Midnight (62 page)

Since she was just going on in Japanese, I started answering her back in English.

“Akemi, I should have opened it, but at the time that you gave it to me, I had too much on my mind. I really wasn’t focused on the gift,” I said to her calmly. I was sitting on the bed while she was standing up, one hand on her little waist.

She started saying something else emotional. When she finally stopped talking, she poked her lips out and pouted at
me. I guess she was frustrated. No Saachi and no cousin here to interpret, no Sensei or anyone familiar, just me and her.

“Bring it to me. I’ll open it right now,” I told her. But she just stared at me angrily, not knowing what I meant. I just kept smiling at her. I couldn’t help it. That’s just how she made me feel. Besides, I felt I had the upper hand even though I was wrong for not opening her gift. I knew that my smile alone would melt her slowly. And by now, I knew how to make her feel good deep inside, to give her so much pleasure she would be helpless, to win her over completely. I guess I was growing up more each day, feeling myself and becoming more confident in my power. I think becoming intimate placed another level of strength into my manhood.

“Bring it to me,” I gestured this time. She turned her back like she wasn’t willing to speak to me. I lay down on my bed and waited. Not even thirty seconds passed before she started to peek back at me to see what I was doing and why I was not reacting to her. When I caught her eye, I said it again and gestured once more, “Bring it to me.” I sat up again.

She bent over and picked the gift up. She held it and just stared at me. “C’mon,” I called her over. She walked towards me reluctantly. But she was still coming.

When she reached me, I grabbed her by her waist and tossed her down on the bed. She dropped the present on the floor. I pulled her arms up over her head and held them there. She started cursing me again, which got me crazy heated. I tried to kiss her and she turned her face away and used her knee to kick me. With one leg, easily, I pinned both of her legs down. She tried to wiggle herself loose. I just looked at her squirming. “I love you, Akemi. I love you too much.” I began sucking her neck. When I took one glance at her, I saw her lips had parted. I knew I was on my way.

I put my hand on her skirt and grabbed at her. She exhaled. I slid my hand under her skirt and into her panties.
I used my middle finger, slid it inside of her, and stroked her clitoris gently. She tried to resist me with her words, with whatever she was saying, but her body was already on my side. Her talk turned to moans. They started off softly and grew louder and louder. I bit her nipple and let her express herself. Her moaning was so erotic to me anyway.

When I pulled my hand away, her legs were just beginning to tremble. She pulled my hand and tried to place my finger back where I had it. I turned her around and yanked down her blouse. She purposely rolled herself off of the mattress and onto the floor. She lay there on her back speaking to me in Japanese now so sweetly as I took off my jeans and my shorts.

When I came down on the floor, she began playing at escape. She crawled away from me. I grabbed her by her foot and pulled her leg back. She was face down. I mounted her and entered her pussy from behind. I could feel the pulse inside of her, throbbing and pulling and clutching. The new position got her crazy. She screamed out her pleasure. With both of my hands gripped beneath her body and holding her warm breasts, I humped slow, steady, yet forcefully, until I couldn’t hold back any longer. I busted inside of her it seemed like endlessly. When my body eased up she turned herself around. Immediately she squeezed her legs together tightly to stop herself from shaking and then started kissing me all over. There was no more anger. I had conquered her, and in the process I conquered myself.

We played in the shower feeling free. No one was at home. We marked up each other’s bodies, which was becoming a habit, because we still couldn’t control our passion.

In the living room, all fresh wearing only her panties, she lay on a big pillow and sunk inside like a clam in its shell. Her henna designs made her look continuously royal, exotic, and erotic. She was just lying there staring at me with such
love, but more than that. She had awe in her eyes. Or was it amazement?

I was wearing my boxers, about to go to my room and grab my T-shirt. But her stare held me there. “What’s up?” I asked her. She broke out in a big-ass smile. I went and sat beside her. She threw her leg into my lap and pulled herself up. She turned in towards me, then straddled me. She just began hugging me, her head lying on my shoulder. We just sat silently like that, no sex, just hugging and rocking. I thought my heart would burst.

