“I want you to come home. Onegai.”

Nothing he’d said the night before, or in the last five minutes, had gotten through. “If I did it for you,” he said, “what about me?”

Nothing.

“You do for you and I do for me, how about that?” Tom Alan asked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We’ve been sheltered, Kiki. I’m not complaining, but the sport, your chichi’s rules ...”

“He’s ‘my’ chichi now?”

“Ours. Papa. You go to the practice rink, Kiki, segregated schools, then home -- a home that’s even segregated. That’s all you know.”

“And you know more, and that’s why you’re different.”

“When you know more, you’ll be different, too.”

“Then you’re admitting you’re different?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Probably.”

“You’re different.”

“I guess.”

“Because of Milo Fisher. Stupid buttfucker.”

“Him and me both.”

“He’s nothing special, you know. How many medals has he won? And he’s not that good-looking.” Schoolgirl arguing tactics.

“Ikemen,” Tom Alan said.

“Eew.”

“He is. Very handsome. Quite sexy, too. But that’s just that. I’m different because of me, not him. I’ve been growing a while,” Tom Alan said. “University -- it’s a whole new experience. And you’ll be on your own more than I was. I came home. Went back and forth.”

“You didn’t change at university. You didn’t change here. All you did was go to class and then come home and sit sequestered in your room to read, write, and jack off.”

He couldn’t argue with that assessment, at least the part about sequestering himself.

“You just changed overnight, over three.”

“It started ... It’s a process. You’ll be off. Free. Living away from home.”

“And you’ll be free of me.”

“You’ll appreciate being rid of me; I swear. Be grateful. Look, three days, two conversations, on our own, and all we do is fight, daro? Maybe you should ... You should definitely start looking, now, even. Try living, without interference, without ... settling, for whatever reason, fear or whatever. There’s gotta be something you want, someone that you don’t even know about yet.”

“Baka-baka-shii wa.”

“It’s not. It’s true. Maybe there’s someone you do know, and you just haven’t let yourself be open to it.”

“You saying I’m going to be a lesbian when I go to university?”

Tom Alan actually chuckled. “I think you’d know before now if you were a lesbian.”

“You did?”

“A lesbian?”

“Gay, baka.”

“Long before. Long, long, long before now.”

“I’m not a fucking lesbian.”

“No?” Tom Alan grinned.

“No. There were some at my school. One was totally awful to me. Yuri wa ijiwaru dawa.”

“Not all lesbians are mean,” Tom Alan assured her. “That’s what I mean about the real world, Kiki. You can’t use high school as an example, where all guys are immature, and all lesbians are allegedly mean. You need to go out and meet different kinds of people, meet some nice lesbians.”

“Whatever.” The epithet asshole was implied in her tone.

“Fine, Kiki. You don’t wanna meet lesbians, don’t meet lesbians.” Tom Alan shrugged. “I know several. Met one yesterday. She was awesome. Your loss. Meet whoever you want. I’d suggest straight men to start -- and lesbians, just in case. I don’t care who you love. I just want you to be happy.”

“Oshaberi, blah, blah, blah.”

“You always said I didn’t talk enough. Now you have the opposite gripe.”

“You’re talking sappy bullshit.”

“It’s sappy truth. I don’t want you to settle.”

“You don’t want to settle.”

“No.”

Erika skipped her turn.

“Life is different when you don’t live with your parents,” Tom Alan said, “when you don’t have to listen to teachers. When you don’t have to listen to anyone.”

“Again with the ‘you’re a child’ bullshit.”

“If you were a child, your main source of sustenance would be soap for that mouth of yours.”

“Wow! Big word. And used correctly.”

“I’m not dumb.”

“You’re so not dumb.” A beat. “You just act that way.”

“Call off Otousan. I want to stay here another week.”

“You think I make Otousan’s decisions?”

“You play him like a fiddle.”

“If only I could fiddle you.”

“You might more than you know, Kiki-chan. I would do almost anything for you.”

“Almost.”