Thank You!

So there she is. Thanks to anyone who has read any of these pieces of Enso and a special thank you to anyone who has read it from the start. This entire process has been a learning one. I'm not sure if I like how the story reads in short selections, but I'm not sure if I would have wanted to post it in its entirety either, so…

I appreciate the feedback and also the encouragement. Like Connor, I unexpectedly found myself changed by a week in Osaka in October of 2006 and began writing this story in April of 2007. It was written almost entirely in Korea and America, though the finishing touches on the first draft were done over Christmas week 2007 once again in Japan. All in all, there were more than five drafts and I've probably read and reread it more than even I care to remember.

I think that almost anyone who has felt led to give me their time and attention must be someone who I've known for many years in one walk of life or another (why else would you have agreed to read all of this?), but to anyone who I'm yet to meet, thank you so much as well.

I hope, someday to thank each of you personally, and well, if you ever get out to Osaka, Namba, Osaka-jo and the like, maybe I'll see you there.

 

With kindest regards,

 

Stephen McGrath

Busan, Korea

February 14, 2009

Chapter 8: Packing Boxes and the Steps of Tomorrow

    As the weeks continued to tick away and late winter became spring, Connor still found himself there more than here. His mind wandered, on good days, back to each and every step in his and Maruko's dance. On bad days, it was all he could do to find a short respite between prolonged episodes of feeling absent and transplanted. He had decided, though talks with Maruko hadn't taken a noticeable downturn, that this had to stop. He felt invigorated by the silent conversation he'd had with the gentle old man on the street six weeks before. Indeed, he wouldn't give up on Maruko, but there were things happening in his world and, he could sense in her vagueness, things happening in hers as well. The bottom line was that it was time to settle in back home, to not live each and every moment as if it was the moment since he'd left or the moment before she'd come back. Still, he longed for a different ending, one where she wouldn't need to fall so that he could rise again.

    Of all the stops along the nightly tour of Osaka which he relived in his mind, the champion, the main event, seemed to be that evening in the museum. It wasn't just being out with her, though that had felt like one of the first times where they as a couple had really been out in the city together; there was more. There was the glamour of the museum and the feeling of walking through the chill of that fall evening before entering the modern palace of steel and glass. Then there were the Enso themselves, the completeness which he and Maruko hadn't ever known. Or had they? Had the ending in Osaka been the ending which was meant for them and was he, in the name of seeing where their Enso might lead, denying the power of that very symbol? Truthfully, he figured, it all came down to where the beginning had been. Only then could he tell if he were near the end.

    He'd always figured this first question to be very easy. Of course he remembered the beginning. He had been there in the record store, she had walked in. The strings, he could still hear the strings of the cellos which had seemed to play as he watched her shift from one heel to the other while making her selection. He had bought that guitar band from England and gone to a coffee shop thinking it was over, how foolish he'd been. From there, the talking, five gallops, the castle and their samurai. Then the geisha and her blur between this day and the past. Finally, there was the museum, the Bhagavad Gita and dancing. He could remember the beginning and everywhere it had led like it was yesterday. Why Audrey had a place in it all had eluded Connor for months. He couldn't figure out why it was that she had seemed destined to interrupt where they were heading that evening at the hotel, both literally and figuratively. Her removed from the equation, it all made sense, but then there was, since he had come home, all this chaos and unknowing. He and Maruko were absent, but still his obsession, one moment and they were present, yet still with something missing, the next. This brush stroke of their Enso, he knew where it had started and so he was equally sure of where it had to return to.

    Connor's professional life revolved around his command of equations. For this reason as much as any, the nonsensical last chapter of his and Maruko's journey unrelentingly played at his mind. It just didn't make sense. Shouldn't the ending of the circle resemble the way it began? Then finally it had hit him, like a sucker punch to the gut. So much of what he classified as "the story" had ended that moment in his hotel when the night doorman had delivered Audrey's message. What if Audrey was the ending of it all? How could it be? Sadly, this question, unlike inquiries involving him and Maruko, was easier to answer. What if the way he had left Audrey when he had gone to Japan had been the beginning? What if the dishonesty of never having mentioned her to Maruko was the continuation? Had that effect come full circle? Notes left in L.A. so that one couldn't catch the other led to messages left in Osaka so that one could catch the other. A relationship he hadn't finished had led to a relationship he wouldn't finish because of the lack of closure on the previous one. Sadly, with Audrey as the beginning, it all made more sense to Connor. This didn't at all make this the story that Connor had wanted to write, nor the one he thought he was waiting to finish, but the academic in him had to concede that this cycle seemed more likely than that he was waiting for Maruko to dance to him and tie up a loose end which neither could identify.

 

    It hadn't happened overnight, but eventually all the relics of Osaka which Connor had displayed in his office in L.A. had started to weigh on him. Ticket stubs from the museum, a matchbook from Smoke and a postcard of Osaka-jo which he'd gotten at the airport; each of these had the effect of haunting more than reaffirming him these days and, for that reason, he'd finally decided to take some of them down. He'd brought a box from home and started to think about setting each of these memories inside it. Still, he hadn't been able to take anything down, the storyline felt incomplete without any one of the pieces and this entity was already incomplete enough due to the lack of ending. At least, Connor prayed that this was the case; that there was an ending still to come.

    A few mornings later, Connor's car broke down as he drove to work. It seemed to be something in the battery, but he would have to have it checked out. He was quite sure that he didn't need car problems, lest he find another way to be less reliable then the space cadet he'd been since coming back from Japan. A good distance from work, Connor walked to a bus stop and waited for the bus to come and take him the rest of the way. He waited for over thirty minutes before a woman preparing to leave in the parking lot behind him yelled over to him asking if he needed a ride.

    "I'm fine, I think," Connor offered with hesitation. "Well, do you know when this bus comes?"

    "Actually," the older full bodied woman named Darlene explained, "I'm pretty sure they are rerouting for roadwork this week. Yeah, look up there."

    Sure enough, there were bright reflective red barricades up ahead. Connor had been waiting at a stop which didn't exist for the past half an hour.

    "Yeah, looks like you are right," he replied to the woman from across the parking lot. "Do you know where the next active stop would be?"

    "Well, I do, but where are you heading?"

    Connor told her and she offered that she was going the same way if he was interested. Connor wasn't much in the mood for company, but he had already wasted enough time and so he agreed that a ride would be helpful.

    It turned out that Darlene was a bus driver herself, having retired from her previous career a few months after her fifty-fifth birthday. "I love my job now," she said, "I just adore being near the passengers. This life is hard enough to figure out and left to my own devices, I'd think myself to death."

    "I think I could be in danger of that myself," Connor replied.

    "What is it you do then? What makes you tick?" It certainly didn't seem to take her long to get to the point.

    Connor began to run down a quick and concise description of his job and how long he'd lived in L.A., before stopping when he'd noticed that Darlene wasn't buying it.

    "That sounds good and all, you're certainly rather accomplished at your young age, but is there more? That can't be it, can it?"

    Connor was instantly taken back to what Larry had said before he'd even gone to Japan. Had he not learned? What was his identity? It wasn't this job, but what then was it? Was he a man who had recently broken up with a girl or one who was waiting for another to return? He had recently found the Enso comparison to fit well. He felt comfort that it was prearranged and thought that it might help if he worked it out once more, so he shared it with Darlene.

    "So there it is," he finished up, "But which one of those is it? Which start do I recognize? Which ending do I accept or anticipate?"

    "Which one do you want it to be? Not to challenge you," Darlene quickly replied.

    "Ha, no challenge there," Connor reassured her. "That one is a little easier to say."

    "Then make it happen. You still talk to her."

    "Less and less, I just don't know. We had really been coming back around, but lately it seems like there is something that I'm missing and I just can't put my finger on what it is." Connor wasn't sure how he had entered into a mock-therapy session here on the way to work, but he was glad for the anonymity offered by the shuttle-driving sage, Darlene.

    "Seems to me," she began after an astonishingly short time at deliberation, "that you aren't finished yet. I mean if it is the first girl, then it's done, but you need to start painting something else then, don't you? If it's the second girl, then you need to find out where that is at and start drawing again. These circles of yours, they would seem to indicate action, not just sitting at the paper once the drawing had started. So, really, either way, it's moving forward which would seem to be best for you there, kiddo."

