CHAPTER SEVEN

Bianca removed her shoes and found a pair of slippers approximately her size. She tucked her shoes in a cubby and followed Ian up the stairs of the ramen house. They settled into a spot at the counter in the far corner. She looked at the menu out of habit, but knew she couldn’t read it, nor did she need to. This was her favorite ramen place, and she knew exactly what she wanted. In fact, tired or not, this place had been on her mind all day. If she couldn’t sleep, she could at least have her black sesame ramen. Across the counter, the server brought them each a small beer and took their orders. Bianca looked around and realized that nothing had changed at all. It was as if she had never left. She wondered what it must be like to live in a world where the movement of change could be at once imperceptible and monumental. Kyoto was remarkable in its ability to modernize dramatically while remaining steadfastly traditional. Bianca’s mouth watered as a steaming bowl was placed before her. The handmade noodles beckoned, submerged in a rich dark broth of spicy black sesame. “Itadakimasu,” they said before they started their meal. She took a slurp of broth first, the spice clearing her sinuses immediately, then with her chopsticks she gathered up some long strands of ramen and did her best not to make a mess. They barely spoke as they ate. The food was too delicious and demanding of their attention, and they had talked for hours already. They were content in the sounds of their eating and the sounds of the fellow diners having a fun night out. When Ian excused himself to find the men’s room, Bianca continued spooning the last of her broth then was surprised by a nudge. She opened her eyes and slowly realized that she had nodded off to sleep at the counter with her spoon still resting in her hands. The last strands of noodles had never made it to her mouth. “Time to go, Mom.” Bianca used all her energy to stand up with some dignity and followed him back to the shoe cubby and then out the door, but not before they called out to the ramen chefs to thank them for the meal. “Gochisousamadeshita!” Once outside, they lingered briefly at the window watching as the chefs rolled and cut the fresh noodles. Bianca was mesmerized by their actions. They worked so effortlessly as if they had no need to think about these motions. Bianca leaned on Ian as they made their way through the alley known as Ponto-chō, the traditional bar district. Too small for cars, the cobble- stone walkways were lined with tiny restaurants and clubs, their entrances illuminated by glowing paper lanterns. A different aroma escaped each establishment. Some scents Bianca could identify—ginger, garlic, grilling meats. Other delectable fragrances she couldn’t. Despite having eaten enough, her appetite was reawakened. They walked slowly, enjoying the cool autumn night. Just as they were leaving the quiet street, they saw a geisha walking beside a businessman. The rich fabric of her amber kimono shimmered in the light of the lanterns and her hair was perfectly coiffed with a burgundy hairpin. As the lovely girl passed them, Bianca turned to catch a better look. She admired the elaborate knot of the brocade obi belt and the delicate end points of the white makeup on the young woman’s neck. Bianca considered it a good omen to spot a geisha on her first day in Kyoto. They were a rare sight. Some tourists could spend their entire vacation in Kyoto and never see one. Arriving at the apartment close to 9:30, Ian unlocked the gate and led her to the front door of the guest house. As he opened the door to the darkened room he whispered, “Tadaima.” I’m home. He showed Bianca to her room where Jiro had already deposited her bags. She hugged Ian, turned to her futon, and crawled into it without changing into pajamas. Ian turned to close the door. “Ian, wait.” He turned back. “You’re happy here.” He nodded. “You feel at home, don’t you?” He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them. He nodded again. She closed her eyes and fell asleep. *** Excerpt from Autumn Embers by Tina deBellegarde. Copyright 2024 by Tina deBellegarde. Reproduced with permission from Tina deBellegarde. All rights reserved.