Heart to Heart

by Meline Nadeau

  “What do you say, Libby? Just the two of us?”

  “I want to get away for a few days. By myself,” she added. But she didn’t sound very convincing.

  He was going to ask her if she was meeting someone; on second thought, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Since they had gone their separate ways, he had made a point not to pry into her personal life. He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  Libby bussed him playfully on the cheek. “I’ll only be gone two days,” she said. But there was something in the way she said it, a finality, that filled Charlie with dread.

  Kojiro was waiting for her at Chitose Airport when she disembarked from the plane. He looked different, she thought, eager and expectant, as if he had shed his earnestness and reserve along with all the official trappings of military officer and general’s aide. Libby’s heart accelerated at the sight of the tall, imposing figure, at the hope and the promise embodied in his smile of greeting.

  “I was afraid you would not come,” he said. “I was prepared to be disappointed.”

  “I said I would,” she laughed.

  “I worried you would change your mind. Women sometimes say one thing … ” Kojiro wiped his palms nervously on his trousers. “Sometimes a woman changes her mind.”

  “I wanted to come.”

  Libby desperately wanted Kojiro to touch her, to reassure her, but she knew it was too much to expect any physical demonstration of affection in such a public place.

  “I will take you to the hotel and you can drop off your bag before we go out. I hope you brought warm clothes,” he said, eyeing the small suitcase. He hesitated to pick it up, as if reluctant to set in motion the sequence of events that would change their lives. No matter what happened in the future, they both knew that nothing would ever be the same after this weekend.

  The hotel was on the outskirts of the sprawling city at the end of a subway line, in a quiet, residential neighborhood. While far from luxurious, it was clean and neat, and afforded all the amenities of a respectable establishment. Libby had her own room, on the second floor, two doors down from Kojiro’s. It had a single bed, a nightstand and a chest of drawers. The window overlooked a school playground.

  What if she had misunderstood his intentions, she wondered, as she unpacked her things. She wasn’t always adept at decoding Kojiro’s cryptic conversations or interpreting his silences. What if she had come to Sapporo intending to sleep with him and all Kojiro had in mind was showing her the sights?

  There was a knock on the door. “Libby?”

  She finished stuffing her lingerie in a drawer and opened the door. She didn’t know whether to invite Kojiro in or leave him standing in the hall. It was obvious he was on his way out and had stopped by to see if she was ready. His snow jacket was slung over his shoulder and he was carrying his boots.

  “I’ll just be a minute,” she said. “You can come in if you want.”

  Libby had not anticipated how awkward she would feel, or how shy, once she was alone with Kojiro in the hotel, but if he noticed the forced laughter, or nervous smiles, he didn’t let on. Perhaps he didn’t know her well enough to realize that she was not always as brave as she appeared or perhaps he was just too polite to mention it.

  Kojiro crossed the threshold into the little room and closed the door. “This is not what I had in mind,” he said, indicating the modest surroundings with a nod of his head. “Most of the hotels were booked because of the festival.”

  “It’s fine,” she said cheerfully. “I’ve always thought it extravagant to spend money on a hotel room when you’re only going to sleep … ”

  “It is out of the way,” he interrupted. “And … “ He was about to add, the owner is discreet. But it would have made their assignation sound sordid and cheap. He didn’t want her to have any regrets about joining him in Sapporo. “It is out of the way,” he repeated. “Not as crowded as the hotels downtown.”

  “I’m in the Air Force, have you forgotten? I’m used to Spartan quarters, and so are you,” she laughed. “I feel right at home.” Libby reached in the closet for an extra sweater and hand-knit scarf.

  Kojiro set his boots on the floor and sat down on the bed. He was wearing Levi’s with a knife-edge crease, a knit turtleneck and over that, a gray, rag wool sweater that accentuated his broad shoulders and long, lanky frame.

  “Do you remember the first time we met?” He asked.

  “How could I possibly forget? You were terrified to fly with me.”

  “Was it that obvious?”

