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Message-ID: <32611asstr$1001211003@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "celia batau" <pinataheart@bigplanet.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} {ASSD} The Whereabouts of Happiness. part one [1/4] {celia batau} (FF slow)
Date: Sat, 22 Sep 2001 22:10:03 -0400
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hi everyone!

this is part one of a four part story.

note: copyright 2001 celia batau. you may copy this story for personal use
so long as the author's name and this note are retained. permission to copy,
distribute, or display this work is not given to any website which charges
access to it. permission to copy, distribute, or display this work is given
to "no charge" websites with written consent of author.

If you like this story or have any comments, please email us at
pinataheart@bigplanet.com.

-cb

The Whereabouts of Happiness
part one - onna no yume.
By celia batau, (C)2001

1.
Guernicava Guadalupe Alma Rosea Avila followed her footsteps up along the
concrete bridge crossing the Shibuya river, squinting in the cold autumn
sunlight that filled the morning with an almost perfect blueness. Somewhere
inside of her pulled the gentle tug of instinct, a dim sense of awareness,
and Guernicava, following it, paused only once she reached the height of the
bridge. Leaning against the rail, she watched her breath as she looked down
at the river. She felt so cold. So cold that she was only mildly amused that
her breath was warm enough to frost.

Licking her lips, Guernicava pushed herself from the railing and followed
her instinct off the bridge and onto a side street along the high wall of a
Shinto shrine before turning down another street, emerging into a busy
intersection just in time to see a young woman, heavily bundled for the
unseasonal cold, step into the street to get hit by a crisp white delivery
truck.

Immediately, Guernicava ran and reached the woman moments after she'd
stopped moving. She was unconscious, but didn't look to be bleeding.
Throwing open the heavy coat, Guernicava placed her hands against the young
woman's narrow chest, and the world went black.


2.
Guernicava studied the face in the restroom mirror. She traced her focus
over the smooth clear skin of the oval face, from her eyes to tiny nose to
her slightly rounded cheeks, pausing at the mouth with its large but
beautifully shaped upper lip. The short hair was choppy and messy and a very
very flat brown. It was the hair of someone who went to school or didn't
have a job yet. She liked it.

Stepping back, she slipped off the light cotton gown and regarded her full
length in the harsh florescent light. A new body was always strange. She
inherited things like language and walking and driving from the previous
owner, but personal things always eluded her. She was left feeling new, able
to touch countless possibilities. Leaning forward, she kissed her new
reflection and flipped off the light.

--

There was a woman in the hospital room when Guernicava returned. She was
older but had a familiar similarity to Guernicava's body. The woman smiled
with a nervous and relieved expression. She made as if to step closer to
Guernicava, but something held her back.

"Akemi, are you alright?"

The older woman's smiled flickered to concern for a moment. One doctor and
three nurses had already come to visit Guernicava with that same expression.
Guernicava crossed the floor and sat on the edge of the bed.

"My name is Akemi?" Guernicava replied.

At that, the smile completely fell.

Reaching up, Guernicava touched her fingers to her lips.

"My name is Akemi." She repeated to herself.

The woman gave her a strange look, then hurried from the room.


3.
The light was soft, warm as Guernicava lied under the blanket staring at the
blueness outside the bedroom window. She felt peaceful, comfortable. Like
she could float up into that light. The feeling was so different from
Guernicava's usual restlessness.

"Are you going to lie there all day?"

Guernicava turned her head to see a girl, Akemi's younger sister, standing
in the doorway in oversized pajamas, toothbrush in hand. She smiled.

"Better get up before mom comes after you."

Then she was gone.

--

Salted chips or shrimp flavored chips.

Shopping. Guernicava had to get out of the house, out from under the older
woman's nose. So she went shopping. It felt so domestic, standing in the
bright empty isle, staring at the display, deciding on which flavor of snack
her new family would prefer. Finally, she chose the shrimp and wandered down
toward the magazines. She stared at the covers. All the glossy happy faces.
She picked one up and flipped through it. Did her face look like that?
Guernicava smiled, feeling the muscles of her face.

--

Guernicava stepped from the store, bags in hand, into a heavy rain that
started while she was inside. She wandered along the sidewalk, her mind
returning to the comfortable haze.

