going to ask. The least invested person in any relationship had control of the relationship. If he tried too hard to hold her, he’d lose her for sure. It might be better to let her go now, before he got in any deeper. Before she walked out and took his heart with her.
They stood side by side, waiting for the parade to begin. Hundreds of people lined Post Street, the older sitting on folding chairs, the younger standing on the curb, and the youngest bouncing around complaining, ‘When is it going to start? Has it started yet? Well, when?’
“So tell me what’s going on? Even though I moved here as a kid, I’ve never been to the Cherry Blossom Festival before.”
She raised her voice to be heard over a man on a PA system saying something in Japanese. “The sakura matsuri is a celebration of seasonal rebirth. The delicate pink and white flowers only last for a week or two before they fall from the trees. They symbolize the brevity of human life and therefore remind us to rejoice and reflect.”
An elderly but spry-looking Japanese man sitting in front of them turned his head to speak to Rei. When she leaned down to reply, he said something else and she laughed. The man patted her arm and winked at Chris before shifting his attention to the first parade vehicles and marching bands coming around the corner.
Chris leaned close to murmur in her ear, “What was so funny?”
“This gentleman overheard what I told you. He said the secret to appreciating life is to stay young. When I asked how to do that, he said you must walk every day, laugh every day and make love every day.”
Chris drew his fingers over a sensitive spot on the side of her neck and smiled down at her in a way that made her blush. “I could live by that advice.”
“Yes, I somehow guessed that about you.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist, stroking his back beneath his lightweight jacket. Rising up on her toes, she pursed her lips for a kiss. Happy to oblige, he leaned down to meet her and covered her mouth with his own. It was a different kind of kiss, more warm than hot and more statement than question. He liked it.
He turned her around, holding her sexy little body against his larger one to block the wind. The street was jam-packed with people, mostly families and friends by the look of them, cheering at dancers in traditional kimono and brightly colored floats as they passed by.
“I used to come every year, especially after my mom died. My obasaan, my grandmother, would make shrimp-flavored rice cakes for us to eat while we waited for the parade to start. Afterwards, Ojiisan, my grandfather, used to buy me a bonsai tree to remember the day.”
Chris wrapped his arms a little tighter around her shoulders in a hug and kissed the top of her hair.
The air filled with the sound of cheering and the deep thundering boom of taiko drummers as the Cherry Blossom Queen and her court waved from atop their flower-draped float. As they passed, Rei pointed out the mikoshi, or portable shrines, and the buyo classical and minyo folk dancers.
The parade finally ended with the Taru Mikoshi, a huge barrel-shaped shrine carried by almost a hundred people. Chris followed Rei as she wove through the crowd and walked over to the Japan Center, a five-acre complex at Post and Fillmore streets.
In the Peace Plaza, located between two halves of the Japan Center, Rei pointed out a three-story white pagoda; a wooden drum tower that spanned the entrance to the mall and the copper-roofed Peace Walkway between the Tasamak and Kintetsu buildings.
The sound of drumming and Asian music echoed off the buildings. Lining the large slate tiles were outdoor stages showcasing martial arts demonstrations and traditional dancing and awning-covered kiosks offering Japanese foods and crafts. The scent of stir-fried vegetables in soy sauce and grilled fish filled the cool air.
“Are you hungry, Chris?”
“Starving, actually.” He pulled her to his side and leaned in for a quick kiss. “I always seem to be hungry around you.”
“Mmm, that can be dessert. For now I’ll take you to one of my favorite restaurants. It’s on the second floor of Kintetsu Mall.”
Miyaki looked like the kind of Japanese house he’d seen in the movies. The tiny restaurant’s décor consisted of mat-covered floors, low tables and rice-paper screen walls. However it wasn’t as crowded as