Chapter 23

AFTER SPENDING HOURS staring at the unfamiliar ceiling above him, Steve finally drifted off to sleep. Autumn, more used to shifts in her routine, had been swallowed by slumber almost immediately after getting back to their room. Steve, however, found himself struggling to relax, a victim of his own mind.

A cold, palpable terror had gripped his consciousness and would not let him go. Thinking back to the way he had been before she was in his life was like being blind to the beauty of the world all around him. He had felt some occasional glimmers of joy, living vicariously through the children he taught as they explored their world, but only after he and Autumn had found each other had he truly begun to live.

He had gazed over at her as she snored softly next to him. Her hair was unbound, spreading in a dark shadow beneath her head. She looked so vulnerable, so fragile, lying there on the floor of a stranger’s house.

That was his last thought before sleep finally reclaimed him.

He awoke to the sound of Jiro’s voice wafting through the paper walls of their room.

“Steve-san?” it said, polite but insistent. “Steve-san, are you awake yet?”

Steve groaned a bit, gently pulled Autumn’s arm off of his chest and rose to his feet. He stumbled across the tatami mats to the sliding door. When he opened it he was greeted by the sight of Jiro, looking fresh as a daisy. The man was wearing a red track suit with broad white stripes down either sleeve. The corners of his mouth turned up with might have been amusement.

“Good morning.”

“Morning,” Steve said, yawning. “What time is it?”

“I’m afraid I’m getting a late start today, so it’s just after six a.m. I was wondering if you would join me in the dojo.”

“Uh, sure.” Steve scratched the back of his head. “When?”

“Now.”

“Okay,” Steve said, biting back a retort about Japanese hospitality. “Give me a minute to pull myself together.”

“I’ll see you there.” Jiro turned on his heel and walked softly down the polished hallway.

Steve sighed, grumbled, and dressed himself, wondering what he had gotten himself into. Autumn rolled over on her side and stared up at him as he was just about to slide the door open once more.

“Hey,” she said sleepily, “where are you going?”

“To the dojo, apparently.”

Autumn’s face scrunched up.

“He’s gonna, what, teach you kung fu?”

“I have no idea what he has planned. Go back to sleep, beautiful. I don’t think…that is, I’m not certain that Jiro is, uh…”

“He doesn’t like me much,” Autumn said with a pout.

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s painfully obvious. Fine, go have your bro time.”

“Autumn…”

“It’s fine, Steve, we’re strangers in a strange land. Do as they do.”

“I love you.”

Steve bent low to peck her on the forehead. He tried not to be upset that she didn’t say it back.

Steve went to the outbuilding designated as the dojo. It was a one-story wooden structure, like everything else on the Higashi estate. The doors were open, and Steve gawked at the full size wrestling ring inside. Jiro was in the squared circle, doing deep knee squats like a champ. He turned to Steve as he entered.

“Excellent. Now let’s…how do you Americans say…let’s get this on, yes?”

“I’d have to know what ‘this’ is, first,” Steve said, climbing on the apron and adroitly springing over the top rope.

“You are most agile for a giant. What this is, Steve-san, is something of a test. Many American wrestlers have an appalling lack of fundamentals, and I would ascertain that you are, as I hope you to be, a cut above that mold.”

“Fundamentals…you mean, what, hitting the ropes? Learning how to bump?”

“No, fundamentals of wrestling, in the Greco-Roman style.”

Steve grinned.

“Oh, well, I was an All-American in high school.”

“Really?” Jiro said, dropping to all fours. “Show me.”

“Uh, Mr. Higashi, with all due respect, I’m waaaaay out of your weight class, not to mention half your age.”

“I’ll go easy on you with respect to your youth and inexperience.”

Steve’s nostrils twitched. Youth and inexperience?

“All right, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

In short order, Steve learned that he was the one who should have been warned. Despite his own greater strength and speed, Jiro easily flipped him onto his shoulders with a move known as the plow. The Japanese man used his own head thrust under Steve’s shoulder to send him sprawling. Jiro was on him quick like lightning, and the big man was hard pressed just to keep himself from getting pinned.

Steve felt humiliated, but Jiro seemed oddly impressed that the big man could, barely, hold his own. Still, Steve’s shoulders were pinned to the mat a dozen times before a sweating, panting Jiro called a break.

