Chapter 44

Promises that you make to yourself are often like the Japanese plum tree - they bear no fruit.
- F. Marion

The flight to Japan was eleven and a half hours, so I ended up taking a few naps during the plane ride. American Airline's 777 had monitors in the back of the seats which preoccupied Traci. However, she would nudge me awake when the meals arrived. It was after we had been served dinner that she told me that Rose wanted to borrow my laptop.

After I finished eating, I handed my tray to Traci so I could retrieve my laptop case out from under Pollyanna's seat. Fortunately, when I had initially come up with the plan for the trip, I had talked to Michelle's and Pollyanna's parents' about it. With the knowledge that Jean was going to be with us, I had booked the tickets so that we were all together: Jean, Michelle, Rose and Pollyanna in one row, then Marge, Lori, Traci & me in the one right behind them. Jean and Marge were on the other side of the aisle from us, but that did not dampen our ability to communicate with one another.

"Rose?" I softly asked.

Fully reclining her seat, Rose turned her head so I could see her right green eye. "Yes?"

"Do you need the power cord and power adapter?" I asked as I held up the laptop.

"No, thanks. There's a movie on in a couple of hours that I want to watch. I simply figured I could watch some anime in the meantime. Is the wireless disabled?"

I nodded and slid the laptop to her. I had loaded the notebook with episodes that I had not had a chance to watch yet, as well as some titles that Rose expressed interest in. One of the additional nice things about American was that they also had power outlets in coach, though an adapter was necessary.

Placing the pillow behind my head, I was about to don my noise-cancellation headphones when Traci stopped me. "Are you going back to sleep?"

"I was planning to," I told her, "but I could stay awake if you want."

Nervously, Traci said in a low voice, "I was just thinking that we could maybe... you know... we could try and join the 'mile-high club'."

I tried to stifle my laughter, but I was unsuccessful. Traci looked a tad hurt at my reaction, so I quickly gave her a quick kiss on the lips. "I'm sorry, Love. I just think that the whole idea of having sex in an airplane is overrated. Even if the flight attendants turned a blind eye to couples slipping into the lavatory, I think that they would stop us since we're minors. Besides, you're wearing pants, and that would make it even more difficult. Now, Rose on the other hand--"

The pinch that I received on my arm was very light; the observation that Traci had received about beating me up seemingly altering the extent that she showed her displeasure physically. Traci had a mischievous look in her eyes when she suggested, "I could do to you what I did after the election."

I found myself smiling at the memory of what Traci was referring to. The blowjob that Traci had given me in the girls' restroom had cured me of the funk that I had been in. "Whatever happened to that shy and timid girl that I met six months ago?" I asked her.

Grinning, she replied, "A scoundrel moved in next door and corrupted her."

Again, I gave her a quick kiss on the lips. "Tell you what, why don't you get some sleep as well, and we'll see about doing some more corrupting once we get to our hotel room."

"I don't know. I'm pretty well corrupted. I doubt there's much that you can do to me that the scoundrel hasn't."

"Trust me, there is. Why do you think I asked your mom to bring the tube of Anal-Eze?"

Traci's eyes grew wide, and I turned my head away to hide my smile. I had no idea if Marge had packed the lubricant, but Traci's expression had been priceless. Slipping on my headphones, I started up my MP3 player and shortly fell asleep listening to Rachel Maddow reporting on how, once again, the politicians were screwing over the country.

The landing at Narita International Airport was a tad bumpy. Traci, whom had never flown internationally before, seemed to think that something was wrong and took ahold of my hand rather tightly. I gave her my best reassuring smile, though it was not until we finally rolled to a stop that she began to relax.

It was a fairly long walk from the arrival gate to Immigration Control, but it felt good to stretch the legs after such a long flight. Despite being towards the front of coach and getting off before most of the other passengers, we ran into a large line at Immigration, passengers from other airlines having arrived before us.

We had been standing in line for just over ten minutes when Pollyanna asked Rose, "What's wrong?"

