Honeymoon to Nowhere

by Akimitsu Takagi

  Looking very pale, Yoshihiro said, “After learning of his death, I was tormented by my conscience for days. So when a story of his death and his criminal background appeared in the local paper, and it became impossible for me to remain in Kyoto as a university lecturer any longer, I felt I well deserved what was coming to me. But my professor was kind enough to use his influence to get me another job. That’s how I was able to transfer to Chiyoda University. Even that would’ve probably been impossible if my brother’s family name hadn’t been changed to Yasuda . . .”

  He fell silent, and she kept clasping his hands, conscious of a mounting excitement in her brought on by the notion that her life was leaking away, and no matter what he said, he was the only one to stop the leak—she had to make him do it.

  “Well, now you know,” he said, giving a short laugh that choked in self-contempt. “My brother was a killer and, in a sense, my father was one, too. And I myself let my brother die without lifting a finger . . . And I’m reminded of all this every day of the year by the ugly scars all over me . . . For a while after I met you I thought perhaps these things could be forgotten, but of course they can’t—they are there, burnt into me forever.” He swallowed hard. “As your father said, I’m the last person you’d want to marry, and now our friendship’s finished, too. So just forget about me.” He tried to take his hands away from her, but she wouldn’t let him. “Look, it’s no use . . . Go home, please.”

  As if obeying his order she stood up quickly, almost lifted on the tide of her emotion, still clasping his hands, forcing him to rise with her. “I’m going to be your wife,” she said.

  He gaped at her, stunned into silence.

  She let his hands go and reached up, linking her arms around his neck, trying in vain to make him bring his lips closer to hers, till she was standing on tiptoe.

  Stiff-necked and still staring at her, he said, “You want a man like me?”

  “Yes, I want a man like you.” Her voice was tense with anticipation that made her pulse race and left her short of breath. “I want you now.”

  This made him gape again, but at last he lowered his head enough for her to reach him. She sealed his parted lips with her own and immediately slipped her tongue into his mouth.

  His reaction was tantalizing—all his restraint was gone in an instant. With the greediness of a baby he began to suck on her tongue until it was fully drawn, and she felt him stiffen quickly against her belly, for she was so much shorter than he. She put one foot on the stack of books beside them to raise herself, and wrapped her other leg around his thigh to accommodate him. Delicious shivers began to run through her in waves, in rhythm with the in­stinctive movement of his hips.

  “Oh, Yoshihiro,” she sighed, her cheek now against his ear, her eyes closed. She felt she was all belly and but­tocks and thighs, ready to open to him. Violently she pressed herself against him and lost her balance. The heavy volumes began to slide from under her foot. She hung on to him with all her weight, and together they sagged and rolled down to the bedding on the tatami-covered floor, almost oblivious to the change in their position.

  Impatiently, as if anxious to atone for the lie she had told her father a few hours ago, she slid her hand inside his kimono. He gave a gasp as she took hold of him. Immedi­ately his hands began to urge away her clothing. She straightened her thighs for a moment and raised herself to help him. Then she felt him touch her wet flesh. In a wave of heat she flung her legs around him. She felt every nerve in her body exposed to him, every pore enlarged to re­ceive him.

  Her first coital spasm came even before he could fully enter her, only to be eclipsed by a new rush of mounting passion for him. Then his quickening beat warned her of his approaching climax, and instinctively she tightened her grip on him to heighten the roar of his satisfaction. Its coming flooded her with such indescribable pleasure she nearly passed out.

  It took minutes for the turmoil inside her to subside and for her breath to recover enough to take his lips again.

  “I’m going to see your father,” he said, “tomorrow morning.”

  Yoshihiro took Shoichi Koike, his friend and legal adviser, along with him to the Ogata house the next morning, not for his own protection but out of considera­tion for Etsuko’s father. Discussing wedding arrange­ments with another lawyer would be easier for Ogata, he thought.

