Legacy

I sat in heavy traffic, impatient. I was already ten minutes late. I was supposed to pick up Hide at 7:30 for our date. No, no, it wasn't a date. Of course it wasn't. Just because a guy and a girl spent time alone together doesn't mean they were on a date. We were friends. Just friends.
Ever since I had figured out that I was in love with Hide, I had to keep telling myself not to think like that. I mean, I barely knew the guy. For all I know he could be the world's biggest asshole, or a serial killer. I had met him twice. It was illogical that I could fall in love with him from just those two meetings. Love at first sight was a myth, a thing of soap operas and romantic movies. That never happened in real life.
But if it wasn't love, what was it? I had been playing the CDs Hide gave me non-stop. I had started to lip sync the words, even though I couldn't understand what I was singing along to. I had pored over the CD booklets, staring at the foreign symbols that made up the lyrics and the pictures inside. When I had called him to arrange our trip to the drive-in, it made me so happy just to hear his voice, and I had started to stutter in my excitement. I had even started dreaming about him, and wondering what he looked like naked, and how he was in bed, to my complete embarrassment.
The traffic finally started moving, and I pulled up in front of Hide's apartment building. At first I thought I must've taken a wrong turn, or written down the directions incorrectly. Hide had to be rich. What rockstar wasn't? But you wouldn't be able to tell from the neighborhood he lived in. I had expected him to live in one of the richer parts of L.A., but this was just an ordinary street, with ordinary cars parked on it. The apartment building was ordinary, fancier than my place, but still pretty average. Wherever his money was, he certainly didn't spend it on housing.
I looked out of the window and saw Hide standing outside of the front doors of the apartment building, looking away from me down the street with a cigarette in his hand. I had never thought smoking was attractive, but his profile wreathed with white smoke, with the sun setting behind him, the strands of pink hair peeking from underneath the black wool cap he wore glowing, was a beautiful sight. I wished I had my camera.
I quickly checked myself in the mirror. My hair was still slightly damp from my shower and pulled back in a ponytail. I had put on some light makeup, nothing too bright or obvious. I preferred to wear makeup that made me look like I wasn't wearing any. I wore a dark blue T-shirt with a big silver lightning bolt shooting down the front and black capri pants, with my spiked leather jacket on top. Perfect for a night at the drive-in with a friend.
Hide turned and saw me. He waved, then threw his cigarette to the ground and started walking towards the car. He was dressed as simply as I was, in a red hooded sweatshirt, dark green windbreaker pants, and sneakers. He had large sunglasses that covered most of the upper half of his face.
"I'm so sorry," I said as he opened the passenger door and slid inside. "The traffic is just awful. I got here as fast as I could."
"No worries," Hide said, smiling. "I took the chance for one last cigarette. I'm guessing you don't like smoking in your car, since you don't smoke yourself."
"That's true." Though if he had asked, I would've let him, though I knew the smell wouldn't get out of the upholstery for weeks afterwards. I would've done anything he asked. FRIENDS, Amanda. Friends.
I pulled away from the sidewalk. The drive-in was about 20 minutes away, on a good day.
"So, I got a chance to listen to those CDs," I said.
"Yeah? Did you like them?" Hide asked.
" I LOVED them," I said. "Pretty amazing stuff."
"Which did you like better, my solo stuff or X?"
"Your solo stuff. I mean, Toshi was okay, but your vocals are more unique. He just sounded like any of the dozens of 80s hair band singers, only in Japanese. He wasn't bad, just...not new."
"Well, that makes sense, because all those bands were our inspiration. I mean, we basically brought that kind of music to Japan. We were the first ones to play like that over there," Hide said, a slight defensive tone in his voice.
"I'm not meaning to sound critical or anything. I mean, I didn't hate his vocals..." I said.
"Don't worry. It's your opinion, I won't hate you for it."
"Yoshiki's piano, though...am I saying his name right?"
