Mitchell's Story Pt 5

Why see a therapist anyway? Maybe I didn't need it! Ha ha!

I talked to a friend of Akemi, slightly strange guy. You never knew what he was thinking. Nice guy, just his eyes always seemed to be looking elsewhere even when they were pointed at you.

"So you like Asian women," he said to me. It was a question. Explanation wanted. He grinned in his covert way, eyes and other parts of his face seeming to say different things.

He was heavy-set, not overweight or musclebound, far from it, but thick, puffy about his face and limbs. Had his hair parted far to one side so it fanned across, faintly Hitler-like. He wore neat clothing, dark slacks and lightweight bomber-style jacket that managed to look slovenly on him- maybe a size too big. Loose fabric from his pants, smooth and thick, gathered at his ankles. Your eyes really didn't really want to go there.

I answered readily, had nothing to hide, was used to this. "Yeah. I guess I have a thing for them. Fortunately I like them in a healthy way." I laughed.

So did he.

"What does that mean?" He didn't open his mouth much when he spoke. Maybe embarrassed about his English, trying not to be heard too clearly in case there were mistakes. He got his gist across all right.

"I mean, I'm a fairly normal guy. Mild-mannered. Likable. Ha ha. I realize that's the type you have to watch out for!"

Clearly curious. Maybe he thought I liked Asian women because I thought they were weaker, I could overpower them, escape my own weakness I felt with American women. I don't think that's how I saw things. Did I?

I just liked the bitches. Ha ha! Sorry. Stupid word. I'm using it for humorous effect.

Maybe he was an Asian guy who resented Western men with his women. Some did, I know. Though he was friendly enough, almost too much. His smile kept beaming on again when I tried to interpose, ask him something. He put his questions first.

"Maybe one day I'll be reading a magazine and there'll be an article about you. It'll have turned out you kidnapped, raped, murdered."

Not a direct quote. His English isn't that good. I got the drift.

He turned to look at me directly and laughed but his eyes didn't. They penetrated. I guess that's how some people show humor.

"Ha ha. Anyway, I can control my impulses." I laughed again.

"Why do people do rape?"

He asked for my take. It happens I had one. I've given the problem some thought, as it's affected people I know.

"Well-"

He didn't wait to hear my ideas after all, presented his own before I could speak.

"They like a woman but she doesn't feel the same, isn't hot for him as he wants. So he forces the issue.."

I was ready to correct, act on my teacher's impulse: "That's one way, but there are others. A guy may want to feel powerful, a guy who's weak, get a jolt of power. And it might be about control. For some it's just opportunistic, I guess."

Too much for him to take in, I decided, instead said, "And in this political climate, sort of fascist dictatorship, rape is probably more prevalent. Guys thinking they can do whatever the fuck they want."

I heard my voice rise in anger at the thought. So did he. His eyes flashed, as if thinking, "Aha! I've found something! You're not so mild-mannered after all." I'm not. Fucking Akemi is partly about power for sure, though in a good way, I like to believe- at least so Grace assures me.

"Do you think so?"

He isn't from here, of course, so doesn't know, at least doesn't fully understand, the political situation. His eyes opened wide again, genuinely questioning. For a moment he looked more normal, even likable.

We found a video online about rape, educational one. It showed at the beginning, only part we bothered with, someone being accosted in a store- convenience store it looked like. You saw figures clearly, dressed in light blue, from outside through the glass front door set at an angle to a parking lot. The place might have just shut for the night. A uniformed employee approached the person, their back against the door now locked. They couldn't get away. Then another came. There were two assailants. The person would be overwhelmed. They too wore a uniform, light blue smock, almost like a lab coat. Maybe they were also employed in the store, all three of them young part-time workers. The interior was well-lit, lights on though it was early evening, outdoors not dark yet (Turned out that place was far north so the hour might have been later than it looked. Midnight sun deal).

Then we realized the one under attack was a man and the assailants pressing in on him, one behind the other, both women. They all had short blond hair so their gender wasn't clear at first. The video was from Scandinavia. Count on the Nordics to be politically correct. Sometimes they go overboard, I think. Aren't the great majority of rapes committed by men against women or at least again other men? Women raping men is probably pretty rare.

Akemi's friend seemed intent on plying me for information, finding out what made me tick. As I said, you never knew what he was thinking. That type is more common in Japan than here. He was obviously mystified about my yen (no pun intended) for Asian women. So was I. That's not the reason I was in therapy, though. It wasn't about our marriage. I'd started well before Akemi and I met. It was about me.

Akemi, by the way, finds the idea of therapy strange, though she accepted, encourage my involvement ("If that's what you want"; the expense made her wrinkle her brow). She understands we're different. She's not from a culture like mine that's all about me, me, me all the time. In Japan people actually focus on community, are pretty good at taking into account the concerns of those around them- though I found some cold, strange, like that friend of Akemi's seemingly fixated on mayhem and fascinated by Westerners, maybe resentful  of us. Something odd showed in his eyes, his manner, the smiles small and large. Guy hard to read, I'll repeat again.

Looked like he could use therapy.

So why was I in it?

--

Part Two. Two parts today.

Miss one payment, no big whoop, but let things slide and you can find yourself with a debt hard to pay down. Believe me. I've been there. I don't want to exploit Grace's kindness. I doubt she'd complain but that's not the point. Doing what's honorable is. After all, Grace hears out my most personal revelations. I take her into my confidence, trust her. The thing has to be reciprocal. Otherwise, who am I? What kind of person? I tell Grace some shocking stuff and she reassures me with her warm words and knowing smiles that they don't mean I'm a lout or a danger, as I sometimes have wondered. But for those revelations to really carry only a benign import they need to exist in a certain framework, don't they, that of a decent character? Otherwise they're not worth her time, I'm not worth listening to.

As to this writing, well, it isn't psychotherapy. It's different, begun at the suggestion of Akemi. There's no purpose, no transaction.

Another class awaited me after the session. I had to get back to the college but didn't mind, was feeling light, unburdened, good about the world as usual following meetings with Grace- all the talking I do isn't exhausting but has a cathartic effect for sure, lightens the emotions as sustained physical exertion- say, a long run at the gym- leaves you buoyant physically, I arrived at my job ready to knock the students out.

First an appointment to keep- well, not really an appointment, more like a date to make one. Akemi and I were agreed to see each other in the cafeteria that afternoon for the purpose of deciding when to get together later, likely candidate local Greek restaurant where we'd grab a bite, start to unwind for the night.

Quick kiss on the cheek and then off to my class and she wherever she was going.

I found Akemi at a table with other students, seated and standing, and among the latter was a young woman from a recent course with whom I've been carrying on a flirtation for a while, the kind of thing that sustains with no certainty where if anywhere it might go. The assumption is that nothing will happen between us but there are possibilities nice to entertain. We both get something, though it might not be equal. After all, I'm married, in the middle of my life, and she's just twenty or twenty-two (I forget which; maybe I don't want to know!) and only starting out. Our viewpoints are obviously different, as are Akemi's and mine, and in this case there's a danger. It's not impossible though unlikely Rachel looks on this thing we have going more seriously than I do.