Fertility gods?
The diminutive pair looked like a respectable middle-aged couple to Libby, not incarnations of fertility. But she had discovered that in Japan sometimes things were not always what they seemed. On closer inspection, the distinctive shape of the male figure left little to the imagination.
“Perhaps we should make an offering,” he murmured, as he nuzzled the nape of her neck. “We wouldn’t want to offend such powerful gods.”
Two weeks passed before Libby and Kojiro had a chance to see one another again. They were both busy with their respective jobs. The wing was preparing for an ORI — Operational Readiness Inspection — and the attention of every active duty personnel on base was focused on that onerous event. The team of inspectors was in Korea and it was rumored that when they finished there, they would head for Japan. No one knew exactly when they would arrive — the visits were supposed to be random and unexpected — but the wing commander wasn’t taking any chances. When and if the team landed, they would find his people ready to go to war.
Libby spent every waking hour at the squadron dressed in chemical gear planning missions in the “war room” while her cohorts were having fun flying extra sorties. She had been assigned the formidable task of formulating attacks for the Strike Flight, coordinating targets and refueling rendezvous with the tankers by Major Petrowski, along with two “sickies” — pilots temporarily disqualified from flying by the flight surgeon. Closeted in a stuffy briefing room, surrounded by a sea of maps, Libby poured over stacks of technical manuals configuring distance to target, fuel consumption, angle of attack. It was essential and serious work, but every time Libby heard another F-16 accelerate down the runway, her blood pressure soared. The only thing preventing her from flying was her arbitrary assignment to the mission planning cell. Major Petrowski had no intention of allowing her anywhere near an airplane. It was his subtle way of letting everyone in the squadron know what he thought of her skill as a pilot. She could ignore the insult like she had ignored his suggestive remarks and hope that eventually he would see the light and stop harassing her, wait until he was reassigned, or she could have it out with him once and for all and risk antagonizing the men in the squadron and getting in trouble with the Commander.
“Major Petrowski, may I have a word? In private?” The major was stationed behind the operations desk scribbling names in grease pencil on the scheduling board.
“I’m busy,” he snapped.
“I’ll wait.”
“You don’t have anything better to do with your time, Captain Comerford?” He called over his shoulder. He always went out of his way to address her by her rank instead of her informal and friendlier call-sign.
Libby refrained from answering, so that eventually he was forced to turn around to see if she was still waiting. She was.
He scowled in her direction. “As much as I would love to have a little tête-à-tête with you in private, Captain Comerford, this is neither the time nor the place.”
Major Petrowski called to one of the other pilots and started to engage in an animated conversation about the weather. He held the latest update from the Command Post in one hand, while gesticulating emphatically with the other.
Libby took a deep breath. It was now or never. If she failed to confront him nothing would change. She would spend the next two years as an outsider in the squadron, a novelty the men tolerated but didn’t completely trust.
“Excuse me, Major Petrowski … ”
He swung around angrily. “Are you hard of hearing? I said … ”
“What I have to say is important, sir. It won’t take long.” Libby gestured toward an empty briefing room.
“Women,” he muttered aloud. “They always pick the damnedest times for a chat.”
Libby closed the door behind Major Petrowski. He looked like a figure from some sci-fi fantasy in his chemical gear. The bulky suit accentuated his thick chest and powerful arms. The air was close in the little room and he swiped his broad forehead with a handkerchief.
“I’m flattered you want to speak to me privately, Captain Comerford. But under the circumstances … ” He smiled.
“I know you don’t like me. You don’t like women pilots.”
“On the contrary … ”
“You’ve done everything in your power to make my life miserable in the squadron. I was combat-ready months before you authorized my check-ride. And now I’m stuck in the Mission Planning Cell, safely out of sight, when I should be shouldering my responsibility on the flight line. I’m a damn good pilot. You’ve flown with me, sir. You know that. But you treat me like I’m a menace in the airplane and a danger to others. You’re an experienced pilot. The men respect your judgment. When you question my capability … ”
“Captain Comerford, I wish I had the time to discuss all of your accusations. Frankly, I’m surprised at your hostility. You’re usually so agreeable, I had no idea you were harboring so many misconceptions. Colonel Long would be disappointed if he heard you complaining. There’s no room in a squadron for a woman, or a man,” he added, “who takes things so personally.
“I assigned you to Mission Planning because it is the most critical component in our operation. I assumed you would carry out your responsibilities without questioning my motives.” Major Petrowski pushed past Libby and opened the door. When she made no move to follow, he stopped and turned to face her.
“Was I wrong? Are you going to return to work, Captain Comerford, and relieve the other officers on duty or are you going to continue to sulk like a spoiled child?”
Libby blinked back the angry tears and squared her shoulders. Major Petrowski was her superior officer. She had no other recourse than to obey his orders. He did not owe her an explanation for any of his actions. The confrontation had been a waste of time. She would never make flight leader as long as the major was at Misawa. He would see to that.
