THE monkeys were much bigger than Cheryl had expected. About the size of large dogs. At the moment, five of them were lounging in the pool.
Leaning on the rail separating her from the steaming springs, she stared down. Their bright red faces were rimmed by long grayish fur. They reclined in the murky water, or paddled slowly across it to clamber awkwardly out onto the rocks, their wet fur slicked down, looking like drowned cats. There they desultorily groomed one another, picking things from each other’s heads. Or squabbled in squeaky, aggrieved tones, like seniors in the golf course locker room. It was easy to picture them as lazed-out retirees. All they needed was cocktail glasses and bingo cards.
“Think they’re naturally that way?” she asked Eddie, beside her. “Those red faces?”
Her husband stood hugging himself, his shockingly thin frame concealed within the heavy padded parka she’d bought him in Tokyo. The weather wasn’t really that cold. She herself felt fine in thermal leggings and hiking boots and a Navy windbreaker.
The pictures on Booking.com had all showed the onsens—natural hot-spring pools—in the wintertime, with snow down to the edges of the springs and lying deep on the rocky hills beyond. Now those hills were bare. The whole region was volcanic. Wisps of steam bled from the rocky ground here and there, rising to eddy and swirl in the wind along the short trail they’d walked down from the hotel. The stink of sulfur mingled with the rank stench of the monkeys. They had no compunction about letting go in the pool, to judge by the floating turds.
Finally he said, as if forcing some response, “Maybe they’re just flushed from the heat.”
“Or embarrassed about being naked. In front of an audience.”
That got a faint smile. “I doubt being naked would embarrass a monkey.”
She grinned. “Well, obviously shitting in the bathtub doesn’t.”
“But actually you don’t know. Do you?”
She looked away, feeling in the wrong, or as if she was overlooking something important. Something beyond missing her ship, which of course she did every minute she was away. It felt weird, not having that responsibility. But Savo was safe now. Inport Wakkanai again, with Matt Mills keeping an eye on things. And the war, thank God, was over.
She cleared her throat. “No, I guess I don’t.” Wanting to add something like, In fact, I can’t tell how anybody is feeling. Unless he tells me.
But she didn’t. Shit, the poor guy had just come back from a living death. A Chinese POW camp. Carried as missing, presumed dead, since his strike fighter had gone down in the Taiwan Strait during Operation Recoil.
Three years had been a long time for her, too. She’d mourned him. Then finally moved on, with a union rep from the shipyard.
She shivered, remembering Teju. His cocoa skin had felt smooth as a cat’s back. Except for his hands, a worker’s hands, stronger and rougher than Eddie’s had ever been … She should feel guilty about that. Shouldn’t she?
But whether she should or not, she didn’t. After all, she’d believed her husband was dead.
But now Eddie “Chip” Staurulakis was back. Gaunt, hesitant, pale. Pain had drawn his face tight by the end of the easy twenty-minute walk here from the hotel. He leaned on the paint-scarred railing beside her now as if exhausted. This husk was nothing like the brash, arrogant fighter jock she’d married, oh so long ago.
“Look at that little one,” he said, too cheerfully, as if trying to mimic being entertained. He lifted his hands, flexed the wrists, and winced. Then crammed them back into the parka pockets. “He’s kinda cute.”
“Yeah. Kinda.” She shivered. The little one was slightly more appealing than the others, if creepy, too. A cross between a puppy and a human baby. It was eating something it had found in the pool. She hoped it was food. A bin of what looked like peanuts or soybeans was set up a few yards down the slope. More turds littered the rocky ground around it. Yeah, these monkeys were famous. But she had absolutely no desire to get any closer to them. “Do you like the ryokan? I mean, is it all right?”
They were staying at a traditional hotel, a terrifyingly upscale place ostensibly favored by the imperial family. Their sunken tub looked out over the fog-shrouded northern mountains. The daily price was daunting, but they both had back pay on the books. She’d reserved a room with Western-style beds. But Chip hadn’t been able to sleep. He said the mattresses were too soft. Before they’d left for the springs this morning, she’d asked the desk to shift them to one with futons.
He didn’t answer for a few seconds. Then his shoulders lifted and fell. “I’m cool with it.”
“Did you get baths in the camp?” But the moment she asked this she thought, Fuck, Cheryl. What a stupid, stupid question. Why remind him? You’re supposed to be getting his mind off that. Helping him come back.
But he only shrugged again and squinted up at the dreary sky. A moment later she heard it too: the distant hissing roar of a jet. Invisible above the clouds, but he’d picked it up right away.
“Twin engine,” he said. “Probably commercial.”
A feral shriek jerked their heads around. At the far end of the spring, two monkeys had turned on a third, smaller one. They were screaming, their shockingly long yellow fangs bared in snarls. The small one scrambled up out of the spring and crouched shivering on the rocks, hugging herself. The larger ones glared. Then turned away, returning to their heat-soaked trance. They ignored her, beyond an occasional intimidating glance.
