Once You Were My Friend

November (Two Months Later)

The air was crisp as it seeped through her layers of woollen sweater and oversized coat. Nami could feel the tip of her nose feel detached from the warmth beneath her skin like it wasn't part of her body. It was a Saturday that day. She forced herself out of bed to do something productive, otherwise she'd be in her mind all day replaying things out of her control. She was walking along the Prinsengracht canal now with her hands in her pockets to keep them as warm as possible. In her left pocket, her hand was grasped around a disposable film camera Em had gifted her. "Take lots of pictures for me," Em said. The thought depressed Nami as she found nothing exciting about moving away from home for six months. "It's not a vacation," Nami replied to that. The camera roll would only be pictures of buildings, and maybe trees. Posing by herself seemed really lonely and she didn't want to amplify those feelings. Besides that, the cold suited her, but sometimes she'd catch herself missing the sun. The sun in New York was different to the one here. When she'd miss home, she'd think about the sun's rays on the kitchen bench top or Em singing. She even found herself thinking about Red Bank and the silver bell tree on her front lawn. Settling into Amsterdam in the last couple of weeks hasn't been the easiest of transitions, but she didn't mind it, really. Pulling herself out of a comfort zone, albeit a bit abruptly, felt refreshing like a rip of a band-aid, only the wound hadn't healed yet. She had decided to take the proposition Stanley kept asking her about. Almost every week he'd send her a reminder through email:

          Let me know Nami. You'd be a real asset over there. You have until the 21st.

          It was a strange thing for her. Her life had always been strange. One moment she was having dinner with Sebastian and the next, they parted ways. When Nami told Em what happened, Em was utterly perplexed. It was probably the only time Em was at a loss for words. She was seen visibly processing what Nami had told her. "Don't know, he just didn't want to do long distance." Then Em said, "no, start from the beginning." As if recounting the conversation would have changed the outcome. But Nami asked Em to let it go and Em didn't ask about it after that.

          Making new friends for Nami was egregiously effortful but being lonely wasn't a new thing for her. Her two roommates were actually really welcoming: Laura worked at a bank and Johanna was an arts student. A week after her arrival, they threw a house party on the weekend. Lots of very cool people with top knots and messy hair dressed in expensive thrifted clothes drinking cheap beer, and talking about climate change. Nami would mistake their kindness for the sake of being polite rather than thinking they liked her, though she hadn't made much effort to get to know them better, remaining reserved and often in observation. She spent most of the night by the balcony that was littered with potted plants, talking to a girl named Chantal. She worked in tourism marketing. Chantal knew Johanna from their families. Dutch people seemed more laxed, but that could also be because they were smoking a lot of cannabis. Back in New York, a lot of Nami's friends at home were really Em's friends and an extension of Tamo's. And even then, she found herself missing their company.

          The first thing she did when she arrived at her flatshare in Rivierenbuurt as she sat on her bed that fit perfectly between two walls, she made a Duolingo account to attempt to brush up on everyday Dutch phrases. So far hello, good morning, good afternoon, excuse me, and thank you and please. Her pronunciation was often complimented by store vendors which she'd awkwardly accept. It would often lead to conversations such as, 'where are you from?' and she'd debate on saying Japan or America, then end up saying the latter, finding it the easier answer.

         At the only Japanese restaurant in Amsterdam, at least that she knew of, was a place she thought she'd feel closer to home. Nami had ordered a tempura udon bowl to fill her stomach with warmth. She thought about how much she used to want to run away from home but now she wanted to run towards it, through any means. The waitress placed the bowl in front of her and smiled, "alstublieft," she said. In those little instances, it reminded Nami that she does in fact exist and everything that happened around her was real. The bowl of steaming noodles in front of her was real. The chopsticks in her hand were real. Living in Amsterdam for the next six months was real. The first thing she did was bite into the crispy tempura that was under seasoned, but she didn't mind it. The broth made up for it. Eating alone didn't seem so daunting now that she had done it a couple of times. She used to feel anxious ordering things, but now it just felt like a normal thing to do.