Hide laughed. "For an American accent, yes. You have to take the 'i' out of 'shi', though. Make it almost silent."
"Why?"
"How should I know?" Hide shrugged. " I didn't invent the language."
"Anyway, his piano was beautiful. I'm not a fan of classical or anything, but it was really something."
"He is really good. Unfortunately, he knows it. You think I have an ego..." Hide sighed. "His can get pretty swollen every so often."
"But I liked your guitar the best." I left it at that. I managed to keep my mouth shut so I wouldn't go on and on about how amazing his guitar was, and how rare it was to have such raw talent like he did, and how some of his solos had brought tears to my eyes with their intensity. I didn't want a repeat of that awkwardness between us at Ray's.
"'Hide Your Face' was better, though. Your solo stuff is more intense, and different from all the other bands out there. I prefer that, music that doesn't sound like any other music. Which is hard to do."
"Yeah, that's why I did side projects in the first place. It's not like I needed more fame or money or anything, I just wanted to do my own thing, my own style. I'm glad you liked it."
I looked at Hide out of the corner of my eye and saw a small smile on his face. I could tell he was trying (and failing) not to let my praise please him.
"So, the fact that you can't understand the lyrics didn't bother you?" he asked me.
I shook my head. "No, not really. I mean, I know I can't fully appreciate the song without knowing what it's about, but I can understand the basic feeling of the song, and I can still enjoy listening. Music crosses all barriers, you know? I do wish I could understand the words, though."
"Well, learn Japanese then," Hide said with a smirk.
"Oh, come on, you won't translate for me?"
"Where's the fun in that?"
"Right, like I'm going to learn Japanese. I barely know English."
"Well that makes sense, English is hard. But Japanese is easy."
"Duh, for you. It's your native tongue."
"If I can learn English, you can learn Japanese."
"You clearly have no idea how bad at learning I am."
"Fine, if I explain some songs to you, will you try to learn Japanese?"
"Sure, sure, whatever." I was too curious as to what his songs were about to refuse.
For the rest of the drive, Hide attempted to explain his songs to me. Some were easy, simply about sex or partying, things like that. Some were a bit more complicated, about experiences he had had in life and how he felt about them. A few of them he refused to explain to me, saying they were too personal to fully explain. I won't say I wasn't disappointed to hear that, but I respected his privacy. It would've been interesting to know about those, though. I had a feeling they'd reveal a lot about him, which music tended to do.

We got to the drive-in just as the previews were starting. It was crowded, but I managed to find a parking space in one of the middle rows. I steered clear of the back rows, because everyone knows the only people who park back there are the ones who will be too busy to watch the movie.
"Wait," Hide said as I stopped the car. "How do you hear it? Are there giant speakers or something?"
"Nope." I switched on the radio and twirled the dial around until sound that matched the images on the giant screen came through. "The sound's broadcast through the radio."
"Cool," Hide's eyes flicked back and forth between the stereo and the screen, impressed.
"Are you hungry?" I asked. "We drove by a snack booth on the way in."
"Yeah, but let me get it." Hide opened the door and started to get out.
"No, it's okay!" I grabbed his arm to stop him. "I can get my own food."
Hide shook his head. "No, let me. You drove, I get food. Don't worry, I got money." He gently shook off my hand from his arm and got out.
Money wasn't what I was worried about. If Hide paid for me, then it would seem even more like a date then it already did. A guy and a girl, at a drive-in, alone in a car in the dark, only inches away from each other. And now he was paying for me. FRIENDS.
Hide came back a few minutes later.
"Hope you like popcorn," he said, shoving a big box of it towards me. I took it, along with a cup of soda. He had his own soda, and a small plastic tray of nachos, which he held up. "What the hell are these?"
"Nachos. Chips with spicy cheese sauce. Why did you get them if you didn't know what they were?"
"Because I like to live on the edge," Hide said, raising his eyebrows at me. He picked up a nacho and popped it in his mouth.