    "Thank you," Connor replied sincerely. "I really appreciate the ride and the clarity, well just that you let me talk it all out. No one here gets any of this. It just feels like I am neither here nor there."

    "An awful way to feel, you have many years ahead of you, you'll probably get some more of the good and the bad. For now, it was my pleasure. Like I told you, if I drive alone, I drive myself crazy."

    Darlene dropped Connor off and pointed out the location of the nearest bus stop to his office and explained where the routes would and wouldn't be for the next few days and was gone

 

    Connor headed inside, amazingly clear-headed considering the unexpected start to his day. He called an auto shop and left a few messages. What followed was a very focused and fruitful day of work. He felt challenged by his morning to be decisive and in each of his actions, he was. He made progress in a few key research areas and also took one other notable action. Before he finished up and left for the day, he began packing the items from Osaka into the box he'd brought from home. If this seemed counterintuitive to pursuing things with Maruko, Connor didn't notice. He just needed to feel like he was once again in motion. As he wrapped and stored different mementos, he engaged each memory once again. In all of it, the speed at which it had progressed and the momentum generated by each and every glance and touch, he felt reassured that he was doing nothing wrong by moving forward. He had no idea if this was the right move, but he wouldn't have known that had he done nothing, either. Quite simply, it was time. Soon, many of the reminders of Japan were packed away and as Connor sat back to finish up for the day, he noted how the ache in his muscles mirrored the emotional strain he felt in this moment. Conviction or no, there was little underestimating how much he hoped that these would only be temporary goodbyes.

 

    Connor stared off into the distance across his office, through the wall and across the Pacific before the ring of his phone brought Connor back the present. He spoke with a nice auto repairman named Turk who told him that the problem was in the alternator and though normal with wear and tear, would set him back another few days. Connor reasoned that the change in routine might suit him well. He hung up and turned his focus to reorganizing his desk, a microcosm of his life in any event. He almost picked back up his research before noticing a feeling that he wasn't alone. He looked across the room and indeed there was one item which remained. The solitary photo of the geisha from Kyoto, not the focused one, but the blurred one with traffic superimposed upon it. This image, Japanese history and the modern day fighting for even this frame was so Maruko. It didn't represent their time together, that had not been so much a snapshot, but more an orchestrated waltz in fast forward. No, this picture was more made of her essence; the classically trained dancer dying to become relevant in the world's most current country. He remembered sitting in the hotel in Kyoto, staring into this image on his camera and begging Maruko for the opportunity to be by her side while her journey from then to now drew forward. He wondered now if this was his fate; that he would never be any closer to her than what was inside of this frame. Maybe they were the geisha and the blurred image; two things which had existed in the same time for only a moment.

Sitting there, he realizing that if this picture was her, the past fighting the present, that they were then the exact opposite of one another in this regard. He had found a bit of history in Osaka which had helped his all too current life feel grounded. In this, they were one another's mirror. This wasn't at all bad, he thought, for it could make them one another's ideal dancing partner. To dance with her once more, the thought brought a chill to the back of his neck. With the same fingertips he's used to draw her nearer that night on the dance floor, Connor traced a circle, as he had so many times before, around the blurred image in one fluid motion. He looked down at the packing box and back to the frame which he now held in his arms and just shook his head while he whispered, "You get to stay. Who am I to tell you when the time has elapsed for you to reach the present? However," he shifted his focus from the abstract to the specific, "Maruko, if there's anyway you could indicate to me how long you'll be… I'd hate to be gone already when you come back around."

    

    Connor finished up his work for the day and walked out to where the bus picked up across the street from work. The bus stop included a shelter which was made of thick iron tubing; modern and yet rough looking. The industrial construction brought back memories of Tower records in Osaka. His body came to life as he remembered how she had smelled as she strode past him. His nose had sensed her potential before any other part of him had even had the time to react. The back of the bus canopy was lined by colorful artwork done by a local Middle School. There was also, along the far back, a long pole about three feet off the ground, parallel to the pavement. For a moment, Connor could see her there, stretching and talking to Hinata before a class. He imagined Maruko's long leg stretched out perfectly straight, the muscles held tight as she bent forward taking her hand and head to the bar. God, what was he going to do with this girl in his head? He closed his eyes and tried to just concentrate on her smile. No matter how much he had believed that action was the answer just moments before, this image from the past brought him an ability to truly quiet himself which he hadn't known in months. Soaking in the stillness, Connor stood there, head bowed, eyes closed, watching her stretch and remembering how they'd touched while in Osaka-jo that day. As he had then, he felt once again now, so frightened, yet so secure.

 

    Just then his mobile phone erupted to life with a text message, startling Connor from his dream.

    

    The area code was 212. "Manhattan," he mumbled to himself. "Who do I know in Manhattan? What time is it there, eight o'clock at night? I mean, who don't I know in Manhattan (the clients and customers), but who is messaging at this hour?" The message contained only a photo. Connor clicked to accept it, still not sure of the sender, and watched as the picture loaded. First he saw clouds and then the Statue of Liberty came into the picture. The file loaded from the top down and so it was that Connor saw what happened next in the following order: clouds, torch, crown, and head. Yes, OK, so it is the Statue, he thought. Next he saw an off white wool knit cap and beneath it… He stopped. It couldn't be. Connor's heart froze in place so as not to scare away the vision he had happened upon as he saw, unmistakably really, a wool knit cap, dark brown bangs and her eyes. Maruko's eyes! He took a look at the number again, yes, Manhattan, again at the picture, yes, the Statue of Liberty and yes, Maruko, what was going on? He hit the send button as fast as he could and the phone took what seemed like an eternity to redial the 212 number which had sent the photo.

    "Hi," it was her voice.

"Maruko?" Connor blurted, he knew it was her, but habit had made him ask, he was so nervous, this was happening so fast. "Maruko! Where are you?"

    "Osaka. Why? Oh, right, the Statue, she is making a tour, goodwill or something, Hinata and I..."

    "Maruko!" Connor smiled and shook his head as he wondered how long she had practiced this. "The number I'm calling, where are you?"

    "Right, I knew the number would give it away!" Maruko giggled and finally stopped. Enough of the silliness, she thought to herself. This humor, a protective armor she'd been wearing for longer than she cared to admit, had served her well, but she knew that it was time to remove it. She steadied herself and started again, "Hi Connor. Yeah, I know… New York; I'm here!" She chuckled under her breath as she spoke in a calm and honest tone. She felt exposed, but very much alive as she continued, "There was a traveling tour, I found out I had made it a few weeks before we started speaking again and just didn't know how to tell you."

    "So this," Connor was shaking, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he quickly tried to put it all together, "was why you felt like you were distant? I knew it was something, I just had no idea that..."

    "You thought I was moving on?"

    "Well, I…" He stopped, stuttered, collected himself once again and continued, "Yes! Yeah, I didn't know what to think."

    "No," she replied slowly, "moving on? That I haven't done. Nope," she once again paused for emphasis like she had before departing the coffee shop the night they had met, "definitely not."

    "Maruko, how long will you be in New York City?"

    "Well," Connor could see her twisted smile as she paused to think about the answer, "we just got here and then the show here has a run of..."

    "Maruko," Connor interrupted. His bus came and left without him, he couldn't move. He gathered himself once more and asked again, "How long will you be there?"

    "Well, I was trying to tell you, I don't know really. The show sold out, so there will be more shows after the initial two week run is finished."

    "And you're not over me, over us," he placed added emphasis on the word us. "You think... Wow, I didn't know we would be saying these things now. You think there is still something here? I mean you called, right?"

    "Connor," her tone held a sincerity and wonder which he hadn't heard since Osaka. Holding her attention now reminded him of their first embrace. Immediately it felt like they were back outside of the museum in the moment when they had first sensed that while each of them did live on a very unique plane, there was no longer a requirement that either of them should have to live there alone. He could see her gently biting her lip before staring off into the distance as she spoke words which she had prepared to say to him many times before this moment, "Do you remember my Grandfather's story; the one I told to you at Osaka-jo about the man who is writing the poem?"

    Connor did and he now nodded in an exaggerated way as if she could see him as he paced back and forth under the canopy.

