It all began on the night I lost my virginity.

It was the week before the school festival.  Back then, I was a member of the art club, and our club had decided to hold an art exhibition to raise some extra funds for the club.  Although I was just a second-year student back then, I’d already shown quite a lot of talent, and the other members expected me to contribute a particularly spectacular piece for the show.  Needless to say, the pressure was on, and I’d spent a lot of nights at the school working on my painting.

I was particularly late that night because I’d decided to drop by the art store and pick up some paints and brushes on my way home.  As usual, I wound up spending too much, and discovered I didn’t even have the money to take the train home.  Which was fine by me, actually: my house wasn’t that far from the store, and it was a pleasant, cool spring evening, a perfect evening for a nice walk.

I saw her sitting on a bench outside a love hotel: not one of those huge, gaudy neon joints, but a quiet, subdued place that could have been mistaken for an apartment building, except for the little sign advertising rooms by the hour.  She was about sixteen or seventeen, I figured, probably a first or second-year high school student, from her green seifuku.  She was turning a key over and over in her hands, her hair waving gently in the cool spring breeze that fluttered her pleated skirt.  Something about the dejected slump of her shoulders, the stark contrast between the glare of the streetlight and the shadows of her face, the disappointment and sadness in her eyes. . . something about it caught my attention, made me stop and look.

Back then, I had the bad habit of drawing people on the street, and had learned from experience that it’s best not to let people know what you’re doing.  Even if they don’t get mad, they change what they’re doing when they know someone is looking, or even worse, they come over and try to see what you’re drawing.  Which was why I didn’t try to talk to her or anything, just quietly snuck behind a tree, took out a small sketchbook and a charcoal stick, and began sketching her.  

It took me about three tries to get it right.  She stayed there the whole time, just looking down at the key, except when she glanced up at people walking by with a hopeful look in her eyes, only to be disappointed once more, causing her to descend even deeper and deeper into despair.  Finally, I managed to get a sketch I actually liked, quietly put away my sketchbook, and began walking home once more.

“You’re not going to show me what you drew?” the girl said suddenly.

I froze in my tracks.  “It’s kind of rude, isn’t it, to draw someone and not show them what you drew,” the girl said quietly.  “I was nice enough to sit still and model for you.  It’s only fair.”

“I’m sorry,” I said sheepishly, walked over and handed her my sketchbook.  She looked at it for a very long time.

“It’s terrible,” she said at last.

I blinked in surprise.

“I’m not that cute,” she went on.  “My chin is bigger and my bust is smaller, for one thing.  And my hair isn’t nearly that shiny.”

“It’s not that bad,” I muttered irritably.  “Besides, what’s the matter with a cute picture?”

“Why bother drawing from life if you’re just going to draw what you think you see and not what’s really there?” she replied, flipping back through the other pictures.  “All this is anime style?  You should try drawing more realistically, you know.  It’ll help.”

“If you’re just going to do that, why not use a camera?” I retorted.  “Besides, I like to think I’m bringing out the inner beauty, you know.  Something that you can’t really see with the eye, but you know is there.”

“So, do I really look this cute in your eyes?” she asked, turning back to the sketch I had done of her.

“ I guess,” I said, feeling my ears start to warm.  “It’s just the way I see you.”

“I see.”  She started to hand the picture back to me, hesitated.  “Hey, can I have this?” she asked.

“The picture?  I thought you said it was terrible!”

“I have bad taste in art,” she replied, grinning.

“Sure, go ahead, then,” I replied.

She very carefully tore the page out of my sketch book, slid it into her notebook, and put it back into her bag.  “Thanks,” she said gratefully.  “I’m glad I got something nice out of this night, at least.”

“Excuse me?”

“I just got dumped,” she said, smiling wistfully.  “My boyfriend and I were supposed to meet here at four.”

I glanced at my watch.  “It’s past eight now!”

“I know.  I’m such a doormat.”  She looked up at the stars, blinking back tears.  “Why do men have to be such jerks?” she sighed.  “I do everything he wants, and he goes and does this to me.  I’m so stupid.”

