It was a lie. Melanie was, in fact, sitting on the couch flipping through her Kinesiology & Bio-mechanics PE text. A Sada Masashi CD was playing on the stereo. The room smelled faintly of reheated pizza, slightly burned.
“O-kaeri,” said Melanie.
Elly mustered a lackluster “ Tadaima.” She dropped her backpack in the armchair. In the kitchen, she held a glass beneath the faucet and ran the water cold. An incessant rattling drew her attention. Her hand was shaking so hard the glass was bumping against the side of the sink. She set the glass aside and forced herself to calm down.
The roaring in her ears died away. Music drifted back into her senses. She recognized the album, A Time of Zephyr Dreams. The last cut on the CD began.
In the song, a solo voice accompanied by acoustic guitar tells the story of a girl leaving home in the middle of the night, full of worry and a growing sense of distress. Outside the train window, she sees Sirius, the Dog Star, following faithfully along with her. She wants to speak to her father, but can only address herself to that distant, steadfast point of light.
Elly stood in the hallway between the kitchen and living room, leaned against the wall, and closed her eyes. As she listened to the music, she found herself repeating the same words: Papa, I never thought I’d love another person as much as I love you.
She felt the tears on her cheeks. She was crying and didn’t know why. It was ridiculous to weep over a simple folk song she’d heard dozens of times before without batting an eye, but she buried her face in her hands and sobbed. And then, almost ready to fall apart, she felt Melanie’s strong arms around her. Elly wept, it seemed, forever, until those deep reservoirs of loss and regret and longing had finally spent themselves.
Melanie gently let her go. Elly kept her eyes downcast, mortified at the emotions she’d unburdened on her roommate. When she’d at last gained some measure of composure, she gave Melanie an uncertain smile to reassure her that the worst was over.
“Elly, what’s the matter? I’ve never seen you like this before.”
Elly tried to laugh. It came out as a wet snuffle. “I’m just being majorly premenstrual.” She took a breath, grew more serious again. “Connor was going to ask me to marry him. I wouldn’t let him.”
“This is a bad thing? Do you want to marry him?”
“No. Yes.” She shook her head emphatically, spilling tears out of the corners of her eyes. She nodded. “I want to, with all my heart I want to. I’ve wanted to marry him all along. It’s just that—it’s just that—” She felt the tears welling up again, so she breathed until that wave ran up on the beach and vanished into the damp sand. “I’ve never left home, Mel. I’ve been away from home, but I’ve never left. I didn’t think there was a difference. I’ve lived in so many places, but place isn’t what matters. I’ve always been aneki, the eldest daughter. But from now on I’m going to be okusan, Mrs. Connor McKenzie.”
“No, you’re going to be Elly Chieko McKenzie. Or Elly Packard McKenzie. Or Elly Packard-McKenzie with a hyphen.”
This time Elly did laugh. She said in a quieter voice, “Listening to that song, I suddenly realized that even half a world away, I hadn’t left home. When you marry in Japan, on the census, they move your name from your parent’s family register to your husband’s. Connor isn’t Japanese, but metaphorically—”
“That’s what weddings and receptions are for, silly. So they can play that song, you know, the one from Ephesians: For this cause shall a man leave his father and mother, and shall be joined unto his wife—” She hummed a melody
Elly didn’t recognize. Mel gave her a cross look. “Girl, you obviously haven’t been a bridesmaid often enough.”
“I haven’t ever been.”
“Then the first time’s the charm. You are going to marry him?”
“Of course I am.”
“If he hasn’t formally asked you, you still make him.”
Elly nodded. They hugged and Melanie said, “Remember what I told you before—no pining into your pillow. That’s what my shoulder is for.”
Melanie gave her another hug and returned to her studies. Elly went back to the kitchen and opened the oven door and found two slices of pizza left on the cookie sheet. After thirty seconds in the microwave, the pizza tasted just fine.