I ran for all that I was worth. Sometimes I wonder why I bothered. After all, I was already soaked through to my skin. What was more rain going to do to me? Maybe some instinctually driven part of my mind didn’t want to hang around and find out. Or maybe I was being driven by the hand of fate . . . or an impressive tail wind. Either way, I collided with someone that was running toward the same place for the same reason. The collision was a jarring one, but I kept my balance. The person that ran into me reacted differently, holding onto me in order to stay upright. There was something familiar about the situation, but I didn’t slow down to think about it. Instead, I continued running with the victim of my non-vehicular accident being carried by me all the way to the mall entrance. Once I entered the breezeway, I stopped. The sudden deceleration loosened my passenger’s grip, and they fell to the floor before sliding to a stop. I heard a remarkably familiar curse in a foreign language and looked down to see Mayumi Ogawa, soaked to the bone, looking up at me with equal parts confusion and surprise.
“This has got to be the coolest episode of The Twilight Zone ever,” I thought. At least, I thought that I thought it. Turns out that I vocalize my thoughts more often than I realize.
“I don’t think that I would list it as the coolest,” she countered. “Maybe the creepiest.”
“You’ve watched The Twilight Zone?” I know that my voice was flooded with amazement, both because she had watched the show and because I realized I had spoken aloud.
“Yes. I used to watch it all the time while soaking wet on a shopping mall floor.” Sarcasm. It’s like its own language, you know. Realizing how impolite I was being, I offered Mayumi my hand and helped her up. She took a moment to try and straighten her clothes before giving it up as hopeless. “I can’t believe this has happened twice. I just . . . I . . . you . . .” In a fit of frustration and at a loss for words, Mayumi turned to walk away into the mall.
Maybe I had a little bit of that magical cola flowing through me because I reached for her arm and stopped her. “Ms. Ogawa, I’m not sure what you’re doing here, but I’m here on R&R and I don’t know a soul. I enjoy solitude as much as the next man, but I wouldn’t mind having someone familiar to talk to for a few minutes.” She looked like she was about to turn back away, so I added, “I also have no fashion sense. Obviously, I could use some different clothes to change into, and I would appreciate the opinion of a lady to help me look a little less like a sci-fi convention reject.” After another moment’s thought, she nodded. Self-deprecation. What a turn-on, huh?
I followed her into the mall and had her choose the shop where we would buy some clothes. It seemed the smart thing to do. I wouldn’t know fashion if it hit me on the head. I actually had that happen once. I knocked over a display mannequin that landed on my head and gave me a concussion. I could have sued the store for damages, but since the mannequin was wearing some very expensive clothing that I thoughtlessly ruined with my bleeding head, the manager and I called it square. I have been known to suffer from psychosomatic headaches in clothing stores ever since.
Forty-five minutes later, Mayumi and I emerged with new and blissfully dry clothing. She looked amazing in her outfit. It was just the right combination of relaxed with accentuated class. I looked down at my new outfit and shook my head a little. “I have to admit, Ms. Ogawa, that your sense of fashion kind of surprises me.”
She tugged a little at the pre-faded Star Wars T-shirt that she had chosen for me and then straightened the Darth Vader baseball cap. “Well, you said that you didn’t want to look like a sci-fi convention reject. Now you look like a sci-fi convention attendee.” Logic, you are a harsh mistress. She tugged again at my t-shirt playfully. “Besides, lots of Japanese girls find sci-fi geeks sexy.”
I have no doubt that the extreme surprise that I felt showed on my blushing face. “Really?”
“Absolutely,” she replied slyly. She began to walk away toward the food court but turned to continue. “I don’t, but lots of Japanese girls do.” I would like to take this moment to apologize to everyone that I’ve ever been sarcastic to. I understand how it feels now.