“Well, why not just go home, then?” I asked.  “I mean, there’s no point in waiting any longer, right?”

“I never go home before eleven.  My stepdad’s still up until then, and I don’t want to see him.  Not if I don’t have to.  He’s such a bastard,” she said cryptically.  She glanced over at me.  “Hey, you want to have sex?” she asked.

I blinked in surprise.  “Wha?”

She jingled the key at me.  “I already paid for the whole night, and it would be a shame not to use it.  You seem like a nice enough guy.”  She leaned back casually, as if propositioning a total stranger were the most normal thing in the world.  “Well?”

I gulped nervously.

*****

“You were a virgin, weren’t you?” she asked, afterwards.

“Was it that obvious?” I asked, disappointed.

“Yeah,” she said kindly, kissing my cheek warmly.  “But you did all right.  It just takes some practice, is all.  I just wish I’d known, is all.  Your first time should be something special.”

“I thought it was wonderful.”

“That’s just because you have nothing to compare it with,” she said.  “I’ll make it up to you the next time.”

“Actually, I should go home now,” I said reluctantly.  “I have school tomorrow.”

“Aww, that’s a shame.  Where do you go, by the way?” she asked, pulling on her panties.

“Jinai Middle School.”

She froze, holding her bra in one hand.  “Jinai. . . how old are you, Keisuke?” she asked.

I told her.

She groaned and buried her face in her hands.  “Oh my gosh,” she moaned.  “I’m a cradle-robber!”

“Thanks a lot,” I said grouchily, as I buttoned up my shirt and turned to leave.

She tugged at my sleeve.  “Hey, wait, I didn’t mean it that way,” she sighed.  “It’s just that you looked older, is all.  I thought you were at least in high school.  It was just a bit of a surprise, is all.”  She looked up at me plaintively, like a small puppy.  “Forgive me?” she asked, her head tilted at a winsome angle.  

My cheeks flushed pink and I muttered an acceptance of her apology.

“Right.”  She kissed me gently on the cheek.  “We’ll take a rain check on that promise, then.  Next time, I’ll be sure to give you something really nice, okay?”

“All right,” I murmured.

I walked home that night in a sort of rosy-misted bliss.  It wasn’t until I was lying in bed replaying the events of the evening over and over in my head that it occurred to me that she had never once told me her name.

*****

“Hey, Keisuke!” Ryoji yelled at me the next morning.  “Wanna grab a burger after school today?”

“Actually, I’ve got something else to do,” I said, trying not to blush as I gathered up my school supplies.  “We’ll grab a burger some other time, okay?”

“What is it, a date?” Ryoji asked, grinning.

“A date?  No, no, nothing like that.”  Not yet, at least. . . the chances of her being there again were almost nil, I knew, but I just had to see her again, would do anything for the chance.

I ran almost all the way to the love hotel where I had seen her last time, was out of breath and sweaty by the time I got there.  

She wasn’t there.  I sighed in disappointment.

And that was when a pair of hands came down over my eyes.  “Guess who!” a cheerful voice shouted.

I gacked and nearly fell over.  She was standing right behind me, giggling merrily at my obvious discomfort.  “Hi there!” she said cheerfully.

“Oh, um. . . hi,” I said sheepishly.  “I just. . .”

“You wanted to see me again?  That’s so sweet,” she said, laughing.

“No, no, it’s not that. . . it’s just that I realized I never found our your name, and I thought I should know something like that, you know. . .”

“Is that it?”  She extended her hand.  “Setsuko Watanabe.  Age seventeen.  Nirai-Kanai High School.  My best aspects are my cheerful personality and my slender calves.”  She paused, grinning wickedly.  “So did you want to call in that rain check or something?”

“What?  No, no no. . . maybe,” I said, blushing bright crimson, my ears burning.  “I mean. . .”

The girl smiled at me sheepishly.  “Sorry, not tonight,” she said, her voice tinged with regret.  “My boyfriend and I got back together after you left.  I’m meeting him here in about an hour.”

