Legacy

"Oh man...look at the freaks who just walked in."

I turned to look over my shoulder, scanning the small crowd of people who just came through the door. "What are you talking about?"

"Those guys with the weird hair."

"Why do you care, Kayla?" said Jenn, who was sitting next to me. "People like that come in here all the time."

Jenn, Kayla, Vicki, and I were at our favorite bar, The Frolic Room. It was one of the greatest bars in town, but not too well-known, so it was never too crowded. The Frolic Room tried to be a dance club, complete with dance floor, laser light shows, and techno music, but the only people who really danced were the ones who got wasted off their asses. The atmosphere was pretty chill, though, and we came at least twice a week, if not more.

"But not lately. I thought they had all been driven away by the techno music," Kayla said, taking a sip of her drink.

I turned and looked again. Five guys had walked in and sat at the bar, each one sporting a different hairstyle. Two had mohawks, one blond, one black, one had dark green dreads, and one had zig-zags cut into his buzzed hair. But the last one was the one that caught my eye.

"I like the pink hair. That's cool," I said.

"Well, of course YOU'D think it's cool," Kayla said, pointedly eyeing my spiked leather jacket. "That's your scene, isn't it?"

I frowned. Sure, I was a bit of a metalhead, but she didn't have to say it like it was something horrible. I leaned over to Vicki, who was sitting on my other side.

"Tell me, why do we hang out with this bitch again?"

Vicki shrugged. "I don't know. Because she knows where to get good weed?"

Irolled my eyes. "Well, that's why YOU do." Sighing, I stood up. "Well, I'm going to go tell him I like his hair."

"You're wasting your time, Amanda," Jenn said as I turned away. "With that hair color, he's probably a fag."

Ignoring her, I walked towards the bar and slid onto the empty seat next to the pink-haired guy, who was turned away from me and talking to the guy with green dreads. I tapped him on the shoulder and said, "Hey, nice hair."

He jumped a little and turned to look at me, then his face broke out into a smile. "Thank you." He looked at me for a second, then said, "Yours isn't bad either. It's a nice color."

I looked down at my lap, suddenly embarrassed. Tugging on a piece of my hair, I muttered, "Not really. Same old, same old. Straight and blond." I glanced up again shyly.

What was wrong with me? I've never been nervous around a guy before. My friends were always telling me how they were jealous of my ease when it came to being around guys. What was so different this time? Maybe I was just shocked at his appearance. Yeah, that was it. I mean, he was so...beautiful. And it was a strange sort of beauty; not quite masculine, not quite feminine. His eyes were slightly slanted, giving away that he was Asian (and with that accent, obviously a native one), and the grey eyeshadow and eyeliner he wore only enhanced their exoticness. He had high, prominent cheekbones, which gave his face a slightly chiseled look. His nose was straight and the just the right size for his face, and his lips were a little pouty, but not too much. But I wasn't paying too much attention to the rest of him. I was too occupied with his eyes. I had been talking to him for less than a minute, and I was already drowning in them.

Fighting the urge to look away again, I said, "Well, I've always wanted to dye it, but I'm afraid it'll just come out looking horrible." Calm down, Amanda. Don't look act like a stupid little girl, blushing and giggling. It's just a guy.

"You'll just have to find the right color," he said. "Everyone can look good with dyed hair, they just have to use the right color. I didn't always have pink hair, but I tried it one time and it looked good on me, so it kind of became my thing." He glanced at my hair again. "But whatever color you use, it'll come out really vibrant and bright, because of how your hair is. And you won't have to use bleach, either." He stuck out his hand. "Sorry, I didn't catch your name."

I grasped his hand and shook it. "I'm Amanda." His hand was warm and calloused, and it felt nice to hold it. I was a little disappointed when he let go.

"Nice to meet you, Amanda. My name is Hide."

I smiled. Cool name. "So, Hide, where are you from?"

He laughed. "It's that obvious, huh? No matter how much English I learn, I guess I'll never lose the accent." He took a swig of his beer, then said, "I'm from Japan."

"Cool. What are you doing in L.A.?"

"Working, mostly."

"What do you do?"

"I'm in a band."