"Oh, it's nothing," Rose replied, looking up from her passport, which she had been studying. "It's just kinda strange not having the stamps from my trips to South America. Oh well, I guess it's like a clean slate. New passport, new family, better mom."

Rose did not appear to hear Marge's sharp intake of breath, but I did. Marge noticed me turning to look at her, and she gave me a weak smile, blinking back any tears. Rose still tended to refer to Marge as 'Mrs. Caspar', but occasionally she would work up the courage to call her 'Marge'. I think the turning point had occurred after Rose's escapade to see her father; Marge had waited until the two of them were alone to express the panic and worry that she had gone through. It was a fine line that Marge was walking, trying to be a mother figure without seeming to replace Rose's actual mother.

While Rose might have been disappointed over the loss of her stamps, I was concerned about the authenticity of mine. The CYA had provided me a passport with the three countries that I had visited during my training missions: Russia, England, and Australia. I had used 'disposable shoes' during those missions; each one had been with a different identity. The dates that I had been in those countries were altered, of course, though I was not worried about being linked to the assassinations that I had performed. In Russia, I had been backup, and in the other two, I had left no evidence. The death of the Minister of Parliament that I had killed in Brisbane had been ruled natural causes -- the fact that five of the top ten deadliest snakes were native to Australia was used to my advantage. If I had messed up, the Australian Security and Intelligence Organization would have covered my tracks. After all, they were the ones that farmed out the job to us -- political assassinations done by one's own agency was avoided at all costs. My first (and only) domestic assassination had taken place in Pennsylvania and, while I had operated on the least amount of intelligence about my target, I was quite sure that target had not been a politician.

It turned out anxiety over my passport was for naught as I breezed through Immigration. The CIA was the agency that would have been responsible for creating the passport, and they had had plenty of experience in doing so. Pollyanna seemed to receive a smidgen more scrutiny, but that was most likely due to the fact that she did not have a parent or guardian accompanying her. Recently, Human Rights Watch had raised concerns about the trafficking of women into Japan's sex industry, but since it mostly concerned women from Thailand, the Immigration officer must have decided that Pollyanna had indeed come to Japan for holiday.

After we had all passed through passport control, it was a short walk to the baggage claim area. Lori and I found a couple of carts, and we brought them over to the carrousel where the rest of the ladies had gathered. It was only a short wait until our bags showed up on the carrousel, and after we gathered them, we proceeded towards Customs.

"Do we have anything to declare?" Marge asked.

"No. Anal-Eze is perfectly legal in Japan," I replied.

Traci had taken control of one of the baggage carts and I was a step behind her, so she did not see the wink and the nod of my head towards her that I directed to her mom. Marge quickly understood my silent gesture and replied nonchalantly, "Oh, good. I know how much you are looking forward to breaking in Traci."

Traci came to a sudden halt and stared at her mother for a few seconds. Unfortunately, Marge's poker face had not improved, so Traci quickly realized what was up. Whirling towards me, she raised her fist and I braced myself for a blow that never came. It seemed that, at the last second, she realized what she was about to do, and instead of physically expressing herself, she extended her index finger and waved it at me. "Not funny."

It was difficult to keep my expression neutral, especially since everyone else had begun to laugh. "I'm sorry, Buttercup. I promise I won't tease you for the rest of the trip," I assured her. She nodded, but as she started to turn back to the cart, I added, "To the hotel."

My additional remark caused a few more chuckles, but Traci just rolled her eyes and replied, "It's better than nothing."

I did not find out if Marge had indeed brought the Anal-Eze at the Customs checkpoint because the officer only checked Pollyanna's carryon bag and Jean's suitcase -- neither of them had any anal lubricant. All eyes turned upon me after we had cleared Customs.

"What's the plan?" Jean asked.

Since the trip had been my idea, it fell upon me to take care of all of the arrangements. "The hotel is in Ikebukuro, so we could either take an airport limousine bus or go by train."

Marge asked, "What about taxi?"

Nodding, I replied, "Yes, that is an option as well, but that costs about two hundred per taxi."

Surprised, Jean asked, "Yen?"

