Bicycle Days (13 page)

“Is the phrase ‘effective attitude’ giving you trouble?” Alec finally asked in English.

The two men just stared at him.

“ ‘Future tariff regulation’?”

Nothing.

Finally, Ichikawa politely shook his head. In Japanese, he said, “Please excuse me, Stern-san, but we do not understand English.”

“Please excuse me, I did not know,” Alec said in Japanese.

There was more nodding followed by more silence. Alec thought he could hear himself sweat. As calmly as he could manage, he took his handkerchief from his back pocket, unfolded it, and mopped his forehead. Park had done this to him. Alec wanted to wring his neck.

The secretary returned to clear away his empty coffee cup. I love you, Alec thought, don’t leave. The door closed solidly behind her. He heard one of the men quietly clear his throat, realized they weren’t going to go away. He had to get control of himself, had to focus.

“Well, my first question is about tariffs,” he said in Japanese. There was a joint sigh of relief from across the table. “And about the Japanese government and American high-technology products.” The last part of the sentence came out in little bursts.

Ichikawa said, “Yes.…”

“About their future,” Alec emphasized.

Yasufuku nodded vigorously. “Yes. The future of tariffs in Japan.”

“For high-technology products,” Alec said, suddenly excited.

Ichikawa looked like a contestant on “Wheel of Fortune.” “You want to know about the future of Japanese tariffs on American high-technology products.”

“Yes, that is exactly right,” Alec said.

Everybody smiled.

Yasufuku had moved to the edge of his seat. “The future,” he said, glancing quickly at Ichikawa to make sure it was all right to speak. “The future is very bright for Americans.”

Alec said, “I am very glad to hear that, Yasufuku-san.”

“Yes,” Yasufuku said.

Alec waited.

Yasufuku smiled at him. A mortician’s smile.

Alec said, “And why is the future very bright?”

The two men looked at each other. Ichikawa cleared his throat. “Because of trade friction between the two countries, the American government has put a great deal of pressure on Japan to open its high-technology markets. Yes?”

Alec nodded.

“So,” Ichikawa continued, “Japan must lower its tariffs to allow more high-technology imports from the United States.”

“But is that really going to happen?” Alec asked.

“It must happen,” Ichikawa said.

“And is this problem discussed in your encyclopedia?”

“Yes,” Yasufuku said. He stood up and disappeared through the door.

Alec wondered if he had said something to offend him. He studied Ichikawa’s face for a sign.

Ichikawa smiled uncomfortably. “Very soon the rainy season will end.”

“Yes.” There was nothing else to say.

“And it will become hotter.”

Alec nodded.

Yasufuku entered, bowed, and handed him a thickly bound volume. “Here is our encyclopedia,” he said. “I think that you will find all the necessary information inside. If you have any further questions, please contact us.”

Alec stood up and bowed to both men. On his way out, he passed the secretary who had brought him coffee. This time it was he who blushed.

Out on the street, he walked for a while, not really sure where he was going. It was only three o’clock, and they would be expecting him back at the office. He glanced up at the darkening sky, thinking about the rainy season.

M
asako appeared before him wearing a flowered summer yukata, loosely tied. Setting down red-and-black lacquer trays of sushi and sashimi, she knelt beside him. The sliding fusuma were open, and a light breeze stirred the hem of her robe. She poured tea for him. With his chopsticks, he lifted a piece of raw yellowtail, glided it through the soy sauce and into his mouth. He chewed slowly, savoring its oily, sensual taste. She asked him if he liked it. In answer, he put his mouth to hers. His hand moved inside her robe.…

Alec’s head snapped upward, jarring him from his thoughts. The knock came again; three successive raps, confirming his suspicion that it had not been a part of his daydream. Turning around on the swivel chair, he said, “Come in.”

Park closed the door behind him. “Good afternoon, Alec-san. I am surprised to find you in Boon-san’s office.”

“Hi, Park-san. Mr. Boon’s at a meeting. He said it was all right if I used his computer to make some graphs for my report.”

Park’s mouth tightened in disapproval. Alec realized that the computer wasn’t even turned on. He patted the terminal as if it were an old friend.

“These machines tend to heat up pretty quickly,” he said. “I turned it off for a minute to give it a rest.” Alec squirmed in silence for a few seconds before Park grunted and handed him a sheet of paper with several lines of Japanese written on it.

“As we have discussed, I have prepared for you a message of love for Masako-san,” Park said. “I would say that it is impossible for her to hear these words and not desire with all her heart to please you.”

“This sounds a little strong, Park-san. It’s only the second date.”

“The second meeting.” Park nodded his head gravely. “The second meeting is where Nature becomes the strongest force.”

Alec burst out laughing.

Park’s blinking quickened. “Alec-san, you should not laugh. Much has been practiced over the last two thousand years. Now, please listen.” In a throaty voice, he began to recite by memory what was written on the sheet of paper Alec held in his hand. “I am at the office, but I cannot work. The only thing I can do is think about seeing you. The first meeting brought me to ecstasy, but even it was not enough. I need to see you again. Tonight. You are very beautiful.”

“You want me to tell her this?”

“It would be the best thing.”

Alec read the message aloud. “Was that okay?”

Park’s eyes bulged like those of a tree frog. He handed Alec the phone.

