A Woman's Nails (17 page)

“You can love me, if you want,”
she would eventually tell me, offering her heart as matter-of-factly as she had first offered up her slim, naked body. Before I could reply, Reina was alread
y raising the bar, whispering, “
Peador,
aishiteru.
”
I love you
.

We'd spend our mornings lying on my
futon
or in her bed, having slow, lazy sex until it was time to get ready for work. Once in the office, we would hide our complicity, try to keep our minds from returning to thoughts about what we had been doing in
the shower only hours earlier.

She'd worry that our hair smelled of the same shampoo, our bodies of the same soap. I'd grow increasingly concerned about Yumi and the boss sensing the overly familiar way in which Reina and I spoke to one another or how she would sometimes gaze longingly at me. During a weekend camp with students, Reina and I stole away in the evening to fuck in a bamboo thicket where her ecstatic screams startled, wildlife and our co-worker, Yumi, alike. The following morning at breakfast, Yumi mentioned hearing the screams and being too terrified to leave the room.

“
I
think someone was being raped,”
she said with a gravity that caused Reina and me to burst out l
aughing. “
What on earth could
be so funny about being raped?”
she asked.

“
It was p
robably just some cats in heat,” Reina replied. “
I wo
uldn't give it another thought.”

At work, I would sit at my desk, my mind full with the images of the last twenty-four hours. I would see Reina lying below me, wide-eyed with wonder and excitement as I ejaculated onto her breasts. She would play with it, finger it and massage her nipples with it. I would be distracted from my work when I would remember her kneeling before me in the shower, flashing me that charming, slightly crooked, smile of hers before taking me into her mouth and sucking me off. Af
ter swallowing, she would say, “You love this, don't you?”
I'd
nod, too lightheaded to reply.

I did love it. I really did. Trouble was, my heart wasn't into it nearly as enthusiastically as my balls were. I was still missing Mie more than ever.

Reina would eventually come to ask for and eventually demand the contents of my heart, expecting a sentimental treasure to be hidden behind my reticence. She had taken the silence for bashfulness, but, the truth be told, there wasn't anything there. I was bankrupt in that regard. You could no more extract blood from a stone than a warm emotion from my cold heart. I liked Reina, I truly did, but I couldn't bring myself to love her no matter how many times she endeared herself to my cock. I was enjoying the time I spent with her, the bed we were sharing and the sex we were having. And, though I had come to depend upon her for companionship and warmth, I just couldn't bring myself to love her.

“
If you're just having sex
with me, I want you to stop it,”
she says
angrily
, shoving me away. She turns and faces the wall.

It's not that I'm “just having sex”
with Reina, but during the last three weeks I've never once made love to her. Not even once.

I kiss her gently on the back, put my arm around her and hold her closer to me.

“
But, if
you want something more . . .”

I do want something more. The problem is that Reina will never be able to provide it. So, the next morning I let her go.

In the following weeks, I wonder if I've made a mistake breaking up with Reina. Here is an attractive woman, ravishingly sexy, and intelligent. Men are literally tripping over each other trying to woo her with the best they have to offer. Of all the men she could have been with, Reina gave herself, body and soul, to me even though she had found me at my
worst—drunk
and dejected and broke. But, as much as I came to rely upon Reina to distract me from my loneliness, I know I had little choice but release her from a relationship that would only disappoint her so long as my heart remained on the sideline.

We still talk frankly about the things on our mind, and continue to share the occasional dinner together after work, but an uncomfortable tension has started to grow between us. Humor and small acts of kindness are no longer the palliative they once were.

2

One morning on my way to work I see a beautiful, stylishly dressed woman with an infant in her arms leaving one of the luxury condominium buildings that tower like monoliths over my third-class apartment. She descends the short flight of marble steps, and walks towards a Mercedes Benz station wagon parked out front, its hazard lights on. She opens the back door and places her child carefully into a baby seat, then, as I am passing, she opens the driver's side and gets in.

Judging by her face and the clothes she's wearing, she can't be much older than myself, yet she looks so much more mature, so much more complete as a human being than me. Married with an infant child, living in one of the pricier buildings in this affluent neighborhood, and driving a luxury car. How I must seem by comparison--broke as always, living alone in a dump, in dire need of a new wardrobe, and the only transportation I possess are the worn-out loafers I'm wearing and a rusty bicycle I liberated from a train station one shamelessly
drunk night.

The woman radiates a satisfaction in life, reminding me how quickly the content I was enjoying only weeks ago has already grown flat. My thoughts return predictably like a pendulum falling back towards the center to Mie, to the pregnancy and relationship she ended. How old would the baby be now if she had carried it to term? Two, three, four months old? Would it have been a boy or a girl? I'm afraid of falling into that yawning gap between all that could have been and the little that actually
is.

One Saturday evening in late May, Reina, Yumi and I, along with another American, Mike, go out for dinner at an
izakaya
that is having a special on
nama biiru
, only five yen a beer. Five yen! I feel as if I've di
ed and gone straight to heaven.

