Light was filtering in through the

Light was filtering in through the curtains when Takaba woke. He raised an arm up over his sensitive eyes, shielding them from the thin rays of sunlight that scattered across the room. From the way the light stopped short near the window instead of stretching long and thin across the floor, he guessed it was probably in the afternoon. How long had he slept? With one eye open, he peeked at the watch. Ten past noon.
How long have I been asleep…
He wasn’t wearing his jeans or hooded sweatshirt but a shirt that was far too large for him and puddle around his lean torso and a pair of black flannel pajama pants with drawstring drawn ridiculously to make the clothes puff around the hips. Takaba blushed, blood rushing up to his ears. Gyles had probably stripped him nearly naked and dressed him last night…or rather…this morning. He must have been really passed out to not have noticed that.
Gyles’ voice from the living room crept in from beneath the closed door. From the way he paused occasionally, Takaba guess he was in a phone conversation.
“Mr. Merrett, you asked for my advice and this is what I’m telling you. If you take this to court, it’s almost guaranteed that you will lose. A lawsuit like this a absolute suicide.” An exasperated sigh followed. “You want a percentage? This isn’t science, but I’d say about ninety, ninety-five percent. But more than the money, it’ll be bad publicity to take something like this before a jury and judge.” Pause, with some fast pacing.
Takaba sat up and edged out of bed, his toes reaching the wooden floor then the rest of his soles. The mattress creaked when he pushed himself up; his entire body felt weak and flimsy as if it were an effort to stand. Slowly, he crept around to the bathroom and shut the door, not bothering to lock the door. He could still hear Gyles’ engaged conversation, though a bit muffled.
“Mr. Merrett. Mr. Merrett, you’re not listening to a single word I’m saying. You’re hearing me but my words seem to be passing right through the other ear. You kept me on the board for a reason, and tell me, when have my intuitions been wrong?” pause, “No, they’re not wild guesses. I don’t shoot darts blindfolded. Not in my policy book.”
Takaba turned on the sink to a trickle, wetting the tip of his toothbrush (he had left a spare here after last week). The toothpaste was a bit harder to squeeze with his still flimsy hands but he managed and shoved the bristles into his mouth, listening to Gyles’ conversation, a bit guilty to be eavesdropping. Well, it wasn’t as if he really knew what they were talking about.
“Why would it be bad publicity? Well, no, it’s not the company’s fault. But. To the public, it will still look as though it was the management that made the miscalculations when it fact, it wasn’t. What? No! That would be absolutely absurd, Mr. Merrett.”
Takaba spit out the foam of the toothpaste and filled a cup with cold water, rinsing his mouth out while gurgling was quietly he could without water rushing up his nose or swallowing the minty solution. He made it a habit to brush his teeth first thing in the morning, or in this case, the afternoon.
“Of course not, but…” Gyles paused, evidently listening to a long monologue from the other side. “I understand your point, but…”
He felt as though he had a mild hangover, a faint headache. It wasn’t a migraine, not that kind. Rather, it felt a bit dull and blunt, like a faint heartbeat edging closer to a flat line. Probably something a shower could fix, freshen up a bit maybe.
“You can’t expect the employees to have anything good to say about something as far fetched as that. That’s outrageous, Mr. Merrett. There are ideas that work and ideas that don’t, and with all due respect, that particular idea…is one that will not work.”
Takaba clutched the oversized shirt and was about to raised it over his head when he caught the smell of Gyles’ cologne clinging to it faintly, just barely, and he buried the hem of the shirt and breathed in deeply, taking solace from the scent.
It was entirely different from Asami’s. His gaze gravitated toward the floor length mirrored wall, a sight he had been avoiding up until now.
You bloody whore, Akihito…you still remember his scent, don’t you?
It was true; he did remember Asami’s distinct, unforgettable scent. It was one of those things that remained ingrained into his very cells. Branded into his memory, unable to purge it from his mind. Inexpungible. Ineradicable. A permanent mark branded beneath his skin. An incessant reminder of his infidelity.
Infidelity? Have I been faithful? What do I have to be faithful for? For whom?
For Asami… For Gyles…
Choose one!
He stripped out of the oversized clothed, disgusted at himself. A rueful smile crept onto his lips. Who could he possibly choose? Either way, it was a lose-lose situation. Either way, he would hurt one or the other, even more so than he had already done. And either way, he would hurt himself.
I can’t…how could I…
“The situation requires patience, Mr. Merrett. I would suggest that you think this over a few days.”
He stepped into the stall, spreading out the translucent curtain. From the other side, one could only see a colorful silhouette moving in shadows from behind.
“A dinner at the Ritz tonight? That’s a bit short notice. Why so suddenly? Ah, I see. The vice chair and his wife went on vacation? To where? Oh, Brazil. I can understand somewhat. I’m sure not if I can make time. I might be there only for the opening reception, but the dinner, I’ll have to see how it works out.”
Takaba turned on the showerhead, drowning out the last bit of Gyles’ voice with the rush of water. He gasped at the initial contact of icy cold water and shivered even when the temperature increased, his hair still standing on their ends. The steady stream of the droplets stampeded onto and over his back, quickly drenching his hair completely.
He grabbed the shampoo bottle, squirted the viscous liquid into his hands, watching it ooze into his palm, and rubbed in into his hair, digging deep into the scalp. The headache was still there, at the base of the back of his neck. He stopped lathering the foam and let the pressure of the water wash it out. The pressure felt like a faint vibration, the kind one experience when standing too close to a temple gong or between two cymbals, a vague tremor suspended in the air.
Asami…I am being unfaithful, aren’t I?
He was, wasn’t he? But to be unfaithful, you had to be a lover first. A lover had the capability, the possibility to be faithful. But what was he? He was never…no…he was never Asami’s lover. That was a title of prestige restricted to someone else, someone more…worthy. Someone more valuable than he was.