Loud

Chapter 9 - Wow, Brian Keating!

At a quirky coffee shop's entrance, Rob and Makiko waited with novelist Yuri Kameyama while a worker fetched the manager. "This place looks like an illustration from Peter Rabbit," Rob said.

Yuri responded in Japanese. Makiko translated. "A novelist who loves Peter Rabbit owns it."

The manager, a thin man with bony shoulders and an undertaker's gait, greeted Yuri first, then led them to a roped-off second floor. After removing and reattaching the rope for them, the man pulled out chairs at a back table. Rob took a menu and reluctantly ordered a tea and cake set, like the others. Before the manager left, a disheveled man in his thirties with a Canon digital camera unhooked the rope at the top of the stairs. "The photographer," Yuri explained. The photographer declined a tea from the manager. He also refused Rob's offer of a seat. Instead, he leaned against a mock fireplace with the camera against his thigh.

"Does he know I'm a photographer too?"

Makiko spoke to the man in Japanese. Yuri summarized their conversation. "He had no idea and no curiosity." She winked. "He's an artist who does this for the money."

Rob settled back into his plush chair. "Got it." The man clicked his camera a few times, and Yuri pulled a notepad and pen from her bag. Makiko's smile faltered, maybe in trepidation. Her eyes danced around like an adult strapped into a roller coaster for the first time. When the manager returned with the tea and cake, Rob tasted his tiny sliver of cheesecake. "May I start?" he said.

Yuri lifted her teacup. "Please."

"When was your first success as a writer?"

"My first year out of college."

"Lucky."

Yuri understood English well and used complex sentences when she spoke, but Makiko translated her responses, perhaps because Yuri preferred to have time to think. "She said you've been lucky too."

"That's true." The Japanese photographer snapped shots during the small talk. Then he undid the rope at the top of the stairs. After he lifted his camera in goodbye and left, they laughed. "I hope his art goes well today," Rob said, putting his small fork onto the empty plate. "What's your latest book about?"

Yuri smiled. In English, she pointed out that she was the interviewer.

"Okay. Sorry."

Yuri sipped her tea. "How successful do you feel as a father? Do you have any regrets?"

Whoa. Diving right into the deep end. Rob took a deep breath. "Makiko and I were separated for almost ten years, so I was unsuccessful. All I can hope for is a second chance." He folded his hands in his lap and met Makiko's steady gaze. No tears from either of them, but her concentration suggested a need to control her feelings, maybe?

Perhaps she had no idea what to make of him.

"You've given it some thought," Yuri said.

"Way before what happened in Afghanistan, but that set me in motion. That and my father passing away last year." He slid forward in his seat. "I'll try my best to contribute to Makiko's happiness." I'll try my best? The phrase echoed the Japanese Prime Minister's ineffectual response to a crisis, quoted in the morning newspaper. Rob reached out for Makiko but touched the chair instead. "I'm sorry my selfishness interfered with us. I regret it very much, and I was a stupid ass for waiting so long to come here. I'm sorry."

Yuri and Makiko chatted in Japanese. Yuri scribbled notes.

Rob resisted an urge to ask for a translation. He felt like a man on trial, but their serenity suggested his honesty had paid off. The bottom line: being a bad husband had affected his ability to be a good father, and he took full responsibility. Absolutely. But he had never neglected Makiko or been a danger to her. Any suggestion otherwise, he'd counter. Yukiko had every right to leave, but no right to prioritize vengeance. Emphasizing that, however, was counterproductive and probably pointless. "I was a bad husband." He held up his hand as if taking an oath. "I promise never to marry again."