What must it have been like to be this blurry little girl, she wondered.
Guernicava had become completely unlike herself since the change. She couldn't imagine what it must have been like to know nothing else, to endlessly
float in gentle daydreams. It settled uneasily with Guernicava's nature,
which was decisive, direct. But Akemi made it so easy for Guernicava to sit
through an afternoon staring at her fingers or the swaying branches of
trees. No wonder Akemi died, she thought. It would be so hard not to.

The rain fell harder, blurring the street in front of her. At that moment, a
black-hooded figure rushed out of a bookstore, heading for the street, but
froze when it noticed her.

"Akemi?"

Guernicava didn't move. She couldn't make her new muscles work. She felt so
strange, like she wanted to run, but she couldn't even look away as the
figure approached her.

"Akemi? Are you alright?" The figure pushed the hood back. It was a young
man. "You don't look well."

Guernicava smiled, "I'm ok."

"I heard," The young man paused, looking into her eyes, "About the accident.
I'm glad you're ok."

She shrugged.

The young man laughed at the non-committal reply.

"Good."

Guernicava listened to the stranger, watching the drops splash around her
feet.

"I know we don't talk much anymore," he said after another pause, "but me
and Hiro and Christina are going out tonight. Maybe you should come?"

Guernicava agreed.


4.
The towels smelled clean. Like detergent. She pressed the cloth to her face
as she stood in the alcove while her sister put the bags away. Stripping off
the wet jacket, Guernicava followed into the kitchen.

"I'll make tea," she offered and began to hunt the cupboards.

"You really are confused, aren't you?" her sister chided and pulled the
teapot out to set it on the stove. Finding the tea, Guernicava put it with
the cups on the counter and watched the girl finish putting the groceries
away.

"You're not staying are you?"

Guernicava looked up from the cups, not sure what had changed the subject so
abruptly.

"I mean," the girl added, "it's not like you're not gone all the time
anyway. It's just I'm happy to have you a little longer."

Guernicava didn't answer. The girl leaned against the counter.

"It's nice to be able to talk to you about things again. I think about the
accident and I shiver so much. Dad acts so proud, but he feels it too. We
feel so lucky, big sister, even if you do have an empty head now."

Neither said anything until the pot told them it was ready.


5.
The bar the guys had chosen had a soccer theme. Finding an empty table, the
four squeezed in and began to chat under the loud music. Guernicava stared
at the thin American girl across from her. Christina was someone Akemi hadn'
t known, and Guernicava wondered if she was Hiro's secret girlfriend. She
might have been, she mused, until she noticed how the three's eyes,
Christina's included, lingered over the tight referee uniforms the
waitresses wore.

--

In the soba shop, Guernicava slurped up her noodles while she tried to
listen to the conversation through the buzz in her ears. Otohiko was the
only one not eating, and he was leaned back drunkenly in his chair laughing
at them instead.

"That's weird. So it was that woman lying over you?" Christina asked, "Funny
huh? You get hit and it's this woman who's dead?"

Guernicava nodded and took a sip of her beer.

Their friendship began like that, sitting and talking in an English that was
subtly more difficult for her than it had been not much earlier.

Guernicava had been just as foreign, just as exotic, but she was adjusting.
Now it was the people around her who were familiar. Their eyes, their skin,
their smell. Thousands of specific details made up this new world, these new
Japanese. Guernicava had long forgotten who she really was. But did it
really matter? She was adapting, always becoming. Now it was this thin, dark
haired woman who intrigued her. She asked her a thousand questions.


6.
The nights were getting warmer and Guernicava and her new friend got into
the habit of staying up later, drinking and talking. The curtains were open
and the two lied on their blankets in Guernicava's room, staring at the
ceiling when Christina admitted her strangeness.

"I got one of those entertainment jobs," Christina explained, "you know, the
ones they tell the horror stories about prostitution and stolen passports?
Well, it turned out well for me, I guess. But the Japanese really prefer the
blondes, so I didn't work that much. And then when it was time for me to
return home, I decided to stay."

She turned her face to her friend as she shared her secret in a whisper.

"But why am I here? I have this vague certainty, I don't know how to
describe it, but it's like I'm preparing to leave this world, like this
whole life is for me to put the pieces in the right order before I can go.
And I think I'm close. This is where I think it will happen."

Guernicava nodded understandingly, hoping it looked sincere.

"I know that sounds strange," Christina giggled and reached over her head
blindly for her glass. The condensation dripped over her face as she
carefully maneuvered it so she could take a sip.