"Oh yes, nachos are very dangerous," I said, chuckling. He obviously liked them though, because they were gone by the time the movie started.
The movie was a horror flick, one of those cheesy gorefests. You know, the ones that all have the same plots: group of teenagers take a trip to the middle of nowhere for a weekend of drinking and sex, psycho killer finds them, token minority gets killed first, prettiest, half-naked girl is the only survivor after killing the psycho...or did she? Same old mindless crap.
As the first sex scene came up, I started getting uncomfortable. I found sex scenes embarrassing to watch when you were with others, especially if they were of the opposite sex and you were in love with them. No, not love. Not love. And the fact that the sound was coming from the radio, which meant that my car was filled with moaning and gasping, made it even more embarrassing. I'm glad it was dark so Hide wouldn't notice my blush.
I glanced over at him. His eyes were fixed to the screen, a straw in his mouth as he sipped on his soda. He had taken his sunglasses and hat off when the movie had started.
Suddenly, he said, in a very serious tone, "She's faking it."
I burst out laughing. "Really? How can you tell?" I said, pretending to be surprised at his revelation.
"Because they've only been fucking for about 10 seconds, and she's already about to come. That never happens."
I kept laughing. "I don't know...maybe he's really good."
"If it's over in 10 seconds, then that's no fun for anyone. And why are they screwing on the floor? That cabin's so old, I bet she'll get splinters in her ass."
I had to grab on to the steering wheel to keep sitting up straight, I was laughing so hard. Hide turned and grinned at me.
"You'd think they'd research these things," he said.
"I highly doubt they put that much effort into sex-scene research," I said, finally getting my laughter under control.
Leave it to Hide to get rid of tension. For the rest of the movie, we kept up a commentary, complaining about how there was no way there was that much blood in one person, shouting to the girl on the screen to not go in that dark room, and wondering why one of the male characters went back for the others, which got him killed, when he could've kept running and survived. Hide was particularly annoyed when the killer got hit by a car, then got up again perfectly fine ("How the fuck did he survive that? That's just stupid!").
As the credits rolled, Hide slumped in his seat. "Man, I need a drink after that. That was ridiculous."
"Yeah, it was," I agreed.
"Now, I'll need to show you some Japanese horror movies. They're a million times better, and they don't rely on tons of blood. Those movies really fuck with your head, and they're scary as hell. And the characters aren't total retards like those ones...." Hide looked at me with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Then again, they are Americans."
I threw my empty soda cup at him. "If you don't like it, get out of our country," I said, laughing.
"Hey, don't throw your trash at me!" Hide shouted, picking up a piece of popcorn and tossing it at me, hitting me in the forehead. A fierce popcorn fight ensued, but since we had eaten most of the ammunition, it was short-lived.
"Another movie's going to start in a few minutes," I said, brushing popcorn pieces off of my shirt. "Do you want to say and watch, or are you done?"
"Is it another lame horror movie?" Hide asked, pulling his sweatshirt up over his head. It had gotten warm in the car. As his T-shirt got caught in his sweatshirt, I caught a glimpse of pale skin, glowing from the lit screen in front of us. I felt a warm, swooping sensation in my stomach. FRIENDS.
"I don't think so," I said, admiring the way Hide's hair poofed up as he emerged from his sweatshirt. He now wore a black Hard Rock Cafe shirt, which tightly clung to his body."They usually play romance movies or something like that for the later movie."
"Well, as long as it's not one of those overly-sappy ones, I can handle it." Hide looked out of the window, then laughed and pointed. "Look at that. I wonder if they think we can't see them."
I looked where he was pointing. In the car next to us, a guy and a girl were in the middle of a heavy make-out session. I quickly turned back to look out the windshield at the screen, but Hide kept his eyes locked on them.
"Hide," I said, lightly smacking his arm. "Don't stare. That's rude."