Despite my indifference, Yumi is still in love with me and has grown impatient in recent weeks. Her infatuation was amusing at first, but has started to wear on Reina's nerves, all the more so now that we are no longer fucking each other’s brains out. As a result, Reina has in turn been breaking my balls, pleading on a daily basis for me to do something to make Yumi stop hounding her for advice on how
to woo me.

And if that isn't enough melodrama for you, Mike is in love with Reina and not the least bit inclined to conceal his feelings. His interest in Reina was like a festering wound we all would have preferred to be bandaged, kept
out of sight.

Mike is a head taller than me, and several years older. Yet watching how
he behaves around Reina—petting
her hand with the tips of his long, hairy fingers, and flattering her in his deep, voice
with trite romanticism—strikes
me as comical and childish. It's depressing to realize how inexperienced he is when it comes to women. It wouldn't surprise me if I were to learn that at thirty-three year
s of age, he is still a virgin.

While the girls a
re in the restroom, Mike says, “
Yu-chan
likes
you.”

This
“
cherry boy
”
speaks knowingly as if he has written the book on women.

“
Y
es, well, it's no state secret,”
I reply.

“She's a nice girl.”

If you think so, why don't you date her?

It kills me how generous people can be with compliments when they don't have to actually milk the beat up
cow their trying to off load.

“Yes, she is,”
I say,
but so the fuck what?

“Are you interested in her?”
Mike asks.

I nearly laugh. “
No, I'm afraid I'm a little too preoccupied with
myself
at the moment to even think about da
ting someone.”

“Ah, that's too bad,”
he says, pursing his lips in a s
how of genuine disappointment. “
Yo
u two would make a nice couple.”

Where is he getting this crap?

“
Too bad for
her
,”
I correct.

I finish my beer, and ordered another. Waste not,
want not.

Mike, by the way, doesn't drink. He's a Seventh Day Adventist or something. No alcohol, no tobacco, no drugs, no pork, no shellfish, no caffeine, no sex before marriage, no fun. The man is a wet blanket.

“
So, what about you? I take it you're in
terested in
Reina?”
I say.

“
Yeah. There's something about her. She's
not like other Japanese girls,”
he says, h
is eyes glazing over dreamily. “
She's feisty, speaks her mind, you know. She's not afraid to get her hands dirty. So blue collar and down to earth.
What's n
ot to like about her?”

A broad, contented smile
spreads across his homely face.

I suppose another person might have been jealous of the way Mike was holding Reina’s hand earlier. But then, I knew Reina wasn't interested in him. Still, I couldn't tell whether she was just being polite, or trying to provoke a response from me. She'll be disappointed if that's the case; it wouldn't bother me in the least if Mike took Reina home and the two of them had wild sex till dawn. But then, knowing that Mike's incapable of giving in to such passion without succumbing to an intense guilt trip afterwards, nullifies any threat he might otherwise pose.

That said, I'm not quite sure whether I want to leave the playing field altogether. Reina was a good lay, and it was precisely her insatiability in the sack (which matched my tendency for priapism) that was helping me keep my mind off the very things I want to forget. Even though I didn't particularly miss sleeping with her, the absence of anyone in my life at the moment has made me reevaluate the relationship Reina and I had and start second-guessing my
decision to prematurely end it.

So, I say to Mike, “
Don't tell Reina that I mentioned this, but, uh, her boyfriend recently left her and now she seems, well,
confused
about a l
ot of things.”

There is some truth to what I’m telling Mike. Reina’s boyfriend of several years did leave her, which is why so little effort was invo
lved in getting into her pants.

“
I hear he left her ho
ping she'd follow him to Tokyo,”
I sa
y.

I guess nothing was ever meant to happen between Reina and myself, but after drinking too much and talking too much she probably came to realize that, like me, she too had her own vulnerabilities and loneliness. When you place two people like us together,
they’ll burn and burn and burn.

On the morning after we first slept together, Reina confessed that she
could
fall in love with me. I kissed her on the lips and on her forehead, then spoke gentle wor
ds, conveying similar feelings.

The words had been uttered by reflex. Nevertheless, she held me ever tighter and confessed that she
was
falling for me.

I held on tightly. I wish I could have told Reina the same, but the words were not to be found anywhere within me. I liked her and enjoyed the sex we'd just had. I was fond of her company and I respected he
r, but I was nowhere near love.

Not even in the ballpark.

It was as if she were sinking, hand raised and praying I would grab onto it and rescue her, but I didn't. In the end I would watch her sink alone, because
I
was the one who wanted to be rescued.

“Reina is special,”
I tell Mike as the g
irls emerge from the restroom. “
W
ord of advice: Walk. Don't run.”

After dinner, the four of us part ways. Yumi heads for the train station to catch the last train, and Mike walks away after giving Reina a tight, inviting hug. Reina and I make
our way for the subway station.

On the train, we sit close together, shoulders touching. When my stop comes, the door opens with a hydraulic hiss. I ask whether I can spend the night at her place. Reina gives a subtle nod. The bell rings, the doors close, and the train jerks and creaks forward. I offer my hand. It's been weeks since I've done so. She takes it with both hands then rests her head on my shoulder. When I kiss the top of her head, she raises her face and kisses me on the lips.