The Book of the Heart

by Carrie Asai

  The sub began to move. It was a subtle feeling, but it sounded like…more machines were whirring or something. The floor vibrated softly. I bit my lip. We were on our way. The crew quieted down, most likely going to man their various duties on the sub. Across the room I heard Hiro breathe out.

  “I guess this is it,” he whispered.

  “There’s no turning back now,” I replied softly, and swallowed hard.

  Pretty soon it really started to suck.

  It felt like the sub was a cork bobbing on the rockiest seas known to man. Or like we were in a washing machine, going around and around and around, never stopping. I got so sick, I couldn’t even see straight.

  “I’m gonna throw up again,” I said to Hiro, lunging toward the bucket. This was even more nightmarish than I’d thought it would be. Throwing up was bad enough when you had to do it in a toilet. But we only had a bucket and couldn’t wash it away. The smell was making me even sicker.

  “You have to try to stay quiet,” Hiro said. Outside, we heard nothing. Some of the crew members were probably asleep. “They’ll hear you throwing up.”

  “I don’t care,” I moaned. “Why didn’t that ass Andy say anything about getting sick?”

  Hiro stroked my hair after I pushed the bucket away. My body was covered in sweat; I felt it sticking to the back of my neck and to my arms. “I can’t do this,” I said. The room started to spin. My stomach began to lurch again.

  Strange clicks and stomps boomed from the ceiling. I heard someone shout and gripped Hiro’s hand.

  And then a shrill, earsplitting alarm sounded. I perked up and almost screamed. The alarm was the loudest thing I’d ever heard. Were we being evacuated? Had something happened? I breathed in quickly.

  But as soon as it had started, the alarm stopped. The air quieted again. I heard rustling in the room next to us.

  “What was that?” I said.

  “Maybe a wake-up call?” Hiro suggested.

  “Oh God,” I said. “You mean it could happen again?” At this point I didn’t even care if the alarm was actually a siren telling everyone to evacuate or that we were being bombed. In this situation death would be much more comfortable than lying on the floor of the sub, sick as a dog.

  My stomach lurched again. My sickness was starting to make me paranoid. “You’re holding me prisoner here,” I said to Hiro, bending over the bucket.

  “No, I’m not,” Hiro said.

  “This is the worst torture ever,” I said through my teeth. “Something about this just isn’t right. Did Melissa poison me with this peanut butter?”

  “You’re just seasick,” Hiro said. “It’ll go away after a while. I promise.”

  “I should never have trusted you,” I said wearily. “That military base…hiding under the bed…Melissa…God. This whole experience has been shady.”

  If I could just get off this sub, I rationalized, I could go it alone. I had the diamond necklace. I hadn’t told Hiro about it. I just had to make it a couple more days.

  But I felt so awful. “Ughhh…,” I groaned.

  “You have to keep your voice down,” Hiro said, stroking my hair again. “Just try and stay strong.” One of the crew members was talking loudly to his bunkmate in the room next to us. I overheard the word torpedo.

  “Don’t touch my hair,” I said nastily, flicking his hand away. “That’s making me dizzy.”

  I started to cry. “I can’t go on,” I said. “I’m so tired of all of this. Everywhere I turn, it’s more misery than the last place. At least as a prisoner of Masato’s, I wasn’t dizzy and puking every second…. Oh God…”

  The sub lurched again. “Who the hell is driving this thing?” I wailed. “The yakuza?” I tried to laugh, but then I grew nervous. Was it possible?

  “Of course not,” Hiro said. “We have to be quiet.”

  I heard boots stomping around. A hissing sound of a valve opening seemed like it was right inside my ear. I saw mini-explosions in front of my eyes. My head hammered. I wondered if they were fiddling around in the torpedo room.

  Hiro held me in his lap. I was too exhausted to move. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, looking down at me, the penlight making a tiny spotlight beside him.

  “Are you crazy?” I said weakly. “This is definitely not the time for that.”