Kojiro was on the road with General Sato. He called her occasionally, or sent her a cryptic e-mail when he was away, but their conversations were friendly and impersonal. Libby was hurt and puzzled by the fact that he made no reference to that extraordinary night but she was grateful for the interlude, for it gave her time to reevaluate her relationship with Kojiro and think about where it was headed. It was much easier to be objective about him when he was in Tokyo than when he was holding her in his arms.
The wisest course of action would be to end the relationship before it got any more complicated. For despite the fact that they were physically attracted to one another and enjoyed each other’s company, there were obvious cultural obstacles standing in the way that would be very difficult to surmount. Libby had come this far in life without losing her head over some man. Why risk falling in love with Major Yoshida, when more than likely she would only end up getting hurt?
Kojiro came to the same conclusion once he was safely away from Misawa. They could not continue to see one another after what had occurred the other night. He did not think he could contain his feelings for Libby, if they were to do so. He wanted her, more than he had ever wanted anything in his life. But wanting something did not entitle one to possession. He was not free to pursue his friendship with Libby and even if he were, it would be neither prudent nor expedient to get involved with a gaijin. He had his career to think of and his obligations to his family.
However, Kojiro promptly forgot all his resolutions as soon as he saw her again. They had arranged to meet at a coffee shop in Hachinohe, a few kilometers from Misawa. He took the precaution of choosing a place where they would be surrounded by people. But the minute Libby walked in the door, he lost his courage. How could he have forgotten how lovely she was, how alive? He had only been away two weeks, but it felt like a lifetime.
Libby had every intention of ending the relationship when they met in Hachinohe. Convinced of the wisdom of her decision she had not stopped to consider
how she would feel when she saw Kojiro in person. Nor had she questioned just why she had taken such pains with her appearance until she was almost at the coffee shop and caught a glimpse of herself in a store window. For someone who usually dressed in plain, anonymous looking clothes, her outfit — a blatant red jacket and complementary silk scarf was remarkably chic. Looking at her, Kojiro might just be tempted to think she had gone out of her way to dress up for the occasion.
Kojiro was sitting at a table in the corner with a newspaper propped in front of him. He looked out of place in the ornate surroundings, too masculine for the gilded mirrors and flocked wallpaper.
“Have you been waiting long?” She asked, glancing at her watch. “I’m running late. I had a hard time getting away from work. Things are a mad house at the squadron. The ORI … ”
“I missed you,” he said.
“I’ve hardly had time to miss you I’ve been so busy … ”
“You should wear red more often. In Japan red is the color … ” Red was the color of carnal passion, but on second thought, Kojiro did not think it very diplomatic to mention that to Libby. She might not want to be reminded of the incident at the shrine. Or she might misunderstand. “Red is an auspicious color, especially for women.”
“Oh, really?” She said, as she shrugged the jacket off her shoulders, sat down, and picked up the menu. As long as they kept talking about inconsequential things she felt safe. “Have you ordered?” She asked.
“I was waiting for you.”
“How was your trip?” Before he had time to answer, she added: “I bet General Sato kept you busy. How is he, by the way?”
“How is who?”
“Why, General Sato.”
“When I left him at 4:30 this afternoon, he was well. I am sure if he knew I was planning to see you, he would have sent his regards.”
“But you didn’t tell him.”
“I had no reason to. The Japanese are not as frank about their private affairs as Americans,” he said.
“But even if they were, you wouldn’t have told him.”
“I would not have told him.”
Libby paused to deliberate over the selections on the menu while Kojiro ordered two coffees. She felt too agitated to eat anything, despite the fact that she had skipped breakfast and lunch. The confrontation with Major Petrowski had left her angry, confused. She didn’t know where she stood anymore, either in the squadron or with the abstruse man sitting opposite her.
“You’re ashamed to be seen with a gaijin,” Libby accused. “General Sato would disapprove.”
“I am not ashamed of you, Libby, but I am not in a position to … You are correct, General Sato would not approve. As an officer in the Japanese Air Self-Defense Force … ” Kojiro waved his hand as if he were trying to erase such unpleasantries. “Do your friends know we are seeing each other? Have you told Captain McKay?”
“Touché.”
“What do you mean?” The waitress, in a frilly pink uniform and ruffled apron, arrived with the coffee and they sat in silence, watching her pour.
“It means … you just scored a point, so now we are even. No. I have not told Charlie, or anyone else for that matter.”
“Because you are ashamed of being seen with a Japanese man?”
Libby stopped stirring her coffee and rested the spoon on the saucer. Now was the chance she had been waiting for, to put an end to things once and for all, before the relationship got out of hand. As long as she didn’t look at Kojiro, she could manage. All she had to do was nod her head. If their eyes met, he would know she was lying.
She added another lump of sugar to her coffee.
“Well?” The deep voice resonated through her body, striking every nerve ending, arcing from synapse to synapse, an internal alarm system signaling excitement and danger. Her heart began to pound and she could feel herself blushing.
“Charlie wouldn’t understand,” she said, still on the defensive. “But I … “ Libby took a deep breath and raised her head and looked directly at Kojiro. “But I am proud to be seen with you. I don’t care about race or nationality. I care about you.”