    Maruko had clearly prepared herself to deliver the next point and stated decisively with conviction, "I'm not putting down the pen, Connor. I don't have answers, but then do you? Either way, I'm not putting down the pen yet. At least, I haven't," her voice started to break up with emotion.

    "When the writer has finished the poem," for once Connor delivered out loud a recitation which he had repeated to himself countless times since he'd returned to reality from his week in Japan, "there is nothing left, but to set down the pen." As Connor repeated the words slowly, he could hear Maruko giggling through a sob on the other end.

    "Maruko," he continued slowly in a steady tone, "don't put it down. Do NOT put the pen down." Now it was Connor's voice that cracked with emotion as he let out a short laugh, "You would think that there would be so many different things that I'd be thinking and feeling right now, but it's not the case at all. It's the same way now that it has always been for us. I am actually quite clear on what we need to do next. I'm going to hang up now Maruko."

Maruko took a quick breath, not sure what was happening, before Connor continued. "I'm on a flight to New York in the morning. I'll call you when I get there?"

    "What? Wait, no don't, but what, you mean it?"

    "You asked if I had any answers. I have no more answers than you do Maruko, none. I have thought this through to exhaustion. I don't know where our Enso started, but I know that I don't want to, either. I don't want to know the start because then I'd know the ending. We can't know the ending… I don't want to know it! I've lived my life not starting something until I could see how it would finish. All I want to know, what I think we can know now, is that this hasn't ended yet. We have resided in either the future or past tense for so much of the time that we've known one another. If we are seeing a fresh place, a present place, where it could all continue from next, I will not miss this opportunity.

    "Your job," she reasoned. Perhaps she meant to give him one final chance to snap back to reality, a place where he now found himself more than he had in the past six months. "What about your job?"

    "Maruko, they'll understand," he laughed. He was quite confident that they would all understand, Larry especially, for all he'd suffered. "I am so glad that you called. I'm going to hang up now. Yeah, there is a ton more to say, but look, I'll call you tomorrow. We're not finished writing this yet. I'll call you tomorrow and then how about no more phones or emails then; not for awhile, OK? When your phone rings tomorrow, I'll be in New York. I'm on the next flight. We have so much more to write."

Chapter 7: Silent Reassurance

    His home didn't make any more sense then it had when he'd first returned. The quaintness of the period which had been coined the Sake Hangover was fast wearing off. He'd by now spent far more time cradling the space inside of him which she'd occupied than he had ever spent with her. The end result had to be that, whether with or without her, he needed to find a way to live in THIS world, in whichever world it was that he inhabited, because this, this walking through life with a tourist map in a foreign language, it wasn't conducive to anything. It just wasn't something to which the rest of the world was ready to respond.

 

    It had been that next morning as he walked to work, just when he was closest to giving it all up, that he'd received an infusion of hope from a most unexpected source. As Connor approached his office that morning, he had seen an old Asian man walking towards him. This slight, yet graceful, man wore slim gray slacks which exposed black socks that led into black loafers with tassels. He wore a khaki windbreaker and a matching fisherman's hat with a slim brim. Though still reeling with uncertainty from the Taiwanese woman at the airport months before (however funny it was, it also made him wonder if he had truly been as comfortable in Japan as he'd remembered), Connor lowered his eyes and bowed his head as the man came closer. A small mouth gave way to a broad grin as the apparently Japanese man answered with an undeniably Japanese bow, deep and from the waist, and continued walking.

    "Don't give up, the language you now speak will serve you still," the man seemed to say. "Fifty years ago, I came to this country; a man without a language. I wished for nothing other than the shores of home and the sound of my young bride singing in the other room while she prepared our dinner.

    "My parents knew that coming here was the only way to avoid becoming them, for in a changing world, their kind would not own tomorrow. So, alone, I came here, ALONE, and worked my way up from the bottom. I'd take whatever job they'd give one of us a mere decade after the war with my people. It was years before I got to a place where I felt that I was making headway and years more until I recognized the promise of this great land, to belong without having to abandon my identity. Eventually, my wife came and she lived each of her remaining years here, as do my children and four grandchildren still.

    "How long will you have to wait? Long enough; don't try to force life to happen too soon. To do so is the second greatest sin a man can commit. The only one worse is to wait one single moment longer than you must. When life requires hard work, arrive early, lower your head and work til your fingers ache. When life offers you a gift, lower your head more still and give proper gratitude."

 

    Connor's tongue had run against his top teeth as he began to say 'thank you,' but to whom? The man was now two blocks away. His entire tale had been conveyed through the blending of an ancient bow and an ageless grin.

From that moment forward, Connor's and Maruko's emails became more cordial, fun and even filled with hope. They even decided that they were ready to begin talking on the phone again. They were, each figured, here for a reason and it certainly wasn't because long distance was fun. Without even stating their intentions, they began to talk about how their story had been received by those around them instead of simply treating each talk as a negotiation between two individuals. Maruko shared more about how she and her beloved sister-figure talked about Connor and one night over the phone she had even asked about Larry who, though of dramatically different shape, was clearly Connor's Hinata.

    "Larry," Connor began with a chuckle, "um, let me just say that it sounds like you have the more intuitive sidekick of the two." At hearing this, Maruko had released the first truly honest giggle that she and Connor had shared in months. "No, Larry is great," he continued. "He has been there for me in so many different ways. He's deceptively wise and very strategic."

    "Strategic, hmm," Maruko replied curiously.

    "Oh yeah," Connor responded in confirmation. "He will let me talk until I'm out of breath…"

    "Wait, you run out of breath now?" Maruko pried devilishly as if surprised at this revelation.

    "Anyway," Connor outwardly feigned annoyance while inside he pleaded with himself to continue, for he could feel her starting to come back. "Yeah, he will wait until I'm finished, until I really feel like I have solved it all, before he adds in what usually turns out to be solid advice."

    "He sounds like a pretty great friend. Hinata is like a diary. She remembers anything I share with her. Sometimes she retains details that I even may have," Maruko paused for impact, "intentionally, forgotten. This is not always a good quality."

    "Well then you can be jealous there because Larry, while fantastic in the moment, is not really the ideal of remembrance."

    "In that case, yes I reserve the right to, from time to time, prefer Larry. Do you think he can dance at all?"

    Connor had let out a deep laugh of his own as he alternatively tried to imagine and permanently forget Larry in a ballet dancer's attire. "Maruko," he finally began after collecting himself, "you are welcome to him then; especially since the image of him in a leotard will forever be emblazoned upon my mind. Don't get me wrong, when the moment is right, I lean on that mountain of a man more than anyone else in my life before him, but there are other times where I'm just so jealous of…"

    "Hinata?" Maruko offered the answer for him.    
    Connor smiled before confessing, "I was going to say Ungo."

    "Ungo?" Maruko surprisingly asked.

    "Yeah, you remember the monk who found enlightenment while he was hiking alone and then wrote a poem about it? He let the poem blow away in the wind and then years later they said that he found it again on the same mountain. He took this as confirmation that his enlightenment had been legitimate. I can't believe that I remember this and you don't!"

    "Connor," it wasn't the first time she'd said his name since Osaka, but the way she said it froze him nonetheless, "of course I remember him. I was surprised that you'd say you were envious of him."

    "We've traveled a lot since that night, haven't we Maruko," he began quietly so as not to scare off whatever small glimmer of hope was opening before them. "I think," he paused, though he had considered this next point more than once in his mind, "that we each felt so much that night… It's natural to seek confirmation every once in awhile, especially when some time has passed since the first occurrence." Connor paused and hurriedly decided to change the tone of this exchange before it was too late. He couldn't believe she'd let him go this far with this reminiscence. Better to stop it prematurely than to scare her away, he reasoned. "Plus," he'd finally forced himself to continue enthusiastically, "I don't just remember Ungo for that reason. He also was the artist who made the first Enso that we looked at as we walked in that night and well…"

    "One never forgets their first," Maruko had whispered sweetly in agreement. Her gentle acknowledgement of the experiences they had shared that last night together in Osaka comforted Connor immediately.

