The air is paper and coffee scented. I am in Books-A-Million, a big smile already on my face. There is a twenty in my pocket and a new passion in my soul. I have discovered a new love: manga. My best friend, Savannah, whom I love more than pudding, had introduced it to me the week before. I was now ready to become a mangaka and create the next Fruits Basket and win awards globally.
I locate the manga books in the art section, and, my hands trembling with excitement, I pull the first book I see. On its cover is a young woman. What little clothing she is wearing is made of leather. I quickly return the book to its place. This happens many more times, and after about fifteen minutes my enthusiasm has dwindled to nearly nothing. Every book I had pulled from the shelf was either about how to draw skanks or Dragon Ball Z characters - neither of which appealed to me.
I was at the last book on the shelf, and with a sigh resigned myself to amazon.com, when - glory be! - that last book looks perfect. Its title, you ask? ‘How to Draw Yaoi’. On its cover are three magnificent examples of manhood, fully clothed.
I flip through what I believe to be my gift from heaven, its pages revealing the secrets to drawing the male anatomy, from hairstyles to faces to fingers to shoes to guns. Filled with joy, I dance a jig and triumphantly make my way to the checkout.
A kind woman, her face covered in soft creases from her years of survival on this planet - and also from a life long lack of water - smiles at me and, with a quick scan of the bar code, makes the book mine. Little did I know that very soon I would be grateful for her advanced age and lack of knowledge in the field of Japanese illustration.
Approximately two hours later, I am comfortably situated on my bed, lap desk in place, pencil in hand. I do a few sketches, happy as an Anglophile in a London teahouse, when I turn the page.
On said page, there is a rough sketch of how to draw a kiss scene. I, blissfully oblivious, think nothing of the fact that the features are proportioned exactly the same, that the heads are at an even level.
I turn another page, and what should I see but two twin ‘brothers’ (so the author said) in various poses. One such position appears to be a wrestling move, where one boy has the other pinned to the ground. A caption beside it says, "You ate my piece of cake, didn’t you?" - though neither of the boys looks angry.
Beside this rather strange picture are the two ‘brothers’ hugging, and another of them cuddling. This strikes me as being rather odd, as most brothers I know don’t do this sort of thing. The word ‘twincest’ rings in my mind. I lie awake that night slowly - very slowly - putting the pieces together.
By the next day I have come up with a theory of what all this love-dovey brother stuff might be about, but I am still unsure. I pick up the phone and dial my own personal manga wikipedia. The phone rings twice, and then she answers.
"Hello?"
"Savannah?" I say, fear feeling like a cold can of Pepsi in the pit of my stomach.
"Yeah?"
"What’s yaoi?"
"Huh?" She sounds rather stunned.
"Yaoi! What’s yaoi?!" I am about to pull my hair out.
"Yaoi?"
"Yessssss!" I hiss.
"It’s...uh..." her voice lowers. "Hang on, let me go in another room. My parents are in here."
Oh no. Another room, where her parents can’t hear.
Through the receiver I hear a door shut. "Okay," she says, her voice still barely above a whisper. "First of all, why?"
I clench my fists. Another room and still keeping as quiet as possible? What had I done? "Because," I squeak. "Yesterday I bought a book called ‘How to Daw Yaoi’ and there are some weird pictures in it."
A pause. I can hear my pulse in my ears. "Tera. Yaoi is gay manga."
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The sun suddenly blots out and my head begins spinning. I see stars and seem to be transcending through space and time, in to a cold land of darkness. I taste bile.
I am pulled back from this parallel universe by the explosion of laughter from the other end of the line. Savannah finds this situation hilarious.
I am frozen still, afraid that if I move I will shatter into a million tiny pieces. Minutes pass, and Savannah is still cackling like a witch on Halloween.
"Tera!" she manages to get out. "You’re-" gasp - "so" - snort - "sheltered!!"
After what seems like an eternity, I recover the use of my larynx, and her hysteria subsides a bit.
"What are you going to do?" she asks, still giggling.
"Take it back, duh!" I feel ancient. Could it have been just yesterday that I was able to see unicorns? Alas, no more!
"Oh, good. Well, I gotta go. Dinner’s done." Giggle.
"Okay. Bye."
"Bye." Giggle. The line is disconnected.
One week later, I take the manuscript back to Books-A-Million, hating to even touch the book, now an object of loathing.
At the checkout is the same older woman, and also a man of about twenty years. I go to the woman.
"And what is your reason for returning this?" she asks as she gets my money from the cash register. She is all sugar-cookie grandmotherliness.
I feel my cheeks heat. I mumble, "I didn’t know what yaoi was when I bought it." I am unable to meet her eyes.
"Oh? What is it?" She’s so curious! So pure! Just like how I once was. I bet she can still see unicorns. I wish to crawl in a hole and mourn my lost innocence.
"It’s - uh -" I stutter.
"Something inappropriate," the young man says, seeing my obvious distress. A small smile plays at his lips.
"Oh," the woman says, satisfied with his answer.
How I long for a paper bag to put over my head to cover my shame at that moment! I receive my refund and hurry out of the store as quickly as possible, praying that I would never again be in a situation such as this.
Since that day, I get all my drawing tips from the internet.