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.