“I do not find you wanting, Steve-san,” Jiro said, offering a hand to help him to his feet.

“You’re a wonder of the world, Mr. Higashi. Thanks for the lesson in humility.”

“You are most welcome, Steve-san. Will you walk with me? There is something I would show you.”

“Of course,” Steve said, following him out of the ring. The big man was drenched in sweat, and he was surprised at how strenuous the brief encounter had been.

The two men walked out of the dojo and went back to the main residence. Jiro slid open a pair of doors to reveal a room with minimal décor. There was only a small black lacquered table bearing a vase with one of the red and white flowers that were growing outside. Above the table was a pair of swords, the curving type made famous in samurai movies. One was slightly shorter than the other, and both had opulently decorated sheaths.

“Do you know what these are, Steve-san?” Jiro said, walking over to the display and taking the longer of the two down.

“Swords?”

Jiro looked back at him and smiled.

“Astute, but not the whole story. This is a katana, and the shorter a wakizashi. Together, they are called daisho, the long and the short. They were crafted for my ancestor by the legendary smith Murasame. The legends say that every warrior who has wielded these blades with honor has left a piece of his soul within the steel.”

Steve nodded, trying to be respectful.

“A katana is more than just a weapon,” Jiro said, pulling on the hilt and baring a small span of shining steel. It reflected his intense gaze. “It is a symbol of the samurai’s honor, of his willingness to lay down his life for his giri, his duty. Do you understand?”

“I think so. You’re talking about manning up, right? Doing the right thing even when it’s not the easy path.”

“Indeed,” Jiro said, snapping the blade back, “you impress me yet again, Steve-san. But there is more to it than that. Giri is not just fulfilling your obligations, it is fulfilling the obligations of your family, your company, and your country. Sometimes, these duties come into conflict, and it is then that you truly know if one has a samurai spirit. When your father reneged on his duty, and did not perform for us so many years ago, I was dishonored.”

Steve swallowed. So this had been what Jiro meant by a family debt.

“That wasn’t dad’s fault, Mr. Higashi. The promoter he was working for—”

Jiro held up a hand to forestall the explanation.

“I am aware of that, and I am not saying your father is a terrible person, but he did neglect his giri. It is a debt which must be paid.”

“I’m here. I’ll do whatever it takes to settle things up.”

Jiro put the sword back on the wall and turned around to face him. His expression was inscrutable.

“Will you? Steve-san, your opponent is to be me. We will have the match that your father and I were to have twenty years ago.”

“A garbage…I mean, a Death Match?” Steve said, his mouth popping open. “I don’t know if Autumn will let me…she doesn’t even like it when I go off the middle rope!”

“Ah, so, you do understand giri. Much like the samurai of yore, your duties to your love and to your family are at odds. Tell me, Steve-san, why are you a wrestler?”

“Why? Well, mostly for Autumn, I guess, so we can be together and not have to live in a cardboard box. That, and, well, I guess I’m doing it for Pop…for my father, I mean. To carry on his legacy.”

“That is a worthy motivation. Tell me, do they pay you well to dress up in that ridiculous costume and swagger around the ring?”

“Well enough. Hell, I didn’t pick the damn gimmick.”

Jiro smiled, clapped him on the shoulder, and led him out of the room.

“For our match, you will be the Deathslayer Jr.”

“Deathslayer Jr.? That’s kind of goofy.”

“Jr. is a belittling honorific in the United States. Here, in Nippon, it is an honorable title.”

“I don’t care what you call me, I guess.”

Jiro led him back outside into the cheery sunlight. It was already getting hot on the Kanto plains.

“Will you face me, Steve-san?”

“I…I should talk it over with Autumn first.”

“Bah,” Jiro said, making a strangled sound in his throat, “are you her man or not? American women all dress like whores and disobey their men.”

“Don’t call Autumn a whore,” Steve said, his eyes narrowing to slits. He realized that he was a second away from throttling the little man.

Jiro’s eyes lit up.

“Yes, Steve-san, yes…that is the passion, that is the samurai spirit! Oh, we are going to put on a spectacle for the ages!”

“What do you want from me, exactly? I don’t get you at all. One second you’re nice to me, the next you’re insulting. Do you treat all your guests like this?”