“They’re pretty fucking territorial,” her husband observed. He sighed, face tense, as if he’d just recalled some unpleasant event. “Like us.”
She wanted to ask what he was remembering. To know what he’d experienced. To share some of his pain, if it would help. But the counselor had said, “Give him time. It was hell in those camps. No food. Beatings. Worse, if you resisted. His story isn’t going to come out overnight. Some of it,” she’d added, “he’ll probably keep to himself for the rest of his life.”
She took his arm now and leaned her head on his shoulder. Yeah, her husband was back. She’d yearned for this. Dreamed. Then lost all hope, and just grieved. And finally, come to terms with the loss.
Now, years later, here he was again. But this was not the same man. Not at all. He’d slept badly. Twitching, jerking, and muttering all night long, so she’d only fallen asleep well toward dawn. In the morning, he’d gaped at their breakfast trays, as if fish, rice, pickled veggies, and pumpkin soup were an emperor’s feast.
And of course, he hadn’t touched her, other than a peck on the cheek that wouldn’t have offended a maiden aunt. Not at all like the horny jock she’d married, ready to launch hot on a moment’s notice. Once, she couldn’t even change her bra in front of him without a grab. Which she’d not always fended off …
“I just wonder what it was all about,” he muttered now, rubbing his lower jaw. The Navy said he needed serious dental work—he had gum disease, needed root canals and tooth replacements—but had let him postpone it for a few days, so they could get reacquainted.
“What … what what was all about, Eddie? The camp, you mean?” she murmured, looking up. Hoping for maybe a hug, or a quick kiss, but he wasn’t even looking at her. The monkeys seemed to interest him more.
Shit, what had the Chinese done? He’d been a randy goat. Now he was acting like some kind of detached, celibate guru, floating above earthly desires. He hadn’t even touched breakfast, except for two bites of rice, a pickled carrot, and a few sips of hot green tea.
“No … the whole fucking war. What it was about.” He nodded at the monkeys. “Was it just that … like that?”
She blinked. “I’m not following, Eddie. Like what?”
“Like, they wanted us out of the pool? And we didn’t want to go?”
She blinked again, thinking for a moment he was joking. But he wasn’t smiling. After a moment she said, trying to banter back, “Or we owned the water, and they wanted in.”
Where was this coming from? The guy she’d known had never thought deeply about anything. Well, about football. Golf. And flying. But maybe being in a prison camp gave you time to think.
“Sorry, I guess I’m tired,” he said. “That was kind of a rough path.”
Actually it had been easy, a smooth gentle slope. But she nodded. “Yeah, it was a bit of a climb. Want to go back?”
“No, this is all right. Let’s grab that bench over there.”
A Japanese couple, gray-haired, a head shorter than the two Americans, smiled and half bowed as they passed. Cheryl smiled and bobbed her head back. They settled on a concrete bench overlooking the pool area.
“So,” he said, not meeting her gaze. “You turned out to be the real hero in this war.”
She took his hand, which lay lifeless and rather cold in hers. “I think we both did okay, Eddie.”
“You got the DSC. I get the POW medal.”
They were comparing decorations? “Yeah, but … you’re getting the Heart too, right?”
“I don’t know. They might not give medals for cracking your head open when you punch out.” He huffed a sigh, still not looking at her. “What is it with you, Cher?”
“With me? What is what?” She smiled, squeezing his hand, but not getting anything back. “I don’t understand. Explain it to me.”
“Something’s different. You’re like, not the same. You were always nervous. Anxious. That was kind of what I liked about you. Plus that you were incredibly hot, of course.” A slight grin; a very faint glimmer of the old Chip, as if seen darkly beneath many layers of aging plastic.
“You’re attracted to anxious girls?”
“You know what I mean. Like, I had too much self-confidence. Well, you gotta have some of that when you’re going down the chute in Case Three seas, low fuel and no divert. But it was like … I guess I thought we could share. I’d help you out there, and you’d help me in the brains department. Help me figure life out. I don’t know. I was only twenty-five.”
She turned the gold ring around on her finger. He didn’t have his anymore. Said they’d stolen it and his watch on the fishing boat that had pulled him out of the East China Sea. He’d ditched his pistol as soon as he hit the water, and his radio hadn’t worked, damaged in the bailout. The fishermen had beat on him some after they pulled him aboard, then turned him over to the military cops. Who’d relieved him of the rest of his survival gear.
Beyond that, he hadn’t said much about his captivity. Only that they hadn’t gotten much to eat, and that after a group of prisoners had escaped from another camp, they’d spent the nights locked into steel trash containers, huddled together for warmth.