In my room her soft hand rubbed a light coat of oil onto my skin: my neck and shoulders, then arms and chest and stomach. She took much longer than I would have taken getting myself ready to get dressed. But it felt a million times better letting her do it. As she finally got down to my calves and ankles, she began rubbing oil onto my feet. Suddenly she just looked up at me from below and smiled.

She lay in my lap so I could do her next. As I touched different parts of her body with the oil, I was watching her subtle reactions, her goose bumps and excited extended nipples, how her toes curled when I oiled the insides of her thighs.

I dropped some tiny droplets of fragrance onto her neck from a small crystal bottle. I pressed my nose to it to see how it mixed with the natural scent of her skin. I got high and found my tongue inside her mouth. We were sliding and climbing and climaxing all over again.

Later, after we were finally fresh and dressed, she came and sat in my lap, holding her gift. I finally unwrapped the ribbon and opened the box and inside of it was another box wrapped in a maroon ribbon with a maroon bow. I just looked at her and she cracked up laughing, so pleased with herself. I unwrapped the maroon ribbon and opened the box and there was another box with a green ribbon and bow. She laughed again. The next box with the blue ribbon and bow
had something inside. I opened it and peeled back the tissue paper. It was baby clothing, a tiny little yellow dress and laced socks, all-in-one pajamas and booties and baby shoes, a baby boy’s jumper and a matching hat. I held the dress up looking at it curiously. She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. I looked up at her. She smiled, and said softly, touching herself, “Babies please.”

I just looked at her recalling what was happening between us when she first gave me this gift. It was the day after the Coney Island trip, the fight and the black eye. She must have bought these expensive baby clothes, with the price tags still attached, sometime after we had our talk about marriage in the ice cream store. I thought about how she seemed to never have doubted her love for me. She seemed to never have doubted that she wanted to live her life with me, have children for me. The more I thought about it, the more emotional I felt. The feeling began to overpower me.

She reached back in the box again and pulled out a slim box wrapped in a gold ribbon with a miniature gold bow. She handed it to me. I hoped it was not jewelry or anything expensive. I felt the meaning behind the baby clothes, and her intention and loyalty were more than enough and greater than anything else.

But she insisted and her eyes were so eager. I unwrapped and opened the slim box and discovered two season passes to the New York Knicks basketball games at Madison Square Garden for the upcoming season.

Naja was extra sleepy on Thursday, the morning of our house closing. Akemi and I picked she and Umma up late last night from Temirah Auntie’s home. Their women’s planning meeting ran overtime. Now we had no choice but to rush along because this was sure to be a long, long day for each of us.

After prayer and breakfast, we four dashed out. Naja was in Ms. Marcy’s hands. We escorted Umma to work. Then I took Akemi to her uncle’s house where she wanted to go to continue her preparation for her show, which was coming up in only two days. I promised to pick her up in Manhattan at 9:00
P.M.
She was going to miss the closing but I was cool with that. It really was Umma’s day more than anyone else’s, although we would all live in and work to renovate and enjoy the new house,
inshallah
.

Besides, I had never showed or tried to tell Akemi about our new house. I wanted to be sure that Mr. Slerzberg actually showed up and signed the documents. I was already concerned about him possibly disappointing Umma.

Sensei was settled and calm when I arrived for weapons training.

“You seem tired,” he said to me after we exchanged greetings. I guessed he was right. When I thought about it for a moment, it was completely different having a wife. I had gained so many new feelings and experiences, but was missing out on a lot of the time I usually spent alone. Instead of reading
and thinking or sleeping, I found myself thinking only of the women in my life, their feelings, safety, and security.

“But you also seem peaceful and happy. What an amazing story,” Sensei said as though he was considering the thought right that moment. “What story?” I asked. “Your young life,” he responded. “You must be careful,” he warned. “Enjoy life, but don’t let down your guard. You are always a target when you have so much more than other men have. Continue training, conditioning, and keep your mind very alert.”