Chapter 7: And Every Monday Since

    It wasn't like Maruko to run late. Hinata sat flipping through a magazine at Namba Station wondering why Maruko always insisted on meeting here. It was like the girl was torturing herself. Finally, Maruko came in, eyes swollen red and hugged Hinata. Like in the studio the day before her last date with Connor, Hinata held Maruko just a moment longer so as to let her know she was safe. Maruko didn't really show her emotions too often, but today, it appeared would be different.

    "Hi, Maruko-chang," Hinata began before continuing after a short pause. "Are you OK?" Hinata really did adore this girl. She was only a few years older than Maruko and when they danced, Maruko was so clearly the exceptional one. Still, Maruko had taken to her very early on and theirs had been a sisterhood from the start. Whereas in the midst of a performance, it was often Maruko who led, in matters of the heart, the roles they took were far more traditional. So it was that Hinata, like any older sister would, prepared to hear what had happened.

    Finally, Maruko looked up through teary eyes and sobbed through lips bound together with the tiniest strands of saliva, "He was here!"

    "What, when?" Hinata didn't need to ask who. No man in Maruko's life had ever possessed the ability to explosively shake Maruko's emotions like Connor had.

    "That day," Maruko began. "That first Monday when we were here, he did leave that day and he says he was looking for me as well, just incase."

    Maruko had asked Hinata to meet her at Namba for coffee that day, two months before. Hinata had arrived and expected them to move on to another location. Namba was where Japan Railroad and the Osaka Metro each had stations, so it made a great meeting point, but it wasn't exactly the place that young girls dreamed of spending an afternoon.

    

"What happened?" Hinata had asked excitedly.

    Maruko just looked back up at her and twisted her mouth to one side in a slight frown.

    "I'm sorry Maruko, pretty bad night, huh?"

    "Not at all. That was it. It was a fantastic night, magical really."

    "Well, gee," Hinata smirked and shook her head, "Sorry to hear that."

    Maruko looked away as her eyes began to well up.

    "Wait, that wasn't the end of it, was it? Oh God," here Hinata paused so as to allow each word to safely settle in or even so they might jar Maruko away from the previous night's clutches if need be, "what happened?"

    Maruko updated Hinata on the entire evening, starting at the ending in the hotel lobby before going back through the museum, dinner and dancing, each time returning to how it ended in disbelief.

    "He what?! Oh God Maruko! Look honey, do you want to get out of here? We need some girl time, c'mon, let's go."

    "Actually, do you mind if we just stay here, please?" Maruko often enjoyed hanging around Namba Station. When they were younger, she and Hinata had dreamed of just choosing a train and getting on it. They'd often thought about how easy it would be to escape from whatever Osaka was doing to them on that given day when each and every door in this terminal led somewhere else.

Hinata understood this connection to Maruko's desire to run before it was ever put into words. As they talked, reliving each moment of not only the last night between Connor and Maruko, but also the week previous to that, Maruko's mood fluctuated back and forth from indifferent, yet angry to truly hurt. It would be another month before Hinata would get her to at least admit that the reason it had hurt so much was not because Connor had been a jerk to her, it was because she really liked him. It was important, Hinata had told her, to at least be honest about this aspect of the dynamic.

    When Connor had called, it had rocked Maruko. They hadn't talked about much on the phone, but from what Hinata could tell, Maruko had heard something in Connor which she believed, something she recognized as authentic. It had taken her another month to be able to talk about it all and always, every Monday, they met here in Namba station. Maruko had finally confirmed that she had wanted to go there that initial Monday, though even she may not have known it at the time on a conscious level, to see if he was still in Osaka. She knew he had to be leaving sometime soon. She had called the hotel and gotten the fact he had checked out from them, though she couldn't learn more without a last name or room number (the latter of which Maruko was certainly glad she hadn't gotten before she had found out his tawdry secret, she'd all but screamed at Hinata). So many things had been made less clear, if not messier, with the knowledge that he wanted to communicate. Still, perhaps Maruko's emotional state had become clearer, for it was a few weeks after this initial contact that the real anger had started to bubble up. She felt used, she felt toyed with and she felt a fool for falling for him in the first place; and she had fallen for him. There was little question that the depth of her despair had been directly proportionate to the height from which she'd fallen.

    In the time that had followed, Maruko had often talked of getting away. Sometimes, this had benefited her. When she had put that energy and focus into her dancing, for example, Hinata had watched Maruko take her art to another level. Her loathing of rehearsal was gone. Everything was a vehicle to another place. However, there were also nights, many, many of them, where the negativity had no harness. In these nights, the doubt created by a love lost almost crushed her. She talked of never being able to trust again and was so derogatory towards Connor that Hinata had actually found herself defending him. This was not at all for his sake, but for the integrity of the memory which she knew was, deep down, still very important to Maruko.

Maruko had wrestled with whether to contact him or not. She had written, by her count, a dozen emails which had all been discarded. Some had even made it to the printing stage and Hinata had been privy to these. However, no matter which level of development had seen the abortion of her correspondence, she had never hit send. It would seem that this had now changed. It was either that or Connor had called again, and Hinata, if there ever had been any reason for her to defend him, really didn't want to even think that this was possible.

 

    "So you wrote him?" Hinata began.

    "Yeah, the other night; finally, right? Well he wrote back, I just got it."

    "Well I think it is good you wrote him."

    "What?" Maruko answered with a sense of shock. "You always told me never to write him. You said that I'd be crazy to write him!"

    "I did say those things, two months ago. I was very much in favor of your not writing him. I didn't know what there was to say. I didn't know how much of it would just fade away. But sweetie, it's almost New Year's and this is still playing on your heart. I love you, but I couldn't take this much longer."

    Maruko looked up at Hinata for a full two seconds with a look of disbelief. After the silent count of three, however, Hinata had rolled her eyes and smiled.

    "Come on Maruko-chang, you know I jest. But seriously, it was time. This wasn't going away and I don't know if it will now, but it is moving forward. So what happened?"

    "Well, I will say this:" Maruko rolled her eyes and exhaled heavily through her nose, "Assuming he actually read the first email before he responded, he can take a good shot. I mean it isn't like I became more OK with him by waiting so long to write." Hinata looked up and shook her head; she knew Maruko's anger well. Maruko, affirmed, continued, "So I figured, why not? I had to get some kind of control back in this and not writing him, it made me constantly aware that I wasn't confronting some part of the whole. I had to write. It was short. I just wanted to get something out there, see if the stupid address worked and all."

    "Short," Hinata looked across at Maruko with a wry grin, "what three pages? OK, I'm sorry, go on."

    "Ha Ha, no, two," noting Hinata's preparedness to comment she chided herself instead, "I KNOW, but I had a lot to say, OK?" Maruko looked up and made her usual exaggerated grin at Hinata before going on. "So I really kind of let him have it. I think I owed that to myself. I owed that to you, too." Hinata looked up, but before she could speak, Maruko retracted her previous statement, "OK, I know I didn't owe you anything. But you have been here for me and heard so much. You know as well as anyone, there isn't any way I could speak to him without it starting with honesty. I didn't really even know if he would write back. But he did and," Maruko began speaking more quickly, "well it was so sweet and kind and understanding and," she paused and noticeable swallowed, "it was him Hinata. That's the main thing. It really felt like him; the guy he was with me. He told me a little about what had happened before he came to Osaka, but then again he didn't. He told me that when we were ready to talk about that, he would and that he wanted to, but that it was most important that he just thank me for contacting him. He said," she welled up again, "that he has thought about me every day. That he is glad that he gave me parts of himself that he never knew he had to give, but that it has been so hard to be incomplete for all this time. But, how can he be incomplete?" Maruko looked at Hinata for a moment, pleading for an explanation before finally continuing, "I am too, so where does that leave it? Shouldn't one of us have enough? He should have told me! Even if he didn't know it all at the time, he should have told me that there was something back home that made what was happening here not 100% his to share."

    

Maruko continued with the back and forth. Her conviction waivered on who should have done what and was no less unsteady on how she would or even wanted to proceed. The uncertainty of her exchange with Hinata was echoed in each email with Connor. Still, they continued to write. At times there were gaps between correspondences, but for a couple who had met in a whirlwind, this wasn't entirely unwelcome for either of them.

Chapter 7: Between the Stamps

"You want to know the most honest moment?" Connor leaned over the pool table and broke the rack of balls, sinking the 7 and the 4 as Larry watched and took a pull off his Heineken. "Right before the plane took off. I remember going to the airport that day. I left Namba station, still thinking that maybe she would be there, though she didn't even know exactly when I was leaving. Still, that Monday morning after all of it happened..."