Well, maybe he was starting to share now. She’d just have to be patient and wait.
But she had something to share too. And she wasn’t looking forward to saying it. But it had to be done. Here, now, today. Time wasn’t going to improve the news. And she’d truly thought he was KIA, after all.
More screaming erupted from the pool. The monkeys were throwing feces at each other. Really, they’d looked cute and funny in the pictures, but she was getting the unvarnished experience now. Still, the mountains were lovely, and she and Eddie would have their own hot bath, without floating poo, back in the room. Or a communal soak at the humans-only onsen up the hill, stewing alongside naked Japanese. Probably mainly older couples, like the pair who’d bowed to them.
She said in a low voice, “And I’m not like that anymore. Is that what you’re saying?”
For an answer he fumbled in his parka and took out a pack of the cigarettes he’d bought at the exchange, despite her askance look, while she’d been shopping for hiking boots. She’d started to ask, When did you start, but didn’t.
Once again, she choked back questions. Just tried to go with the flow, and let him set the pace.
He lit up with a disposable lighter and puffed morosely, watching the animals. More were arriving now, trekking down from the hill, where they apparently lived. More tourists were arriving too, toiling up a rugged path from the direction of the train station. They looked Asian. She and Eddie were the only Europeans at the hotel, too. If white Americans could still be considered Europeans.
She took a deep breath and crossed her arms. Boy, she didn’t want to do this. But the longer she let it go, the worse it would be. “I’m really glad you’re here,” she opened. “I mean it, Eddie. I thought for so long that you were … well, gone. Never coming back. The Navy told me that. Missing, presumed dead. Nobody knew you survived. And the Red Cross never got an accounting from the camps until the armistice. So I just—I just had to accept that.”
He smoked morosely, but nodded. Still watching the pond, where the small monkey, trying to creep in again, was being ejected once more, with screeches and bites and flailing arms. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Must’ve been rough.”
What the hell did that mean? She tried to ignore it, to not take offense; had to just plow on. “What I mean is, I mourned you, Eddie. I went through all those grief-stage things. But we were at war, and I was a CO. I had my people to look out for. I was devastated at losing you. But I came to terms with it. That I’d have to live without you.”
He flicked ash off the cigarette, staring at the ground. “Okay, sure. But it sounds like you’re working up to some kind of apology, I think. So … why?”
She took another deep breath. “Anyway … I want to be honest with you. I got involved with a guy, in Hawaii.”
He didn’t react at first. Just kept staring at the fighting monkeys. She picked at the skin between her fingers, which seemed to be itching again. Maybe it was the dryness here. Oh, shit, she thought. I should have waited on this. Waited until he felt better. Was she just trying to make herself feel better? She cleared her throat. “Um, did you hear me? Chip?”
“Oh yeah. Loud and clear. Who was it, one of your officers? That tall asshole. Mills, is that his name?”
“Who, Matt? No. God, not him! Nobody aboard ship. Not anyone you know. A civilian.”
He nodded, acknowledging, but still not really reacting. She rushed on. “Like I said, I didn’t know you were alive. And it didn’t last. Just one weekend, really. I wanted you to know. To get it out in the open, so we can talk about it.”
One weekend she’d never forget, an idyllic time she’d always cherish in that secret corner of her brain no one else could access. At least not without the kind of imaging equipment Archipelago Systems and the CIA were rumored to be developing to interrogate spies. Maybe with that they could actually hear the swish of waves on a Hawaiian beach, feel the sand in the crack of your butt after a round of incredible sex …
But Eddie just sat there on the bench, watching the monkeys and nursing his smoke. She scratched her head, fretting. Was he even registering her confession? She wanted to shake him. Hurt, being wounded, even rage would be better than this … passivity. This appalling apathy. It just wasn’t him. He just wasn’t whom she’d married: mercurial, funny, rambunctious. Sometimes a caveman, yeah, but always there. So finally she did shake him, gently, by the sleeve. “I need some kind of reaction, Eddie. Say you hate me, or whatever. What are you feeling?”
“I don’t feel much of anything these days,” he murmured, and sighed. “To be real honest, I don’t feel much about you, either way. So you had like, an affair, while you thought I was dead. Well … fine. So did I.”
She cocked her head, puzzled. “You had a … I don’t understand. I thought you were in that camp the whole time.”
“I was.”
“There were women there too?”
“It wasn’t with a woman.”
Her nod was a mindless reflex. She hovered between shock and numbness. “I’m not—I didn’t—I never knew you—had impulses. I mean, that way.”
“I didn’t. Still don’t, I guess. Or maybe I do. That’s part of what I’ve got to figure out.” He sighed again, more deeply this time, and stubbed the cigarette out on the bench’s concrete arm. Flicked it to the ground. She bent and retrieved it, slipped it into a pocket. He jammed his fists into his parka again. “Along with a lot of other things,” he added. “Like, whether to stay in. Whether I’ll ever get back to flight status. Probably not, given what they found on my physical.”
