Cubicle in my Soul

Published by ScaryMonster in the blog Notes from the devils conga line.. Views: 104

Cubicle in my Soul

My body ached, my head hurt! I’d just woken up at 3:30am and the phone was ringing.
The incandescent bulb blinded me and strange colours spun around for a few seconds.
I stumbled over to the phone, scooping it up; my tone was not pleasant.
‘Cory?’ A voice I recognized answered.

The slightly slurred voice continued, ‘I’m dying.’ I groaned inwardly.

I knew from bitter past experience that Miyoko would go to great extremes of behavior in order to get what she wanted, and I presumed that what she wanted right now was me.

‘How are you dying?’ I asked. She didn’t answer; there were some cryptic rattling noises over the phone. ‘Miyoko you there?’

Now you might think I was being nasty but I had good reason to be as you’ll find out.

‘I took some pills!’ she slurred. I heard a bottle smash and she hung up.

‘S**t!’ I snarled and the dog looked at me quizzically.

‘That girl’s a train wreak!’ I thought, ‘and she’s keeps back!’ Miyoko was a wayward Japanese princess, her parents were rich business people, but Miyoko their eldest daughter didn’t fit the image of the dutiful Zaibatsu Plutocrat’s daughter.

She’d flunked out of University, and seemed incapable to working or even keeping a coherent thought in her head for longer then five minutes.

She'd caused her family a great deal of embarrassment through her sexual compulsivity and her embarrassing choices over the years of her adolescence. And seemed to get even worse after she entered her early twenties.

Her sexual, alcoholic and narcotic misadventures formed there own archive in a litany of rehab clinics and her final performance proved too much for her long suffering family.

Shed been found unconscious in a club run by the Yamaguchi-Gumi a Yakusa group from Kobe. Apparently her boy friend Koichi who was a gang member had brought her to a Mexican theme restaurant and called “The Tequila Mockingbird” where Miyoko as far as her parents were concerned went too far.

She'd matched Koichi shot for shot with tequila slammers after which they’d retired drunkenly to a back room, he’d emerged sometime later going to the bathroom to repair himself, he’d snorted some cocaine on the sink and left the club, His role in our story done.

Other gang members and sleazy guests at the bar had then gone into the back room to have sex with Miyoko, and after several hours an ambulance was called when it had become apparent the Miyoko had taken an overdose.

She was carried her out to the accompaniment of the all Japanese Mariachi band, the ambulance sped her away not just to hospital and another parentally funded adventure in rehab but this time to a new life.

Her parents used their influence to cover up this fiasco and after rehab, shed basically been banished, her parents the respectable Mr. and Ms Toda of Osaka bathhouse fame bought her an expensive house in an affluent suburb is Sydney Australia, far enough away to avoid further embarrassment, but still close enough so they could keep tabs on her.

I’d first met Miyoko, when I’d gone to a party with my friend Jeri, Jeri was a little older then me, a woman friend I’d known for years but shed gravitated to a guy we both knew at the party called Peter who she’d fancied for a long time.

And I’d been left there to my own devises; I only knew a few of the people there apart from Peter and Jeri.

That’s when I first noticed Miyoko, her hair was partly blue and pink, shoulder length done up in postmodernist punk style, she was slightly drunk and she pushed her way through the crowd grasped me around the neck and said in perfect unaccented English ‘I want to dance’.

But her idea of dancing involved gabbing me around the neck and pulling me around the room and since no one else was dancing I felt a bit embarrassed, she was wearing a light cotton dress that was two sizes too small for her from which her breasts were constantly in danger of pooping out of.

Even in her obviously drunken state she still looked sexy and I’d never been with a Japanese girl before.

'Womp!' I felt the impact and everything went black for a second, I saw a star, reeled back shaking my head to clear my vision.

There was a large man who was little shorter and broader then I with spiky blond hair and a torn tee shirt on. He was swinging a full ice bucket towards my head for a second shot.

