Mitchell's Story Pt 16 return trip

After the trip to Japan in November, I said I wished I understood the country better. I reflected on my failure to deepen that knowledge.

Akemi also had some reflecting to do. "You've heard of nozokima and torima?"

Japanese words for criminal types, the former a peeping Tom and the latter someone who commits random street attacks.

"Ma" at the end of both words means "demon." "Nozoku" is the verb for peeping and "tori" is street.

"This is like shakkinma," Akemi continued.

Debt demon. Maybe she invented that on the spot.

Shakkin equals debt. 借金. A lot of Japanese have a problem with it, more than Americans, I think, because Japanese want to keep up appearances even if low on money, so they borrow.

This was different. Someone had become habituated to the borrowing itself. I guess there are people who start taking loans for a specific need and find they enjoy it, it becomes a kind of compulsion.

The person in question isn't a friend but an acquaintance associated with her group of friends. He came here to live a few years ago and has, it seems, kept up old bad habits despite change of place.

Japanese- Asians- have trouble with gambling and debts incurred from it. Americans, Westerners do too, but not anyone I know. This wasn't Akemi herself, of course, but somebody in her world, therefore close and visible.

His trouble went beyond the usual.

I'd met Kazuo, small on the stocky side with dyed bushy blond hair. You'd never think he was in a bad way from looking at him.

"At first it was just a game," Akemi said. "Only borrowing from friends." To support his gambling, which, unknown to them, was raging out of control.

"Then it got serious. He couldn't pay back. No one knew at first. Then everyone did."

She'd also lent him some money, she said (this is what prompted the reflection I mentioned).

Fortunately it wasn't serious for Akemi. She lost only a little cash. The guy had effectively built a pyramid, borrowing and paying off as the thing rose higher and higher. Akemi had gotten in near the end, shortly before the collapse. But the trouble was serious for Kazuo.   Would change his life. He might end up in prison.

It didn't bother me that Akemi had let herself get mixed up in that, be taken advantage of by a schemer. Instead, I thought well of her for generously giving to a friend- friend of friends, not an actual friend, really, only someone she knew. This seemed to me to reflect her kind character.

I felt for the guy in that fix, Kazuo. Even if he was a fool, no one deserves to have the world come down around them. From Akemi's account, it seemed he had not acted out of malice, if anything was an innocent, just caught up by feelings he couldn't control. Gambling probably gave him a sense of nourishment- emotional, I mean, or even spiritual, like people derive from any addiction. False nourishment to be sure. His appetite, wish to fill some emptiness in himself had led to a real hole he'd need years to climb back out of.

"Let's fuck," Akemi said when we were alone. Dressed in black. Her hair black. Her lips dark. I really wanted it, had been waiting while with her friends that night.

Did she want to hurry? From the sound of it, she meant for us to start right away. She was being deliberately shocking, funny. Her use of the word "fuck" made that clear.

By the window. Not standing. In motion. A little buzzed from the night energy. I liked hers.

"Let's do some foreplay first," I said. "Especially for you."

Men don't need it, after all.

"Yes." Akemi didn't object, of course. "Then we'll be really ready," she said.

It was going to be so good. I put my hand between her legs. We stood leaning back against the drapes drawn across the picture window in the hotel room, view outside of darkness, lights scattered within it like stars. They were from cars. A parking lot extended from the hotel entrance into the fresh night air away from the city. The dark looked really dark, near black, bright lively darkness brought to a peak of intensity by those lights. The more you look at a light the deeper the darker around it looks, of course. Not that we were looking. We'd just glanced. The drapes were closed. Dark maroon color, synthetic fabric with a sheen, not the kind of thing you'd want to touch- when had it last been cleaned? We saw through an opening behind me on our right, where my hand braced against the window frame, aluminum or whatever, supporting myself. Akemi had the support of the window but standing in front of her I didn't and to maintain balance had to keep my arm extended. I suppose it was a little dangerous applying our weight against the glass, but there seemed little chance of it giving way and sending us into free fall.

Akemi: "I wanna touch you so much you're ready to come the moment you're inside me but you control. We wait and we enjoy so much, so long!

"You make me so wet you slide in like it's nothing. But it's something! I feel you! So hard!

"I hear your voice shaking, desire like anger. You fuck me! On top. Your weight. Your muscles. Your shoulders, your back, your waist."

--

Back in town after the long flight Akemi and I stood on a street corner in midtown, lively place with skyscrapers surrounded by esplanades, breathing the good open air of the city at its industrious, forward-looking best, and for a moment took in the scene.

"It looks fresh, the colors look different, after the long trip," Akemi said. I agreed, adding, "It actually looks good." I badmouth my hometown a lot, so was surprised and pleased to acknowledge my positive reaction. The people did look good, nearly as healthy as if they lived in the countryside instead, clear-complexioned, with fresh color, though if you looked at the buildings you saw they weren't in such great condition compared to those in Japan where it seemed more regular care was given to upkeep. American buildings in urban settings at least didn't bear close inspection. You saw cracks, frays, signs of neglect.

A friend from high school said the colors of New York on return from a trip far away reminded him of those he saw on psychedelics during high school. He was still thinking as in high school, in some respects at least hadn't grown past that. It was a period of his life he liked, as I hadn't.

Akemi and I were going to meet my brother Thomas soon (he'd gone to the same high school) and I thought: Looking at Akemi's breasts he'll understand why I like being with her.

I recalled Akemi saying about something, "It's as real as my hair is black." Funny the thoughts that come after traveling from one continent to another, the body arrived but the mind not quite, thoughts jumping around in a search to get settled. Akemi felt it too, was quiet as she took off her shirt, a black and white (silver) one- the pattern in relief, encrusted more or less on the fabric.

It was actually a pleasant disorientation and didn't last. Soon you were back, just living as before, as you would after.

One of the first nights back I dreamed of being high in the sky (maybe this was from the overseas flight and the view of the city we'd had on approach) and seeing a hawk nearby and realizing it was eyeing me (the half eye familiar from photos, unexpected there) and that I should try to look as big as possible so it wouldn't see me as prey- natural, I understood through my fear, that it would look at any animal as prey. The large eye, partially occluded pupil and sharp profile of head and beak made an impression. We were alone up there. It was floating parallel to me, had me in its sights, wasn't fooling around.

I had to think of how to land, to make a safe landing. Apparently I was descending at a speed that would allow one, improbable though that seemed. Should I wait for the ground in the city below or aim for a rooftop on the way?

It seemed I chose the latter. I don't remember but in the dream I got to street level by elevator, one operated by an elevator man, old guy- which is a rare thing in the city now; I felt reassured by his presence, having him in control in case anything went wrong. I've never liked elevators.

Running up a short pedestrian bridge near our place I saw I couldn't easily catch up or pass others, understood I wasn't any longer as young as I liked to think I was.

When my brother Thomas came over we talked about a rock musician (Thomas played rock starting in high school and still does), a well-known guitarist and singer from Thomas' generation who he saw as a peer though of course they'd never met, tall musician, popular one, regarded by people across a wide age range as spokesman for his era. He'd branched out beyond movies, acted in movies, was charismatic.

Thomas said that in an interview the rocker had talked about growing up in the city and mentioned that his childhood included the unfortunate event of being kidnapped at age twelve and the effect it had on his life. He said that from the screams he'd heard in captivity he thought the other people in captivity were also Jewish. Thomas and I had known neither that he'd been kidnapped nor that he was Jewish. That wasn't apparent in his music though must have shaped it some.

My first days back from Japan, I saw a lot of things and in new ways. Travel really opens you.