    "The morning we refer to as the origin of the Sake Hangover?" Larry interrupted.

    "That's the one, 3 ball in the corner," Connor leaned in and stroked the cue to lead the 3 ever closer to its destination, but not quite home. He let out a guttural groan and looked over to Larry, "You're up. Anyhow, that morning; I remember it all, man."

    Larry leaned over and gestured to the 12 ball. He remembered most of it, too; Connor had retold pieces of all of this before. Still, Larry figured that whatever it took to bring his friend back to him from the Land of the Rising Sun, he'd be glad to do his part and listen.

    "I sat there, drinking a cup of coffee or something, trying not to look like I was watching everyone, everything, and there was this huge board overhead that listed all the tracks for departure; kind of like in Penn Station, you know?" Larry nodded, he knew New York City well. "But," Connor paused for emphasis, "there dude, of course, it was all futuristic. There was this beautiful digital board and so when the track was listed to get me to the airport, there was no rattling of the changing signs, no drum roll of any kind, just a simple indicator, blinking saying, OK, game over, go away. Then, the train ride out…" Connor stopped and counted the balls remaining, shaking his head, it wasn't as if this story should have made things go more his way, but Larry wasn't helping. No bother, he thought, loser bought the next round and this quick game would only allow him to instigate an earlier refueling (and the numbness tended to help).

    Larry clipped the rail with the 15 and let his head drop. "Wow, thought I might run them there."

     "Why do I still insist on even playing this game against you?" Connor wondered aloud.

    "Eh," Larry playfully called back with a predator's grin, "the bar is more convenient then therapy, you know? If not, you'd just call me as you left the shrink and we'd both have to go and meet at some corner dive anyhow. This way you just talk it out and we can drink while you go on with it. I'd say therapy would cost more than the bar tab too, but the way you shoot, Dart..."

    "OK, easy there pal," Connor laughed out loud, tugged his beat-to-hell baseball hat down a little lower and shook his head as he gestured to the discrepancy between his solids and Larry's stripes which remained on the table. "Yeah, well I'd better get it all out then, if you insist on rushing the session forward."

"Granted," Larry went on, he was unrelenting when on a roll (and it wasn't often that he had Connor down), "a couch would be more comfortable than these barstools, but then, I mean I'm always standing at the table anyhow, so it's not my ass that's getting sore."

"Wow, he's on fire tonight ladies and gentlemen," Connor announced to no one in particular before turning back to Larry and flatly stating, "I'm not a difficult target, but still!" He and Larry both shot one another looks as Connor turned his hat backwards to get a better look and leaned down to line up his next shot. Initially this helped as he put one ball into the side and ran another the length of the table before missing on his 5.

"You're up," Connor returned to his stool along the wall before continuing. "So, I get to the airport, wait and check in, 'how was your stay sir?' Fine, I answered."

    "That was it, right? That was the most honest moment?" Larry looked over to Connor who rolled his eyes, grimaced and shook his head.

    "No, but then, after security," Connor continued, "they stamp your passport as you leave the country, right? They put it right next to the stamp from when you entered and man, that was hard. It was like an annulment. Like, 'OK, there you go sir, this never happened; just two stamps on a page.' Waiting for that plane to leave, I just stared at that page. All of this, I thought, goes between these two stamps? How, my God, how could it all fit between there? Anyhow, the flight boarded and I sat there in the air and then in Los Angeles when I re-entered the country…"

    Larry started to laugh, "Sorry man, I just love this next part. Where was the lady from?"

    Connor couldn't help himself from laughing too. Through a full grin, he continued, "Taiwan. Yeah, look, I thought she was Japanese maybe and she was looking at her customs declaration card in English, like, upside down, so I asked her if I could help. Like I spoke Japanese, but it seemed like the thing to do, people there were so kind." Larry fought back the laughter. Connor was an animated storyteller; more so since he'd met Maruko, though Larry didn't know that detail. "So yeah, I gesture to her, crazy dragon lady. I'm sure she was cute and tiny, but as I retell the story man, she has grown a horn and tails! So I gesture to her, 'Are you Japanese?' I asked her."

    "And she yells," Larry couldn't hold it in any longer as he, without invitation, continued the story for Conner through laughter and a few tears, "I from Taiwan, but I have green card!" He erupted with laughter and wiped away the tears which had formed in the corners of his eyes. He raised his glass to Connor, "Welcome back to the U.S. of A., pal."

    "That's it! It was like 'welcome back, kid.' God, clear as day, but hey, it's always nice to be home." Connor looked at Larry and shook his head again; the broad smile with which he'd enchanted his dancing flower two months before spread across his face.

    "Classic man, classic, but c'mon, Connor," Larry addressed the table again, preparing to sink his final two stripes with a leave for the 8, "was that really the most honest part of all of this?"

    "No." The grin vanished and Connor looked across the room, through the wall and many miles away. "No man, the flight. That was the most honest part of it all. Before I landed back in the U.S., I wasn't here or there. I must have looked at that passport a hundred more times. I was about to land in L.A., but I'd felt so much more home there. So much that I'd never paid enough attention to here made so much more sense there. But all of it, all that happened between those two stamps… Outside of them, I can't replicate it. I've come to realize that when they placed that arbitrary stamp on the page and dared me to figure out how it all fit between them, that was it. And you know what? That's still it, too. Because man, ever since, I'm still in between, I just can't shake it.

 

    The game finished, and another after that. They sat and ordered some food before calling it a night. Larry was fine to drive. Connor wasn't, but he was the passenger anyhow. Larry reached over and gave his friend a nudge, "Ready to call it Dart? We don't get to start tomorrow any later, even if we stay longer tonight."

    As they walked out to Larry's SUV, Connor looked over towards his friend, a man whom he hadn't needed as much in those invincible moments before his week in Osaka, but whom he was relieved to have now. "You sure you got me Larry?" He asked.

    "Oh, for sure man. You are like in the very opposite direction of my place, but then we can't all afford to have the location or all of the space that you do." Larry regretted saying anything about Connor's free space as soon as he said it, but no harm had been done. Connor was already half asleep against the window of the passenger seat in Larry's car.

    

Connor stumbled in his door and fell fast asleep. The next morning did seem to come too soon, though Connor was not very much the worse for wear. He woke up and got showered and dressed. As he passed a mirror, he saw that his coat had some lint on it. He looked in the kitchen and closet for a lint roller, but there was none to be found. Audrey had been gone for a few weeks now, and with her most of their things. When she had left, when the long and slow death their relationship had endured finally ended, Connor had gone on a purge. He denied that his enthusiasm had been aided by what Audrey had indirectly cost him in Osaka, but either way he'd thrown out anything and everything that they had purchased together. Unfortunately, this occasionally included items which they had both used and which he still had a need for, like a lint roller, certain pots and pans, spoons and towels; it had been a thorough cleansing. Connor settled for some packing tape to remove the lint. That there was still plenty of and 'damn it, I did buy that,' he thought to himself. He cleaned off his jacket, locked the door to his home and drove downtown.

 

    Conner walked the few blocks from the parking garage to the office past lifeless gargoyles that now stood to mock him. These stone jackals that had pushed him to succeed many times in the past now sat like vultures counting these, the last twenty thousand days until Connor would be buried beneath them.

    Passing an Italian ristorante, he stopped to look inside. Though it wouldn't open until eleven o'clock, the kitchen was already ablaze with activity. Here, and in many other kitchens in this city, young Hispanic men sliced, diced and prepped while the more privileged adolescents of these United States slept off the previous night's hangover, or worse.

    Inside, chefs ran in choreographed ellipses. In and out of the back rooms they dashed like men on an expedition. They showed a wonderful symmetry and efficiency with each movement. To the left, a younger chef was being instructed on a dicing technique while to the right a row of three men in white coats stood behind a grill, arms crossed as a black trail rose from an assortment of smoking peppers.