The girl had fallen to floor when he’d hit me and she was yelling something at him, he aimed a kick at her and she screamed and tried to drive away.

The punk guy missed her and then threw metal bucket at me. I bumped into someone trying to avoid being hit again, I balled my fist and struck his with a right jab in the nose, he stepped back with his with his nose obviously broken.

I felt someone grab my arm! I pulled away thinking that Mr. Punk might have buddies here, but it was Jeri with Peter, shouting something about getting out of there because I’d just punched the dudes brother who’s party this was.

We rushed out of the place, Jeri and Peter scrambled into his car, and I jumped into mine, it was then that I noticed that the Japanese girl had jumped into the passenger seat next to me.

I didn’t say anything, I just started the car and drove away from that place as fast as I could, I imagined that I could hear police sirens in the distance but I was just being paranoid.

I pulled into a dark side street, and the Japanese girl started to cry, she slid over on the bench seat of my Ford F100 and ignoring her boyfriends blood that had splashed on me buried her face in my chest.

I held her because I didn’t know what else to do, you might say I was conflicted at that point, I didn’t want to take her back to my place because my father was staying with me. And I thought she was trouble, but s**t did she look sexy sitting there sobbing in her little white linen dress.

It all seems a little bit too theatrical to me now but I’m not a good judge of these things in the heat of the moment, she must be in shock I guessed but I didn’t know her very well then.

Finally shed cried herself out and I asked her name?

‘Miyoko’ she said and I told her ‘My name’s Cory.’

She answered ‘Yes I know Jeri told me’ she said.

‘You know Jeri?’ I said surprised.

Miyoko nodded, ‘Yes she was my English teacher when I first came to Australia.’

Jeri was an ESL teacher (English as a second language), ‘Jeri told you to come and talk to me?’ I asked, Miyoko nodded, but I thought that guy was your boyfriend!’

She shrugged ‘He was okay at first but he was mean, but I told him to piss off when he followed me into the bathroom and tried to grab me.
Luckily the door wasn’t locked and someone else walked in and I ran away, I thought he’d given up.’ She licked her bottom lip, which I then noticed was split.

‘You’re okay?’ I asked which was a bit rich with me looking like I’d just walked out of a slaughterhouse. She nodded ‘I’m alright.’

It took me half and hour to drive to her place, it was about 2:30am when I walked her up the path to the door of the house with ivy covered brick walls.

Crickets were chirping and there was a genteel atmosphere about the place that seemed at odds with the buxom Japanese girl in a soiled white linen dress, silver sandals and techno hair and the tall Scandinavian type guy in baggy jeans, Nike’s and a blood covered cotton shirt that had just climbed out of a redneck looking black pickup truck.

She unlocked the door, stood on her toes over and kissed me softly.

‘Are you sure you’re alright?’ I asked her.

‘Yes, thank you’ was all she said.

‘Good night then Miyoko’, she gave me an appreciative look or that’s what I took it to be then, smiled and closed the door.

I walked back to my car, thinking ‘s**t I didn’t get her phone number’ I’ll have to ask Jeri I thought.
I was still a little pumped with adrenaline from the attack and a bit nervy.

Now you might wonder why I didn’t go in with her, because I could have done that thinking back on that night, but my intuition was troubling me about this woman, and I’d learned from previous experience that some people are just lighting rods for trouble.

I liked her! Or you might say I was in lust with the idea of her just then, but I had a 6th sense that anyone who got too involved with Miyoko always ended up bloody like this, I’d just met her and look at me.

Two weeks went past and there were no obvious consequences from the fight at the party, the few people who actually knew me that were there were keeping their mouths shut.
And I found out from someone that the Punk guy I’d hit was heavy drug user and shy of the Police.

I’d only thought about Miyoko, a few times in those weeks, when I got a call from Jeri. She told me that Miyoko was having a birthday a party and wanted me to go, by that time the violence of our first meeting had died down a bit in my mind.

