Chapter 27

I walked into a room at the college, a classroom, where Akemi and friends were having an informal discussion—it wasn’t a class—talking seriously but lightly about relationships. On the whiteboard in front of them was writing I couldn’t read because it was in Japanese. But from the context of the conversation, I was able to pick up the meaning of the first sentence as “What to do if at the very start a new relationship is very sexual?” The concern was that it might distort things, throw off perspective at a time when it was needed. The couple might later regret decisions made only on the basis of physical attraction. What if they found nothing beyond it?

I saw two Chinese characters near the end of the sentence. I couldn’t tell you what they were because I don’t remember, of course, but I turned to the woman beside me, heavyset and affable, and asked, “Is that what those mean, ‘very sexual’?” She didn’t understand my question, thought I knew, and said, “Yeah, like...” paused to make sure I was following, “What if right away someone says they want to eat you?” I was surprised and amused by her frankness and replied with humor in turn: “Well, if at the beginning there’s no sexual feeling, I think that’s a bigger problem.” I gave a light laugh to show I wasn’t being overly serious or, for that matter, overly funny. It was the only laugh in the room. The target of all my comments, of course, was Akemi. I tried not to stare, be obvious about looking for her reaction.

I was very busy then, a lot of things vying for time and attention in short supply. All the same, I stayed in that classroom, glad for the distraction from pressing errands.

I’d just discovered a newly published book I wanted to read, actually go out and buy (which was unusual) by a writer at the New Yorker magazine who did long investigative articles about social phenomena and real people, connecting them to ancient myths. And this was book length, a real find as far as I was concerned. I wanted to tell Akemi, share my enthusiasm, though it was doubtful she’d understand, be up on contemporary American journalism. In any case, I couldn’t talk to her then and there. She was occupied with her friends.

It wasn’t like I completely gave up on learning Japanese. “Yotsunbai.” I knew that much at least. It meant on all fours, the way I liked to do Akemi occasionally. And she was accepting, understood men want to dominate. She doesn’t sugarcoat human nature. I think that’s at least partly cultural. The Japanese are earthier, for all their touted politeness honest where it counts.

Early evening still, Tommy is driving. He’d been out to dinner with Sophie and another couple, friends of theirs, of hers really. They were heading home on their own and by the river passed, caught sight of his old friend Charlie with friends carousing, having a good time. And he drove on and then stopped. Sophie wanted to go back and say hi; it had been a while. It truly had. Tommy reflected on the old friendship, the old friend. Charlie hadn’t married and was in the game as much as ever, out having a good time, still scoring no doubt, not leading the sedate, stay-at-home life Tommy did as a married man. And Tommy felt a jolt of envy run through him, deep from his core. It wasn’t fair. He too should be able to enjoy himself as a man. They were the same age after all, still young. Why shouldn’t he also be having a good time? These weren’t new thoughts. The sight of Charlie enjoying the twilight with pals sharpened pain already brought to the surface by Akemi, the hot Japanese detainee. She’d really turned his head. Sophie would have said that and maybe laughed as well, but it wasn’t funny. He was hot for her. He wanted to score with Akemi, score big.