tokyo summer

“Okay, so one of the kids I work with told me that winky little phone emoticons thing is actually a way to flirt? Wish I had known that earlier. My grandmother and I love sending those to each other.”

“I don’t know what’s more strange -- the fact that the kids you work with told you that or the fact you sent them to your grandma and now you’re thinking of it in the context of flirtation.”

Emilia had bought some flowers at the local flower shop and had instructed her driver to take her to the cemetery. Her father’s death had hit her hard, harder than anyone could expect, and she tried to put on a brave smile, but it was difficult for her. She bit down on her lip, as her driver dropped her off and thankfully no paparazzi was around. Her father’s real burial site was in England, of course, but James, her mother and Emilia had decided, since King Michael, Emilia’s father, loved Montreal, that he should have an honorary plaque in his favorite flower bed in a beautiful cemetery. She took a deep breath as she traveled there, looking down at what the plaque said. Long Live Great Britain’s King Michael. 1946-2015. She put the flowers down by the plaque and touched it, lovingly. 

“I love and miss you, Dad…” She said, softly, within the cold winter winds. He loved the winter. With the blanket she had brought with her and a book, her father’s favorite book, she began to read, until she felt herself fall asleep, resting against the plaque. It wasn’t until she heard footsteps that she woke up, looking around. 

“…You didn’t follow me here, did you?” Emilia laughed slightly, looking up.   

“Me?” Brooklyn looked down at who was speaking to her. “Uh, no? Why would I follow you, that’s fucking creepy. It’s literally minus twenty outside, why the fuck are you falling asleep in a fucking cemetery?”

“ I hate a guy with a car and no sense of humor.”

“Oh, boo hoo. Get the fuck over yourself.”

“So, apparently Millie wasn’t a fan of the eggs I made her for breakfast. But the DVD player she stuffed them in? — Well, let’s just say the technology ate well this morning.”

“But who the fuck still owns a DVD player?”

“I need your help.” She pleaded, pulling over the person to one side before leaning in to whisper in their ear. “That man has been watching me dance for the last hour and hasn’t even moved. I need you to pretend that we’re together. Hopefully he will get the hint, if not–” 

“Wha--” Brooklyn took a step back, but was immediately pulled to the side by a stranger. She glanced to the side, scouting the man who had been staring at her -- and what do you know, he was still staring. She rolled her eyes, before getting into character. “Mom! I want to go home! Why the hell did you take me to a bar, I’m underage!” Despite Brooklyn blowing her cover, she did what she had to do to deter off any creepy men. “Just because dad works late hours at the police station doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself at home!”