I joined Mayumi for a simple and completely non-nutritious meal in the food court. It seemed like forever since I’d had food that was incredibly tasty and had no redeeming health value whatsoever. I don’t know if Mayumi considered this a first date or not, but I’m pretty sure that I broke first date rules by moaning with delight when I took my first bite of my hamburger. I didn’t even realize I was doing it at first. Then I saw her take a bite of her chicken sandwich, and then I heard her eating her chicken sandwich. She was sounding just like me. It was like the scene from some old romantic comedy my mother used to watch. Half of the people in the food court were looking over at us to see what we were doing. Shortly afterward, there was a rush on chicken sandwiches and hamburgers. “I’d almost forgotten how good one of these can be,” I finally said halfway through the burger.
“Same here,” Mayumi mumbled around a mouthful of chicken sandwich. After she swallowed her bite, she continued her explanation. “There was a fast food restaurant near the college I went to in America that specialized in chicken sandwiches. I had never tasted anything so wonderful before. I ate there constantly. I haven’t had a good chicken sandwich since I went back home. This isn’t as good as what was in America, but it is close enough to make me happy.”
I finished up my burger before continuing the conversation. “I never did ask: Why are you here?”
“The company gave me some vacation time after the last training classes were completed. I had heard a lot of great things about Australia, so I booked a flight to Sydney. I didn’t know I would get picked up, literally, on my first day.”
I smiled and started eating my fries. In mid-bite I started to feel a little queasy thinking about something she had mentioned. “Classes. That’s right. You had a week of training with the Professor.”
“Who?” she asked absentmindedly. “Oh, you mean Aaron! Yes I did. That was a really good time.”
I tried to be nonchalant about it. “I’m glad you had fun. So you and the Professor . . . I mean Aaron,” I had never heard his name before, “the two of you had some fun outside of the training?”
“Sure,” she replied around her final bite of chicken sandwich. “He had some questions about the gear, so we decided to meet for dinner. I’ll be honest, though. I don’t think he understood most of what I was telling him. In fact, I know he didn’t.” She grabbed a handful of my fries. “He ended up asking me for all of the manuals to take back to you. He said that you would understand and then you could explain it in a way that he would understand. He’s more of a history genius.” She dipped the fries in my ketchup. Apparently nothing is sacred. “Honestly, I was disappointed. I expected more out of him.”
I can say in complete candor that I wasn’t disappointed. In fact, I was feeling hope again. I tried to play it coolly. “I thought you said it was a really good time.”
“It was,” she responded with a ring of ketchup around her mouth. “I introduced him to some of my friends. They all really liked him, so we hung out as a group and had a lot of fun. It was kind of like being back in school.” I reached across the table with a napkin and wiped the ketchup off of her mouth. She thanked me with a little giggle. “We were all together when the news aired the video of your athletic skill at the road block. We were amazed. Aaron spent half the night talking about your potential. It got a little old.”
“I apologize on his behalf.”
“I didn’t say that I wasn’t impressed. Truthfully, I was just glad that you were all right.” I nodded in appreciation. Then, as often happens around me, an awkward silence fell. I managed to break the silence by taking a sip of my drink, having it go down the wrong pipe, and then snorting it out my nose. If you’ve never done that with a soda before, it stings. Badly. Almost as badly as it feels doing it in front of a pretty lady. Trying to stifle
laughter, Mayumi gabbed some napkins and began cleaning the table. “Well, you’re a fun date, aren’t you?” I choked again and snorted more soda. A date? The closest I had come in years was telling a lady what date it was. Like I needed more reasons to be nervous.
As suddenly as it arrived, the rain ended and the sun came out. Mayumi and I walked back toward Manly Beach. Not exactly the best choice for me. Walking along the beach were a bunch of men wearing skimpy swimsuits. Some of them had chiseled bodies that sculptors have been trying to duplicate for centuries. Though she never said anything, I knew Mayumi noticed them. How could she not? I swear that the sun actually shined special rays on them like spotlights! It was like being in some weird B movie. Still, I managed to keep the conversation going for a while by discussing technical information about her company’s projects. It might not have been perfect date talk (not that I really know what that sounds like either), but at least it kept her from staring the whole time at their abs and pecs.
