Mitchell's Story Pt 23

I arrived late for a Japanese class I was taking. During break, I talked to the teacher, explained I wouldn't be on time the next session either because I was going to see a movie, opportunity open that day only, an art house special showing of a Japanese classic.

"What's the name?" I couldn't remember. "The director.. Oh, right. Kurosawa." I looked at the teacher to see that she recognized my appreciation of her culture, its cinema and more- though I've heard from Akemi that Akira Kurosawa is considered by her compatriots unrepresentative. They say he makes films in the Western tradition. There are more truly Japanese directors, less well-known outside the country.

I told the teacher the screening I meant to see was a one-off for aficionados, fit in very early morning before the regularly scheduled features.

"Eight-thirty. So I can come to class afterward."

The classes ran in two parts, the second starting at ten-thirty a. m. I figured attending half would be better than nothing.

The teacher shook her head, smiled at me from across her desk, said I needn't bother.

"Take two days off," she urged. To my surprise, she regarded my late arrival this morning as one as well. I didn't challenge that, of course. We aren't elementary school children concerned with being "marked absent."

I had another interesting, not to say disturbing dream. In it I saw a woman enter an apartment building, apparently where she lived, carrying two vinyl shopping bags, one hanging from each arm extended at her sides. The bags were bulky, the thin but durable plastic stretched by their weight. You could vaguely see the contents through the cloudy white surfaces. Groceries or laundry. I couldn't tell. I stood across the street facing the large red brick building. The woman was middle-aged, stocky, squat, with bushy hair on the short side, jet black- it might have been dyed. She looked sturdy, as if she had no trouble hefting those heavy-laden sacks.

She disappeared inside the building entrance, an iron grill over the front door, only to appear after a short while on one of the high floors, the balcony of her apartment- or was she on the roof? The dream- anyway, my memory of it- left that unclear.

With a look of determination, clearly acting on a decision already made, she proceeded to drop the bags down the side of the building. They tumbled heavily to the ground, some five or six floors below.

Moments later, as before without hesitation, she herself jumped. You could faintly hear the sound of her landing. Or maybe not.

It looked like she was taking care of things once and for all, not just her existence but the trappings (the "baggage"). She could leave this earth freely, without regrets.

Who was that dream about? It couldn't have been Akemi. The woman looked nothing like her (other than the black of her hair). And Akemi has no reason to commit suicide. Maybe it was Pam, my former girlfriend. Since I've been writing and thinking of her some, guilt feelings have risen to the surface. Did I dream about her killing herself from sorrow about the end of our involvement? A crazy idea if there ever was one. I'm pretty sure Pam has moved on with her own life happily.

In another coincidence, the next day (yesterday) I realized as I started a run that I was still holding the bag full of wet clothes I'd changed out of at the gym. They were on the heavy side. I made up my mind to accept the burden since there was no escaping it. This wasn't so bad, I told myself, could even be of some benefit, as it made the exercise harder, the workout more effective. But the bag was a nuisance. In addition to the weight, the shape bothered me. The thing was unwieldy, cramped my style.

I visited a friend (after dropping the gym bag off at home- get it? "dropped off" like in the dream; what I mean by coincidence). My friend's cat, a dark one, deeper than chocolate color, smoky, was in the living room and as we talked I went over and petted it. That felt like petting Akemi.

I went to the dentist yesterday and found out on arrival that she was having some personal problems, ones involving a relationship important to her. Upset showed in how she talked. There was a erratic quality to her tone. She spoke fast, seemed slightly manic. I wondered if she might have taken a drug to help with the emotional crisis. I felt for her- she and I are friends- but found myself wondering if I should let her work on my teeth in that state.

She announced she was taking some time off, thanked me understanding. It was good she took the initiative and decided to cancel the appointment rather than risk a slip of the drill or what have you. She'd spared me the awkwardness of excusing myself. Yes, we're friends, have known each other a long time. One of my favorite people. I hope she'll be fine and feel pretty sure she will be. She's strong, someone who lands on her feet (reference to that dream again!)

I found another dentist. There was scheduling trouble. I was in the waiting room when the receptionist told me my appointment couldn't take place as scheduled. Someone else had called with an emergency. There'd been a mix-up. I couldn't quite follow the receptionist's explanation. She didn't speak English well and I guess I was too annoyed to listen patiently. All that came through was that I had to leave a second dentist's office where I'd thought I had an appointment.

I asked to speak with the dentist himself, urging him to fit me in since I'd gone to the trouble of coming there.