"Dollars," I clarified.

It was clear that we would not be traveling by taxi, as Marge and Jean both winced.

"The cheapest way would be to use the Keisei Limited Express, but that would require a transfer at Nippori Station. It would be about eleven dollars per person, and those would be unreserved seats. For just under ten more dollars, we could get reserved seats, but it would still be a hassle to lug our bags around. Now, Japan Railways does have a direct connection from here to Ikebukuro, but that's about thirty dollars. Ikebukuro station is approximately a hundred meters from the Crowne Plaza Metropolitan, so it shouldn't be too bad to navigate there with our bags. There is also a baggage delivery service that costs twenty dollars per bag, but you won't get the bags until the next day."

"Is that why you didn't bring any suitcases?" Traci asked me.

Shrugging, I answered, "I like to travel light. Between my backpack and laptop case, I was able to cram in all my clothes and figured that I would pick up any toiletries at a convenience store."

"What about shoes? I had to bring a second suitcase just to hold all the shoes I'll need."

I literally bit my tongue when I held back my reply. I knew that Traci was baiting me, since I had witnessed her packing and had talked her out of bringing a different pair of shoes for every outfit. When she had thought that I had not been looking, she had snuck in a few additional pairs, but I was fairly certain she had kept the number just under the number of days we were to be in Japan. Keeping to my promise not to tease her until after we had arrived at the hotel, I chose to ignore her comment and continue on.

"The limousine bus costs about the same as the JR, but will take us directly to the hotel. All of these options take about ninety minutes, but since it is just after five, we're on the cusp of rush-hour, so we'll have to deal with crowded trains if we go non-reserved, crowded stations even if we do go with reserved, or traffic if we go by limo. Oh yeah, I almost forgot. We could always activate the rail passes today, but that means that the last day we could use them would be Friday."

"What passes?" Jean asked me, suspiciously.

"Didn't I mention that I got us seven-day Japan Rail passes?"

"No, you did not, and I am guessing that you will refuse reimbursement for them," Jean replied, giving me a slight glare.

"Knowing Chad, I have to agree with you," Marge added.

"Hey, in my defense, they cost roughly the same as a round trip ticket to Osaka, and we'll be going there to watch sumo."

"That's not the point, Chad. You're already paying for the hotel, and now you spring this on us. I really wish you would let me pay for our share," Jean admonished me. Marge and Rose began to nod in agreement.

"You know, for somebody who is turning thirty-four tomorrow, you're awfully stubborn," I replied.

A good tactic to use when faced with overwhelming odds was to put up a distraction. I had used the technique before to divert attention from me, and I was pleased to see that it still worked. Jean was slightly taken aback before turning to her daughter.

"Hey," Michelle protested, raising her palms up as if to protect herself from her mom's accusing stare, "I swear I did not tell him your birthday. Cross my heart."

When Jean shifted her gaze towards Marge, the other woman told her, "Don't you look at me. I didn't tell him. Besides, you've never told me just exactly how old you were. Hell, here I was thinking that you were older than me all this time. I mean, you do look well over forty."

I was not sure if Marge was trying to help me or just have some fun teasing her friend, but I welcomed it. While Marge did appear much younger than her actual age, Jean looked to be an attractive woman in her early thirties. Still, Jean retorted, "I'm not the one with crow's feet."

Placing her left hand on her hip, Marge raised her right hand with her index finger extended. "Oh, no you didn't," Marge replied, her head and finger wagging back and forth in cadence to one another.

By now, the rest of us had begun to laugh at their antics. Jean was about to say something when Lori cleared her throat. When everyone turned to her, she suggested, "I think we should go ahead and take the bus. Even if we get stuck in traffic, it would still be cool to see the scenery."

"Okay, 'Mom'," Marge said with a grin to her oldest daughter.

"Do they accept credit cards?" Jean asked me.

"I'm not sure, but we might as well get some cash now. I think there might be an automatic teller machine down that way," I replied with a slight nod of my head.