We were about halfway down the beach when she suddenly checked her watch. “Oh no! I don’t want to be late!” she exclaimed in urgency.
Realizing that our surprise date was coming to an abrupt end, I figured I would bow out gracefully. “I’ve had a good time. Hope you enjoy the rest of your vacation.”
She didn’t run off immediately. “Do you have swimming clothes in your hotel room?” Befuddled, I just nodded. “Well, I have my swimsuit on under these clothes, so we don’t have to go back to my room. Let’s run to your room, you can change, and then you can come with me! My treat!” I didn’t know what she was treating me to, but I had no intention of arguing.
I was interested to discover that when Mayumi said that we could run to my room, she actually meant run. She was four steps ahead of me before I thought to try and catch her. Once I got going, I lengthened my strides and came up alongside. It was about a mile run to my hotel, and I will admit that I enjoyed it. I know how to run. I know how to run while carrying a duffle bag. I know how to run while carrying a duffle bag with a Japanese woman hanging onto me for dear life. Usually I don’t choose to do it on purpose, though. This time, I wished my hotel was farther away once the run was over. It was hot and humid, and we were both sweating and out of breath, but I could have run the rest of the day.
I changed into my swimming trunks and met Mayumi back in the lobby. Without a word, she began running again. This time, I was quicker to follow her. We wound up back out on the beach and running toward one end until we reached a building near a lagoon. Apparently we had reached our destination because she stopped running and walked the rest of the way toward the building. We went into a small office where there was a desk staffed by a pretty secretary. I looked around the room. I figured that looking at a pretty secretary while on a date wasn’t very good etiquette. I have to say that I was proud of myself for figuring that out without making the mistake first. You know what they say about blind squirrels.
Mayumi spoke with the secretary while I looked around the room. It was plain, with white drywall sparsely decorated with pictures of sea life, boats, and the ocean. It was almost a stereotype of what you would expect to see at any business located by the beach. After about two minutes, Mayumi called me over and told me to sign a waiver. I hate those things. There are pages and pages of legal language that I know I could understand if I could take the time to read it all, but seeing as how most people get frustrated whenever you take an hour and a half to read a waiver, I usually just sign them. One of these days someone is going to show up wanting my firstborn child because of what was in one of those waivers, like in Rumpelstiltskin. Kids, now do you see why I tell you not to open the door for strangers? It’s because Daddy doesn’t always read the waivers!
We were sent into a small room filled with chairs and about six other people. I just smiled amicably and kept playing along. After a few minutes a guy who was way too buff and with one of those voices that ladies go to movies just to hear went to the front of the room. “Good afternoon, and welcome to your SNUBA instruction.”
I glanced over at Mayumi, who was staring intently at the man and hanging on his every word. I waited for a long enough pause in the presentation so as not to interrupt, but when none was forthcoming I finally whispered to her, “Does he mean SCUBA? Are we SCUBA diving?”
“No,” she responded quickly so that she wouldn’t miss too much. “It is SNUBA. You don’t have to get certified for this. The tanks stay on a float on the surface, and a hose runs down to your breathing mask. I’ve been wanting to try this for a while.”
Hoping that the interest she held was in the underwater life she might encounter and not the instructor, I listened to the presentation with a certain level of trepidation. As I have mentioned, I am not much of a swimmer. Usually if I wind up underwater, it’s an accident followed by me coughing up water while some lifeguard keeps asking if I’m OK. Going underwater on purpose wasn’t exactly on my bucket list. It was more like one of the causes of kicking that bucket. I became more convinced that I would be kicking that bucket when the instructor mentioned we would be visiting a grey shark nesting ground near some place called Magic Point. Great. I got attacked by a largemouth bass once. Imagine how much fun a shark would have with me.