Suddenly, my head started to hurt, as if someone had my head in a vise and was slowly tightening the screws tighter and tighter.  “Oh. . . um. . . that’s good,” I said, sounding cheap and insincere.  “I’m glad for you.”

“Thank you,” Setsuko replied, hugging me.  “Hey, could I get your cell phone number?”

“Why?” I asked.

“Just because.  I mean, I’ve got a cute little sister I could maybe set you up with.  She’s real nice, a lot prettier than I am, you know.”

“Fine.”  I wrote it down on a slip of paper and handed it over to her.  “Here you go.”

“Thanks!”  Setsuko smiled at me and stuffed the paper in her pocket.  “Well, you’d better get going.  If my boyfriend comes by and sees me talking to some other guy, he’s gonna freak.”

“Right.”  I sighed and walked away.  “See ya, Setsuko.”

“See ya!” she said, waving cheerfully.

I’d gotten just around the corner when I nearly passed out, slumping to the ground as the pressure on my head got worse and worse, the tunnel vision making me swoon.

I hadn’t realized until then that I’d actually fallen in love with this girl.  How was that possible?  Didn’t it take years and years for true love to form?  How was it possible that love at first sight could ever exist?  I was just being a fool, that was all.  It was only puppy love.  It would pass.

But if it wasn’t real, why did it hurt so bad?

*****

I left my cell phone out on the desk all night.  I didn’t mean to. . . just wanted to forget about that girl and pretend that I had never met her, but I couldn’t.  Every time I closed my eyes, I heard her voice, saw her face, felt her touch against my skin, felt the memory of her wet warmth around me.  She was like a demon, haunting my every moment, whispering in my every thought.

I’d been finally drifting off to sleep when the phone finally rang.  “Moshi mosh?” I asked sleepily, picking up the phone.

“Hi there,” Setsuko said.  Her voice was low and ragged, as if she had been crying again.  “C. . . can you come out?”

I glanced at the clock.  “It’s ten at night!  My parents will kill me,” I said coldly.

Silence. . . then sobbing.  “You’re right, I’m sorry,” she whimpered.  “I just. . .”  And then she hung up.

Silence.

“Shit.”  I went into the call log, selected “dial last received call.”

Ring.

Ring.

Click. “Hello?”

“Hi.  It’s me, Keisuke,” I said.

“. . . oh.  Um. . . what is it.”

“Where are you?” I asked.

“D-Burger’s on Fifth and Jay,” she said.

“I’ll be right there,” I said.

“. . . are you sure?  What about your parents?”

“I’ll sneak out.  Done it plenty of times.”

“. . . all right,” she said.  “Thanks.”

“It’s no problem.”

I thought I heard her chuckle, very briefly, before she hung up again.  I closed up my phone and started to pull my clothes back on, then headed out the window and down the drainpipe, my heart pounding with fear.  I glanced up and down the street quickly, checking to make sure none of the neighbors were looking.

*****

She was sitting at a booth by the window with a chocolate shake in front of her.  She’d barely touched it, I saw, although the whipped cream was melted and a big pool of condensation had built up at the bottom of the glass.  I walked over and took the seat across from her.  “Hey,” I said, in what I hoped was a cool voice.  “What’s up.”

“I ordered a chocolate shake,” she said, stirring it with her straw.  “It’s my favorite, you know.  It’s always helped me in the past, but. . .”  A tear ran down her cheek, and she closed her eyes, gripped her skirt tightly.  “H. . . he dumped me again,” she whispered.  “I was such an idiot. . .”

“. . . Setsuko?” I asked.

“. . . he’s getting married in the spring.  But he didn’t tell me until after he’d fucked me,” she whispered.  “I. . .”  And then she just broke down, the tears streaming down her face now, sobbing silently in abject misery, her shoulders shaking, her tangled hair draping over her pale face.

I could tell that the other customers were starting to stare.  “C’mon, let’s get out of here,” I said.  “Are you paid up?”

