Chapter 33

Fingal’s Cave/33
YUUDAI LEARNS THE TRUTH

Katashi opened his eyes, for he was the world’s lightest sleeper. To ensure his unbroken rest, Katashi ordered the yacht’s crew while at anchor to remain in their quarters from midnight until dawn, unless an emergency should arise. The crew member responsible for the disturbance outside Katashi’s door would be summarily dismissed.

Rolling out of bed, Katashi checked the hour and scowled. Grumbling, he drew on a robe and walked to the door only to have it fly open in his face.

“I’ve come for my sons,” said Yuudai.

“How did you get on my boat?”

“Thief! Liar!”

Katashi smiled, scratched his shoulder. Yuudai grabbed Katashi’s robe, yanked him forward and pressed his knife to the man’s throat. “Either I see my sons or your head comes off. Got it?”

“Yes, yes,” said Katashi, “I understand.”

His ex-father-in-law pushed away. The lines on his forehead deepened as he sat back on the bed. “Come here,” Katashi said, patting the bed.

“I’ll stand,” said Yuudai.

As Katashi laid out his case, Yuudai scraped the knife against his own bare leg as if sharpening the blade on a whetstone.

“You went voluntarily to Cassandra’s car. She didn’t drag you there. She didn’t take you at gunpoint.”

“No, not at gunpoint,” said Yuudai.

“She never struck me as being that attractive,” said Katashi. “But I thought that would have been unfair. We all have a point where we can’t resist.”

“It seemed like—” Yuudai stopped. He looked down to see that his wet trunks were spreading a dark circle across the floor. He shifted, slapped the knife against his cheek as if in reprimand.

“You went to her car while your boys were back at camp alone.”

Yuudai remembered how the night was warm and the stars brilliant. How far away Sumiko seemed, as if she were not in this world and all that attached to her could be set aside. Demi (for that was the name the woman gave) leaned into him, offering her breast beneath the flannel. How real it seemed and how like a dream Sumiko seemed.

“Yes,” admitted Yuudai, “I walked the woman to her car.”

“You left the food for your children at the bar.”

“Yes . . .”

“Cooling on the bar while you swelled with heat.”

“I didn’t think . . . I had no intention . . . I wouldn’t . . .”

Katashi continued. “Though the night was warm, the Mustang’s windows were closed. When you got into the passenger seat, the smell of the marijuana filled your nose like a jungle essence. Cassandra lit up a joint and passed it to you. Next came the bottle of cheap burgundy. The goods traveled back and forth. You laughed at nothing, laughed at her stupid jokes, laughed at her suggestions. She had a cabin, she said, not far away. It had two bedrooms and a wonderful view. She liked you so much. She liked your strange name and your smell and your muscles and your eyes and the hardness of your leg as she contorted in the seat to put her legs over yours. ‘Stay with me,’ she said. ‘I’ll show you the wonders of the wilderness. I’ll show you pure—’

“‘My sons are waiting for me,’ you said.”

“‘So, we’ll get them,’ said Cassandra. ‘It will be much better at my place than that campsite. It’s a real cabin with logs and a fireplace and outside a white owl lives in a cave. Deer are everywhere and red foxes—and sometimes a bear wanders by.’”

“‘I’m married,’” Yuudai muttered, echoing his faint resistance of ten years ago.

“‘But your wife isn’t here. If you can’t be with the one you love . . .’”

“She came over me then, crawled onto me in the passenger seat,” said Yuudai.

“You didn’t jump out?” asked Katashi.

“She unbuckled my belt . . .”

“You would tell your sons that it was an old friend you ran into. The boys would take the second bedroom. You would pretend to sleep on her couch, and then later after your sons had gone to sleep . . .”

“It didn’t happen.”

“But you—”

“She took my hand, put it down her jeans, put it into her . . .”

“It was always them, wasn’t it, Yuudai?”

“It didn’t seem . . .”

“No, it never seems.”

“It was like a dream.”

“Oh, always like a dream. As easy as a dream.”

Katashi rose from the bed. “Do you think it was a dream for my daughter to hear that? To give me permission, even then, when I had proven your numerous infidelities?”

“Was Sumiko there?”

“Yes, Yuudai. She was there. The boys would not have gone without her.”

“You took my sons to Japan?” Yuudai asked.

“Yes, and your father would have approved.”

“What did—”

“You had been in a car accident. You’d had too many drinks at the bar. Their mother had to stay with you. The boys went back to Japan to stay with their grandfather until you recovered.”

“But I never recovered.”

“No, sadly. You died.”

“I died . . .”

“They took it hard,” said Katashi.

“I want to see my sons,” said Yuudai.

“I know,” said Katashi, scratching his cheek. He looked down at the floor, the puddle. Katashi’s eyes welled.

“What is it?” asked Yuudai.

Then Katashi gave him the piece that would complete the puzzle and dissect Yuudai.