“The Bad Girl Becky from America” – Vol. 5—Who knew that ‘going out to buy cigarettes’ would turn into the greatest adventure of my life—

—Who knew that “just going out to buy cigarettes” would turn into the greatest adventure of my life—

“I’m just going out to buy some cigarettes.”

I waved casually as I slipped away from the group.
Of course, I had no intention of buying cigarettes. That was just an excuse.
My real destination?
The apartment of that blonde girl—Becky.

My heart was pounding.
In my hand was a letter. A letter I had written, revised, rewritten, and reread over and over again.
A letter of confession.

As I drove, one simple phrase echoed in my head on an infinite loop:

“Hi, Becky. Please read this.”

Just that line.
Yet it felt as heavy as a line from a classic film.
Maybe something Bogart would say:
“Yo! Becky baby, give this a read, will ya?”
…No. That kind of old-school, tough-guy act wasn’t going to cut it here.

Between my desire to play it cool and the cowardly panic in my gut, I was battling myself behind the wheel.

After about 40 minutes of driving, I finally arrived at Becky’s apartment.
In the parking lot was her familiar car.

“She’s home…”

That alone made my heart leap into my throat.
The pounding in my chest drowned out any jazz beat.

I pulled over before reaching the apartment, took a deep breath, and made up my mind.

Knock knock.

“Who is it?” Becky’s voice came from the other side.

“It’s Bon.”

“Bon”—the nickname given to me by my senior, Tsuboi.
He said it suited me because I looked like some spoiled rich kid.
Maybe he wasn’t entirely wrong.

“Come inside,” she said.

I opened the door and stepped in.

She was in the kitchen, making dinner.
Mashed potatoes simmered gently on the stove.
The steam framed her like a scene from an American movie. I couldn’t help but stare.

“What’s happening?”

That question pulled me back to reality.

This was it.
I finally said the line I’d practiced a hundred times.

“P-P-P-Please read this…”

Even after all that practice, I still stuttered.
The words tumbled out like a broken chant.

“What is that?”

“Love letter…”

Damn it!!!

I hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
I’d only thought of it as a love letter.
But there it was—spoken, hanging awkwardly in the air.

Becky smiled gently.
She took the letter from my trembling hands and began to read it quietly.

I thought my heart was going to explode. I was lightheaded.
Then she looked up with a soft smile.

“Any time.”

Her eyes met mine, full of mischief.
Something inside me melted.

“OK?” I asked hesitantly.

“Sure,” she said casually.

Then came the shock.

“Why don’t you have dinner with me?”

Wait—what!?
Did she just ask me to dinner!?

An angel?
A sign from the heavens?
Or just the irresistible magic of a blonde girl named Becky?

I blurted out, “Yes!!!”

I sat on the couch, gazing at her as she moved around the kitchen.
It was surreal. Like a dream.

Then I noticed something.

There, on top of her stereo system—
A small picture frame.

Curious, I stood up and took a closer look.

In the photo was Becky, smiling next to a huge man.

She’s about 165 cm tall, but in that picture, she barely reached his shoulder.
This guy must’ve been at least 2 meters tall.

“Holy crap…” I muttered in Japanese.

Becky noticed.

“Oh, that’s my husband.”

…Husband!?

Wha—!?
That huge guy was her husband!?

“No way… I’m the other guy!? I’m the side guy!?”

Cue suspense music.

What if he came back right now?
What if he walked through that door?
I’d be dead. No question.

My stomach twisted in knots.
Sweat poured down my back.
Outside, the sun was still up—
But inside, my heart was in total darkness.

I was going to die.
No doubt about it.

Dinner? Forget dinner.
I needed to escape.

And yet, Becky just kept calmly cooking, unfazed by my internal panic.

Was this normal here?
Is this what America is like?
Or am I just a fool?

There were no answers.
Only one small prayer in my mind:

“Please don’t let anyone find out I said I was just going to buy cigarettes…”

Sometimes, life plays out like a bad joke.

All I wanted to do was confess.
Instead, I ended up at dinner—
And now I was a walking cliché: the other man.

That 40-minute drive began with one line:

“Please read this.”

But that simple phrase launched a whole chapter of chaos.

And looking back now—
Maybe that was the very essence of youth.

To be continued.

ご希望があれば Vol.6 以降の英訳も可能ですし、英語ネイティブ向けにさらに口語調に仕上げることもできます。どうされますか？