  “Yes. It was,” Libby smiled. “I thought you were dreadful. Overbearing, arrogant, chauvinistic.”

  “I am afraid I am still all those things,” he said ruefully.

  “I know. I think you probably are too.”

  “You should not have come to Sapporo,” he said. He sounded so serious, Libby wasn’t sure whether his admonishment was intended as a warning or a joke. His attempts at humor were as ambiguous as they were infrequent.

  “I wouldn’t have missed this weekend for anything,” she said.

  Kojiro watched her as she raised her arms and struggled to pull the bulky sweater over her head. He could see her breasts straining against the silk blouse when she raised her arms. One of the buttons had come unfastened, revealing a glimpse of provocative flesh-colored lace.

  “Let me,” Kojiro said. He stood up, and with one deft stroke yanked the sweater completely off, tossed it on the bed, and took her in his arms.

  Libby was too startled to protest, even when he began fingering the buttons on her blouse, with the obvious objective of taking it off.

  “I thought you were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen,” he said, nuzzling her cheek.

  “Well you certainly didn’t act like it,” she laughed, in a light-hearted attempt to keep things from getting out of hand. It was too soon. She’d scarcely arrived in Sapporo. She wasn’t ready.

  But she was too late. As soon as he took her in his arms, Libby was lost. The years of caution and reserve as insubstantial against the onslaught of sudden passion as the flimsy fabric of her blouse.

  Kojiro unfastened the buttons slowly, deliberately, staring at the dusky nipples visible though the sheer lace. He reached out and touched one with his index finger and felt her shiver.

  “Let me look at you,” he said.

  “Now?” Libby asked shyly. It was the middle of the afternoon. The blinds were open and the waning sunlight cast long shadows into the corners of the room.

  “Now,” he said, as he reached over and slid the straps of the bra off her shoulders.

  Libby, embarrassed by his scrutiny, crossed her arms over her breasts.

  “They are beautiful,” he said. “Do not hide them. Not from me.”

  “But … ” Kojiro shook his head and Libby reluctantly uncovered her breasts and stood with her hands at her side and her head bowed. She could feel herself blushing, the tide of self-consciousness and desire washing over her.

  For the first time, in as long as she could remember, Libby felt proud of her body, of the shape and size of her breasts. And unashamed.

  Daylight was ebbing. In the distance she could see the lights of the city flickering in the early dusk. “Kojiro, Kojiro,” she whispered.

  Kojiro hadn’t gone into Libby’s room with the intention of making love to her. He wanted to take his time, savor every moment they had together, make this brief interlude last so that he could relive the weekend over and over again. But once she was in his arms and he felt her ardent response to every kiss, he lost all restraint. There was no coyness or pretense in her affections; she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

  “The dosojin,” she murmured breathlessly. “Do you feel their presence?”

  “Hai. They followed you to Hokkaido,” he laughed. Kojiro had never felt such exhilarat
ion or joy.

  They did not leave the hotel that night to go to the ice festival nor to eat dinner. Kojiro retrieved a bottle of soda from a vending machine and they quenched their considerable thirst from plastic cups. He ran the bath for her — something he had never done in his entire life for a woman — and when she emerged from the tub, wrapped her in a terrycloth robe, and carried her to the bed.

  “Don’t go,” she murmured worriedly, when he drew the covers up under her chin.

  “You need to sleep,” he said, as he leaned over and brushed her forehead with a kiss. “It has been an eventful day.” That was a quaint way of putting it, she thought. He made it sound like their tempestuous love-making was on par with an excursion to Tokyo Disneyland or a night at the ball park.

  She clasped his hand. “Please, Kojiro?”

  Libby guessed that he had reserved separate rooms for appearances sake or because he assumed she would want her privacy, but the thought of sleeping alone after they had made love was unbearable. He couldn’t just walk out of the room and leave her stranded in her single bed, now that they had become lovers.

