Journey Of The Next Door Valentines

This is my entry in the Valentine's Day 2020 Contest. So, Please Vote if you read the story.

This is the story of a sad Japanese girl, who suddenly immigrates to the USA. She finds her valentine in the next door neighbor who changes her life, and he finds new value in his life because of her.

Please accept that I did not research current immigration practices and requirements, nor are they addressed in this story.

Author retains all rights, expect those ceded to Literotica for publication.

Especially being a new author, I really appreciate comments, as they may confirm, or add perspectives to, my awareness of what this audience appreciates or dislikes. However, pedantic nit-picking comments that do not comment on the storyline will be deleted.

Thank you for reading my ambitions.

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"Okay, Chad baby. You behave yourself over Christmas vacation. And keep those pants zipped until you get back here!" Britney followed the exclamation point with a wet, lunging kiss, as she pressed her big tits against me. My blonde girlfriend of three months was not subtle.

Swallowing, following that lubricated kiss, I asked, "What kind of guy do you think I am!?"

"The male kind, lover!"

"I don't cheat on my girlfriends...well...I mean my current girlfriend!" I had been quick enough in spotting her raised eyebrow to add, "I was referring to 'historically', not to multiple, current girlfriends."

"Oh, like you wouldn't boff my roommate again, if I left you two alone for too long?!"

Amy raised her National Enquirer up higher, to cover her face.

"Britney!" I pleaded, in frustration, "Amy was before we met...and she is HOW we met, for crying out loud!"

"Well, Amy would give you another bounce in a second, if I let her...wouldn't ya roomy?"

"Shut Up, Brit!" growled Amy's voice from behind the tabloid, which boldly proclaimed '

PREGNANT; Angelina Jolie is impregnated by an alien visitor

'.

I reached down and gripped Amy's toes through her sock, and then wiggled her foot. Amy's blushing face appeared from behind the descending tabloid, with eyes pleading for the embarrassment to cease. "Alright, Amy, don't miss me too much." I said in a smooth, purring voice, and as my ear prepared for Britney's response.

It was Britney's turn to growl, "If you ever want to see my titties again, you will leave now!"

"I'm going, I'm going," I said, chuckling, "See; I am closing the door. And you behave too, Brit. No playing with Santa's helpers!" I let the door click close, and before I got in two steps, something small and hard went "WHACK" against the back of the door.

As I walked out of the dorm, I sighed, partly with relief. Britney was fun and hot in bed, but she was just getting weirder as time went on. I was going to enjoy the break from her. And it was always good to travel back home and see my parent's and my little brother, Paul. He would be entering college next fall, while I was currently in the middle of my junior year.

=+=+=+=+=+=+=

I pulled up in the driveway, and shut off the engine of my Subaru after the 8-hour drive from Logan, Utah. As I gathered my loose things that were scattered about the interior, my "little" brother came wandering out. Paul had a wry smile as he playfully mimicked shooting baskets. I opened the car door and shook my head. "I don't have a chance against you, anymore!" I proclaimed.

"Aw, come on. What's a couple inches?"

"A couple?" I squawked, "You hoop shark. When I left for college last fall, you had 5 inches on me! You still 6'4", or have you grown further?"

"Naw" he humorously drawled, as I got out of the car and popped the tailgate. Paul grabbed my bag, and then draped an arm over my shoulders, to emphasize the advantage he had gained in the last 3 years. "Come on," Paul said, "Just enough time before dinner to down a brewsky."

"And, are you still dating Sandy? I thought she was really sweet."

"She's ain't so '

sweet

' no more...you know?" Paul hummed, as he squeezed my neck with the crook of his arm.

"Just don't get her pregnant, Bro."

"No way! Buyin' those condoms by the gr..." He stopped short as mom opened the front door.

"Charles David Shearborn!" Mom gleefully squealed, as she dragged me away from Paul and into her arm's for her favorite motherly hug. I think being mauled by a bear may be gentler, but I stood and took it, adding the appropriate, "Luv ya mom. Missed ya so much." Then, I waited for her echo...I really do love her, but she is so predictable.

"OH, I have missed You SO much!" Come in and say 'hi' to your dad!"

As I walked into the family room, dad said "Well!" and hit the mute button on the TV control before he rose from his leather recliner. He walked over and gave me his usual awkward hug, which always consisted of approaching being a hug, but then switching to patting my back. "Good to have you home, son. I'm sure mom is delighted!"

Paul walked up behind me, "I put your bag in your room, bro. Want that brewsky now?"