I looked over at Mayumi, prepared to ask if I could sit this one out, but I could see how much she was looking forward to it. Oh, well. I’ll try anything once. Twice if it’s incredibly stupid. After about thirty minutes of explanation of the equipment and how to use it, we stepped outside and were issued masks, mouthpieces, and flippers. With all of our gear, we were led to a small boat for the journey to Magic Point. I’m not the biggest fan of boats, but I could have stayed on there all day. One reason was because the longer I was on the boat, the less time I was in the water. The other reason was because of the sheer excitement that Mayumi was showing in anticipation of the dive. She wasn’t like a kid in a candy store. That’s too low-key. She was like a kid who had just been told they could pick any one hundred things they wanted from a toy store. She was like a sci-fi nerd who had just gotten to meet the entire cast of every Star Trek ever made. She was like me making it through an entire day without saying or doing anything stupid. I can honestly say that it was a lot of fun to watch.
Unfortunately, we did reach our destination. Now was our first time to try out our SNUBA gear. Our mouthpieces were hooked up to a set of tanks that were floating in their own little boat. Then we climbed out of our boat and hung onto a railing that had been built on the side. We all had on our masks and flippers and were breathing through our mouthpieces. The instructor then told us to keep holding onto the rail but to lower our heads under the surface of the water and get used to breathing there. I watched everyone go under, including Mayumi, and then took a deep, steadying breath before lowering myself down.
I have had bullets fly past my head. I have almost been run over by a speeding truck full of terrorists. I have had a man twice my size threaten to rip my nose off and eat it. I would rather have all of those things happen a hundred more times than to try SNUBA again. I had always believed, incorrectly it turns out, that SCUBA breathers used pressurized air. Wrong. When breathing in, not only is there not air being blown into your mouth, but it actually takes a little more effort to breathe in than normal. Here is what my brain thought as I dunked my head under: You can do this. Going under . . . now. Interesting noise. Hey! I can see under here! There’s Mayumi. She looks great in her bathing suit. Stupid hormones! Can’t stay like this forever. Have to breathe. OK, inhale. That isn’t happening as easily as planned. That’s tough. Wait a minute. Underwater . . . hard to breath . . . oh, yeah! That’s called drowning. Wait . . . did I say drowning? Holy crap! I’m drowning!
I came up out of the water in a cold sweat. No one else could tell because, well, we were in the ocean. I was shaking. That was terrifying! I looked around and saw that everyone else was still under. I chose to try it again. Maybe that was an initial surge
of panic that I would be able to get past. After another twenty seconds of submersion, I reemerged to the surface with absolute certainty that it wasn’t an initial surge of panic. It was, in fact, life-altering, mind-numbing, inescapable terror.
Mayumi broached the surface with glee in her eyes. It dimmed quite a bit when she looked over at me. She removed her mouthpiece and asked, “Pup, what’s wrong?”
I know that I often look like an idiot to people. That I have come to expect. But looking like a wimp on what, to my surprise, was a first date is another thing entirely. So, being the properly raised individual that I am, I did what seemed proper: I lied through my teeth. “Miss Ogawa, I never told you that I got captured once. They spent days dunking my head into saltwater. I only survived by . . . uhh . . . building a generator that kept me alive until I was able to escape . . .” Why did that sound so familiar? “I just keep having flashbacks whenever I’m under the surface.”
I never did quite figure out the expressions that passed over her face as she listened. However, when I was done, she reached over and hugged me. Sweet! “I’m so sorry, Pup. Maybe you should stay with the boat while we go diving.” With feigned reluctance, I nodded. I ascended the ladder into the boat and then looked back down at her before she began her dive. The smile she gave me now was more full of mischief than compassion. “After all, we wouldn’t want your iron suit to rust or anything.” Have I ever mentioned that I suck at lying?
I stayed in the boat and spent the time making small talk with the assistant. He said that there was usually at least one person who stayed on the boat when they couldn’t deal with the dive. I felt a little better about things until he mentioned that it was usually a child. Thanks. After about forty-five minutes, Mayumi and the other divers returned to the boat. If Mayumi was disappointed in me for not diving, she didn’t show it. She was busy describing everything that they had seen and the sensation of walking along on the ocean floor. Her excitement and wonder made me wish that I could have gone with her. Not enough to actually try again, mind you, but enough to wish.
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