Ophelia Vang

“Once, when I was a kid, I was playing with an old toad on a little concrete street and my granny called me in for lunch so I covered him with some bricks. I made him a little brick house so he wouldn’t run away.”  The last time he’d told this story was when his partner and himself were only just courting, and despite having heard it and its subsequent references endlessly, Toshi cradled his glass comfortably as he leaned in to hear it. The attention from his lover only encouraged Endo to be more grandiose with both his description and gesture. After all, he was nothing if not fueled by attention, especially from people who were way out of his interpreted league.  “Little did I know that what I actually made,” A pause, brief enough to sound natural, planned enough to sound rehearsed, “was an oven. That’s literally what ovens are.”  Endo’s small audience had their reactions: Nori muttered an “oh, no…” while Toshi offered his unintentionally stern look of concern.  Non...

Photo by  Karolina Grabowska  from  Pexels   Home. It was Endo’s bar, whose inviting wooden walls he spent most of his time. It was the house he’d visit only to shower and sometimes sleep. It was his childhood countryside dwelling, the ghost of his grandmother calling him for dinner still sweeping by, caught in eternity in the wind over the fields. He never knew where his home had ended up. He even less expected it to feel so far away.  His trip to Italy had been riddled with strife and revelation alike. He’d found his beloved children, and now they were all working hard to bring them home: him, his fresh boyfriend, friends, their grandmother, and even the twins themselves put in the effort to practice his language at only seven years old.  Their grandmother had become their caretaker, just as his own had to him, and she was the one who had to break the news of his wife’s passing. It was only when he was back home that he had found a space to take it all in...

 Italy was no different than he’d remembered despite Endo’s last visit having been over half a decade before. The art-filled apartment he’d chosen to rent out remained a comfort alongside going this with his admittedly inappropriately fresh lover, but they both knew their relationship had taken them deeply and swiftly, a whirlpool of empathy and emotion. Endo briefly thought was he to find his children it would only grow more so. The comforts he found in Toshiya were dangerous ones. He’d fallen victim to love once again.  Their escapades as a celebration of arrival had Endo finally leaning into his mission. They’d enjoyed good food, a cute, introductory walk, and played out his fantasy of serenading one another at the lake’s edge, all an introduction to this place. New memories overwrite the old. They re-imagined what European youth must feel like as middle-aged Japanese artists.  Wine-rested at the start of his day, he rose with renewed vigor. In his rented car- red for ...

 August was always so sentimental. Late summer signaled the beginning of the end in so many things. Old summer romances came to mind just as their timed and natural ends.  The smell of humid summer eves and the gunpowder of late season festival fireworks seemed to swirl around his shop despite there being no such fireworks nearby. Perhaps expecting one to go hand-in-hand with another, he’d imagined it.  This time August brought other comforts. He’d finally re-united with his children, and while he wasn’t able to bring them to Japan from their home in Italy quite yet, knowing where they were, that they were safe, and that he could call any time was enough for now.  His five-year absence had taken its toll. Though he had started to gain his footing in returning to business, this was a greater step for his emotional well-being. He’d hoped, but not expected, to find them, nor such support in doing so.  He’d left his shop in his pink-haired and newly appointed manage...

The pain of heartbreak was one that required a powerful remedy. This request was of spiced cherries, though Endo found himself uncertain what spices in particular. This story begged for something warm to embrace the world-wounded heart so it wouldn’t grow cold. The story that had been confessed by this newfound friend at his very bar had been one that he could empathize with.  Ten years of marriage had seen its potential end in a way that seemed so stark and so sudden. Endo himself had always rebelled against the nature of the culture around him to keep things quiet and orderly. To hold one's tongue about things until it became a divorceable offense was undoubtedly unacceptable to him.  Despite the impending springtime, a heavy, warm cherry port wine came to mind, though that was appropriate among camaraderie alone. It would be reserved for a more healing time, hopefully by winter. This one would instead command a simple sentiment that amused him among all the tragedy. “I ...

“Endo Keisuk-“ The man had barely been able to get the words out before Endo’s lips closed in on his in a passionate fervor that he couldn’t hold back for one moment more upon hearing his own name. The sound of it in his mouth was validating as he’d ever imagined. It was instant gratification to feel the soft curve of his lips that Endo so admired, the upturned corners of his so-deemed kitten lips the object of his admiration, even as he spoke the words, called his name.  In nothing but the light of invading street lamps, he clutched to him with a desperation that could only try to express how much he needed him. It would never, however, show how much he fought against it, a man who proudly claimed that while he loved freely, he’d never, ever need. He did this.  He did this.  It wasn’t as if Endo had been a good sleeper, but this dream was one that had him waking with disappointment piled on his chest so heavily that he could hardly breathe. He was in deep and ...