"What's ruder, me watching or them doing it in a place where I can watch?" Hide retorted, still staring. He had a point.
"Still, it's weird. Don't look."
Hide turned back to face forward. "Eh, it's not like they're sexy or nothing. And I can kiss way better than that."
I dropped the Chapstick I had been applying to my lips and had to bend down to reach it under my feet. I sat back up, turning my head so he couldn't see the blush that had formed on my face. He was good at making me do that. I was also terrified that if I looked at him, he'd be looking at me, and then try to kiss me or something, like how it always happens in the movies. I don't think I could've survived that. Though his lips were probably really soft....Christ, Amanda, stop it!
"You know, odds are the movie is really sappy," I said, my voice shaking slightly. "I don't think I could handle two crappy movies in a row." Actually, I didn't think I could handle watching a romantic movie with Hide next to me without doing...things.
"Yeah, that doesn't sound very appealing to me, either," Hide said. "Maybe we should go."
Nodding in agreement, I started the car and pulled out of the parking space. As I drove by the car with the two lovebirds inside, Hide reached over and honked the horn, causing the guy to sit up in alarm and smack his head on the car ceiling.
Hide laughed. "That was awesome!"
I rolled my eyes, but laughed along with him.
"So," Hide said as we left the drive-in. "The night is young. What do you want to do now?"
"Um...I don't know..." I said.
"Hmmm..." Hide paused to think. "I still need that drink...Oh yeah, I have that bottle of Bacardi I bought the other day. We could go back to my place and drink it. How 'bout it?"
Luckily, we were at a red light, otherwise I would've slammed on the brakes and crashed the car at that statement.
"I-I can't drink," I said. "I still have to drive home, remember?"
"Oh, come on," Hide protested. "If you get too drunk, you can just stay at my place. I have tons of room."
"NO!" I shouted, alarmed at what he'd suggested.
Hide looked at me in surprise.
"I mean...I don't want to impose on you like that. That'd be rude, just going and passing out in the middle of your living room. I can't, really."
"Okay. I guess that means more for me then," Hide said, but the look on his face was one of disappointment. Great, now I had pissed him off.
We rode the rest of the way in silence. As I pulled up to his apartment building, he said, "Are you sure you don't want to come in?"
"Hide," I said. "I really can't...I-" How could I explain it? How could I tell him that if I was alone with him any longer, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from throwing myself at him, that I was at the limit of my self-control? How could I explain how his very presence affected me?
"Fine. You don't have to explain anything. I get it," Hide said sharply. He opened the car door and got out. I could see the irritation he was feeling in his movements.
"Hide, wait," I called, reaching my hand out to him.
Hide bent down and looked at me through the open door.
"Look, I had a lot of fun tonight...probably the most fun I've ever had watching a movie. I just...need to go." I looked at him, silently pleading with him to understand.
Something must've shown on my face, because his gaze softened and he smiled slightly. "Yeah, I did too." He reached out and grasped my hand briefly, which was still hanging in space between us. "See you later, Amanda." He slammed the car door shut, then jogged to the entrance of the apartment building. He turned and waved, then went inside.
I bowed my head, trying to regain control of my breathing. My heart was racing like I had just run a marathon, and my hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white. I was trembling, too. All this from him touching my hand! Imagine what would happen if he did more...no, don't imagine that. Not if you want to get home tonight.
I stayed there for a few minutes, until I finally managed to calm down, then drove home.

******

I hear soft piano music as I walk down the stairs. I'm surprised. Yoshiki hasn't touched his piano since Hide died. I had been starting to wonder if he ever would again. Even though I didn't want to see him, since we were technically still arguing, I couldn't stop myself from walking towards the music room. No matter how angry I am at him, I will always love his piano.
I stop at the doorway to the music room and press myself against the wall, peering around the corner into the room. Yoshiki's sitting at his piano, eyes closed, head tilted back; the traditional Yoshiki pose. Though I make fun of him for it, I have to admit that he looks hauntingly beautiful while playing. I can't recognize the song he's playing, so he must be making it up as he goes.