Setsuko nodded.  I took her by the hand and led her out of the restaurant, trying to ignore the strange looks people were giving us, knowing how strange we must look: a junior high-school boy leading a crying high school girl by the hand.

I didn’t care.  All I cared about at that moment was that this girl was in pain, and I couldn’t bear to see her cry any more.

****

“. . . and then he got mad at me,” Setsuko whispered.  “He started laughing, calling me a silly little girl.  ‘What do you think this is, some fairy tale?  Cinderella?  Sleeping Beauty?’  And then I just got so mad, I tried to slap him, but he just grabbed me and pushed me out of the hotel room, threw some money at me and called me a whore.”  She blew her nose on my handkerchief again, her eyes red with misery now, her nose raw from crying.

I just sat there and listened in silence.  “It’s the seventh fucking time, too!” Setsuko whimpered, her voice tinged with scarlet anger.  “I. . . I hate them all.  I just hate them, hate them, hate them.  They just want one thing from me, and once they take it, they just throw me away like trash.  Like TRASH!”

“. . . have you talked to your parents about it?”

“I can’t talk to my parents!  They’d kill me!  And my stepfather’s just such a . . . such a jerk!” she shouted.  “That’s why I never went home before eleven, because otherwise he’d be awake, so I just started hanging around restaurants and stuff, and these guys would come up to me and start asking me how much I charged and stuff. . . it made me so mad at first, but then later, I just started to get so lonely. . .”

Her sobs stopped.  She looked up at the stars in silence, her lower lip trembling.  “Some days,” she whispered.  “I just wish I could step off the world and get carried away in the wind.  I just wish that I could dance among the stars and. . . just disappear.  Become nothing, you know. . . Feel nothing.  Be nothing.  I’d kill myself, but I’m too chicken.  So I just live and live and live and hurt more and more.  I hate it,” she whispered.  “I hate it so much.”

“You don’t mean that,” I said quietly.  “You don’t really want to kill yourself.”

“Why not?  Who would miss me when I’m gone?”

“I would.”

“You don’t count.”

“I don’t?  Why not, because I’m just a little kid?”

“Because you just want the same thing from me they all do,” Setsuko said bitterly.

“Hey, you’re the one who came onto me first!  I’m not the one who wanted it, you’re the one who was just giving yourself away!”

Smack!

Pain.

I stumbled back, feeling my suddenly stinging face, as Setsuko stared at me angrily.  “What did you do that for!?” I yelled.

“I don’t know.  Because you were being a jerk?”

“What?  I was trying to help you!  I snuck out of my house after you, and you’re getting all mad at me for trying to help?!  Forget it.  I’m going home,” I sighed.

“Fine, do that!”  She slumped back down on the bench, stared down at her skirt.  Tears dropped from her eyes and splashed on the cloth.

I turned to leave. . . but stopped at the end.  “Hey, Setsuko?”

A pause.  “Yes, Kei?”

“I’m sorry.”

Pause.

“You know. . . I was just thinking,” I went on, “Maybe fairy tale endings do come true, but not in the way you might think.  Maybe “happily ever after” doesn’t mean that everything’s going to be all right now, you know.  Maybe Sleeping Beauty got old and died, and Cinderella’s feet got big and ugly, and the Frog Prince got dethroned, and Jack’s mother wasted all the money that he got from fighting the giant.  But I don’t think it stopped them.  Because, you know. . . after you’ve fought a dragon, things like no money just seem. . . boring, I guess.  Maybe even death can be handled.”

Another pause.

“How did you get so smart?” she asked.

“Hey, don’t talk about me like you know me!” I complained, feeling like a little kid from her teasing.  “I’m smarter than I look, you know.”

“I bet you are.”  And she walked over to me, kissed me on the forehead, and patted my cheek.  “Thanks for making a hurt, stupid girl happy, just for a moment, Kei-chan,” she said softly.

And with that, she was gone.  But it was fine.

This time, I knew I would see her again.