Vintage Rob

Chapter 11 - A Dark Doorstep in Tokyo

Hours after arriving in Tokyo, Rob lay awake, thanks to jet lag and anxiety. Morning was four hours away. He rolled onto his side, and the sheets snagged his legs. He bunched them up with his feet and kicked a pillow onto the floor. Except for a few things - the small size of the hotel room, a lavishly illustrated book of haiku poems on the dresser, a drain on the outside of the bathtub, a control panel on the toilet - he could be in New York, not Tokyo.

When he flopped onto his back and folded his hands on his belly, the ceiling bore down on him like the underside of a great white stingray. With only six days in Japan, one for Katsutoshi and five to locate Makiko, he needed to sleep.

A long, deep breath failed to clear his head.

Apologizing to Makiko was ludicrous, though he would try. After she and Yukiko left Boston, none of his letters had been answered or returned. Five years later, he stopped sending birthday gifts, because he had no idea if she received them. The law was unhelpful, even hostile. The court in Japan granted custody to one parent, as is customary in Japan, and after that, Yukiko and her parents refused to communicate, something Japanese law also allows.

To some friends in Boston, Rob's plan to find Makiko had been mind-bogglingly spontaneous, inept, an un-plan, but contacting her grandparents or Yukiko beforehand was a death kiss. He had no choice but to take them by surprise.

With that thought, his feet suddenly hit the floor. When he sat upright on the bed, a dark shadow against the opposite wall jumped with him. A mirror there reflected his movement.

Light from the bathroom illuminated a rectangular shape on the floor. Earlier, Rob had left the water in the tub. In Japan, a device reheats the water so more than one person can soak, as long as they clean themselves with soap before getting in. Rob's muscles and mind needed to relax, or he would never sleep, so he entered the bathroom and pushed the reheat button. Then he wandered over to the window and slid aside the curtain.

Below, a raised expressway, clogged with trucks even after midnight, snaked around buildings. Here and there, brighter concentrations of illumination, like galaxies, dappled the dim patches between urban lights. Starless night sky, black as the pupil of an eye, met the city on the horizon.

Things moved, but no people were visible. Rob dropped the curtain in place and fell back onto the bed. The day after tomorrow, he would see Katsutoshi's widow, a woman he had never met. It was not going to be a pleasant break from finding Makiko. At the last moment, Rob had asked Katsutoshi to join him... Katsutoshi's widow might blame him for her husband's death.

An electronic melody announced that the bathwater was ready, so Rob climbed in, one lucky foot at a time.

Katsutoshi's widow had requested Rob return his wedding ring in person. It did not seem likely that a Japanese woman would make a scene in public, but if she did, Rob planned to take the punches, even if it was probably not rationale to blame him...

***

The next morning, Rob approached the front desk of the hotel and showed Makiko's grandparents' address to the concierge. He examined the scribbling carefully. "Motosumiyoshi? One moment please, sir." He had a brief conversation on the phone. "Sorry, sir, it'll be another moment. An employee of the hotel lives in that neighborhood. She will help. I'm sorry for the delay."

"No problem. Thanks." Rob pulled up a map of Tokyo on his phone.

An attractive woman wearing a black suit jacket and matching skirt emerged from the door behind the front desk. The concierge handed her the address and bowed to Rob. The woman led him to a couch with a low table. When she sat down beside him and took the map, their legs touched. She placed the map on the table and put her finger on it. "There's a train stop here called Motosumiyoshi." After staring at him a moment, she grabbed his hand and replaced her finger with his.