  Kojiro turned off the light. “This is dangerous,” he said, discarding his clothes and crawling in next to her. “The bed is very narrow for two people.”

  “I want to fall asleep in your arms,” Libby said, as she traced her finger lazily across his smooth chest. She nestled up against him, tucking her head under his chin, entwining her long, shapely legs between his. “We just fit,” she giggled sleepily. “Don’t you agree, Kojiro?”

  “Perfectly,” he sighed.

  Kojiro did not anticipate getting much sleep in such crowded conditions. He was used to sleeping alone, on a roomy futon. So he was pleasantly surprised to wake up the next morning from a sound sleep, and see brilliant sunlight streaming under the slats in the blinds. Well, it had been an exhausting twenty-four hours, he thought, gazing at his drowsy companion, both physically and emotionally. No wonder they had both overslept. He shifted slightly, to try to make more room for Libby. She was on her side, wedged up against the wall. Her robe had come unfastened in the night and he could see her exposed breasts. Kojiro averted his eyes and tried to concentrate on her face.

  She looked younger in the abandonment of sleep. There was a girlish softness to her cheekbones, an innocence and vulnerability that was not apparent when she was awake. She was so clever and confident, it had not occurred to him how easily she could be hurt.

  Libby stirred and, opening her eyes, smiled shyly at Kojiro. She wasn’t surprised to see him there. After all, she had invited him to spend the night but she hadn’t considered what it would be like to wake up and have to face him in the morning. He was always so impeccably groomed. It was a little disconcerting to see him with stubble on his chin and his hair mussed. Should she say good morning and try to ignore the fact that he was completely naked, ignore how warm and solid he felt next to her? Her knee was within a hair’s breadth of touching the most sensitive part of his body. She took a deep breath and tried to ease her leg out of the way. But the bed could barely accommodate one person, let alone two.

  “Ohayo gozaimasu, Libby-san,” he said.

  “Ohayo, gozaimasu, Kojiro. Did you sleep well?”

  “Hai.” He reached for his watch on the nightstand. “I overslept. Ah, we overslept,” he amended. Kojiro was not used to waking up with a woman in his bed and he was finding it extremely difficult trying to avoid staring at Libby’s breasts or ignore the fact that every time she shifted her body even the slightest, her leg brushed up against his thigh, provoking an instinctive and ungovernable response.

  “Kojiro, why are you looking at me like that? You look so worried … .” Libby reached over and cupped his chin in her hands. “Are you having second thoughts about my coming to Sapporo?” She asked.

  “Second thoughts?”

  “Are you sorry you invited me? Or wish I hadn’t come?”

  “Libby, how can you say such a thing. Sorry?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Yesterday was one of the most … ” He couldn’t think of the words — in Japanese or English — to describe how he felt about making love to Libby. “Yesterday, you made me so happy.” Kojiro took her hand and pressed it to his lips.

  “I was sure you would change your mind,” he said. “When I saw you get off the airplane, I could not believe what my eyes were seeing.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you, I wanted to come,” she whispered.

  Kojiro raised himself up on his elbow and gazed down at Libby. Her short hair was feathered out on the pillow, framing her face. He traced a finger across her brow and over her eyelids, along the profile of her nose, as if he were trying to commit every feature to memory. Libby’s lips were parted. He inserted the tip of his finger and felt her teeth graze the skin, and then her tongue.

  Her body tensed and pressed closer to his, her breasts cushioned against his chest. He nudged her legs apart and rolled on top of her.

  “Libby, I … ” His voice was ragged with emotion. “When I asked you to join me I didn’t think you would accept the invitation. And when you did, I, I didn’t know what it would be like or if … I had no idea it would be so wonderful. I assumed … ” Kojiro had had other lovers, he assumed it would be like all the other times he had made love.

  “I can’t explain it,” he said. “I don’t have the words, not in English, not even in Japanese.”

  Libby smiled up at him. “Perhaps it is the dosojin.”

  “Hai,” he laughed. “They are very powerful gods.”

  It was as good an explanation as any.