Everyone seemed to be in agreement, so we began making our way to the ATM. When we spotted a tourist information counter, Lori suggested that she could pick up some pamphlets and whatnot and would meet us at the limousine bus counter, since it was only a few more down. It sounded like a good idea, so she left us to do that.

We were about thirty meters from the ATM when Traci came to a sudden halt in front of a different counter. It was quite noticeable, since she was pushing one of the luggage carts, so we all stopped as well. Traci stared at the counter for a few seconds before turning to her mom.

"No," Marge told Traci firmly, before she even had the chance to speak.

"But Mom, it would be totally useful--"

"No," Marge said, cutting off her youngest.

"I swear, I would only--"

"Traci Lovett Caspar! Do you really want me to tell you a third time? It would be a shame for you to start our vacation grounded." The tone in Marge's voice spoke more than her actual words. The rest of us had all of a sudden found other things of interest as we tried to shift our attention from their argument.

Traci took a deep breath and let out a loud sigh before taking ahold of the baggage cart and quickly storming off. As we fell in step behind her, I heard Marge tell Jean, "I swear, that girl can be so mature at times and such a brat at others."

"Sounds like she takes after her boyfriend," Jean replied.

While Traci was out of earshot, I was not, and I was fairly certain that her comment was for me. I turned back, took a deep breath, sighed loudly, and stormed away from the giggles that I received. I figured it was not teasing Traci if I mimicked her reaction and she was none the wiser.

By the time we had all gathered at the ATM machine, Traci's attitude towards her mother had done a one-eighty and she even apologized for her earlier behavior. I think the fact that Marge was going to be doling out money to her daughters was not lost on anyone, but Marge smiled and accepted the apology. Again, it seemed that everyone deferred to my opinion on how much money should be withdrawn.

"Japan is primarily a cash society, though credit cards are becoming more accepted at places. Still, you could slap down a ten-thousand-yen note at a convenience store and the clerk probably wouldn't even bat an eyelid," I explained. But after a moments pause, I corrected myself. "Actually, strike that last part. There was a rash of counterfeit ten-thousand-yen notes used at shrines during this last New Year's celebrations so the clerk might give it a tad more scrutiny, but still it wouldn't be a big deal to use one."

"How much are you going to get?" Rose asked me.

Shrugging, I answered, "I figured I would withdraw 39,000 yen. That way, I can have smaller notes, just in case. It shouldn't be too difficult to find ATMs if I need more."

Marge, Jean, Pollyanna, Rose, and I took turns at the ATM, and I could not help but notice that Rose withdrew exactly how much I had said I was going to withdraw. Marge hesitated for a second before she handed a ten-thousand-yen note to a smiling Traci.

Rose, however, was not smiling when Marge tried to hand her one, as well.

"I have my own money," Rose protested.

"Listen. All of my daughters are going to receive the same amount, comprende?"

"Wakarimasu," Rose corrected Marge, using the Japanese word for 'understand'. She then begrudgingly took the offered bill, but a small smile seemed to peek out from underneath Rose's look of defeat. While Rose was not Marge's biological offspring, she always made the effort to treat Rose as if she was.

Lori was waiting for us at the limousine bus counter like she had said she would and smiled when she spotted us. She was not the only one to notice us, as a few of the young women who were behind the counter seemed to stare at me for a few seconds before grinning and chuckling. I had a good idea to what was behind their amusement, and it was confirmed when we arrived there.

"Do you know what that means?" one of the ladies asked me, indicating the tee shirt that I had on.

The woman's English was quite good, though I did answer her in Japanese. "Hai. Nihonjin kanojo boshu-chu." I also added a small wink, which provoked more giggling -- one of them even lifted her hand to hide her smile.

"What does that mean?" Traci asked.

I hesitated for a few seconds because of my promise of not teasing her; as I was debating whether I should just lie my ass off or tell her the truth delicately, Rose chimed in.

"It says, 'Now accepting applications for a Japanese girlfriend.'"

It was not so much that Rose actually understood what I had said, but more that she had been the one to stumble across J-List, the website that sold the tee-shirt I was wearing. I gave Traci an apologetic smile, but she just rolled her eyes and said, "I should have guessed."