He repeated the receptionist's reasons for the change but when I persisted he said, "If the next person hasn't come yet, we can try, at least make a start." I looked around at the others in the waiting room with me.

"What's the next patient's name?" I asked the dentist on the phone from his examining room. He said Jim. I missed the last name.

"Is anyone here named Jim?" I asked in a loud voice.

A guy with sandy curly hair, a square face and garrulous manner leaned forward from his chair and said, "I'm Jim." He responded to me in a friendly way, not aware I was trying to take his place, cause inconvenience to him rather than myself.

He looked so agreeable I couldn't act aggressively, instead accepted the lost appointment. I asked the dentist, still on the phone, when I could come again. He checked with the receptionist and said, "Thursday." That was three days off. I'd hoped they'd fit me in earlier, even at the cost of some trouble to themselves, given the mistake they'd made.

The dentist insisted it would have to be Thursday and said goodbye, impatiently. I stopped him.

"Thursday what time?"

The dentist sounded exasperated by my keeping him on the line, as if he found my question stupid, felt the answer should be as evident to me as it was to him. It wasn't, of course.

He must have been tired, maybe was in the middle of a rough day.

"I have to know," I said in my defense.

"Four o'clock."

"Four o'clock?"

...

"There's nothing earlier?" I like to come in the mornings, when waits are usually shorter.

"Four is the only time available on Thursday."

He made it sound as if just a single appointment existed on that day. Of course, he'd meant nothing of the kind. I guess I too was fatigued, not thinking clearly.

When I got home, I caressed and sucked Akemi's tits. She was surprised again at my sudden focus there. To get to her chest I had to approach from the bottom, pull up the teeshirt she had on, a dark blue one for around the house. For some reason I'd hoped to gain access to her breasts from the top- I guess because that would keep me closer to her face- I'd started that way but saw it would require stretching the collar of her teeshirt out of shape, maybe for good.

It occurred to me my action was like that of an infant nursing. To make it different, I played with my tongue a bit, but sucking was what I really wanted, kissing and manhandling.

I was once in a foreign country and saw a baby animal native to the place cross a street, running on thin legs to suck the nipple of another, presumably its mother, as a man stood by who knew them both (seemed to, at least; he lived there). The infant looked so different from the adult as to appear another species, which made the image even more interesting. Also local- not like animals at home, almost hen-like, if the hen were wild and a mammal- it had mottled grey fur- speckled a better word- suggestive of feathers, the downy kind, and the spindly legs I mentioned made its hurried gait amusing to watch. I had my camera and wanted to take a photo. The two animals were in profile, the sightline fortuitous. I knew that if I took a few shots (let's do as many as possible!) I'd get at least one really good one. I only had to move closer. My vantage point on the opposite sidewalk was just too far away, even if I zoomed (zooming, contrary to logic, gives a sense of distance by flattening). But I thought if I crossed the street to join the pair they'd see my approach and become alarmed and stop what they were doing and I'd lose the shot.

Did I think about this while sucking Akemi's breasts? Not sure. But I am now ha ha.  

When I came there were bubbles like the frothy white hair of my first grade elementary school teacher. I didn't tell that to Akemi. She has different associations, no doubt. I write about it here instead.

I overheard Akemi in conversation with a friend.

"Akiko used her mouth on ____."

The topic a third friend who was in a relationship with a famous musician, a celebrity whose name I'll leave out here.

"I know. And her friend Beth gave her advice on how."

Akemi was talking. I'd heard the story too. Akiko saw the rock star infrequently, only when tours of his band brought him to the city. He'd send a taxi to pick her up and bring her to his hotel. Beth was her friend who didn't have a man in her life at the moment (she was overweight, less attractive than Akiko) but apparently knew enough about blowjobs to offer tips on technique.

"Ha Ha." Akemi's friend laughed.

Akemi had explained why Akiko had only done oral sex. She was a virgin. She and the rock star had tried intercourse but she seemed too small for him.

"She said use her hand only." Akemi was citing examples of the advice Beth had given Akiko.

"That can be good too," her friend said.

Akemi corrected. "No, I don't mean use her hand only the whole time, just at the beginning so that when she finally used her mouth it felt even better."

And she's right about that. The longer the wait for the mouth, the greater it is.

In yet another dream, one last night, Akemi had gone away and I was alone, awaiting word from her. A phone call came but somehow I missed it. I thought I'd never hear from her again. The pain was unbearable.