“That’s what I am here for, Senseisan. What do you have for me today?”

“There is no rush,” he said oddly. “Let’s take a walk outside.” He was already headed to the door before me. I followed him, thinking how in seven years, I had never stepped outside of the dojo with Sensei. I wondered what was up. He placed the CLOSED sign in the window and closed and locked up the dojo.

Outside the sun was brilliant. The Brooklyn streets were crowded as usual, people going everywhere and nowhere at a fast pace. As we walked the block, it felt good to have Sensei at my side.

“You have to teach me to walk like that,” he said, smiling his rare smile.

“Like what?” I asked. But he didn’t answer.

“Akemi Nakamura,” he said suddenly yet casually. “You know I wondered if she was from the well-known Nakamura family of The Pan Asian Corporation in Japan. When I read her father’s name and signature on the document she handed to me, I was certain that I was right.

“What a huge accomplishment,” he said, looking for my response. This time, I did not answer.

About seven and a half blocks over he stopped. We were facing a little cement island where a few older Asian men were gathered. We crossed over toward them.

“I want you to meet my father,” he said, and began bowing
and speaking to the Japanese elder men. He singled out his father once he had given everyone the greetings. He introduced us.
“Hajime Mashite Boku wa . . .”
I showed him respect and used my greetings in their language. His father seemed surprised. I assumed that was because I was Black or because I was young, I don’t know which one.

His father’s skin was smooth and his eyes were serene. He was with a male friend playing a game when we interrupted. After our introduction he sat down and resumed his game.

“Do you play chess?” Sensei asked me. “I do,” I answered. “Well, this is an ancient game called ‘Go.’ These men play here every day,” he informed me. “The Japanese are the masters of this game.

“People all around the world play it. But most of the young have lost interest. My father and his friend have been playing this game for many years. In fact it never ends until one player gives up. My father never gives up.”

I was honored to meet his father. It put a much more personal dimension into our relationship. But I didn’t understand his approach to today’s weapons class. I had only the scheduled two hours to give my attention and I wanted to spend the time learning not chilling.

I decided to be patient because with Sensei there was always a lesson.

“The board for Go is much bigger than a chessboard,” I observed.

“Yes, it’s more complicated than chess. It is a war over territory based on life. There are nineteen by nineteen intersecting lines, and three hundred sixty-one spaces. There is much more space to move around in, just like our world. But of course the more freedom we have, the greater our chances of making a mistake.

“The superior Go player is the best thinker,” he said focusing on the board game.

“How does anyone know who is the best thinker?” I asked him.

“Great question.” He smiled. “The best thinker is the one who can think ahead of the present time and set a strategy in motion that will secure his future. It should be a strategy that his opponent cannot foresee. Because, of course, if your enemy can detect your next move, he will do everything within his power to surround you and capture the territory you thought belonged to you.” He paused, giving the words time to soak into my head.

“You see, this game Go is a game about strategy, but it is more about balance.”

“Balance,” I repeated.

“Sure. Sometimes a new player mistakenly believes that all he has to do is make the most aggressive moves,” Sensei said.

“But you do have to be aggressive in life to win,” I challenged.

“True, but when you are out of balance and too aggressive in this game, you end up leaving an area uncovered. Your opponent picks up on it and exploits your weakness.”

I thought about what he was saying. It sounded true.

“Meanwhile, men who are held back by their own fears play this game too close to the edge of the board just to be safe, but this type of man never gains any territory.

“On the other hand a man who is too eager to control
all
of the territory jumps in the middle of the board and plays too high. He always ends up getting invaded.” Sensei was explaining slowly and carefully. I listened and began to understand it was his way of talking to me about real life without getting too personal, which he probably knew was not acceptable to me.

“The thing about this game that is different from chess is that once a player puts his stone on the board in a particular area, it can never be moved, never. This means that before a
player makes a move he has to think very hard and very much ahead about the outcome because he will not receive a second chance. He can never move that stone out of that position.”