Guernicava laughed, and sitting up, leaned against the wall.

"I shouldn't even be telling you this," Christina continued, "But I feel
like I can tell you, like you will understand. Maybe because we're not so
different. In a way, you spent your whole life just to lose it. And now you'
ve got this whole world that's old, but it's new all over again. And me, me,
I've lived this whole life knowing it. And one day I will lose it, and find
a whole new world."

Guernicava nodded again.


7.
The bar was crowded. Guernicava didn't feel much like drinking, but it had
become such a part of their conversations that it felt awkward not to do it.
At the moment, her bladder was complaining, so she stood up and headed for
the restroom. Guernicava wasn't gone long, but when she returned, she found
Christina seated with an old gentleman. What a strange combination, she
thought, taking another seat.

After two hours of sitting alone, she stood up, and not wanting to disturb
such an earnest conversation, left on her own.

--

Guernicava rang the doorbell twice. Then even though it was impolite, she
checked the handle to Christina's apartment and found it unlocked.

Creeping inside, Guernicava saw several pairs of her friend's shoes lined up
at the step. But beyond the step, the entire living room had been cleared.
Furniture, rugs, pictures. All that was left was Christina, who sat in the
center of the hardwood floor, eyes closed, a light grey kimono wrapped
around her slender frame.

Guernicava said nothing. Instead she leaned quietly against the wall and
listened to Christina's soft voice as she chanted some kind of prayer.
Guernicava watched her lips form the words, watched her chest rise and fall.
She had never thought of her friend as anything else, but the American girl'
s movements were so delicate, so calm, that Guernicava felt herself being
drawn closer. She felt like she had on the bridge, so cold. Guernicava
recognized the feeling. It was her instinct.

"Come in."

Guernicava blinked. So completely did Guernicava's thoughts slip into Akemi'
s hazy rhythm that she didn't notice that Christina had stopped.

The two looked at each other. And when Guernicava didn't move, Christina
did. Standing, she went to her friend, and resting her arms on Guernicava's
shoulders, gathered the flat brown hair back in a short ponytail.

"I'm leaving tonight."

Guernicava knew what that meant. She looked into Christina's eyes, at the
certainty and the sadness. Suddenly, she didn't want her friend to leave.
Christina was maybe the only other person in this world who understood the
world like Guernicava did, and she didn't want to be alone again.

"It's selfish, but say you are happy for me."

Their lips touched. Christina was warm. She moaned and her arms tightened
around her friend. Their mouths opened and their tongues fell into place.

After an eternity, they parted.

Moving back into the room, Christina loosened her kimono and let it fall to
the hardwood. Guernicava's own clothes followed, and the two embraced again.
Lips met. Breasts touched. She could almost feel Christina's heartbeat
quickening, just as hers was. Warm hands glided over curves leaving streaks
of heat as they passed. Guernicava pressed closer, encouraging the warmth,
letting her lips roam from mouth to chin to throat.

The bare room began to glow. Guernicava closed her eyes, and her sense of
gravity, weakened in Akemi's fumbling senses, lost itself entirely, and the
two women floated above the floor. Fingers, hips, necks, and breasts. Lips,
arms, feet, and hearts. They found their secret places. Entwined, their heat
radiated between them, doubling with each touch, each caress, as the glow
intensified, then overwhelmed them as they continued to flow into one
another, building, spreading, growing, exploding.


8.
The room was silent. The two women lied tangled together on the floor
breathing slowly. It was a perfectly calm moment. One Guernicava hadn't felt
in such a long time. But it was then that Guernicava began to sense it. That
tiny bit of awareness that pulled at her. She wrapped herself tightly around
her friend, willing it away, but knowing there was nothing she could do.

Then it came.

Suddenly, Christina sat up. And Guernicava, not wanting to lose the touch of
her lover, sat up with her. But she was too late. Christina whispered a
final farewell, and was gone.

--

In the end, there was only one thing Guernicava could do. Swelling. Lifting.
Rising, Guernicava cast herself forward, dissolving herself into the
instinctual flow, releasing everything she had been, and everything she had
ever hoped to be, redefining her purpose into the current that pulled,
stronger and stronger, onto her weakening senses.

Akemi's body shattered like pottery. And Guernicava fell onto a new pair of
hands.

She took her first breath.

She was alone again.


celia batau's story site: http://www.myplanet.net/pinataheart/stories.htm

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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