    The front wall was no less captivating. Connor stood idly and studied a collection of paintings in a complementary array of colors. Quickly, he became lost in modern applications of oranges, blues and a bold forest green. Each work depicted faceless men and women in varying stages of celebration and recline. Cheeks broad, brows strong and with tiny chins; in each painting he saw Osaka. Here the sushi chef, there the Goth child in the square and in the background of each, the old man gratefully smoking his cigarette in his pin striped suit.

    Maruko? She was there too. Her presence was obvious not only in each color and how it combined with the others, but also in the aspirations of the head chef, who dreamed at that moment that the people of this western metropolis would embrace a classic special that day. His dream that today he would witness the present embracing the treasures of days past, this was most certainly her, Connor thought.

    Moving on, Connor came upon a young professional in a black suit shivering as he gulped down drags off of a cigarette in the crisp winter air. Again his thoughts drifted to the man enjoying an after-dinner smoke in Osaka. This boy did little more than fight to inhale his habit. There was no honor in how this child choked down this cigarette. Like a filthy addict in a bathroom, tearing at the thick chord around his bicep with his teeth, he crouched, hoping paradoxically that both no one and someone would see him in this, his ideal depiction of style. Ceremoniously there he stood, at the foot of a broad stairway leading to the door of yet another one of the modern cathedrals to the all-powerful plastic god of interest rates, sure that someday this would all be a distant memory – all the while unaware that this would actually be a time that, someday, would be reminisced over as one of the glory days.

 

    A few nights before, Connor had bowed when thanking the cashier at a convenience store. It was hard to say if this courtesy was ingrained in him from his short time in Asia or if it was a code meant to find someone, anyone who understood the changes he'd undergone. In any event, at $5.65 an hour, the girl – Rachel – probably thought it more likely that Connor was having a muscle spasm than that he'd had a life-changing event in his recent past. Connor stopped himself. Two long months wasn't actually all that recent. But to him, it was an open wound which hadn't started to heal. Though, to be fair, Connor had done little to aid recovery and much to nurture small glimmers of hope.

    In the days directly after Connor had left Osaka, he'd called Maruko's mobile number more than perhaps he should have. In any event, she had eventually answered. She was cold, numb and calculated. Still, he heard a pain in her that overwhelmed the hatred. In this torment, an emotion which represents the struggle between somewhere not yet reached and somewhere not yet left behind, Connor had seen a reason to believe. The path which she was trekking across may have been long, but he could sense a motion in Maruko that didn't allow him to relinquish hope. He thanked God that he had been wise enough to acknowledge that he had no right to speak to her at that time. But, he had asked if he could please at least give her an email address, just in case she was ever ready to talk.

    The few months between then and now had passed like years, but Connor was sorting through his life at home anyhow. First, there had been the not-too-small order of calling a time of death on his and Audrey's relationship. As soon as he'd returned to L.A., Audrey and he had spoken. What was unexpected was that they hadn't just talked either; they had really, openly spoken and listened to one another. The issue wasn't Connor's inner-pain because her call had ruined his evening with Maruko. This was after all something he should have been more forthright with. He did have something unfinished at home when he'd left for Osaka and his inability to slow he and Maruko to a point where he could introduce these facts about his life made the fault certainly at least partially his. All in all, as Connor reflected on how Osaka had made him feel, it was just that: that he had felt it. This was what had been missing from he and Audrey's relationship and he now knew, through one week of joy and through the unnervingly raw pain which had followed, what it was to be alive. This new commitment to living would mean, and had already meant, being present to experience glory or ache.

Knowing what he now saw, he had told Audrey that he just couldn't fix whatever there was to mend if all that would do is revive something that had never felt right; something which had never had much feeling in it at all. He knew that she deserved to be happy, but so did he and for now, that meant the freedom and the space to be sad; very, very sad. Audrey hadn't put up much of a fight. For a few weeks they had tried to see if there was anything there and for another four she had said she would move out. As the ending came more into focus, this threat of her leaving had become a promise. Finally, like the last of ten million breaths, she had gone without much fanfare at all.

Chapter 6: Smoke and pivots

    

    They hailed a cab and Maruko asked the driver in Japanese to take them back to Namba. The club which was named Smoke was actually very near to where they had first met in the maze that had been Connor's first impression of Japan what seemed like a lifetime ago.

    Maruko had been to these clubs before, she loved to dance. Still, this made it all different. She was in danger of allowing protocol and correctness to take this moment from her. She felt compelled to declare to Connor that she was, in fact, his. So it was here, moments before they exited the taxi that she decided to honor her prayer from that morning. Her oath to Hinata in mind, she would allow this evening to happen; she would not live in fear of tomorrow.

    The hour had progressed to the point where Namba felt a little less alive at street level than it had in nights past. This all changed as they walked up the narrow staircase which served as the entrance to the club. With each step they took, the whole world around them transformed. From halfway up the stairs, it felt like the walls around them were breathing as the heat and thud of pulsing base came from inside the doors. Every sensory reaction, everything which had been bound by their gentle dancing around these feelings, bloomed all around them like a flower in spring.

    As they stood at the coat check waiting to disrobe, the feelings of desire and curiosity which promised to soon be confronted began to intensify inside both of them. They both had a feeling that they had waited for something like this for so long that this unveiling was earned and something which they had been destined to receive.

Connor picked up a red matchbook off of a stack where they had been amassed off to the side of the counter. It was adorned in ornate gold Japanese lettering.

    "Kind of ironic," Maruko leaned in with a smirk as she read the writing for Connor, "matches which say 'Smoke.'"

    Connor chuckled and tucked the memento into his jacket pocket before taking it off and handing it to the girl at the counter.

    The song changed and Maruko's eyes shot towards the ceiling in recognition, "Ooh, this is Susumu Yokota," she purred.

    "It's cool," Connor started to respond. He wondered if he didn't almost feel a little bit relieved to have something new to dissect in their familiar tit for tat way. "The rhythms are almost tribal in a way…"

    "Shhh," Maruko leaned in and firmly planted her soft lips upon his own unsuspecting mouth before pulling away again to keep it at just one kiss. "I know, really I do, but here," she looked deep into his eyes and whispered smoothly, "maybe we don't need to talk as much, K?"

    Had she searched Connor's eyes for approval, she would have found that and more. But, true to her plea, and befitting the small fears she was so intent on releasing to the wind, she had already moved more towards the dance floor, if he had approved, she figured, then he'd still be behind her when she turned around. Violins soared into a mix of beats and rolling drums which then came crashing onto themselves; if it hadn't been for the need to move, Connor never would have again.

    Maruko turned to face him and the confirmation she had silently sought was written all across the star crossed look upon his face. As she danced towards him, the room seemed her stage. It was as if wherever she went, the room parted to make way for her. All the others in the room formed one faceless mass. They rhythmically moved together to the room's beat, but Maruko, long and slender, yet strong and focal, her every move declared her desire to be free of any confinement. It was as if everyone around her was restricted in their actions by whatever the music offered, but Maruko was not in any way so restrained. Her movements displayed the freedom she had pleaded with herself to release this very night. Furthermore, it was as if these beats were hers, they were dancing to her. Beads of sweat illuminated upon her skin as she pivoted on the ball of her foot.

    The pivot froze Connor for a moment. This sea of madness and still, Connor found himself thinking, she toe stepped to and fro like none of it was there. Connor rebuked himself for thinking too much. Don't think; just allow it to happen, he told himself. The time for thinking, like she'd suggested for talking, had been left outside. Here, it was all he could do to react. Connor recognized this recent pivot as the same which had threatened to take her from him only days before in the record store; a lifetime ago when all she was to him was a scent and a promise. Here of course, that same pivot only brought her closer to him. The lights exploded royal blue from a projector on the ceiling and the whole crowd was covered by the fan of light.

 

    The night passed and they were constantly dancing. Whether on the floor or on the couch they melted into while taking a rest and having a drink or two, still they danced. Maruko moved her torso side to side and matched the count with her chin. Connor, bewildered and yet very much present amidst this night devoted to emotion and reaction, moved along too, watching her and only looking away each time she threatened to catch him with all of this intent in his eyes.

    From the classic village sounds, the music segued into an offering of xylophones and jungle drums.

    "There's something different," he mused sarcastically.

    "Also Japanese," she smiled, "in fact, also Susumo Yokota. You're surprised?"