"Really? What kind of music do you play?" Though it was already obvious, from his appearance.

Hide grinned and flashed the devil's horns. "Rock all the way, baby."

I laughed. This was my kind of guy. "Awesome! I'd love to hear you play sometime."

"You can. I probably have a CD in the car-"

"You already have a CD?" If his band already had a CD out, why have I never seen him before? I knew pretty much every rock band around, even the local ones.

"Yeah. I don't mean to brag, but in Japan, I'm kind of a big deal." He flashed that grin at me again, the one that lit up his whole face and set butterflies loose in my stomach. "No one knows me around here, though. Which is a nice change."

"Why, do you get chased by crazy groupies or something?" I asked, thinking of those insane girls I've seen at rock concerts.

"You have no idea," Hide said, rolling his eyes. "I get at least 20 marriage proposals a week in the mail. I'm probably engaged to half of Japan by now. I can't even go out without having to cover up my hair, which sucks, especially in the summer."

I laughed again. "Sounds tough."

"Yeah, but it's worth it." Hide glanced over my shoulder. "I'd love to buy you a drink, but it looks like your friends are leaving."

I turned, and sure enough, the girls were standing up and putting on jackets. Kayla was giving me a death glare, waving her arm frantically to get me to come over. "Too bad," Hide said as I turned back. "I'd like to talk to you some more."

Without thinking, I grabbed a pen out of my jacket pocket. Pulling a napkin over to me, I scribbled down my phone number and handed the napkin to Hide. "Here. Call me the next time you play, so I can come see you."

Hide looked surprised, then took the napkin, carefully tucking it into his pocket. "Sure. See you later, Amanda."

"Bye." With a wave and a smile, I quickly walked to my friends, who were waiting somewhat impatiently for me by the door. As we walked out, I turned and looked back to see Hide holding the napkin in his hand, staring intently at it.

*************

"Amanda...Amanda...can you hear me?"

My eyelids feel like they weigh a hundred pounds each, but I manage to open them. Yoshiki's face slowly comes into focus above me.

"Yoshiki? What are you doing here?" I try to sit up, but he puts his hand on my shoulder, holding me down.

"No, don't move. You need to rest. They called me and told me you passed out. You put my number as the emergency contact on your form."

I feel a sharp pain in my left arm and look down at it. A tube is stuck in my wrist.

Yoshiki follows my eyes. "They said you were malnourished. I knew you haven't been eating."

"That's not why I was sick," I say. "It's because I'm..." I realize I can't say it.

Yoshiki's face turns even more graver, if that's even possible. "I know. They told me. You're pregnant."

I look down at my stomach, which is flat as it's ever been and covered with a blue hospital gown. I can't believe there's a child in there. Hide's child.

I shake my head. "There has to be some mistake. I can't be pregnant."

Yoshiki sits on my bed. "Well, did you use protection the last time?"

"We were drunk. I don't remember!" I say, exasperated. The last thing I want to think about was sex with Hide. Too many memories of things I'd never feel again.

"Which means no," Yoshiki says. "And the numbers add up."

"But it can't be true," I insist. "Even though God hated me enough to take Hide away, he can't hate me enough to pull this shit on me."

Yoshiki stares at me, confused. "What are you talking about? You have the greatest gift of all. Hide's..." he swallows hard-"gone, but you have his baby."

"That's the whole point!" I shout. "If I have Hide's baby, I'll never be rid of him! Every time I look at the child, all I'll see is him! All I'll think about is him! He'll haunt me forever! And it'll drive me insane!"

Yoshiki grabs my hand. "Amanda, don't you want to remember him?"

I pull my hand away. "No!" There. Finally I've said it. "I don't want to remember him. If I forget about him, then I won't hurt anymore." As I say this, I know it's impossible. I can never forget him, and part of me still doesn't want to. But maybe if I try hard enough, I can block him out of every waking thought, and out of my dreams, and I could try to live my life without him. Which also seems impossible.

Yoshiki stares at me, shocked. "You don't mean that, Amanda. You're just tired, and upset. You don't really mean that. You can't."

I glare at Yoshiki with the most piercing stare I can manage. "I won't have Hide's baby, Yoshiki. I won't."