The Long Highway Pt. 08

Part 8

We saw that Nelson had left a note for Akemi on a wall inside the college before he left town. It addressed both of us but was clearly for her, saying how much he'd miss her, had enjoyed meeting her, felt a connection, a bond, wanted to see her again, hoped she'd get in touch. He'd put my name in the message as well, must have felt he had to as my friend, but for sure it was feelings for Akemi that filled the thing.

Sounds strange? It is. Nelson enjoys doing stuff like that, shocking people with his frankness, boldness. That's part of his art work too, how it works.

I wanted to tear the thing down from the wall where he'd left it, in full view by everyone crossing the lobby (right beside the poster for Nelson's film retrospective in town) but felt I shouldn't. He'd written in poetic language. I got that the note too was meant as his art work. Nelson didn't make a distinction between art and life- and no doubt he'd see making love to Akemi as art. He preened a bit on his prowess as a Romeo. I wondered how Akemi felt about that- annoyed like me or impressed?

I decided to cross out our names, leaving the rest. I wouldn't mess with his creation but would protect our privacy. I really didn't want my students seeing that. It would be embarrassing and I'd be asked to explain. Students would be delighted, loved a scandal and would definitely find a whiff of one in that lyrical indirect love note to my wife.

Her reaction? She looked a bit teary-eyed actually- and this too may sound strange, be hard to understand, but I don't think the emotion was necessarily from missing Nelson but rather from the overall poignancy of the situation. Like Nelson, Akemi also was an outsider in the city, and now he was gone, both him and his wife Leticia. Maybe they really had formed a bond.

As I was finishing the up-close work of running a pen through each mention of Akemi's and my name on the note-book size paper, I flung my hand out without thinking and it engaged the large sheet on the wall next to it promoting Nelson's film showing, and opened a jagged tear in the side, big one that flapped. The cut happened to go right through some of crucial info about the event. Dates and times, for instance, became hard to read or unreadable.

Maybe Nelson believed I'd find it flattering to have attention drawn to my friendship with a famous artist (which he is, to those in the know) and thus overlook the come-on to my wife. It seemed a play to his own ego as well as to her.

I thought the poster might be removed by a custodian or even image-conscious passing administrator because of its damaged state, and that wouldn't be fair to Nelson. For his sake, I wanted the data about his retrospective, place and hours of the screenings, visible to the students (faculty too). Nelson and his work deserved a good audience. As I've mentioned here, he's been somewhat overlooked in recent years, fallen slightly out of favor- in part because of what are perceived by some as his retrograde views, of the sexes in particular- I can't disagree with the criticism but feel Nelson's vision goes beyond it. His stuff should still be seen. I thought also for the sake of the students and faculty themselves that poster should not come down. Nelson's films might change some of their lives; people could benefit from his view of the world, at least.

I called the film company but instead of reaching a local office got a national distribution center on the phone and had a hard time getting through to someone who could fulfill my simple request to send a replacement poster.

Akemi and I went to a screening that night. They were showing selections from Nelson's oeuvre in sequence. He'd attended just the opening. The lobby of the theater downtown was pretty packed. Good news for Nelson. His work still has pull. We entered a party atmosphere and an elegant one. There was time before the show and I got in a conversation with a woman who looked like a model, sophisticated in a dark dress, tall. We hit it off. She'd reached the coffee bar when I did, was waiting to meet friends, she said. Akemi was off elsewhere doing something.

The filmgoer and I chatted about this and that. I brought up the topic of advertising. Her work (which apparently did include modeling- or had she said only public relations?) and the film poster at the college- and Nelson's note to Akemi and me!- brought to mind that world, the commercialism, which of course Nelson hates.

I said to my slim companion (figure and face alike svelte) "And I know about advertising, the hell of it." She and I had been running the industry down, saw we had in common concerns about its destructive influence. "My father worked in the field."

It occurred to me she might be impressed by the indication that I came from the world of Madison Avenue power and money (I sure have nothing to do with it now), felt a little abashed about showing off (yes, intentionally), but why not? She was very attractive with her long, straight hair down back pointing to her tapered waist and had a warm manner. I liked her husky voice and understated but deep humor- she was the relatively rare sort able to say a lot with a word or two- the meaning echoed, could devastate. Hell, I liked her sincerity. She talked in a genuine way though we'd just met.

More about how she looked, you want to know. I can't convey exactly what it was about her face that affected me. That's beyond my descriptive powers and I wasn't looking for details, just feeling the overall effect. I did note, though, that she was made up with great skill, impeccably, with nuance, her angular face shone like a fruit polished to a high gloss, more apple than peach, in fact more like a diamond cut just right. It was a professional quality makeup job, for sure, the kind you can't read- you don't know how it performs its magic, what sleight of hand leaves such a potent impression. No doubt she would without any cosmetics applied at all but just the right subtle touches were present, showing her high- really popping high- cheekbones and doe-like eyes to dramatic but nuanced effect. I thought as I sometimes do with Akemi: What is she doing with a guy like me? I mean I'm fine, but I'm just regular. Ha ha!

On line in the center of the lobby, she and I returned to- the thing snaked through the lobby nearly to the door- I found Akemi and had to leave my new friend, didn't invite her to join us- somehow that wouldn't have worked. Fortunately, she wasn't cast adrift, quickly found her own friends further ahead on the queue, which was about to be let into the theater. I felt a little bad about our parting company, strangers though we were to each other. I'd felt I had a chance with her, the sadness of a missed chance. Was that what Nelson had felt about Akemi? In their case, had it really been one?

Anyway, my feeling for that other woman didn't linger, appealing as she was and despite the force with which it had welled up in me while we talked and walked around, commenting on things we saw and beyond. That had felt good but it was Akemi I wanted and I put my hand on the small of her back where it tapered even more than the model's.

I'm writing this while Akemi is out, and I'm dreaming of her coming back and my putting my penis in her. Do you understand? One of her favorite expressions: Do you understand? Needed because of her problem with English. I've taken to using it too.