    "I guess I figured that Japanese club music was all," Connor's eyes got big and he made a gesture with his hands as if he were calling for the ball in a basketball game, "the club... a 'jungle vibe,' not a jungle vibe."

    Maruko giggled, "Well yeah, you know this is part of our past as well, the shamanistic portions of our history are also very important. We in Japan like to incorporate the old and new into one."

    "Now THAT," Connor replied, "I am quickly learning about this place." Learning it indeed, he thought to himself. Everything here was harmonious juxtaposition. Whether a collection of art, simple yet profound, housed within a glass and steel temple or an Indian restaurant amidst the Japanese neon fog; this place was constantly both sides of the coin. Or was it, he paused, the tour guide? She was for him a lens turned looking glass. He was no longer interested in only looking through her, but rather in never looking at things without her aid again. This antique capable of cutting straight to tomorrow, this time machine wanting only to return to the origin of it all was fast becoming much more than an accessory to anything in his life which had been normal.

    Connor paused and looked up at Maruko who'd wandered out to begin dancing away from him and into the crowd once again. How many days and how many nights would he sit chewing on each minute memory from this week, savoring each last taste in search of one more stimulus? How many sleepless nights would he spend thinking all of this through once he was forced to return home without her? Just tonight, he repeated to himself, give yourself to this for tonight. Dance tonight, just you and this cherry blossom dream.

    The music changed again, this time to more the ambient flow of earlier in the evening. The mood drew Connor's attention once again to the beads of sweat forming along Maruko's neck line. He ran his hand along her side, resting it right above her hip bone and with the slightest flex of a fingertip, drew her nearer. Maruko lowered her arms and immediately moved to fit within Connor's frame. Suddenly, all he could think was of what it would be like to lay in bed with her, their bodies complementing one another's each and every bend and curve. In mere moments they were moving as one upon the floor. Tossing back her damp hair, Maruko looked up into Connor's eyes. With a common gaze which they shared for a few extra moments, each confided to the other how utterly thrilling and terrifying it was to be in this place together. Connor squinted slightly to focus even more on the eyes which were staring back up at him. He gave a gentle nod as if to reassure any doubts she may have been experiencing at that moment. Maruko, barely biting the inside of her lip, acknowledged with one extraordinarily deliberate batting of her eyelids that she too was here, in a place so far in the future and yet so very, very in this moment.

 

    As another song reached higher peaks, like a once abandoned orgasm, the escalation began again. As beats percolated, the only bubbles were Connor's occasional worry. He couldn't help but reflect once more on how Maruko had gone, in a few hours time, from an amazing addition to his life to something that he felt a need for. He could no longer imagine leaving her. He tried not to think about it all at that moment, there would be time for that, but he was now more confident than ever that these were decisions that would have to be made, if she'd have him. If she'd have him; it was this most recent concession that truly had him terrified. They were, he had felt, a fragile balance. Or were they more like the Enso, he wondered. Were they a circle whose beginning, though recognizable, had only been the beginning of something continuous, the continuation of something previous? Was there even, he asked himself, a point to fighting it? He of course didn't want to fight against it, but he did wish to have some amount of control in it all. If what they had discovered had been there before this night, would it remain tomorrow still?

    Enough, he all but shouted at himself as his thoughts and steps drifted away from her, there would be time for all of that. He pleaded with himself to re-engage this moment and this girl in front of him. He moved towards her shaking the cuffs of his shirt back off his sweaty forearms where they had begun to creep up. He moved into her, steadying himself to what still seemed like her beats. As they danced, fittingly making small turns in circles, emulating those circles which, so clearly, all of this had been ignited by, he began to wonder if perhaps she was the completion of his Enso. Was he then the completion of hers as well?

 

    It wasn't long until no one would have known the beginning or the end of either of them apart from the other. Their bodies throbbing, they both suddenly felt a longing for the speaking which had brought them together initially. Eager to fill this void, they returned to the couches again. Maruko's fatigue quickly dissipated, but she didn't use her energy to hold herself up. Instead, she leaned into him all the more.

    "We met right around the corner from here," she said.

    "Yeah, I know, I had been out walking that night, wanted to find something to do near my hotel."

    "Well, I'm glad it led you to that store, for sure."

    "OK, honestly, do you even remember seeing me there?" Connor asked.

    "Umm, well of course," Maruko giggled, "but then how much do you really remember seeing me there?"

    "Every," he craned away and made eye contact, "detail. I remember a bag, here," he gestured to the hand which had carried the shopping back. "A phone here, which you switched from hand to hand when you looked for the CD you later told me you had bought for rehearsal."

    "Wow," Maruko blushed, "It is fun, even (or especially) when someone talks as much as I do, to have someone listen, but to have someone truly hear you? That is something different; pure flattery. Thank you."

    He leaned in and again they kissed, this time it was slower and more than once in succession. Maruko pulled back, a million thoughts were swimming in her head at once. Decisively, she made her choice. She knew which option needed to win for tonight and told herself that only this one thought would be allowed any power from this moment forward.

    "We should probably get going," she said.

    "OK, yeah, for sure," Connor wasn't sure what had happened, but suddenly the room felt colder. Had that been it? Now as before, it was as if there was a stopwatch in the corner of every picture of them in his mind.

    They moved swiftly to retrieve their coats and started to shuffle back down the stairs. Maruko walked a step in front of Connor which not only made her seem even shorter than she was, but also gave the impression of her getting away. Suddenly, while he was still standing on the last step she stopped and turned to face him at the foot of the steep staircase.

"So you can walk to your room from here," she stated while looking up at him.

    "Yeah, but I can wait with you, too. Were you going to catch a taxi at this...?"

    He was stopped by her look. He had, as people so often do when nervous, looked away and spoken to the air while preparing himself for a goodbye, and ending, which he had no desire to begin. When he looked back at her, she was staring right at him. Nods and glances, innuendo and light touching on one another's waist and arms; a game of nonverbal truth or dare ensued. Neither blinked, and so it was that as they left the club, both knew where they were heading.

    "Yeah," Connor finally felt the need to say it, just to make sure that it hadn't been residual magic from the club talking, "we can walk there from here."

 

    He held her hand and they walked the few short blocks back to his Hotel. Namba had a second life at this hour. It seemed that they weren't the only ones who had left a club at that moment. The shopping arcade held all manners of the walking half-asleep. All around them restaurant windows were lined with a decidedly younger clientele then may have occupied them during more normal dining hours. Connor knew this area which led to the hotel like the back of his hand after the past week, but it still felt entirely new to him in this moment. It wasn't just that he hadn't walked to his room with Maruko before it was that he truly hadn't seen enough of a genuine possibility of this happening to construct such a fantasy. What they would be doing shortly, that he may have allowed his mind to wander to, but this, their entrance together, was delightfully novel to him.     

They laughed from mutual nervousness as they stumbled up the steps to the hotel. Connor really hadn't done this in a very long time. Maruko hadn't either, though she was also not totally foreign to this aspect of relation. Certainly there hadn't been these details before. This, what they were about to do, felt completely appropriate and necessary, like the way any couple would explore one another. This was not a hook up, it was not a simple… Even considering some of the terms others may have used felt metallic and vile as Connor chewed over them, but then that was the point. Nothing about this would be anything like that. No matter the perceptions of others, this would be something the furthest extent from anything so banal, selfish or detached.

    "I'm going to get water from the little store over there," Maruko gestured to her right and darted across the lobby. Connor stood idly in the entryway waiting and was greeted by the friendly, portly night-doorman.

    "Ah, sir, good evening," the doorman said with a smile.

    Connor smiled a broad grin and responded with a slow and exaggerated nod of his head, "Yes, yes it is."

    "Sir," the doorman continued, having missed the play on words, "you had some calls while you were away. I knew you wanted me to deliver them to you so that you wouldn't miss anything important."

    "Oh? Yes, exactly, thank you." Had Connor received a gift, he wondered? All he could pray was that Ken was going to extend his stay. Another forty years might do it, he thought.

    The doorman fumbled through a collection of notes which were all written inside of a leather-bound spiral notebook. Finally, he stopped on a page and recognition shown in his eyes before he continued, "Yes, sorry sir, here is it, a Ms. Audrey, she called more than once actually."

    Connor's face was ashen and he couldn't stop the doorman fast enough.