I watch him for a few moments, emotions bubbling up inside like they always do. A mixture of awe at the beauty and elegance of him and a slight sense of guilt, since it always seemed that when I watched him, I was watching something private and intimate. Only one other musician has ever made me feel like that.
Last night, after I had managed to crawl out of bed and open the door, Yoshiki had come rushing into my room, anxiety written all over his face. He had taken my face in his hands, stroking my sweaty hair back from my eyes and asking over and over if I was okay. After I was positive that I wouldn't vomit all over him, I had told him I had a nightmare, but didn't explain what it was about. It seemed like he understood, though, because he had pulled me to him, pressing me tight against his chest. Being held had made the tears start again, and he had sat us both down on the bed, pulling me onto his lap and rocking me gently while I cried. After I was done, he had gotten me tissues to wipe my eyes, a glass of cold water, and then put me back to bed, though I couldn't sleep for the rest of the night.
This morning, it had seemed as though last night's truce never happened. When I had gone into the kitchen to get breakfast, he had already been there. His face cold and expressionless when he saw me, he had turned around and left the room, not saying anything. Who's the bitch now?
Turning, I continue down the hall. I'm glad that Yoshiki's lost in his own little world at the moment, and probably would be for a while yet. That meant I was free to do what I was about to do without him breathing down my neck.
At the end of the hallway is a table where the phone sits. I pull open the drawer that's built into the table, looking for the phone book that's inside.
It's not there. Shit. Yoshiki must've been using it and not put it back. It's not like I can go and ask him where it is, and I had no time to look for wherever it was in this massive house. Yoshiki could snap back to reality at any moment. And it's not like I could just drive to Planned Parenthood. He'd hear the car start.
Suddenly, I remember who I could call. Hadn't Vicki been in a similar situation last year? She had never told us that she was pregnant, but I remember that one day she had a slight bulge under her shirt, and the next day she didn't. I had never told anyone, since it was her news to share, not mine.
I grab the phone and dial Vicki's number. She picks up after three rings. "Hello?"
"Hey Vicki, it's me."
"Amanda? Oh my god, how are you? I haven't heard from you in months! We've been worried about you."
"Have you?"
"Of course! At least, I have. I know we haven't really hung out much lately, but I've missed you. So, how are you?"
"Not good." Then, wanting to bypass the small talk: "Listen, I wanted to ask you something. Do you know the number for Planned Parenthood?"
There's a silence. Then, "Why would I know that?"
I sigh. "Because, Vicki, I know you went there at least once last year."
"How do you know?" Vicki's voice is harsh, but is trembling a little. So I was right, then.
"Vicki, last year you got fat, and then all of a sudden you were skinny again. It doesn't take a genius to figure it out." I quickly add, "I won't tell anyone, I promise. I just need your help."
She's quiet for a minute, then asks, "Why do you want to know?"
"Why else would I want to know?"
"Wait..." Vicki sounds puzzled. "Aren't you still dating that Japanese guy?"
"He's dead," I say, and I hear her gasp. "But that's not the point," I say quickly, interrupting what was probably going to be sympathy. "I need the number. I don't want it. I need to get rid of it. And I called you because I know you'd know it, and I also know that you wouldn't give me any crap about wanting an abortion."
"Well, okay..." Vicki gives me the number, which I write down on the little pad of paper that sits next to the phone.
"Um, Vicki," I hesitatingly ask. "What's an abortion like? What do they do, exactly?"
"Oh, it's pretty simple. They just vacuum it out. The whole thing takes about 30 minutes or so."
"Vacuum?"
"Yeah, and it's really cheap, too. Only a couple hundred dollars. Unless you're past the first trimester. Then they have to cut and scrape it out, and it's ten times more expensive."
My stomach churns at the thought. "No, I'm not that far yet."