  I must’ve looked frightful and smelled pretty wretched, too. Hiro didn’t show any signs of sickness. And here he was, sitting on the grimy floor of a submarine with me, in the darkness, cleaning my throw-up from my face, dealing with the horrible smell of the room. I had to give him points for trying.

  We sat in silence for about half an hour; then my nausea and paranoia subsided slightly. I tried to breathe evenly and deeply, willing away the sickness.

  “So tell me about my mother,” I said in a drowsy voice.

  “I don’t know anything at all about her,” Hiro said. “All I know is that she lives in San Diego. But considering what a beautiful daughter she has, she must be gorgeous.”

  “Do you think we’ll find her?” I asked, shrugging off his compliment.

  “Yes, I do,” he said. “We have to.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because…” He paused. “This is a very important thing for you. We must try to find her. We must do everything it takes. We can’t lose hope.”

  “Ughhh…,” I said, my stomach lurching again.

  The sub rocked and then grew steady. For a moment my head felt clear. I sat up a little. Hiro looked at me and smiled. I grinned wearily back. In this half-light he looked vulnerable and small. His hands reached for my waist. He drew me gently to him.

  “You really are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” Hiro said. “I was devastated when I thought I’d lost you.”

  I laid my head on Hiro’s neck, just as Melissa had. Which reminded me.

  “Melissa really had it bad for you, huh?” I said.

  “Well, maybe,” he said, pausing. “We dated a couple of times. I broke it off with her, but we remained friends. But I think she wanted more.”

  “So you think she did you this favor because of her love for you?” I asked, my head still buried in his neck. He still smelled the same: woodsy, like incense, like someone who is in good shape and eats well.

  “I don’t know,” he said modestly. “But she wasn’t the girl for me.”

  He gave me a squeeze. My stomach stayed calm. I breathed out, not sure whether I should laugh or not. Hiro was serious. Hiro had been dead serious this whole time.

  “I almost lost you,” Hiro said again, sounding choked up. “But I escaped just in time.”

  Then I realized: Hiro was in the same predicament I was. He had to be, in some ways. Why would he have risked his life, running through that navy base, stowing away on a sub? It would be really stupid if he were risking all this just to kill me. Maybe I had to try and trust him.

  I wiped off my mouth and looked up at him. Even though I was covered in puke and a downright mess, I grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him. I’m not sure what made me do it. It was a sad kiss. It wasn’t the kisses we used to have—pure, clean, happy kisses. Kisses that said, “We’ve found each other!” No. This kiss was different. This kiss was confused and complicated and a little scared.

  I backed up from Hiro. His eyes were surprised. He opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t.

  The sub shifted. We both jumped and were tossed in two different directions. I doubled over, clutching my stomach, and crawled onto the bunk. From far away I heard the sound of a warning alarm. And then quickly the sound of someone shutting it off.

  Hiro shifted across the room. I looked for him in the darkness and found his shape. He was lying on his bunk bed. He clicked on the penlight and shone it over at me. His eyes bored into mine. The kiss was still hot on my lips. I could still taste him.

  Then he quietly scrambled down from the bed, knelt down on the floor, and put his arms on my lap. He was trembling.

  “I lov
e you so much,” he said. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. Ever again.”

  “I love you, too,” I said, although I had no idea if I meant it or not. I said it in fear that we would never survive this sub trip. In terror of what I’d been through and what might happen next.

  Finally, after what seemed an eternity and a half, the tension growing thicker and thicker, both of us scared and charged and thinking the same thing, he leaned down and kissed me. I pulled him down to me. The world was quiet around us. Our mouths locked together, and for a brief moment I got a tiny glimpse of how I used to feel about Hiro. The same strong arms, the same earlobes, the same back of the neck. Here in the sub we were free and hidden and could do anything we wanted. No banditos, no ninjas, nothing. It was a luxury we’d never experienced before.

  But I didn’t know if I felt ready.

  I didn’t know if I loved him.

  I didn’t know if this was the right place. The right time.

  Hiro kissed my face, my shoulders, my arms.

  “What do you think…?” he murmured, laying me back on the cold, gritty floor.