  Etsuko was a bundle of joy and nerves when Yoshihiro looked at her for the first time since she had given herself to him. Wondering if his estimate of her had changed either way, she half avoided his eyes till he reassured her by saying, “You look lovely this morning.” And she did feel marvelously well. The tensions and constant weari­ness of the past year—and especially of the past few weeks—were completely gone.

  Ogata seemed to be resigned to the inevitable. Etsuko’s lie about being pregnant had shattered his resistance. His wife had produced some arguments in Yoshihiro’s favor during the night, but he didn’t need much per­suasion to agree to give his consent to the marriage.

  “I’ll be frank with you,” he told Yoshihiro. “I don’t like to be forced into a position of having to approve, but it’s too late now to complain. So let bygones be bygones, and let’s concentrate on what’s ahead . . . I hope you can make my daughter happy.” He spoke stiffly, and his voice carried a trace of indifference.

  Etsuko sensed Yoshihiro’s discomfort. In her mind she begged him to forgive her for having to carry on with the deception she had initiated last night.

  “I’m sorry if I caused you any anxiety,” Yoshihiro said, bowing obediently. “I’ll do my best to make Etsuko happy for the rest of her life—please accept my word on this.” He swallowed. “By the way, now that things have gone this far, I’d naturally like her to be my wife as soon as possible. I realize the usual arrangements will have to be made on both sides, and this will take some time, but perhaps it wouldn’t be unrealistic to aim at a wed­ding date in February.”

  Ogata cast a sly sideward glance at Etsuko’s stomach, and said, “That should do.”

  “Then would you mind if I leave all discussions about the ceremony, reception and other details to my lawyer, Mr. Koike?”

  “No, I’ve no objection.”

  Yoshihiro gave Etsuko a nod, and she went to bring in Koike from the visitors’ room.

  Koike quickly got through the formal greetings and congratulations, and then said, “I’ll be happy to accept the role of liaison man and organizer. You can rest assured I’ll do my best. I can’t see any special problems, except that because of the limited time available, it may be difficult to arrange the wedding for one of those lucky days according to custom.”

  “That won’t make any difference in this case,” Ogata said wryly. “I’ll leave it to your judgment.”

  Etsuko felt her cheeks flush. She shifted her eyes to Yoshihiro. He seemed to be steadfastly studying his right shoe.

  “Well,” Koike said, “the next thing is the official witness. I’m sure you have many suitable acquaintances, Mr. Ogata, but I wonder if you’d go along with Mr. Tsukamoto’s desire to have the dean of his department, Professor Kuwajima?”

  Koike was acting in a businesslike manner, and Ogata had no cause for any ill feeling toward him, so he softened his expression. “That seems to be a sensible suggestion,” he said, “quite acceptable to me. After all, as the wife of a scholar my daughter will live a life con­nected with the university.”

  “Thank you,” Koike said politely. “And now, there’s one more thing. Mr. Tsukamoto hopes the wedding could be solemnized in a non-religious style. As you probably know, his father was a prominent exponent of Shintoism. Because of his tragic fate, it’s quite under­standable Mr. Tsukamoto wouldn’t be very keen on a ceremony performed according to Shinto rites. On the other hand, he feels Buddhist rites are associated with an overwhelming smell of incense, and he’s not a Christian. So a non-religious ceremony would appear be
st suited to his present frame of mind.”

  “I see.” Ogata thought for a moment, then forced a joyless smile. “This reminds me of the time when the present constitution was being drawn up. One school of thought was that it should be written in modern language instead of the traditional legal style. Under normal circumstances this would’ve created a prolonged argu­ment. But in this case the contents themselves were so revolutionary that the revolution in phraseology didn’t really matter, so the idea was adopted without fuss . . . I think this example illustrates my present feelings on the question of non-religious rites. Anyway, they’ve been gaining in popularity in recent years, I understand . . . I’m quite prepared to leave the matter to you.”