I thought about it for a minute and then said, ‘yes I’ll be there,’ and I hung up.

There was a full moon out as I drove across the bridge toward Crow’s Nest on Sydney’s north side, I parked up the street from her house, there was a warm breeze off the harbour and I could hear voices and laughter wafting out from the house behind the ivy covered brick wall.

I brushed my hair back with my fingers and dug out the antique silver ring I’d put it the glove box.
It was one of the rings my grandmother had in stock when she was selling jewelry at Paddy’s markets, I thought it might appeal to Miyoko because the motif was of a Japanese Peony.

I walked up the path I remembered and rang the doorbell, Miyoko answered the door, and she took my breath way with the way she looked!
She wore dark velvet Burberry dress with vents that showed tantalizing glimpses of creamy flesh down her hips, she also had on ornately patterned silk stockings and black velvet stilettos that matched her dress, her hair was uncolored, black with a slight wave through it.

I felt decidedly under dressed, black jeans, white tee shirt and a Hugo Boss jacket and cheap white sneakers. I then noticed that there was another taller woman also dressed to the nines waiting behind Miyoko, ‘Cory!’ she said in a French accent.

‘Genevieve!’ I said ‘You also know Miyoko?’

She smiled; it seemed that almost everyone I knew had met Miyoko.

Genevieve walked on ahead into the house and I followed behind both women, once in the lounge and after I’d greeted everyone I turned to Miyoko and took the silver ring out of my pocket, and hid it in one of my fists.

‘Guess which one?’ she took both my hands and sniffed them but guessed the wrong one, I gave her the ring and she hugged me, it felt good.

Then she was off playing the gracious hostess, and I got a beer and spoke with Jeri and Peter for a while, and made the acquaintance of some of the other party goers I knew and was introduced to other friends of Miyoko.

As the evening wore on we ended up all sitting outside on the back veranda, Jeri and Peter, John and Genevieve, Miyoko and me. We were all doing Puff, Puff, Pass and getting pretty stoned; John had his camera out and was taking pictures of everyone.

We were drinking expensive red wine and watching the moon over the harbour. Jeri was telling us that Miyoko could hardly speak a word of English when she’d first become her student, now she was working with a professional speech instructor and sounded like Princess Di.

Most of the party guests had gone, and eventually Peter left with Jeri, and Genevieve broke from her snogging with Jean and slinked off to Miyoko’s spare room, Jean stood up drained the last of his wine and followed her.

Miyoko came and sat in my lap, ‘I want you to f**k me’ She said, ‘You can do anything you like with me.’ And then she too slid off down the hall shooting me come-hither glances, I watched her enter the last door on the left.

I grabbed the bag of weed that they’d left on the table and some papers and walked purposefully through the lounge, stepping over some sleeping drunks.

Miyoko’s room was a mess, she, Genevieve and Miyoko had apparently torn through her wardrobe looking for suitably elaborate items of apparel, clothes were spread all across the floor, mixed up with the warping paper of Miyoko’s birthday presents, I put the weed on the bedside table.

She kicked her way through this mess and stood in front of me, I kneeled down and she kissed me long and passionately, not wanting to let go of me which seemed to be her thing.
I striped off her dress and laid it carefully over the back of a chair, I stood surveying her of a few seconds.

She stood there in a low cut lacy bra, matching g-string and those ornately patterned silk stockings. Her warm brown eyes were dark and hungry and her hair hung like a dark wave over one shoulder.

Our first coupling was pretty standard, and before I made her scream she used the opportunity to show off just how flexible she was, it was with her legs in very unusual position that we arrived at our first orgasm.

So still inside her, still hard we lay on our sides while I stroked her hip, she spoke to me saying ‘Sorry but I was just so horny’.

‘Why are you apologizing?’ I said, and I rolled my penis inside her, I felt her tighten, and she screamed.
I glanced out of the french doors wondering if she was going to wake the whole street, I learned later that being a screamer was not uncommon thing amongst Japanese girls.