"PAUL!" mom cried, in that anguish of parent unwilling to acknowledge the growth of her children.

"My baby boy!" she pleaded. Paul walked up to her and looked down at her, a foot shorter than him. In an even deeper voice, Paul purred, "May I have a beer, mother, dear?"

She looked way up, and swatted his chest with an open hand, "Alright, go ahead...if you must."

Paul grinned and turned to the fridge, and then used his huge paw to grab the neck of three beer bottles at once, before handing one to me.

"You both grew up too fast!" mom lamented.

"Hazel, dear...let them be adults now. They didn't give us many gray hairs growing up...I think they have earned the honor," dad said, as he took the beer that Paul handed him.

"But Charles has already left, and next fall Paul will leave!" mom whined, "Then it will be just you and me."

"You'd think that was a death sentence!" Dad chuckled, as he clinked bottles with me and Paul.

"You know what I mean, Howard" mom countered.

"No, I am not so sure I do, dear. I am proud to have raised two fine boys. But I am looking forward to spending time with the woman I love; just the two of us... maybe traveling, visiting friends and family. And maybe, some private time with the hot babe who enjoyed creating these two children!" Dad said, as he winked at me & Paul.

"HOWARD SHEARBORN!" mom screeched, "Not in front of the children!"

Dad, Paul, and I all chuckled, heavily, as mom quickly turned her blushing face away, and vigorously stirred the mashed potatoes. "Dinner will be ready soon. Now go away!" she commanded.

=+=+=+=+=+=+=

Much of the time I was at home had been charmingly predictable, yet enjoyable; a family Christmas, tons of food, and too many repeat stories of our childhood. With only today and part of tomorrow left before my return to the

'loving'

arms of Britney, mom announced that the next door neighbors, the Timmons, would be joining us for dinner tonight.

Then, while we were alone in the kitchen, mom dropped

'the bomb'

. "Chad, dear, Cal & Tricia are coming over with their new 'daughter'. Paul will not be here, as you know, since he is having dinner at his girlfriend's, with Sandy's parents, too. SOooo....I would like you to help take care of their 'daughter'."

Having not paid enough attention to mom's inflection of the word

'daughter'

, I nearly choked out my words, "Mom? What do I know about caring for a baby?!" I plopped down in a chair as my mind rattled around too many possibilities.

"Oh...no, no! She is not a baby. I need to explain. You remember that Cal Timmons had a brother in the Air Force, Taylor, who died five years ago in that transport plane crash, in Japan?"

"Yes" I said, suspecting mom could read the caution and curiosity in my brief response.

"Well...Taylor had an affair years ago while stationed in Japan, which produced a daughter. That is why he remained stationed in Japan, and in the military so long. Now the girl's mother has been killed when her chauffer made a wrong turn and the car was struck by one of those huge, semi-type trucks. Taylor's daughter had no other relatives in Japan that she could live with, so Carl & Tricia welcomed her to come to the USA, and want her to consider this her home, and to which she can return to from college."

"College?...How old is she!?" I said, obviously startled.

"Just turned 18, and got here just four days ago. And, she does not speak English, yet."

"Well, you know I do not speak Japanese, so what are you hoping I can do?" I responded, in clear confusion.

"You will be the only the person at dinner close to her age, and as far as I know, the only person close to her age she has even met since she arrived in the USA. You'll also be the only 'non-adult', so -- maybe -- you can just make her feel a bit less uncomfortable. I suspect she has had so much upheaval in her life over the last month that she could really just use your handsome, friendly smile and those happy Shearborn-blue eyes...you know?"

"Okay," I sighed, "I'll try to help."

"That's all I am asking for," mom said, with a small, happy smile, and she reached over to ruffle my dark blonde hair, "I knew I could count on you to welcome her to our country, and our home."

Resignedly, I queried, "So, what's her name?"

"Actually, Tricia forgot to tell me. She has been really rattled with all of the sudden changes, and she left that information out."

"This should be an

'interesting'

dinner," I mused, more into the air, than directly to my mother. I was having visions, which even I acknowledged to myself were bad stereotypes, of some tiny, moon-faced girl in one of those black & white school uniforms, and who had bangs in her black hair, which I saw as chopped off, just above the shoulders. Then my mind added thick, black-framed glasses, and that she only giggled.

"I'm sure you will like her!" mom added, in hopeful cheerfulness.