  Koike said, “Then I’ll discuss this with Mr. Tsukamoto’s friend, Mr. Kawaji, who’s a lecturer in law at Chiyoda University. We’ll formulate a tentative pro­gram, and then present it to you for your approval . . .”

  For some minutes past, Etsuko hadn’t been properly listening to the discussion, and now her mind wandered off completely. She imagined her bridal outfit—the delicately patterned white material, the red lining, the gold-braided hood—and saw herself wearing it, standing beside Yoshihiro’s tall figure . . .

  Now the days were passing very quickly, but every so often they managed to find time for themselves. Some­times during the day and sometimes in the evening, depending on the opportunity, Etsuko would sneak up to Yoshihiro’s apartment, and then for an hour or so they would lose themselves in each other, oblivious to the world outside.

  Koike was organizing things with his customary energy. He managed to book the Old Boys’ Association Hall at Hitotsubashi University for Monday, February 15. This was a bit close, but it was decided that too soon was better than too late. According to the calendar, February 15 was a ‘neutral’ day—neither good nor bad for getting married—and nobody objected. It was agreed that the marriage ceremony, to be attended by close relatives only, would take place around midday, and the reception would follow at four o’clock.

  So far as the honeymoon was concerned, the middle of February was the end of the academic year, with all the exam papers to be processed. Yoshihiro wouldn’t be able to get away for long, so they decided on a one-week stay at Kyoto, returning to Tokyo the following Sunday. Etsuko thought that tripping around Kyoto together, looking at places associated with Yoshihiro’s bad memories, contrasting the happy present with the unhappy past—this might be the way to cure his mind completely.

  Koike looked after the honeymoon bookings, too, with businesslike thoroughness. Yoshihiro would have been lost without him. When it came to practical things like studying bus timetables and choosing the right inns, the management expert much preferred someone else to do the managing for him.

  Reporting to Etsuko on tentative arrangements for the honeymoon, Koike said, “It’ll be at least six o’clock by the time you get away from the wedding reception. Speaking from personal experience, you’ll be pretty tired by then. Setting out for Kyoto straight away would be far too much for you. That’s why I thought you should stay at a hotel in Tokyo overnight and leave for Kyoto on the super-express early next morning. How does that sound to you?”

  “Sounds fine,” Etsuko said, thinking that Koike was not only thorough but also very considerate. “I’m really grateful to you for your help.”

  “Don’t mention it. For a young lawyer like me buzzing around like a blue fly is normal everyday exercise, and I actually enjoy it. And Yoshihiro is one of my closest friends from way back, so please just tell me whatever you want, and I’ll do my best to fix it for you.”

  Etsuko was delighted with Koike’s helpfulness and courtesy and was always pleased to see him. It was the other young lawyer, Higuchi, she wanted to avoid. But one day, soon after the date of the wedding had been fixed, he buttonholed her in the street. She had just left home to do some shopping when his car pulled into the curb right beside her, and he got out with a stiff face.

  “Your father has told me everything,” he said. “My disappointment must be obvious to you. In fact, I don’t feel like congratulating you—not at the moment, any­way.”

  Her conscience made her look away from him. Whether she liked him or not, she had been unfair to him—there was no question about that. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Please forgive me.”

  “There’s no need to apologize,” he said bitterly, shrug­ging his shoulders. “I’m only angry with myself for not being able to win over your mind. I’ve no ill will toward you. And I’m man enough to know when to withdraw.” He took a deep breath. “All I can do now is wish you hap­piness and ask you to look upon me as one of your friends. If by any chance you meet any problems in the future, re­member I’m always willing to help you to the best of my ability . . .”

  Higuchi’s emotional attitude made Etsuko realize he was still fond of her. She felt sorry for him, but then she thought of his tenacity, and this produced goose-pimples all over her.

  “Now, let’s say goodbye,” he said and put out his hand.

  Hesitantly she offered hers, and he held it tightly for a few seconds. Then he bowed and got into his car. He drove off without looking at her again.

