24 Apr Tokyo

“Another saké, please.” Noel lifted her empty glass to the waiter.

She was sitting by the full wall window at the 45th floor of the Ritz-Carlton in Tokyo, observing the city light up as night fell. Her afternoon had been surprisingly pleasant, walking around the famous cherry blossoms, which she found stunning. She sat under the trees at Hinokicho park for a couple of hours and then headed to the happy hour at The Carlton’s rooftop bar. The place was very westernized, to her surprise, from the burger and fries on the menu to its sleek decoration. Floor-to-ceiling windows covered the walls and gave way to a 360 view of the city. The bar stood against one of the windows, its brightly-lit shelves packed with an expensive variation of vodkas, rums, and sakes. A soft electronic beat played quietly in the background and, apart from the Latino couple sitting at the bar, Noel was the only one there.

The waiter, a Tokyo-native who spoke perfect English, arrived with Noel’s sake and she took a big gulp to make time go faster. She had been sent to Japan on a mission to convince the CEO of Okada, her company’s biggest rival, to negotiate on a merge. The company was expanding into the US, which was a danger to the brand she worked for, and it was her job to find a way to make a deal.

Takeshi Okada was known to be a tough man, and Noel was nervous. They had agreed to meet at the hotel’s restaurant at eight that evening, but she was already there, two hours in advance, drinking her third glass of sake. She did not notice the bar had filled up until the chattering got so loud she had a hard time remembering her keynotes for the meeting. She looked around and was surprised to see people crowded around tables and the bar, some dancing in between chairs. The music was louder than before too, she noticed, now playing a more energized beat. She watched, amused at how people from different backgrounds acted similarly around booze. Not much mattered, in the end.

A flash amid the crowd caught her eyes, and she found herself staring at a group of five men circling one stool at the corner of the bar. The flash came from the tallest of the guys, who was looking for something on the floor around him with his phone’s flashlight. Noel thought the way he bent forward was funny; he seemed to be making an effort to fold that low. Her eyes drifted to his feet, and she snorted. His choice of shoes was pitiful. Vans? Noel believed that a man’s shoes spoke a lot about him, and she was personally into the type who dressed it up a bit. But, when he finally found what he had been searching and stood back upright, she noticed how he was the only one in the group who was not Japanese. In fact, the man wore a grey shirt with a Back to the Future DeLorean stamped on it while his friends wore plain white tees. He was waving his beer over his head and celebrating the thing he picked from the floor.

Noel chuckled and looked away, realizing she had probably drunk too much. The room felt tighter, warmer; the voices, laughter, and music blurred in the background. She crossed her legs, carefully tucked the ends of her black skirt and checked her phone. It was eight-thirty.

“What?! No way.” Had she missed Mr. Okada and not realized it? She got up and looked around, but she knew from experience that he would have tried to contact her on the phone. Her eyes wandered back to that bar corner, and, to her surprise, the boy she had secretly been observing before was now looking at her.

They exchange glances for a few long seconds, and Noel froze, feeling a sudden tightness in her stomach. They were close enough that she could see his thick, dark eyebrows frown over his blue eyes, and was sure then that he was thinking the same thing: I’ve seen you before.

And, at the same time, Noel had never met him. She had a sharp visual memory and yet, could not place him anywhere in her past: he was not a classmate in school and not a guy she would have met at the New York clubs she frequented. And still, looking into his eyes, she had that tingling sensation that she knew him already.

Noel diverted her gaze and tried to focus on her work issue. On the one hand, she knew she should contact Mr. Okada, but, on the other, nothing about that meeting felt right to her. Not the place nor the occasion. She felt, in fact, relieved that he might not show up. She looked for her phone for a moment, and then tossed it in her purse and walked straight to the bar.

“A sake, please.” She waved a thin finger to the barman and accidentally hit her elbow on the person next to her. He turned, and she choked. It was the Vans guy, this time a few inches away. Everything about him felt familiar, his Abercrombie scent, the small veins popping out from his neck, his uncombed strands of black hair. She realized she had been staring at him without saying a word, so she managed to mutter: “Oh, I’m sorry.”

He smiled and said in a deep voice:

“I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?”