"Oh, well then you're fine. Just don't go to the one downtown. The doctor there is twisted. He forced me to listen to the heartbeat before they put me under." Vicki scoffed. "Like I was going to change my mind in the operating room or something. Whatever. So anyway, we should hang out sometime soon." She continues, acting as if we hadn't just been discussing slicing up fetuses.
"I don't know...listen, I got to go. Thanks for the number." I hang up the phone and stare at it, contemplating what I had just heard. I had no idea abortions were done that way. I thought they just gave you a pill and it made the baby dissolve or something. But it was surgery, and pretty awful sounding surgery at that. A vacuum? Really?
An image of a tiny baby being sucked, screaming, into a giant tube appeared before my eyes, and I squeezed my eyes shut to get rid of it. Damn conscience. It's too late now. If I wanted to keep my sanity, I had to do this, and do it soon.
I hear the piano stop, and I hurry into the next room so Yoshiki wouldn't see me standing there.

A few days later, I'm sitting in the living room, watching raindrops hitting the glass doors that led into the backyard. Ever since I had called Vicki, my thoughts had been in turmoil. Despite my best efforts, I had started having doubts. On the one hand, having the baby meant the chance of having Hide staring at me through its eyes for the rest of my life, thereby haunting me forever and driving me insane. On the other hand, despite my disregard for all those pro-life fanatics that said abortion was murder, they were right. I was contemplating murder. I had looked it up on the Internet the other day, and I found out that they can measure a fetus' heartbeat at a few weeks, and brainwaves after two months. So the baby inside me was alive, truly alive. It wasn't just some random blob anymore. With this information, my excuse kept sounding more and more selfish and feeble.
I sit here, lost in thought, when suddenly Yoshiki storms into the room, looking ready to kill.
"What did I do now?" I asked, fighting the urge to stand up and run.
Yoshiki slams something down onto the coffee table in front of me. "What the fuck is this?" he shouts.
My blood runs cold as I look and see the notepad from the phone sitting there, the number for Planned Parenthood still written on it. Fuck, I had forgotten to take it with me.
"Um...a number?" I said.
Yoshiki starts to shake with fury. "Shit, Amanda, do I need to start screening phone calls?" His accent, which usually is barely detectable, starts becoming thicker and thicker, which in other circumstances would be hilariously funny. Now, it was just terrifying.
"It's nothing, just-"
"I know perfectly well what it is, I called it!" Yoshiki grabs the notepad and throws it across the room, causing a lamp to fall over. I wince as he leans over me, shoving his face in mine.
"If I have to lock you in a room until the baby's born, I will do it," he growls, baring his teeth. "Don't think I won't."
I'm cringing at the full force of his anger, but I manage to say, "If you do, I'll just kill myself."
He slams his hands down on my shoulders and presses me into the back of the chair. I start to tremble.
"If you really wanted to die, you would've done it already," he says. "Anyway, you don't have the guts."
The intensity of his glare forces me to look away, and I know he's right. No matter how much I feel like dying, I would be too afraid to give myself the fatal blow.
"You can't make me do anything," I say pathetically.
Yoshiki straightens, releasing me. He towers over me, a slight smirk on his face. "Oh yes, I can," he says. "I'm Yoshiki Hayashi. When I want something done, it gets done." He turns and leaves the room.
I sit there, frozen, my eyes wide in fear. I've never, ever seen him this angry. Close, but not this bad. In his current irate state, locking me in a room for seven months doesn't seem too improbable.
I hear Yoshiki's voice. I strain to hear, but it's really quiet. All I can get is that he's talking to someone, and in Japanese. There's no one else in the house, so obviously he's on the phone. Who on earth can he be talking to?
I get my answer a few moments later as Yoshiki enters the room again, holding the cordless phone in his hand.
"Amanda," he says with a smug smile. "Hide's mother's on the phone. She wants to talk to you."