my chest. This book could be our ticket out of here, but I just know that it is not rightfully ours. But no one needs to know, it could be our little secret, right?

Hisako, the Regional Director is not impressed with your tardiness and neither am I. If you do not come in today, do not bother coming in tomorrow.

As I read the messages, I felt an immense weight on my shoulders, I cannot believe I have been sitting here for almost the entire day. I gripped my chest as I tried to wipe the tears from my eye. I could barely breathe.

Hisako? It’s Mariko again, you are starting to worry me. I called your work and they said you haven’t shown up. Are you okay?

Everything went wrong and my world has turned upside down once more. Just like that dreadful day. I sank into my seat at the station going through every single aspect, every single detail and complication. My mind was so buried in my own misery that I did not even notice the cold steel blade that suddenly appeared wrapping around my neck. The lady in red peered over the bench with the same menacing smile. She slowly crept around in front of me brushing the tip of her knife across the lines of my throat before stopping at the base of my jaw. Time seemed to slow to a halt until she finally spoke. Disjointedly, she said the last words I will ever hear again.

“My oh my, there it is. I have been looking. Everyyywhere for my book. Hey, why the long face? Hahaha, I wanted to thank you. Now. Now. Don’t cry. It will be over soon. Try to savour the moment.”

I tried to hold back the tears as she plunged the knife in my throat, but the tears flowed like the crimson geyser that spewed outwards over her black book and on her red velvet dress. The world drifted away to nothingness as if I were being pulled through a dark tunnel ever deeper and for a split second, I thought I saw stardust.

Hey Blue, it is me again. I hope that you not responding just means that you are busy or that this all just one big joke. I wanted to let you know that I don’t actually hate your routine. I still find that ridiculously corny, but I love that about you. You are so determined and organized; you are everything I am not. So, what do you say, do you want to grab a coffee?