“Only the ones who can handle it,” Jiro said, clapping him on the shoulder once more. “Come, let us go to break our fast, as you Americans say.”

“Breakfast, you mean.” Steve followed the bewildering man.

Half a world away, the Crawley family sat around their gleaming, polished dining room table. It was family game night, and they were playing Monopoly, which Crawley had never much cared for but which her father seemed to enjoy. Tran had gathered most of the high end properties and was in the process of building hotels on them.

She herself wasn’t doing badly, at least not as bad as her nearly bankrupt mother. Crawley picked up the dice and rolled, groaning when she ended up landing on one of her father’s properties.

“Ha!” He made a come hither gesture with his hand. “Fork it over!”

“You should’ve bought Park Place when you had the chance, Ellie,” her mother said teasingly.

“Yeah, well, no one can predict the future…”

Tran exchanged a meaningful glance with his wife, and cleared his throat.

“On that subject, Ellie,” he said.

“What subject?” she said, counting out the faux money to hand to her father.

“The future…we were thinking about retiring.”

“What?” Crawley said, the paper slipping from her numb fingers.

“Your father and I want to buy an RV and travel around the country while we’re still physically able to do so.”

“What about the lab? Dad, you’re the one who talks to all the clients, who negotiates the contracts—”

“I’ve been trying to get you to do that yourself for years, but you’re too busy hanging out with that rock and roll band to take it seriously,” Tran said.

“It’s time you grew up some, Ellie,” her mother said, trying to smile to offset the harshness of her words. “Playing guitar and hanging out with…creative people is fine when you’re a kid, but when you become an adult you have to manage responsibilities.”

“But I love playing with the band! We’re just starting to take it to the next level!”

“Growing up means losing things you enjoy,” Tran said, sniffing. “That world is harsh, Ellie. Have you ever, even once, actually made a profit on any of your, your ‘gigs’? Will a couple hundred dollars every other week pay the mortgage, the utilities?”

“Why are you doing this to me?” Crawley’s bottom lip quivered. “What’s wrong with the way things are now?”

“Ellie,” her mother said, putting a hand on top of hers, “we know how much your music means to you, but you’re so good at the lab work! Your father and I call you the Pied Piper of Spiders, you know.”

“I enjoy working in the lab. I never said I didn’t! I just don’t do well with people, Mom.”

“Oh, poo, you just need to give them a chance. I heard about how you ran out on poor Charlotte and her friends the other day. We raised you better than that.”

“Poor Charlotte?” said Crawley, her nostrils flaring. “Poor Charlotte, mother? Really? Charlotte’s a bitch.”

“Ellie!” her mother said, aghast.

“Watch your mouth, young lady,” Tran said, jabbing a finger at her accusingly.

“No, dad,” said Crawley. “I am not going to watch my mouth! It’s time you listened to me for a change!”

Both her parents closed their mouths and exchanged worried glances. Never had their daughter spoken to them in such a manner. Crawley turned her heated gaze on her mother.

“I told you a dozen times that Charlotte made my life hell in high school. Oh sure, she never laid a finger on me, but she didn’t have to; she was perfectly capable of devastating me with just an insult, a snide laugh, or a nasty rumor. I don’t want to hang out with that cunt.”

Her mother’s eyes went wide at the curse word, but she remained silent. Her father looked as if he were about to say something so Crawley headed him off at the pass.

“And as for you, dad,” she said, venom rising in her throat, “I’m tired of you insulting my friends. They’re good people, even if they don’t all go to church, and I enjoy spending time with them.”

With a loud screech, she shoved her chair away from the table and stood up.

“Go ahead and retire if you want, but I’m not giving up my music, or my friends, or my life.”

“That’s it,” Tran said, standing up himself, “you’re not going to talk to your parents like that. I’m your father, and you’re going to do what I say.”

“Oh, really?” Crawley said, striding over to stand inches away from him. “I suppose you want to dictate who I go out with too.”

“Now that you mention it, you’ve never done very well in that regard yourself. How many boyfriends did you have in college? A dozen, at least. And once you opened your legs for them and they got what they wanted, they stopped calling. Even that Phil boy doesn’t come around anymore because of your slutty ways.”

Crawley stared at her father, dark eyes wide. She felt as if she’d been slapped across the face, punched in the gut, and then had her head stomped on.