She turned and put some perfume on, while I rolled a joint, I held her and we passed it not speaking just feeling close and mellow.

She told me that she loved me, and I didn’t know how to feel about that, she looked seriously into my eyes and asked me ‘Do you love me?’

I used my patent response to that question. I said ‘constantly!’ And then I proved it once again.

When I finally left the next morning, She was sleeping in the wreckage of her room. I drove back across the bridge, with her smell still on me. I got home and showered and life returned to its routine, until Miyoko called again.

We never went out socializing together it always came as phone call, a mad drive across the bridge were we’d literally jump into each others arms, she always said ‘I love you’ when I held her in my arms, but if I saw her otherwise she was always friendly but distant.

One time I yelled at her because of this and made her cry, but she called me again that night and our lovemaking had an intense desperation to it, ‘I said I can’t keep doing this!’

And she said ‘Its not like that.’

I thought ‘I didn’t know what it’s like it just this THING.’

And so it was getting close to Christmas, I was invited to a restaurant by Jeri and Peter, and a few other friends.
Genevieve turns up alone, she’s apparently broken up with John. And then John turn’s up with Miyoko doing the whole boyfriend girlfriend thing she wouldn’t do with me!

I walked out of there and so did Genevieve, I’d like to say we then hooked you but all we did was find a pub and got pissed together, that was just before Christmas 2008.

So you can well fathom my surprise when I get a call from madam butterfly at 3:30am two weeks ago threatening to kill herself, A year and a half after the fact.
So once more I made that journey across the Bridge and walked up the ivy pathway.

The front door was unlocked, I found her in her room which was in its usual chaotic state, she was drunk wearing only a dirty black AC/DC tee-shirt, there was broken glass on the floor and pills scattered all over the bed.

‘What and how many have you taken?’ I asked her examining the pill bottles, but it was apparent that most of the contents were on the bed and floor.

She hadn’t swollen too many it seemed, so I lifted her up and dragged her into the shower. It was then that I noticed the track marks on her arms.

I held her in under the shower and we both go soaked, she slumped in my arms and started sobbing. I warped her in a towel and put her into her bed.

I then checked out the rest of the house, things were not how I’d remembered them, a lot of Miyoko’s valuable antiques were missing and so was most of her expensive jewelry, the place was filled with dust and there was no food in the refrigerator.

I knew Miyoko wasn’t short of money, her parents paid all the bills and gave her an allowance every month.
And she couldn’t spent the value of all the missing items on a heroin habit unless she was supplying the whole street! I searched the place and found her stash; there was only a small amount there.

Miyoko slept of two hours, I made her coffee when she woke up and she told me what had happened, it seemed that John had developed a heroin habit and had also got her hooked.
He’d got money off her for awhile but when that well ran dry he’d pissed off and stolen as much of her stuff as he could carry.

So there she was living in a million-dollar house, suicidal, all her allowance spent, addicted to smack, her valuables stolen and too paranoid to call the cops.
I stayed with her all that day, and called my work and said I needed sometime off because of a family emergency.

That night when she’d gone to sleep I dug out her address book and called her parents, her elder brother was dispatched on the first flight leaving Narita Airport, and arrived the next day.

Miyoko was not happy, she was being taken back to Japan and there to go back into rehab, ‘What the f**k am I doing here’ I thought!

I drove them both to the airport and saw them to the flight, she turned before we got to the gate and garbed me around the neck and kissed me lingeringly she said ‘I love you!’
I was too appalled to say anything.

Once she’d gone I walked back to the car, all I could think to say was ‘S**T!’
I drove back to Miyoko’s house and closed it up, I left the key with the next door neighbor, the cleaners were coming and then the movers to put the remainder of her stuff in storage.
And in a sense Miyoko was being put into storage as well, back in Japan and in a small cubicle in my soul.

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