Page 27 of Choose Us

“The music takes you away to a different place if you let it. Shut your eyes,” Brooke instructed. I thought she was joking at first. “Just do it. Trust me.”

I did. I’d do anything she asked. Still.

“Now, picture cherry blossom trees swaying in the wind and a large pond filled with fish. They’re rising to the surface every so often to create a silent ripple, but you can hear theplopas they sinkback under.”

“Plop? Really?” I opened my left eye, my right remained squeezed shut.

She laughed. “I don’t know what other word to use to describe it; it sounds like a plop.”

Brooke reached over the table and used her hand to brush my eyes shut. “There’s a bamboo basket filled with delicious freshly picked fruit... and... Yeah, that’s all I’ve got.”

I opened my eyes.

“That sounds a bit like Ueno Park. Me and Beth went there today.”

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I go there sometimes to read; it’s what I imagine when people say the essence of Japan.” Brooke smiled politely as the waiter placed our bright yellow drinks on the table.

“Arigato,” Shethanked him.

“So...” There was so much I wanted to say, but I wanted to keep it light-hearted. “Who was that random guy you asked to deliver a message?” That part I was curious about.

“Just a random guy.” She shrugged. “I thought it was you. I couldn’t be 100 percent sure, but I saw your profile andwell...”

“Well, what?”

“I don’t see women like you that often.” She took a sip of her drink; her lips pursed, which told me I was right, andit was sour.

“Women like me? Should I be offended?” I laughed.

“No, of course not.” She shook her head. “You’re just so strong-jawed and sharp. You look like you mean business in a compelling sort of way; it’s unusual. I’m going to stop talking now.” She fidgeted with her nails instead, picking at the remaining nail varnish.

“Thank you, I guess.” I laughed. “Why didn’t you come and talk to me yourself?”

“Nerves, mainly, but I was with... my brother.” She hesitated. That’s who was whispering in her ear. I took satisfaction in knowing it wasn’ta boyfriend.

“How is Tom?” I asked through gritted teeth.

“You don’t care, do you?”Brooke said.

“Nope. I’m being polite.”

Tom was the product of his father, a prick, for the want of a better word. I knew exactly how he was getting on from my occasional stalking of Instagram, but she didn’t need to know that.

“I don’t want to talk aboutmy brother.”

Good, me neither, I thought.

Brooke started tapping her fingers on the table. Then, for the first time since we’d sat down, she made real eye contact with me, and she didn’t look away until the waiter arrived with our food.

“How long are you here?” Brooke asked.

“Two weeks.”

“When didyou fly in?”

“Two days ago,” I said. What looked like relief washed over her face. What did that mean?

“If I said I’d like to show you somewhere tomorrow, would you say yes?”