  My heart pounded. What did I think? I felt confused, lost, afraid, screwed up. I remembered reading somewhere that people want to have sex when a loved one has died in order to prove that they are alive. I felt a little like that. I needed to prove I was alive, that I was strong, that I would get through this. I pawed Hiro, unsure of my actions, unclear about my feelings. I didn’t love him. I did. I didn’t trust him. And then I did trust him. Or did I? I couldn’t decide.

  Hiro kept kissing me. His kisses felt genuine and eager. I knew Hiro loved me with all his heart. I knew that he thought I was his ideal. But I had a feeling he was hiding something from me. I didn’t know if he could protect me from this world or if he could even help me find my mother. My love for Hiro would never be the same as it had been before—clean, easy, pure. Now it had been marred by lies, the past, complications.

  He managed to get my tank top off and began kissing my stomach and belly button. “Heaven,” he called, crying.

  Part of me felt dead inside. Part of me felt scared, sad, exhausted. Part of me still wanted him. And part of me hummed along, thinking of other stuff. Do I have my birth mother’s hair? Is Masato looking for me right now? Why does Mieko hate me so much? Are we going to get out of this alive?

  “Do you want this, too?” Hiro asked, still kissing me everywhere.

  “I…,” I started. I wanted something. I needed something. I needed all this noise around me to stop. Just for a couple of minutes.

  “Yeah,” I answered finally.

  Hiro sighed, ecstatic, and took me in his arms.

  Later I lay awake, thinking. The sub groaned along. It was pitch-dark. With every little noise I jumped. A couple of guys were chattering away in the other bunk room. The little slice of light under the door shimmered red. Andy had explained that during the night, certain areas of the sub used only red lights to save energy.

  Hiro snored beside me, his arm cradled around my head. We were both squashed into one bunk.

  I sighed. Back in Japan, when I lived in my old house, sometimes I’d lie in bed, trying to figure stuff out. I’d stare at the ceiling, trying to make sense of everything. But my problems seemed so small and silly compared to the ones I had now. What had I worried about then? What mattered?

  I felt empty and strange. So that was sex. That was it. I didn’t regret it, but I just didn’t feel anything. Ever since I’d realized I had feelings for Hiro, at least parts of me had desperately wanted to have sex with him. Now that we had, I felt detached from Hiro, as if I didn’t know him anymore. But the truth was, I knew more about him than I ever had before. I knew his secrets, or at least some of them.

  Yet I didn’t feel that this was good enough.

  I sat up and wriggled out of the bunk. My feet ground into the cold floor. I fumbled for the ladder and climbed into the top bunk, above where Hiro was sleeping. The springs squeaked. I shivered. Then I hung over the side of the bed and looked at Hiro. I could barely see him in the dim red light coming from the bottom of our doorway. But from what I could see, he seemed so peaceful lying there, his face calm and smooth, his hands curled like a baby’s. But if I was going to be perfectly honest with myself, the same lust wasn’t there anymore. There was an empty shell inside me. The shell was waiting something—someone?—else. I needed answers somehow.

  I hoped I would find my mother. I hoped I would find something.

  A fist of nerves seized in my chest. What in the world was I doing with my life?

  And would my life ever be normal?

  8

  Fists pounded on our door. I shot up from the bed.

  What day was it?

  “Open up!” boomed a voice from the other side.

  “What’s happening?” I said quietly to Hiro. Had they found us?

  It had to be days later. Neither of us wore a watch, but it felt like a lot of time had passed.

  Hiro slipped down from his bunk and walked to the door. Through the dim light I saw him bend over. Only a few hours after we’d had sex, he’d gotten seasick and had suffered from it for what seemed like days. He’d had to use the same bucket I used. Neither of us had felt well enough to sneak out to the head to clean it up. I was surprised the crew next door didn’t come knocking from the smell alone.

  Slowly he slid the latch across and pushed open the door.

  “Are you Hiro?” said a voice. I couldn’t see anything. The light was brighter out there than it was in here. I squinted, unused to it. My heart pounded. They’ve found us, I thought. This could be it.