“For the love of God, Tran,” her mother said, equally aghast.

“So I’m a slut,” Crawley replied, biting back tears. “Thanks, Dad, I feel so much better about things now.”

“Ellie,” Tran said, looking ashamed, “wait a minute, I—”

He was talking to her back. Crawley grabbed her car keys off of a peg near the door and patted her pockets to make sure she had her phone. She was sobbing now, unable to contain the streams of moisture running down her cheeks.

She got into her Eclipse and slammed the door, angrily starting the engine and pulling out into the street. It was inconvenient, living in the city when you wanted to drive somewhere to get a little solitude. Still, the traffic offered a kind of anonymity, and after twenty minutes of driving with no set destination she regained her composure somewhat.

Bitterly, she ran over her father’s comments in her mind. He had been right, after a fashion. It was true that once she blossomed after high school, she didn’t lack for male attention. Crawley never saw herself as a slut; rather, she saw herself making up for lost time. Oh, how she had envied girls like Charlotte, who could have their pick of any boy in high school! The only date she’d been on in high school was prom, and her date had been handpicked by her father. She couldn’t even remember the mincing little prude’s name. He had barely even pecked her on the cheek at the end of the night.

Wishing that Autumn and Steve were in town, she pulled over in the Greece Hut parking lot to figure out her next move. Again she wished she was one of them…

A rueful smile came to her lips. No, that would never work. What Autumn and Steve had was special, and didn’t have room for her in it. What she really wanted was the same kind of love, her own love. Someone who, if they couldn’t understand her, could at least accept her for what she was.

She thought about calling Phil, but she didn’t want him to see her before, during, or after a crying fit. With a start she realized that she still loved him. Maybe he wasn’t as hunky as Steve, but Phil was manly in his own way. A memory of him facing down three massive martial arts fighters at New Year’s sprung to her mind. Phil was smart without being stuck up, kind without being obvious. And he was steadily improving in the bedroom…

She dug her phone from her pocket and flipped through her contacts. On a whim she deleted Charlotte completely, and felt somehow cleaner for it. Then she came upon Rex’s number.

“What the hell,” she said, hitting the call button. After a few rings she heard his voice, loud music in the background.

“Hey, what’s up Crawley?”

“Hey, Rex. What are you up to? I hear music.”

“Me and Sven are trying to put together a crib, actually,” he said with a laugh.

“A crib?”

“Yeah, my old lady’s pregnant. Looks like I’m gonna be a daddy.”

“Wow, that’s great, Rex!” Crawley’s genuine smile broke through her tears.

“Yeah,” he said, and she could sense his nervousness and joy in his voice. “I’m scared as hell, but then again, I’ve always wanted kids.”

“Do you know what it’s going to be, yet?”

“Nah, too early to tell, it’s just a zygote or whatever. We’re kind of jumping the gun on the crib thing, but my buddy Chet had an old one and Sven brought it over, as well as a six pack, and here we are.”

“Uhm, I kind of, sort of had a fight with my parents. Can I come by and hang out for a while?”

“Uh, sure, that’s fine. Maybe we could squeeze in a little practice.”

“I don’t have Molly on me.”

“Oh, well, you can come over anyway. My old lady’s making a mean three bean dip, and we even have some of that hard lemonade stuff you broads like.”

“Sounds like fun. Thanks.”

“No problem. I guess we’ll see you in a bit?”

“I’m on my way. See you soon.”

She hung up the phone and thrust it back into her pocket. Her heart felt lighter, and she realized how much she loved being with her friends. Pushing thoughts of her parents into the back corners of her mind, she pulled out of the lot, humming the new song she had written.

Never did she think that a musty basement could be a sanctuary from her problems. She found Sven and Rex easy company, and always had. Their interchange of insults and ideas kept her amused as she watched them piece together a wooden crib while bereft of the instructions.

Rex’s wife Sally joined them, and Crawley had to admit the three bean dip was nothing short of amazing. She decimated nearly half the bowl, having skipped out on dinner with her folks.

The basement door banged open, and a blast of cool air accompanied Rich inside.

“What’s up, you fucking fa—oh, hey Crawley. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Hey, Rich,” Crawley said, standing up and wiping greasy dip from her hands with a paper napkin. “Listen, about the other night—”

“Nah, you listen,” Rich said, his face more somber than she had ever seen it. “I happened to overhear some broads at work talking—”

“You were camped out in the ladies room again, weren’t you?” Rex said over his shoulder.