Kojiro reached across the table and took the spoon out of her hand. His expression had not changed but his coloring deepened. He kept his eyes focused on hers, as if he were measuring the depth of Libby’s honesty and trust. Neither of which he deserved, he thought despairingly.
If only she knew about his engagement. But he could not even evoke the image of his fiancée, let alone summon the courage to acknowledge that she was going to be his wife. Motoko was a nebulous presence haunting his consciousness, not someone real with whom he would soon be joined in matrimony. The woman sitting across from him was his reality.
“Libby,” he said at last, “let us forget about Charlie and General Sato, and … everyone else. They don’t have anything to do with the two of us.”
He paused, as if assessing the risk of what he was about to say. “I thought about you the whole time I was gone. When I called … It is not easy for me to say things I am feeling, especially on the telephone. Especially in English.” Kojiro broke off in embarrassment. “You see, even now how difficult it is for me.”
Libby longed to take his hand but Kojiro would not have appreciated the gesture in the crowded coffee shop.
“I had trouble sleeping,” he continued. “The dosojin would not give me any peace.” At the mention of the fertility gods, Libby smiled self-consciously, her body provoked by memories of Kojiro’s hands stroking her breasts, pressing on the plain of her stomach.
Libby glanced at two middle-aged women sitting at the adjoining table and marveled at how surprised they would be if they had any inkling as to what was being said or, how shocked, if they could read her mind. Presumably they could not speak English, but that didn’t prevent them from eyeing Kojiro and Libby suspiciously. And indeed, they must make an exceptional couple, she thought. Not only because they were of a different race but because of their striking appearance — Kojiro tall and darkly handsome, Libby so blonde and fair. Until today, she had only thought of them in terms of their differences, never as a couple whose looks and personalities complemented one another.
“Libby?” Kojiro took a sip of cold coffee and then pushed the cup aside. “I have to go to Sapporo on official business next Friday. I could take two days leave and spend the weekend … . The ice festival will be winding down but I thought, I wondered, if you would like to see it. The ice festival. It is very famous in Japan. You could meet me there, if it is possible to get leave … . If you wanted to, to meet me. I could make arrangements … .”
Libby toyed with the tissue-thin napkin, trying to smooth the ruffled edge. If she agreed to meet Kojiro in Sapporo she would be committing herself to a man she did not really know, to a man, that for all he physically desired her, had never mentioned the word love or referred, even casually, to the future. It was as indiscreet as it was dangerous. It wasn’t like Libby to take unnecessary chances. Fighter pilots, for all their bravado, were not known for being either foolish or reckless. They were as cool and calculating on the ground as they were in the cockpit. Of course she should say no.
“I’d love to see the festival, Kojiro,” she said. Her answer surprised her as much as it surprised Kojiro and she blushed in embarrassment. “I should know in a few days, if I can get away. The weather has been so uncooperative,” Libby stammered, “the inspection team may have to wait and come in the spring.”
Kojiro smiled. “If that is the case, then I shall never again complain about the snow.”
OUR courtship, that we tried to hide,
Misleading is to none;
And yet how could the neighbours guess,
That I had yet begun
To fancy any one?
Nibu No Tadami
Chapter Six
The Operational Readiness Inspectors made it as far as Tokyo but the inclement weather in Northern Japan deterred them from traveling to Misawa. While they were boarding an airplane to return to Hawaii, Captain Libby Comerford was busy packing her bag for a weekend in Sapporo. She couldn’t decide what to take, as she would only be away for two nights. And she had no idea just what exactly those two nights would entail. Kojiro had called and said he had reserved her a room. Period. He did not say if he planned to share it with her. What would she do, if that were his intention? Why else had she agreed to go? That they would sleep together was implied but not mentioned in his invitation to the ice festival. That was what he wanted. It was what she wanted too, she tried to assure herself. But she was nervous and a little afraid. Libby was not a virgin but her sexual experience had been limited to her unrewarding and embarrassing fling with Charlie McKay when she was nineteen years old. She was a lot older now than she had been when she blithely surrendered her virginity in the backseat of that Chevy, but she wasn’t sure she was any wiser. If she were, she wouldn’t be preparing to spend the weekend with Kojiro Yoshida.
“I don’t get it, Libby.” Charlie was stretched out on the sofa in Libby’s apartment, watching her put on her lipstick. “Why are you going to Sapporo by yourself? I’ve heard the ice festival isn’t all it’s cracked up to be and it’s almost over. The ice sculptures will be melted or demolished.”
“They won’t be melted in this weather,” she laughed.
“You can go to Hirosaki to the festival there. It’s closer.”
“I am going to Sapporo.”
Charlie got up and wandered into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and retrieved a can of coke. “If you want company, I don’t have anything on my agenda … . We could take the train through the Seikan Tunnel.” He popped open the lid and took a swallow. “I could do with a break. The long winters in Michinoku make me claustrophobic.”
Charlie went and stood behind Libby, put his free hand on her shoulder and directed her attention to their reflection in the mirror. They looked so good together. It was inconceivable that anything could ever come between them. They were meant for each other.
Heart to Heart Page 79