Keishin wrinkled his nose. “I wouldn’t recommend trying that even if it isn’t real.”
Hana laughed.
Keishin laughed too. A small chuckle that tickled his belly and did a little happy dance over his tongue. It grew, rolling around his stomach and expanding in his chest, uncontrollable and relentless. Keishin chortled and gasped for air. A fit of giggling burst from Hana’s lips. Laughter exploded between them, knocking both of them to the floor. Keishin rolled to his side and clutched his belly, tears welling in his eyes.
Hana sat up and leaned against a snack shelf, bringing her laughter to a stop with slow, deliberate breaths.
Keishin sat next to her, his long legs stretched across the aisle. “Damn, that felt good.”
Hana smiled. “It did.”
“I don’t even know what we were laughing about.”
“At nothing.” Hana panted. “And everything.”
Keishin’s eyes wandered around the store. “It feels strange being back here.”
“Because it isn’t real?”
“I don’t think it would feel real even if I was actually here. This memory is only from a few days ago, but I no longer feel like the same person that was in it.”
“That will change.” Hana fiddled with a pack of chips she had plucked from a shelf. “When all of this is over, your old life will feel like the only one you’ve ever lived.”
“Because I won’t remember you,” he said quietly.
Hana rested her head on his shoulder. “You said that you were okay with not remembering my world.”
“I was.”
“And now?” She closed her eyes.
“It’s…” He held her hand, weaving his fingers through hers as though it would keep her from slipping away. “Different.”
—
Keishin had lived all his life believing that time wasn’t something you could hold, but tonight it fit perfectly into the paper cup warming his hands. Fifteen minutes looked and smelled exactly like a steaming latte. At the end of this time, when he had sipped the last of his dark-roasted seconds, he was going to wake Hana, as she had requested, from the nap she was taking on his shoulder. She had said that they needed to be on their way before the sun was up, back to chasing clues. And being chased.
But for now Keishin’s cup was full, and he had time to watch Hana sleep. He brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. Hana slept surprisingly peacefully for someone sitting on a convenience store’s questionably clean floor. Keishin felt calm too, partly because it felt good not to have to constantly look over his shoulder, but mostly because he had finally found an answer to a question that involved a broken elevator, a pregnant woman, and a battered box of free old books.
Chapter Thirty
Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth
One year ago
Keishin’s apartment building cast a welcome shadow over the street. He quickened his pace. His mind reached home ahead of him, hurriedly peeling off sweaty clothes and tossing them onto the floor. It hopped into the shower and stood beneath the stream of cool water, waiting for the rest of Keishin to join it. It was used to leaving him behind. His body was always trying to catch up with his thoughts. Later, when they were reunited, Keishin would pour himself a cold glass of white wine, put a record on, and fall asleep on the couch listening to his favorite song, his hair still wet from his shower.
Keishin rushed inside his building, his shirt clinging to his chest. Sunscreen and sweat stung his eyes. Luckily, Keishin didn’t have to see where he was going to find his way to the elevator. The tapping of his footsteps over the black-and-white marble tiles was enough. Next to the gurgle of his coffee machine, the little taps were his favorite sound in the world. There were exactly twenty-two of them. Each ferried him closer to a small metal box that whisked him from the noise of the day. He didn’t like sharing it.
A pregnant woman, vigorously fanning herself with a Chinese take-out menu by the elevator’s doors, crushed his hopes of solitude. The elevator doors slid open. Keishin threw aglance at the stairs and dismissed climbing up the ten flights to his apartment almost as soon as he considered it. The elevator dinged. Keishin met the woman’s eyes. She looked away, sending her thick ponytail swinging like a pendulum against her nape. She shuffled inside the elevator, stuffing the take-out menu into an oversized shoulder bag while cradling a box of jelly donuts. Keishin followed her in and pushed the button for his floor.
“Eight, please,” the pregnant woman said. “Thanks.”
Keishin pressed the button for her.
The cab jolted. The woman stumbled forward, sending her donuts flying and knocking Keishin into the elevator door. Metal slammed against his cheek. The lights went out, plunging the cab into darkness. An emergency light flickered to life.
Pain radiated through Keishin’s jaw. “Are you okay?” he said, trying to rub the pain away.