“Is that right? I didn’t know … You didn’t say what the results were.”
He shook another cigarette out, but didn’t light it. Just stared at it. “And, I guess, whether we stay together.”
She tried to keep her tone neutral. Unemotional. “Oh. I see.”
“And until I get some of that uh, figured out, yeah, it might seem like I’m kind of, not all here. Or whatever.”
She let the silence elongate. His words weren’t exactly a commitment, either way. But at least he was talking. She eased a breath out and patted his shoulder.
They watched the monkeys for a while longer. Until he said, “What are your plans, Cher? Postwar, I mean?”
“Uh, it’s kind of up in the air … Captain was just a wartime rank. I’m still a commander, officially. Savo’s in port, safe. She’s new, but a lot of the older ships will be decommissioned. I’d have six months left on my command tour if I hadn’t put her in commission in wartime. But now, who knows. I’m long overdue for a shore tour … but a lot of my peers are getting out. Hoping for civilian jobs.”
“Which may or may not be there,” he muttered. He fished in his pockets again, probably for the lighter, and she almost said, You’re smoking too much, but didn’t. “I might need to stay in, at least for a while,” he added. “Given the medical crap I need to take care of. And the dental. They’ll probably give me a desk someplace. Limited duty. We’ll see. You?”
“I’ll stay with the ship until they reassign me. I should call the detailer. There’s a lot going on right now in the surface community. Not just ships. Manpower issues, funding … end strength, promotion planning, billet base, bonus structures—” She stopped herself, realizing she was beginning to chatter. Weird, she felt nearly as scared now as she had in the Tsushima Strait.
“Probably be a lot of early separations,” he said. “Might be good for you promotion-wise. But flying? For me, I think, it’s the end of the line.”
“Uh, maybe. Like I said, a lot of changes are coming down the pike.” She hesitated. “Is there—you used to say, someday you wanted to play golf professionally. Any thoughts about—?”
“Professionally?” He flexed his wrists again, the same habitual way he had since returning. “After they stamped on these, and broke them … No, I don’t think so. Might be able to coach. Yeah, I could probably coach something. Maybe college ball, college golf. Or teach flying somewhere. In light planes.”
She thought about saying that might not be much of a challenge for him, but regarding his downturned face, the slump in his back, she might be wrong.
But then, he’d only been back a few days. She had to give him time. He’d always loved golf. Had talked about it endlessly, to the point of boring her. She’d played a little, mainly when invited along on wardroom outings, but nowhere near his level. But the idea of coaching, or teaching something, that was new.
“Or maybe politics,” he said.
She flinched. “Politics?”
“Just thinking about it. So all that”—he waved his hands, indicating something bigger than these mountains, but farther away—“all this, doesn’t happen again. That’s the most important thing now, I think.”
He lit the fresh cigarette automatically, without looking down, as if not noticing what he was doing. They sat on the bench, watching as another clump of tourists arrived, chattering excitedly as the pond came into view.
So were they together? She still didn’t know. But at least she’d told him. Gotten that off her chest, off her conscience. Not that she had any reason to feel guilty. But still.
“Getting cold out here.” He shifted on the seat, turning a slightly remote gaze her way. “Thanks for the parka, but maybe I should’ve worn a sweater under it. How about you?”
“Yeah. Maybe. I guess.”
“So, time to go?”
He flexed his wrists again, winced again, and stood. Stretched, his hands to the small of his back. “Let’s try that big heated bathtub. That’s gonna feel good.” He almost sounded eager. The most animated he’d been since his return. About a hot bath. Still, it was something.
She looked back one last time at the pool as they left. Remembering again what he’d said, and the incongruous wrongness of it. Reducing the horrific years just past to monkeys fighting over an increasingly fouled pool.
No. That wasn’t why she’d fought. Why she’d risked defeat, and death, time after time. Why people, her people, had died, aboard the old Savo, aboard Jeonnam, Guam, all the other lost ships, all the wounded and burned in her task force. Why he had lost three years of his life, and ruined his health. It wasn’t like that. Couldn’t be like that. God, if he really believed that … but surely he couldn’t. No sane person could.
“I’m really looking forward to a dip in that hot tub,” Chip said again, beside her.
She turned back to him, dismissing her vision, and forced a smile. “Yeah. Me too.”
And after a moment, tentatively, he took her hand. His fingers felt icy. His grip was weak. But he’d reached out, and touched her, finally.
Yeah. Nothing in life was guaranteed. Nothing had been agreed between them. But … maybe it had been clarified, at least a little.
They’d have to just let it all settle out. And then, see what came next.
A few steps on, she linked her arm through his.