The Long Highway Pt. 17A

Part 17A

I met Sten, an old friend from college. He joined Peter and me and we talked about a fourth friend named Rob, who Sten said had had some success in his position, music production he'd been at ever since graduation, but recently was diagnosed with a serious illness. I said, joking because I didn't know what else to do and don't know Rob well, "I guess he worked too hard, neglected his health."

At the college, Rob seemed only interested in parties, burned his candle from both ends, or however the phrase goes.

Sten asked about Akemi, how we were getting along. I said fine, "if she doesn't leave me." More joking. Kidding on the square as someone used to say, another friend I no longer see often.

"Oh, Akemi would never leave you," Sten said. "She's not that type."

I thought then of Rob and Crystal, whose involvement was also considered sure to pass the test of time. Crystal was always with Rob at the college. He'd be at a packed party, giving himself to the crowd (as I sort of was the night of this conversation), but Crystal was invariably there at his side. She looked good in a party dress- a sparkly one came to mind, her bare shoulders- tanned, they looked buttery- her frizzy blond hair she ran her hands through as she danced. And then one day Crystal wasn't with Rob anymore, had left him for someone else. Of course I mentioned none of this to Sten or Peter as we talked, but the thought of Akemi taking off like that chilled me to the bone.

We were at a reunion party, not a formal one, just gathering that brought a lot of us back together for a night (Akemi had declined to come), and drifting through the crowd, separated from people I knew, I got into a conversation with one I didn't. I can't remember what we talked about, only that at a point I asked him how old he was. The topic must have come up, however indirectly.

"Seventy," he said.

"I can't believe that," I said. "That's how I want to be, strong like you forever."

He didn't look old at all, Instead, the impression he gave was of sturdiness. He was solid, square-shouldered, had a broad face full of character, handsome like some old Hollywood actors whose type you don't see anymore, worn by life, even beaten up some, but also improved by it. His expression was slightly sardonic, that of someone still able to mock life rather than be mocked by it, with ample resources of energy to summon.

It was hard approaching middle age with a woman so much younger who, because of her race, I guess, looked almost like a teenager and sometimes seemed to think like one- anyway, was at different stage of life than me, in both mind and body.

Home from the party, not drunk that night like the other time I wrote about, but reflective, I watched her wash her hair in the sink. She showers at night and that one ours was broken. I watched in the kitchen her smooth, angular shoulders from behind, how her arms moved inward to gather her hair under the faucet, and thought of college days, of my classmate Rob whom I hadn't seen in a while and who was dealing with a chronic condition, and I thought of Crystal.

Leaned forward to the sink, water streaming down through her hair- she'd turned her head to the side- what was Akemi thinking? Not of me, I guessed; anyway, her thoughts weren't open to my scrutiny. God, her breasts looked good, tilted, as if canted from a bottle, just touching the front surface of the sink top sometimes as she moved. I felt so glad Akemi was with me. I love her black hair. Drenched, it looked like a pool of oil, a sluice opened. I thought of Crystal's blond hair, which I liked too, radiant dirty blond. Well, you can't have everything.

-- --

Speaking of phone calls, one came last night, not from Nelson to Akemi but for me from a former colleague who is now retired. We used to confer on the job.

No comparison to the message Nelson left that I overheard and that caused Akemi so much embarrassment- though that description may not encapsulate her reaction.

There was never a romance in the offing between my coworker and me, not even anything close to it. We didn't flirt. For one thing, Patti was fifteen years (more or less) my senior. Also, her character didn't intrigue me in the least. Perfectly likable colleague, but officious, seemingly fascinated by bureaucratic details of the kind I wanted no part of.

"Hi, Patti," I greeted her.

"You sound like you were expecting me."

"I had a feeling."

I didn't. She still used a landline, wasn't aware of the caller ID function.

Patti was suspicious in nature, worried unnecessarily. I liked her, but that aspect of her character put me off a bit. At work she'd draw close to me and whispering looking around to make sure no one else heard ask whether I thought such and such was in the offing, this or that development posed a potential problem to us. Administrators talking about changes to the program. As if I knew what any of it meant. The thing is, you can't ruin your life speculating about that stuff. I mean, you can but shouldn't.

Patti said she was thinking of returning to the college, built up to the revelation, spoke first of the good aspects of teaching. I got a sense what she was about to say and when I asked she confirmed it.

She'd called to pick my brain, ask what I thought of her appealing to one of the bosses to ask for reinstatement, however temporary. Nervous as ever, she fretted about being rejected, wondered if she was too old and if anyone else ever came out of retirement.

I said I'd sound things out, put in a good word for her.

I asked what had prompted her change of plans.

"What? You can't stay away from us?"

"No," Patti answered. "It's the money. I worry about running through my 401K."

"I might live longer than I expect." She laughed a little, acknowledging how anxiety-prone she was. We get along, and she's a person I like, though we're different in almost every respect.

"401K, Mitchell," she added pointedly.

"I know what that is."

It's a self-administered investment plan for people with jobs that don't offer a pension.

Patti was always after me to think of the future, prodded in a good-natured, maternal way, took the opportunity of the phone talk to put in that reminder.

Truth is, I don't have a 401K or other retirement plan in the works. It's still early but the clock is ticking and Patti's right, you don't want to end up at sixty with no income to replace salary, have to keep on working forever.

Since Akemi doesn't contribute much to the coffers, long term planning is up to me. Of course at her age that's the last thing she thinks about. And we might get lucky. Her paintings might start selling, one day command high prices.

The call made me think of the Japanese course Akemi taught as a volunteer at the college and I took, before we got to know each other. The beginner's language class was supposed to run just once but at the end there was a call to continue it after we came back from the winter semester break. Students met among themselves to determine whether there'd be enough of us to make it worth Akemi's while to teach us again. We'd never spoken as a group before and this circumstance brought us together as one. A roll call was taken of those ready to commit to participating in a second course. Hands went up around the room, mine among them, needless to say. I hoped other guys who might be interested as much in Akemi as in Japanese, guys like me, that is, wouldn't raise theirs.

Someone said they thought Akemi had a hard character, "Cool," she said, meaning it not in a positive sense. I said that was a misunderstanding, in Akemi's defense said she was just doing what she had to, the right thing, as a teacher. I of all people knew, could see through the persona she presented in class, which seemed, by the way, pretty warm to me.