    "She said that, wait, I have it here, that she really wanted to discuss your most recent talk again before you returned home and that she truly has had time to think about your relationship and what each of you mean to each other. She ended by saying that she is excited to talk to you soon about your future together."

 

    Connor felt his jaw tighten and swallowed hard before turning to see Maruko standing only a foot behind him. She looked directly through him. Fair Maruko, only moments before made of blossoms and silk, now stood stoically as if a photo of a gravestone, taken in black and white. She squeezed her lips together tightly, exhaled through her nose and nodded slowly before spinning and walking away.

    "Maruko, wait!" Connor pleaded.

    But it was no use, she reached the door, opened it and with one more pivot, she was gone.

Chapter 6: Gita

He reached out and opened the door and the rich smells and sounds of an Indian city exploded out at them, fighting Osaka for each inch of ground.

    "Welcome to Gita," said the hostess who was neatly dressed in a starched white shirt and embroidered vest. She spoke in the overly-articulated English which Japan was recognizable by as she ushered them in, "two tonight?"

    Connor nodded, thanked her and gave his name.

    "There's a bit of a wait," she said in English before looking down quickly at the host stand. Suddenly the slightest bit flustered, the young girl's eyes darted from side to side before she turned to Maruko, gestured towards a room lit softly in oranges and reds and continued in Japanese, "please feel free to get a cocktail in the lounge or perhaps peruse our artwork."

    The tables in the lounge were arranged neatly into small groupings and each was lit with candles. Across the room was a long bar. Still, few sat. Most roamed around the room. Along the walls hung ancient Hindu manuscripts and tapestries; each mounted on silk.

    "Hence the name," Connor whispered to Maruko in the soft light- how he wanted to place a kiss upon her cheek. "These are from the Bhagavad Gita, one of ancient India's most cherished stories. Here, let's start over here."

    They mulled about, moving past numerous tapestries, each depicting a scene from one of the text's eighteen chapters. Below each tapestry was a placard which held two to four lines from that accompanying verse.

    "Each chapter was called a yoga," Connor began, "note the flexibility of the paper." He halted and, noting a small giggle from Maruko, backtracked like a late-night talk show host. "Right, you see, flexible, like a person who does... OK," he abandoned ship and started again. "Each is called a yoga, a meditation on one aspect of this world's relationship with the Eternal." Connor looked to Maruko not because he wondered if she could keep up, but because he could not believe that anything he'd learned in college, even if it had been at Dartmouth, might be enough to earn the attention of this wonderful creature. "We're beginning with pictures from the brink of battle, a battle between this world and that Other and as we learn, we move further away from that imminent destruction. Each step closer to the origin of it all is further from any concern of this moment."

    "The colors are beautiful," Maruko responded, and indeed they were. Vibrant reds and greens mixed with startling gold and the blue of Krishna's skin. "This is great," she began again, making sure she hadn't frozen him or trivialized his lesson, "go on, K?"

While each tapestry depicted a different scene, they shared many common features. Here was Arjuna, Earthly prince. He stood, or more often knelt, in golden breast plate and sleeves. He wore a gold helmet in the shape of an egg. Beneath his armor, he wore a flowing silk robe in white. In all of the scenes, he appeared young, strong and handsome, with a full mustache. Without exception, he always held his attention directly on Krishna.

    Krishna was pictured as a beautiful young boy with varying shades of blue skin. He was younger than the earthly prince and no larger or taller. He wore flowing robes, tangerine in color. Around his neck were pearls and garlands and often he wore earrings. On each bicep and wrist he wore rings and bracelets made of gold. In many scenes, he played a flute, while in others he seemed to be giving instruction to all present, each of whom were totally captivated.

    Connor and Maruko's eyes were drawn to one of the placards which read:

Come to me alone for refuge

Abandoning all things of law,

And have no fear, from every ill

I shall release you ever more.

The tapestry above the reading showed Arjuna sitting in his golden chariot with his hands clasped in prayer to Krishna. Krishna stood almost casually for the sermon he'd just uttered inside the foot of Arjuna's chariot. Behind Krishna were depictions of many other Hindu God-heads with Siva featuring prominently.

    "I don't think he's saying worship me," Maruko observed with wonder in her voice, "It's more that he is speaking for all gods and, whereas I know I can get lost in who I am praying to, He wants to assure Arjuna of the safety in looking only to him.

    Connor smiled and agreed, "You know, it does look like a peaceful gathering of many gods. From my western influence, I'd have read that more as a warning: 'Come to ME alone!'" Connor paused to underscore the word alone, "Arjuna felt forced," he continued, "to fight a war that would kill family and friends on both sides. He told Krishna he would not fight."

    "I wonder," Maruko questioned both the tapestry and Connor, "if this was Krishna saying, 'it's OK, don't worry about what you've been required to do?'"

    Connor shook his head and a suppressed grin broke out across his lips, "That's one of the main things about this teaching really, is no, Krishna was very clear that the world's natural flow needed for this action to occur. Maybe he was relieving Arjuna from guilt or from thinking too much about it, but the action was stressed as absolutely necessary."

    "The cycle of life; it's kind of like our samurai on the screen."

    "Exactly!" Connor reacted excitedly; this being the second time that night that the image of their determined samurai had made an appearance. "That's why I smiled actually. Arjuna's duty, the need for a right confrontation to occur, is exactly like the conflict you taught me about at the castle.

    "And have no fear," Maruko seamlessly moved to the next portion of the reading, "I shall release you evermore.

    "Hmm," Maruko continued. "The Buddhist thoughts that have so shaped Japan are descendant from Hinduism. Hindus believe in rebirth. Perhaps Krishna was promising Arjuna a release from some crap rebirth as a saddle or something."

    "Crap rebirth?" Connor tried to contain his laughter as he repeated her words. "A crap rebirth… I'm not sure even Krishna could have said it that eloquently, but I could see someone wanting to avoid that!"

They both laughed together before suddenly becoming aware once again that they were not alone. They tried to suppress their reaction and moved towards the next tapestry. It showed a gentler looking Krishna; pudgier and in a pink sarong. He was playing a flute near an enormous tree, surrounded by birds and flowers in pinks and yellows. It was accompanied by a card, which read:

This fig tree then with roots so firmly grown,

Detachment's mighty ax must cut it down

Then one should seek the place to which they go

And having found return no more below...

Maruko looked at the card and began reread it, this time out loud, "This fig tree then with roots so firmly grown. Mighty detachment's ax must cut it down." Silent, her eyes returned to the tree. It was enormous and everything underneath it was rich and full of life.

    "Look at how much life has grown on, under or around this tree," Connor observed, "Hindu detachment stated that to be bound to this world would prevent one from reaching the next and that, no matter how beautiful this life might be, would be unthinkable."

    "Connor, look at the rest of the tapestry," Maruko said, gesturing at how the tree was placed in the center of an otherwise empty page.

    "Maybe," Maruko began cautiously, "all of this empty space is meant as part of the lesson. Maybe it's that while under the safety of this tree, none of the beauty can share itself with the outside world. Look at all of these things, so many things marvelously blessed to grow under this mighty umbrella."

    "Kind of like Japan," Connor offered, trying to make sure that his thinking was aligned to hers.

    "Yeah, exactly. We have so much to share, yet we allow so little of it to escape. The tree, our home, is so safe and so warm; we grow our roots deep in its shade. But if we stay here forever, helping only our own (and what a great life that might be)… if we did that, who would really benefit?"

    "Oh come on though, so many people benefit from the art, the food, the culture. I know that I'm blown away by this place!"

    "Yes, but you oh pale one," Maruko mockingly lowered her head and placed her hand along his cheek, "You came to us from outside of our tree. Please note who did the moving, the tree didn't come to you, you ventured to it. I'm really glad you did," she giggled before continuing, "but you understand, right?"

    Connor grinned and nodded, "so you believe that to truly experience the beauty that life here has afforded you..."

    Maruko finished his sentence, "I must share Japan with those who do not currently reside beneath our shade."

    "That's a wonderful gift, Maruko." This was all that Connor could say; any other words would have given him away. He feared and welcomed that he was quite sure to be falling in love with this girl.

 

    The hostess called their names and showed these two, they whose body language announced for all to see that they were quickly becoming a couple, to a corner table.