Chapter Five:
The hall had been built inwards to his specifications. A high ceiling, invisible overhead, made the space feel claustrophobic while his eyes tried to adjust to the darkness. The walls were only a metre and a half apart, made of frosted black glass that stretched from the floor to the roof. Ahead, he could see the far end of the room – the path that lead into the next phase of the sporadic memories he still held from early childhood. Somewhere in between, an intersection crossed with his path – a crossroad that lead into other, smaller, psychoses.
Robert stepped into the hall and a faint glow illuminated him through the black glass. As he walked through the space the light grew brighter, forcing the rest of the space into nothingness. At the crossroad the light blinked out, a tremulous heartbeat rumbling through the square panel upon which he stood. He nodded slowly, the repetition of the movement coming easily to his loosened joints.
The effect of the room was what he wanted.
Crowds would undoubtedly undermine its impact, but he had advised the curators to slow them down before they entered his Ego. Aware of what was to come, Robert closed his eyes firmly and strode out of the hall, the flashes of light gleaming pink and burgundy beyond his protective lids. The room produced a sound that swept around him, chasing him and sending the hair all over his body on end.
When he was finally free of the space his heart thumped in his chest and his hands felt like liquid against the tips of his fingers. It had been more than two years since he had seen the Ego functionally complete and its effect on him remained as visceral as it had been back then. Robert made his way to a long curved seat and sat down to calm his ragged breaths. He had designed the installation to isolate people. It was meant to make them uncomfortably aware of how fragile they were and how easily they could be disconnected from the life they had constructed around themselves. It was his ode to to world’s desperation to avoid solipsistic nausea and existential angst.
“I’m glad it wasn’t damaged sitting in storage for so long.” The woman’s voice came from behind him, but he didn’t turn to find her. Robert rubbed his eyes, feeling hot and uncomfortable in the grey-check dinner jacket.
“Part of me wishes they’d destroyed it,” he mumbled. “In fact, part of me wishes the whole place had spontaneously combusted… Two years and the shit still gets under my skin.”
“Maybe that’s the topic for your next body: how the self changes far less than we think – or perhaps far less than we hope?” The voice was closer, he could here the soft click of her heels as they touched the polished museum floors. “Still, here we are. It’s taken a while, but it looks good, don’t you think? I mean it would have looked different two years ago, but I think age has given it all a more,” she paused for drama, “powerful presence.” She laughed. “Although your recent troubles give me a certain inside-line on the meta-commentary of this particular collection.”
Misaki Tachibana settled onto the seat beside him, her left leg crossed over the right towards him. Through slightly splayed fingers, Robert peered at the heeled foot that rested gently against his calf. The shoe was purple and black, pointed and sleek, dangerous to behold. Above it, her slender calf, her skin shining and moisturised – gleaming like new meat – alive and familiar yet alien and unknowable.
“You look good tonight.”
“Hah! You haven’t even looked at me!”
“I’ve seen enough to know.”
Her arms slid across his chest and shoulders, pulling him into the scent of her perfume – a smell that lingered in half-remembered dreams and drunken nights naked amidst the luminous glow of Tokyo. Misaki kissed him gently on the cheek – the kind of kiss that told of their history together, that spoke of their wordless understanding of one another. She kept her face beside his, letting her scent seep into his skin, intoxicating him.
“You’ve been so quiet since you had to give up Ginza. Are you working? Or still drinking?”
He rested his head against hers, his thoughts wandering to their years together laughing, and eating, and playing unfair games with one-another’s hearts. Part of him wanted to ignore her question – to refocus the conversation away from him. It felt ludicrous to discuss himself and his demons amidst the old symbols of his exorcisms. Instead he replied meekly, his eyes still closed. “Drinking.”
She pressed in closer to him, her cheek against his, the smoothness of her skin causing his senses to tingle. “Do you want my help?”
“Not yet… You do enough managing this mess.” He smiled grimly, the shape of his mouth layered with self-loathing and defeat.
“Well,” Misaki kissed the corner of his mouth and untangled her arms as she rose to her feet. “Best we get you lubricated for the public, Robert.”
She held out her hand and he clasped it tightly, his eyes passing over her long white nails that were detailed with blue geometric triangles outlined in glitter. Each nail bore a single triangular diamante at the centre of the intricate pattern. She watched him quietly while he inspected the design before letting his eyes drink in her refinement and sophistication. Misaki wore a white silk blouse over a purple lace brassier that Robert could make out through the thin material. Beneath that, a clinging purple mini-skirt, masked with black detailing of the same triangular pattern, covered her thin hips and arse. Misaki’s hair was tied up formally with two long pins that sparkled with even more triangles. She bowed slightly as he stood, a guilty smile playing on her lips.
“I was wrong,” he murmured, as she lead him towards the exit that would take them down to watch the opening of the show.
“You were.” She laughed singularly, her hips sidling seductively as she walked before him. She spun when they reached the door. “Did I hear correctly, Mr. Chaff, that you have moved into an expensive loft just around the corner, here in Roppongi? As your dealer, I would have thought I would be the first to be informed of your change of address.” An intricate nail poked him in the chest.
She wasn’t tall, even with the heels he looked down into her eyes. He didn’t know how to explain about the apartment which was why he hadn’t told her. He regretted it, finding himself caught trying to weave a story about how he had come into the money without her knowledge.
Misaki grinned mischievously, enjoying his discomfort. “You’ll have to show me sometime.”
He must have looked simultaneously thrilled and distressed by the idea because she laughed again, tapping her finger hard on his chest.
“Unless you’re seeing someone else tonight!” She spun theatrically and took two steps away from him before turning back and calling him after her with an amused smirk.