"Sure, mom," I said, trying to reassure her, before my mind echoed

"Yeah, sure I will. Some dorky girl I can't talk to, and who will probably just follow me around like some lost dog. And she is my next door neighbor now, too. Great!"

=+=+=+=+=+=+=

My parents greeted the Timmons at the front door that evening, but the first person that came through the door was presumably this new 'daughter', and my stereotypes were collapsing, rapidly. The Timmons then stepped in behind her, with Tricia sweeping her hand in front of my mom & dad and said, "Mister and Misses Shearborn."

The young woman was taller than I expected, probably 5'6" or so. She gave a slight bow of her head and shoulders, and only said,

"Hai"

, which I knew from the movies was, at the least, like a "Yes". Her voice seemed too small and high pitched for her size.

Tricia then announced, "This is Kokomi Ishikawa."

"Hazel" my mother said, pointing at herself, and Kokomi gave another bow and then stumbled through her response of "

Hai

, Haz...erl."

Dad was next, pointing at himself, "Howie," realizing to give her a break from another "R" to pronounce. Again her bow, and the stumbling "

Hai

, How...ee."

Next Tricia waved a hand at me and gave me a wink. "Chad" she simply offered.

Kokomi glanced at my face, and then quickly diverted her big almond-shaped eyes downward. No bow of the shoulders followed, but I did get a small nod with a "

Hai

, Chod." I caught a restrained smile rising into her high cheekbones and suddenly realized that the high cheekbones did not fit my stereotype, either.

Mom asked all of us to, please, sit in the living room, after she had taken their coats, saying she would get the appetizers. The Timmons and Kokomi arranged themselves on the long couch, while I sat in the adjacent matching side chair, which was nearest Kokomi. Dad sat in one of the two chairs that faced the couch. Dad and the Timmons were just finishing the first round of "How have you been...Good, good" when mom returned with the appetizers.

Dad took that as his cue to see who wanted drinks. He asked Tricia what Kokomi might want, and Tricia said, immediately, Coca Cola. Kokomi quickly looked at Tricia, and her head nodded emphatically.

"I tried to keep the food simple, for Kokomi's sake," mom offered, putting down pizza rolls, a faux crab salad on rye Triscuits, and sliced vegetables with what appeared to be a sour cream-based dip. I was trying to study Kokomi, but trying not to be too obvious about it. As I watched, she deferred to Mrs. Timmons, watching how Tricia placed a selection of appetizers on the supplied cocktail napkins, before Kokomi did the same. Kokomi tried to study each item briefly, before hesitantly nibbling at each. Apparently satisfied, she consumed all three and looked rather eager when she reached for more pizza rolls.

I smirked at her seeming enthusiasm for the pizza rolls, as she washed them down with Coke. Then I noticed her features, at least from a side view, were a bit longer, sharper and, with those high cheekbones, were unlike my own stereotypes of a round Asian face. Then the realization hit me that; although she was raised in Japan, she was actually half Caucasian, being Taylor Timmons daughter, and I felt extra dumb that I had applied my Japanese stereotypes to her and forgotten her being half Timmons, who were definitely white, as my family was.

Questioning what I

should

expect, I looked at her hair. It was a rich & shiny black and was piled on her head, appearing to be comprised of coiled braids, held by a beautiful cloisonné...something. Her skin was not quite white, but vaguely tinged towards a tannish yellow. She sat straight upright, had beautiful, unadorned hands with long fingers that had perfectly finished short fingernails. Those nails were painted in the same deep red as the silk-like blouse she wore. That blouse appeared to have a collar that continued into an elaborate bow, which was tied over her throat. Her legs were delicately crossed, with her wearing deep gray pants, and with black, low-heeled shoes, that I, somehow, remembered being called "ballerina flats." She really was rather elegant in how she presented herself, with nothing shouting for attention. Yet, it still seemed a bit...well...too confident, considering her general shyness, so far.

As everyone talked, Kokomi kept her eyes down, with them only popping up momentarily when her name was mentioned. It was mom that finally addressed her directly, trying to ask if she liked the food. Kokomi didn't seem to understand, and her expression appealed to Tricia for clarification. Tricia pointed to Kokomi, then to the food, and raised her eyebrows as she rubbed her own stomach. That seemed to trigger understanding, and Kokomi looked at mom, gave her a big smile, and slowly pronounced "Good". Mom laughed lightly, and smiled broadly, and Kokomi's eyes turned back down, but the big smile remained on her face for a few moments. I liked that big smile.