He had buzzed up from below, and she was waiting for him in the doorway, wearing gym shorts and a T-shirt that said “Mickey’s Gym” under a picture of a boxer being knocked out of a ring. There was not a yukata anywhere in sight. Alec took off his shoes before going inside, thinking that his fantasy was
already being altered. Masako helped him take off his jacket and tie. There was one chair in the tiny apartment; she made him sit in it.

“Are you tired?” she asked.

It was nine-thirty, and he had just come from the office. “A little,” he said. He pointed to her T-shirt. “Who’s Mickey?”

She giggled. “I do not know. Would you like something to eat?”

He nodded, she started the electric hotplate. From where he sat, he could see the only other room in the apartment. The floor was hidden beneath an enormous futon.

In a few minutes, Masako brought him a warm plate of miniature hot dogs and a can of beer. She sat down on the floor beside him and began reading the newspaper. He ate quickly, not really tasting the food, wanting to be finished.

When his plate was empty, she said, “You did not like it.” She pushed out her lower lip, pouting.

Still in the chair, Alec reached down and stroked her cheek. “It was delicious.”

She smiled. “Good.” She went back to reading the newspaper.

A little disconcerted, he took a sip of beer. What was in the paper that could be so interesting? What about the force of Nature? Putting the beer down, he began to massage the back of her neck with both hands. Her breathing quickened, but she kept reading. After a little while, he bent down and kissed the spot he had been rubbing. The newspaper shook a little but didn’t go down. He gave her a peck on the cheek.

“Dame,”
she said.

Her voice lilted when she said it, reaching a schoolgirl’s high note on the second syllable. But Alec was too shocked to enjoy the sound:
dame
meant “bad,” “wrong,” or “don’t do that.” He sat back in his chair. Had he imagined the events of that evening in the Ginza club? Was it possible that she had been teasing when she took hold of him beneath the piano?

Tentatively, he let his hand dangle over the arm of the chair
to ruffle her hair. She giggled, a response that he wasn’t quite sure how to interpret. Deciding to take it as a form of encouragement, he leaned over to kiss her. She didn’t turn her head away, but the moment his lips touched hers, he realized that he had made another mistake.

“Dame,”
she said, her eyes still focused on the newspaper, which stood, raised vertically in her hands, as impenetrable as the Great Wall of China.

Alec leaned back to think some more. It was now almost ten-thirty. Ignoring Masako, he got up and walked the short distance to the bedroom, where he waited behind a wall. He heard his heart beating fast. Over it came the sound of a newspaper crackling as it was folded and set down.

And then she stood in front of him, looking at him inquisitively. He had the vague sense that he wasn’t behaving as she expected him to. Placing a hand on each of her hips, he ran them up the full length of her torso, drawing her to him. Her lips parted and touched his, then skirted over them, teasing. He felt her tongue in his ear and reached his hand under her T-shirt.

“Dame,”
she said, her voice singsong on the last syllable.

Panting, Alec said, “What?”

“Let’s take a shower.”

He stopped trying to kiss her. “What?”

“A shower,” she repeated.

“Together?”

“No. Me first.”

She walked to a narrow closet, brought out two towels. Handing one to him, she disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Soon, he heard the shower running.

Alec rubbed both hands over his face, still radiating the warmth from her body. He sat down on the bed, tried to laugh but couldn’t.
“Dame,”
he said softly to the empty room, then paused as if waiting for a reply. Then he said it again. And again, until he was laughing.

He hurried out of his clothes, saw at least one button fly off his shirt. Naked, he opened the door to the bathroom and
walked in. Another door, this one of frosted glass, led to the shower. For a moment he stood outside it, focusing on the blurred outlines of her body, imagining for himself the slight curve of her hips, the black wetness of her hair. And then he was inside.

“Dame,”
she said, and giggled.

The water from the shower was hot, and the steam rose around them like a fog. Legs around his waist, arms around his neck, she hung on to him, a hand buried in his hair. He held on to the shower head for support. His other hand was digging into her buttocks, lifting her into him. Her breath came in rapid pants, in gasps, in yells. He could feel in his throat that he was producing sounds of his own but didn’t know or care what they were. Their bodies, so different in size, had found a mutual rhythm, and he clung to it, trying to hold off just a little longer. He counted silently to himself backward from ten in Japanese. She cried out and pushed herself even harder against him. He came then, wrenching the shower handle from its bracket on the wall. The handle fell, hanging by its metal coil, writhing like a snake, shooting water in every direction. He stood holding her, still inside her. She was kissing him all over his face, in his ears, on his eyelids. She refused to let him unwrap himself from her limbs. He carried her out of the bathroom that way.

T
he Mercedes hurtled down the street. People who saw it coming stepped quickly back into the shops from which they had emerged. Old women pressed their frail bodies against those houses farthest from the danger.

One young man, dressed in the deep-pocketed pale blue smock of a pachinko parlor employee, wasn’t paying attention. He was crossing the street while reading a comic book. He looked up to find the Mercedes about fifty feet away and closing fast, an indigo streak of death. His mouth began to open and close rapidly. His smock, caught by a sudden breeze, billowed about his narrow-hipped body. He froze where he was.

“Mother …” Alec whispered from the passenger seat of the Mercedes.