  On January 26 something else happened that would have made a superstitious person uneasy. Yoshihiro’s brother Nobumasa was struck by a motorcycle and broke his left arm and left leg.

  Etsuko turned pale when she heard of it and immedi­ately went to the hospital with Yoshihiro. But Nobumasa was much more cheerful than she had expected, despite his pathetic appearance in white bandages.

  “I’m sorry I had to finish up like this just before the happy event,” he said with a grin. “That’s my careless­ness for you . . . I’ll be allowed to leave the hospital in about a week, but they tell me it’ll be at least another three weeks before I’m fit enough to go back to work. So I may not be able to attend your wedding, but I’m sure nobody will miss me.”

  Yoshihiro was greatly relieved when he realized his brother hadn’t been badly hurt.

  “I’ll miss you all right,” he said, “but I’d rather do without you than see you strain yourself and get worse . . . Actually, I think you were very lucky—your head didn’t get hit, and your doctor says you’re not likely to be left with any deformity.”

  “Well, I’ve been rather overworked lately. The gods might have decided I was due for a rest. I’ll be stretching myself lazily at home, so please enjoy your honeymoon without giving me a thought.”

  “But how will you manage on your own at home after leaving the hospital?” Etsuko asked.

  “That’s no problem at all. I’ll ask the charwoman to come every day for the time being, and there’s a doctor nearby. I’d much rather be staying at home, where I have the stereogram and other things, than being cooped up in the hospital. But thanks for asking, anyway . . .”

  “Just don’t strain yourself, brother,” Yoshihiro said. “I really think you should get married.”

  “That’s enough of you! Don’t you think it’s a bit too soon for you to give me a lecture on marital bliss?”

  Listening to them Etsuko felt completely happy. How that ominous shadow surrounding Yoshihiro had van­ished as soon as they decided to get married! She man­aged to pull him out of the depths of despair. The idea made her proud, and flooded her heart with love for him.

  “Would you like me to come up—just for a little while?” she asked him on their way back from the hospital.

  “A completely superfluous question,” he said, and took her hand. “Incidentally, do you remember Watan­abe—the man who used to butt in, always at the wrong time?”

  “Your relative?”

  “Yes. Well, at last he seems to have made up his mind to turn over a new leaf. He’s getting a job in Hokkaido, so I don’t think he’ll bother us for a while.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful.” She looked up at the clear winter sky and felt like lau
ghing. Watanabe had been the last remaining worry on her mind. It would have been unbearable if a man like that turned up every now and then to invade the intimacy of their home. But now he would be gone, and with him her final worry would dis­appear.

  In his hurry to get to the hospital, Yoshihiro had forgot­ten to switch off the electric heater in the Japanese room. So it was nice and warm when they got back to his apart­ment.

  Less than five minutes later they were in bed, locked in an embrace. In the ten days since they had started it, their love-making had already achieved the ease of familiarity which allowed them to enjoy it to the full. Especially in his case, the shedding of all inhibitions seemed to heighten his pleasure enormously, and this in turn moved her to new plateaus of ecstasy. She was almost glad he had been shy to begin with.

  When she got home that evening, Etsuko once again looked at the guest list, and then took from her desk an unfilled wedding invitation card. She wrote on it the names she had left till last—Mr. and Mrs. Saburo Kirishima.

  She examined the eight kanji characters and burst out laughing. It seemed incredible that only three months ago she had been so upset by a wedding invitation card com­ing from the same people.

  The next nineteen days really raced by, what with prepa­rations for the wedding, meeting Yoshihiro in secret, and dreaming about him in between. Her dreams ranged from the virginally romantic to the wildly erotic that made her wake up in the middle of the night.

  Then it was February 14, the eve of the wedding. She was sitting at the dining table with her mother and father. Suddenly she realized this was her last night alone with them—the end of twenty-six years of girlhood. The thought made her heart twist with pity, not for herself but for them.