  “Yes,” he said in a small, weak voice.

  “I’m Dave. Andy contacted me.”

  I breathed out.

  “Is everyone gone?” Hiro asked.

  “Yeah,” Dave said. I sat up straighter and could now see him. He was a tall guy with a buzz cut and long arms and legs. His face was stern. “We gotta go now, though. If we wait, the crew is gonna come back on and get her equipped to ship back.”

  “Okay,” Hiro said.

  Dave stepped back. “Didn’t have your sea legs, huh?” he said, sniffing, making a disgusted face.

  Hiro staggered into the hall. I climbed out of my bed. The hall lights, red and blinking, illuminated the corrugated-iron walkway. Dave strode quickly toward the hatch. I scurried to catch up.

  “Is everything okay back at the base in Japan?” Hiro asked. “Everything all right with Andy? And Melissa?”

  Dave didn’t answer. He just kept walking.

  We would have to go through the same process in reverse: rush through the sub, which was now illuminated in red, pass through the bright mess hall, climb up the slippery ladder to the top, splash into the water, avoid the guard’s eye, and wade to shore. As I started to climb the ladder, my legs felt like jelly after a few days of disuse. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Hiro clutching his stomach.

  At the top of the ladder I realized it was pitch-black out. The sub bobbed fitfully. The moon rose yellow and blurry over the harbor.

  Dave had already splashed into the water.

  Hiro, below me, touched my hand. “What’s the matter?” he said.

  “Nothing,” I whispered. “It’s just…so dark outside.”

  We crept off the ladder and onto the curved hull of the sub. I looked around. The guy who’d led us out, Dave, was gone. He’d already paddled the whole way in.

  I looked down at the eerie black water. The waves lapped furiously. I couldn’t tell how deep it was. I looked under the dock to see if the water was shallow, the way it had been in the Japanese sub dock. But it didn’t seem so, and I didn’t see anything to hold on to underneath the dock to help us to shore.

  We’d either have to swim or take the dangerous way. The dock.

  I glanced out at the shore. There was a little building there. A guy with a gun stood on guard. Another guy with a gun was smoking a cigarette. If we went over the dock, they’d see
us.

  My pulse started to race.

  Hiro was looking down at the water, too. “How dangerous could it be?” he said.

  “Swimming isn’t exactly my strong suit,” I said. “Remember my stunt in the ocean?”

  “Yeah,” Hiro said. Once when Hiro had challenged me to “accept my own death,” I’d thought he meant “go out and try to kill yourself.” I’d flung myself into the water when there was a riptide and nearly drowned.

  I hadn’t been in the water since. It freaked me out. I looked at it again. If we dawdled up here any longer, the guards might see us. With that, I lowered myself into the ocean.

  The water was warm, much warmer than it had been in Japan. Immediately a wave knocked into me and I went under. I flailed my arms, grasping for something. I felt Hiro’s hands pulling me up. I came to the surface, gasping for air.

  “Hold on to me,” Hiro said, paddling for the shore. We were under the dock. Another wave crashed over us. We went down again. I was terrified. I’d never been in the water at night. There could be sharks or something. We could die, and no one would know.

  Accept your own death, I told myself, remembering what I’d been taught.

  Soon we were able to touch bottom. The sand underneath me felt soft and slippery. I stood, but another wave knocked me over. I was soaked, weak, hungry, sick, and dirty. Hiro staggered ahead of me, feeling his back pocket, making sure the wave hadn’t washed away his wallet. My bag was soaked through and through. Who knew what the stuff inside looked like by now?

  We stayed low under the dock and were soon right beneath the guardhouse. We crept around the back side and ran up the embankment. I turned around. There was the sub, murky and strange, halfway out of the water. We’d made it. We’d arrived.

  On the shore, safely away from the navy guards, my legs collapsed under me. I sat down. “I feel like I haven’t walked in years,” I said. “I think my muscles have atrophied.”

  “I wish we could start training again,” Hiro said, helping me up. “I realize this isn’t the time to talk about it, but I feel that if we had been in better condition, we might have endured the sub trip better.”