“—aaand,” Rich kept talking, shooting Rex a smirk, “as it turns out, Phil was telling the truth. Gina really was trying to get him in bed, but Phil’s motives were purely work related.”

“I saw the police report,” Crawley said, folding her arms over her chest. “Hard not to when you posted it online. I know what they were…up to.”

“Yeah, she grabbed his boys,” Rich said, “that’s what made Phil wreck, dontcha know? He flung her hand out of his lap, then she slapped him, then crash!”

He clapped his hands together for emphasis.

“So, there you have it straight from the horse’s mouth,” he spread his hands out. “You gonna get back with my boy Phil or what?”

“That’s my business,” Crawley said, sneering at Rich. On the inside, though, she was bubbly and excited. Something about the story clicked, and made sense. She could definitely see Phil reacting that way to an unsolicited fondling.

“We are almost all here, ja?” They both turned to Sven. “Might as well call Phillip.”

Rex glanced furtively at Crawley.

“I don’t know about that bud—”

“It’s all right,” Crawley said, smiling. “In fact, I’ll call him and see if he needs a ride.”

She stepped outside to make the call, but not before she noticed Rich’s jubilant fist pumping.

As the phone started ringing, her heart skipped a beat. Warm feelings she had not allowed herself to feel in over a month blossomed in her chest. Now that she had made her decision, it was as if she could breathe again. Even the fight with her parents seemed distant and inconsequential.

“Hello?” Phil’s didn’t even try to hide the excited nervousness in his tone.

“Hello, Phillip,” she said, suddenly at a loss for words. “How are you?”

“Uh, bored, mostly.” He cleared his throat. “Went on a Raid. People were asking about you.”

“Well, unfortunately, if my parents get their way I won’t be doing any WoW for a while.”

“What happened?”

“I could eat up our data plans telling you now, or I could pick you up and give you a ride here.”

She heard Phil’s sharp intake of breath, and his phone jostled. It wasn’t hard to imagine him pumping his own fist in the air, mimicking Rich.

“Phil? Are you there?”

“Yes! I mean, yeah, I’m still here,” he chuckled. “Dropped my phone. What, we doing an impromptu band practice?”

“Maybe…if you’re willing to go to my place and get Molly. Don’t want to talk to my parents for at least twenty-four hours.”

“Twenty-four hours?”

“That’s how long it takes my dad to find something else to be mad about.”

“Right. Well, I’m here.”

“Can you meet me on the street outside?” She was going to get back with him, but really didn’t want things to get awkward, and being alone with him in his apartment was going to be that.

“Yeah, no problem.” He paused, and then blurted. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Crawley said, and her heart danced at the proclamation. “I don’t think I ever stopped. That’s why this…this thing has hurt so damn much.”

“I’m sorry.” Phil loaded the simple statement with so much passion, it was almost comical.

“I know. For what it’s worth, I think I always believed you when you said you were innocent.”

“Then why—” Phil started harshly. He cleared his throat and continued more calmly. “Why did you leave me, then?”

“First off, my exact words were ‘we’re on a break,’ and second—”

“Sorry to interrupt, but ‘we’re on a break’ is commonly accepted to mean ‘we’re broken up but I don’t want to tell you’ in womanese.”

“Maybe it is for some girls, but not for me. And second, you were a perfect ass right before you gave that little skank a ride home.”

“Yeah, I guess I was. I just…I’m always afraid, Crawley. I’m always afraid that you’ll wise up and realize you can have someone better than me.”

It sounded so much like what Autumn had said, it brought a smile to her lips.

“That’s debatable, but who says I want to do better? We click, Phil. I don’t know why, but we just kind of click. In a lot of different ways…”

She let her voice gain a mischievous edge, and could imagine him turning as red as Steve.

“Yeah, we really do. You coming to get me now?”

“Yup. Don’t get mugged while you’re waiting.”

“Got my Taser on me. Listen, Ellie…”

“What?”

“I’ll make sure you never regret taking me back. I promise.”

After that she turned off the phone and headed for her Eclipse. Maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t go back home tonight. Maybe she’d stay the night with Phil instead…