It turned out that they did indeed accept credit cards, and before we knew what was happening, Jean handed them a credit card. It seemed that she had taken it out when she had retrieved her bank card for the ATM. "I got this," she proclaimed, her tone making it quite clear that it was not subject to debate.

We had about twenty minutes until the next bus was scheduled to depart, so after we stepped away from the counter, Jean said, "Marge and I are going to step outside for a bit. Why don't we meet back here in, say, fifteen minutes?"

After everybody had nodded in agreement, Marge handed Lori a ten-thousand-yen note, saying, "Keep an eye on your sister and make sure that she doesn't rent a cell phone."

Traci looked crestfallen when she heard her mother say that. With the plan to return to the counter that had almost caused her to get grounded nixed, she suddenly had a sly grin on her face. "That's okay," she told her mom, "I was actually going to join you and Mrs. Weller outside."

Marge gave a nervous glance to Jean (who found the situation most amusing) before nodding and saying, "Okay."

"I'm just fooling. Go and enjoy the 'fresh air'," Traci told her, even going so far as making air quotes.

Marge blushed slightly in embarrassment at being caught, but she still left with Jean after being dismissed by her youngest daughter. I guess the look of longing was etched upon my face as I watched their departure, because Traci asked, "What are you waiting for? You go, too."

Instead of leaving immediately, I drew close to Traci and placed my hands on her hips. Looking into her eyes, I told her, "Remind me why I deserve such a wonderful girlfriend?"

Smiling, she let out a small snort and replied, "You don't. Now, go before I change my mind. And while you're out there, try telling Mom why it would be a good idea for me to have a cell phone."

I told her that I loved her, and we exchanged a quick kiss. As I walked away, I was already devising the arguments I could use to convince Marge to let Traci have a cell phone, despite my feelings to the contrary. When I stepped past the sliding glass doors of the terminal, I was hit by a small gust of cold air. The difference in weather between Japan and Central City was notable in regards that a jacket was needed when it rained and shortly afterwards. Closing my jacket and zippering it up, I also removed my hair tie and let my hair down. Since the smoking age in Japan was twenty, I needed to appear four years older, and changing my hairstyle was a rather rudimentary trick. Also, I changed my posture so that I held myself higher, though, if I was actually confronted, I could always claim ignorance.

There were two smoking areas outside of the terminal, so I headed to the nearest one. Spotting a few vending machines, I stopped at one of them and examined the selections. While it contained quite a few cold drinks, it did have some warm ones (the price labels were red instead of blue) and I used a thousand-yen note to buy two coffees and a milk tea. Retrieving my change, I made sure to put it in one of my jacket pockets instead of my wallet's coin pouch.

Marge and Jean smiled at me when they noticed my approach. In addition to them, there were close to a score of people in the smoking area. Marge had two cigarettes, one in each hand, and I swapped one of them with her for a coffee. Jean also preferred coffee, so I ended up with the milk tea. After taking a heavenly drag off the cancer stick, I popped open the can and took a swig of the sweet drink.

"I thought you'd be out here much sooner," Marge told me apologetically; the Camel Wide that she handed me was about halfway through.

I smiled and shrugged, saying, "I needed to tell Traci how much I loved her. Also, I thought we could use something warm to drink." After Marge nodded, I turned to Jean and told her, "I'm sorry that I did not tell you about the train passes beforehand. I took a page out of the government's playbook and figured it was easier to do it and apologize later, instead of seeking permission first."

Letting out a small snort, Jean said, "Because you knew that I wouldn't let you get away with it. Honestly, it makes me feel slightly uncomfortable for Michelle and me to be mooching off of you."

"Really, you're not," I protested. "My mom made a killing during the dot-com bubble, to the point that the Feds were convinced that she must've had insider information. My parents figured that I was mature enough to spend my inheritance now instead of shoving it in some silly trust fund, so that's what I'm doing. If I can't use my money for my friends, what's the point of having it?"