  Eventually, Libby and Kojiro ventured out of the hotel to eat breakfast and to go sightseeing. Kojiro insisted that she could not possibly return to Misawa without having seen the ice sculptures. “It is why you came,” he said solemnly as they were boarding the subway train.

  “It is not why I came,” Libby retorted.

  “Ah, well, what I meant … Most people come to see the sculptures and I don’t want you to miss them.” Kojiro had assumed his public image once he emerged from her room. He was not as starchy looking as usual, but neither was he as relaxed and attentive as he had been when they were alone. Her ardent lover had metamorphosed into a tour guide.

  “Sapporo is the largest city on the island of Hokkaido with 1.7 million people,” he said proudly. Libby could believe it. And she was sure the entire populace was crowded along the wide boulevard bisecting the downtown. The huge park, which paralleled Odori Koen, was swarming with people of all ages buying food and drinks or purchasing souvenirs at the colorful vendors stalls. Rosy-cheeked children hurtled laughing down slides made of ice.

  The sculptures themselves, some of massive proportions, ranged in subject matter from the whimsical to the sublime. There was a towering statue of Godzilla, glaring menacingly at a three-tiered ice pagoda, Mickey and Minnie Mouse, hand in hand, in front of a replica of Cinderella’s castle. It reminded Libby of the love hotel with its turrets and drawbridge, which in turn, reminded her of her disastrous first date with Kojiro and the subsequent developments which had culminated in this trip to Sapporo. A shiver of excitement at the memory of their intemperate love-making stopped her dead in her tracks. Her heart started to pound and she felt herself perspiring despite the freezing temperature.

  “There are also over 3,000 bars and cabarets in Sapporo and it is supposed to have the liveliest nightlife of any city north of Tokyo.”

  “Kojiro?” She tugged at the sleeve of his jacket.

  He smiled down at her.

  “Let’s go back to the hotel.”

  “Are you cold?” He asked. The wind had picked up and the temperature was noticeably cooler than when they set out.

  She shook her head.

  “Then why?” Libby reached up and brushed his cold cheek with her glove.

  “G
uess,” she whispered in a husky voice.

  Kojiro’s eyes widened in surprise and pleasure at her impulsive suggestion. “But we haven’t seen all the sculptures,” he said uncertainly.

  “Well, if you’d rather … ”

  “I’d rather go back to the hotel,” he interrupted. It was hard to tell if his complexion was scarlet from the biting wind or from embarrassment. He glanced at his watch.

  “Captain Comerford!”

  Swinging around in surprise at hearing her name called out in a loud Texas drawl, Libby found herself confronted with a grinning Sergeant Vogel, one of the squadron’s airplane mechanics.

  “Sergeant Vogel … ” Her voice faltered and she glanced around to see if he was alone. He wasn’t. There were several other airmen from the base standing a few feet away. From the looks of them, they had obviously been enjoying all the festivities.

  “Isn’t this just something,” he said, waving a hand in the direction of Godzilla.

  “Yes. Yes, the sculptures are amazing.”

  “I made reservations six months ago to come to Sapporo for the Ice Festival but I didn’t think I was gonna make it what with the ORI … . When did you get here, ma’am?” He glanced at Kojiro who had managed to disengage himself from Libby’s side and wander over to a souvenir stall.

  “Yesterday,” she said.

  “Have you been to the Sapporo Brewery?”

  “Not yet, but I bet you and your friends have,” she said.

  “Twice. You don’t want to miss it, ma’am.” Sergeant Vogel kept looking over at Kojiro and then back at Libby trying to figure out, just what, if anything, was going on between the beautiful captain and the Japanese dude. They were obviously together. He had seen Captain Comerford tugging on the man’s sleeve and smiling up at him. The look in her eyes was as unmistakable as it was troubling. With her looks and personality, she could have her pick of any eligible man on base. It was common knowledge in the squadron that Captain McKay was crazy about her. Why would she go and date a foreigner?