My thoughts were starting to acknowledge that I actually thought Kokomi was a different kind of pretty, after I had realized that my brain had been too busy oscillating between searching for features of Kokomi that would confirm she was either Japanese or Caucasian, rather than both. I suddenly asked myself why

Caucasian

contained the word

Asian

. For me, the stereotypes had now disappeared and I was looking at an appealing young woman whose "foreign-ness" intrigued me.

After the usual chatting, mom requested we move to the dining table, so we did. Mom suggested I sit at one end of the table and have Kokomi sit next to me. Kokomi gave me a quick glance and smile as I, almost too late, remembered to pull out her chair, before we seated ourselves, with me on her right. Then that high, small voice said,

"Arigatou"

, which I took to probably be a "Thank You".

Mom brought out beef stroganoff, string beans with toasted, slivered almonds, and a tangy spinach & bacon salad. Dad opened a bottle of red wine and offered it to all. When he held it above Kokomi's glass, I noted a slight blush before she responded with a nod and

"Hai, Arigatou Gozaimasu"

. That last word had me wondering what it meant. As I watched her eat, I saw her movements with the fork seemed rather deliberate, particularly her stabbing at each string bean. Mom must have seen the same thing, as both Kokomi's and my head popped up when we heard mom say "Kokomi?" Mom was offering her a pair of lovely lacquer-finished chopsticks.

After Kokomi readily accepted them, with another

"Arigatou Gozaimasu"

, mom apologized to her for not thinking of it sooner. This got a puzzled look from Kokomi, who glanced at Tricia and saw her respond with a smile. Then for some reason, Kokomi looked to me, so I smiled with a slight nod. Kokomi turned to mom and gave her a smile and small nod. I wasn't sure what had happened in that moment, and why Kokomi had mimicked my response, but I sure enjoyed seeing Kokomi look directly into my eyes for that moment.

A bit later, when there was a quiet moment in the adult's conversation, Kokomi spoke, with that same small voice saying "Hazel". Everyone looked at Kokomi, who was holding her wine glass in her left hand. My hands were resting on each side of my plate, as Kokomi gestured with her glass, towards her food, and said, "Good,

Arigatou Gozaimasu.

"

Quite pleased, mom put her hands together like a prayer, slightly bowed her head, and cheerfully said, "

Arigatou Gozaimasu

". Kokomi was clearly surprised, and promptly set her wine glass down as she blushed, put her right hand over mine, and covered her chuckling mouth with her left hand.

I wasn't the only one that looked in shock at Kokomi's hand covering my closed hand. Tricia saw it, too, and maybe others. After a split second of being stunned, I slowly opened my hand and turned it palm up. Kokomi's soft, long fingers slowly retreated across my palm, before moving to have both hands over her blushing, but quiet, face. She quickly looked at Tricia, who was smiling, warmly. Then Kokomi looked cautiously at me, and I gave her a big smile, which held her eyes for a long moment. Kokomi's eyes returned to looking down, as her left hand returned to the chopsticks, and then proceeded to work at the remains of her meal. I closed my left hand and withdrew it to my lap, thinking of Kokomi's soft touch and that she was likely left-handed.

As Tricia was to my right, I leaned over to ask her a quiet question. Before I got to speak, Tricia whispered, "I think you have a fan!" My confused look was my answer, until I finally said, "I wasn't sure what that was. You think that's it? ...and I wanted to ask if you know what her

"Gozaimasu"

means?"

"As a woman, I would have to say she likes you. And all I know is that

"Gozaimasu"

represents some formal version of "thank you", which is used for elders or superiors. So, Hazel's reply inferred an undeserved status on Kokomi, which I suppose is what generated her embarrassed reaction. Well...accept for putting her hand on yours. I haven't seen anything like her being that forward in the few days she has been here. We would really appreciate any interaction you can generate as she has been so quiet and reserved since arriving here." I saw Tricia's eyes shift from me to past me, likely to Kokomi, for Tricia's face took on a pleased smile. I sat up straight and glanced at Kokomi, but only saw her eyes down again.

For dessert, mom brought out mixed berries topped with Triple Sec-infused whipped cream. As we all worked on dessert, I noticed Kokomi was using her chop sticks quite deftly on the berries, while her right hand remained in her lap. Since I am right-handed, my left was free, and I slipped it under the table until it touched Kokomi's leg. Startled, she fumbled one of the chopsticks, while wrapping her right hand tightly around the ends of my fingers. Blushing with eyes down, she quickly fought to contain the smile that had jumped onto her face. Then, she slowly released my fingers and withdrew her hand.