There was an ear-piercing screech as the local train pulled into Hankyu Ashiya Station and came to a stop. Several passengers stepped out of the train and onto the platform. Those who had been waiting boarded. Sachiko Yasui waited for the others to board first before getting on the train and finding a seat separate from them. She knew it was a mistake to go to Harlan's apartment unannounced, but her desire to see him was too strong.

The train began to move. Sachiko settled back in her seat and looked out the train window at the passing scenery. Buildings of steel and concrete, serried rows of drab apartment buildings with their many-antennaed roofs, rushed by. Near Nishinomiya she saw the UCLA conversation school where she had first met Harlan. At Tsukaguchi Station Sachiko changed trains to the Itami line. A week had passed since the last time she visited him. She had gone to Itami to return his novel. They had talked about it and he seemed happy she understood it so well. There were many questions she wanted to ask, but her English had failed her.

He had touched her. She did not shrink away. His touch was gentle and reassuring. She massaged his back on the futon. Then she lay down and he massaged her back. She relaxed. He kissed her and took her blouse off. She did not have the courage to take her dress off. He did not force her.

Harlan took his pants off. She touched him and asked if she could hold him. He consented. She took him and tasted his tumescence. Later, in the darkness of his room, they huddled by his small electric heater. He said he liked her. He said he mistrusted the word "love." It had little meaning for him. She understood. She liked him very much. It was a relief he had come into her life.

She had written him a letter the next day telling him not to worry. She would not tie him down. She had learned from her experience with Tom, the American who had taught her Spanish before she went to Mexico three years ago. She knew what a vagabond's life was like. Tom had deceived her, had settled down with another woman. She was glad Harlan was honest. She liked to be with him. She knew he was not her possession. No one was her possession.

The train stopped at Hankyu Itami Station. From the elevated platform Sachiko could see the large apartment complex where Jose's co-workers had lived. It was a squalid, ugly building where common people lived. Itami City itself was squalid and ugly because of the association. Jose had been her other unrequited love. He and his family had been her neighbors in Ashiya for a year when he had come to Japan on business. Sachiko later visited the family in Mexico. Jose had not read her the way she had hoped. She had been too young and naive and her disillusionment had been deep.

The walk to Harlan's apartment took about 15 minutes. The February morning was grey and cold. Sachiko pulled her muffler and jacket tightly around her. She walked quickly and kept her head down, avoiding any kind of eye contact. She passed the hat factory with its weather-worn boards and rusty pipes. She put her hand over her nose to ward off the foul smell that came from a nearby trash barrel.

Finally, she approached Harlan's apartment building. It, too, was old and dilapidated. An overweight, middle-aged woman peered suspiciously at Sachiko from inside one of the apartments on the ground level. Sachiko climbed the single flight of steps to the second floor. There were four apartments. Harlan's was the last one on the left. Sachiko felt her heart beating quickly. She held her hand out to knock on his door, hesitated, then pulled her hand back. She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and knocked softly two times.

Sachiko heard a rustling sound inside and the murmur of two voices. An icy wetness broke out under her armpits. The door opened. Harlan came outside on the balcony and closed the door behind him. He was wearing only his jeans. His hair was ruffled. He rubbed his eyes as if to get the sleep out of them. Sachiko stared at his tall, lean figure and tried to force a smile.

"Sachiko, what are you doing here?" Harlan said. There was no anger in his voice, but his eyes revealed his surprise.

"I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"

"Not really." Harlan paused for a few seconds. "Look. You can't come in. I've got company. Is it about my book?"

Sachiko nodded, knowing it was a half-lie, but no words came to her.

"Well, I'm sorry, but your timing is not so good today. I'll call you later in the week and we can talk about it then. Is that OK?"

Sachiko nodded again and said, "I understand."

"I'll talk to you later then."

Sachiko said good-bye, then descended the steps. The woman in the first-floor apartment was still staring out the window. Grief and powerlessness beat within her breast as she walked back to the station. It was her own fault, she told herself. She should have yielded herself to him before. She had known what she would find today. For a brief moment she imagined the other woman making love to Harlan, ripping and tearing him with her fingernails, trying to suck the marrow out of his bones, riding him wildly. She stopped suddenly, somewhat taken aback by the impurity of her thoughts. A faintness came over her, then passed.

Harlan took his pants off and got back under the futon cover with Yoshiko. He snuggled close to get warm. Yoshiko shivered at his touch and giggled.

"Your feet are freezing, Harlan. So who was that?"

"Sachiko."

"Sachiko?"

"Yeah. You know, the one I told you about before. The one who read my manuscript and liked it and wants to help me get it published."

"The student at the conversation school?"

"Yes."

"What did she want?"

"I suppose she wanted to talk about the book. She and her friend quit the school over some price squabble and I haven't seen her in a while. The last time I saw her I made a joke about how she should be my agent because she seemed to understand the book so well and liked it so much. I think she took me seriously and has been checking around about publishing possibilities in Japan. Anyway, I told her I had company and today was a bad time to come."

Harlan got up and put his clothes back on. He went into the kitchen and put a pot of water on the
single-burner stove to boil. Yoshiko also got dressed, folded the futon bedding, and tidied up the six-mat room. It didn't take long. The only things in the room were the futon, the electric heater, and the kotatsu table. Her parents had given her the furniture to give to Harlan a month before when Julie had brought him home from work because he had little money and no place to stay. She had found the apartment a few days later and talked the landlady into renting it to him.

Harlan returned with two cups of coffee. The two of them sat silently at the kotatsu sipping the coffee and thinking their separate thoughts. Harlan got up, went through the three-mat room, and bumped his head trying to squeeze into the narrow entrance to the squat toilet. He returned with a sheepish grin on his face.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to this apartment," he said. "It's too small. I keep forgetting about the low doors. So what are your plans for today."

"Oh, I think I'll clean up my apartment, visit with Julie, and do some laundry. Maybe later Julie and I will do some shopping and cook a nice dinner. You can eat with us if you want."

"Not tonight. Thanks though. I want to do some studying and I have a few letters to write. Maybe I'll take you up on your offer tomorrow night after Julie and I get off work."

Yoshiko kissed Harlan lightly on the cheek and said good-bye.

She took the back streets home to her own apartment. Julie was gone, but had left a note saying she would be back in the afternoon. Yoshiko looked around the modest apartment, the same apartment where she had grown up. Many strange and haunting memories were fixed in every corner. Her parents had moved to a nicer apartment in recent years after her father's construction equipment business began to prosper. They had kept this apartment for Yoshiko and her brother Masanori. Masanori had moved to the new apartment when Yoshiko returned from Canada with Julie four months ago. It seemed strange to her to think that after all the years of turmoil in her family there was now relative harmony. Julie had a lot to do with that.

Yoshiko ran a hot bath and cleaned the kitchen while the tub filled up. When the bath was ready, she rinsed herself, washed thoroughly, and eased herself into the steaming water to soak. As she relaxed in the warmth of the water she thought about her two years in Canada and how she and Julie had become best friends.

Yoshiko had been a problem in her teens. Her rebelliousness and suicidal behavior had become so acute by the time she was 19 that her parents desperately sought the advice of the local priest. There was an exchange program with a Catholic mission in Canada to which some of the younger members of the Itami Catholic Church were allowed to go every year. The priest recommended Yoshiko take part in the program. Her parents consented eagerly.

The first year had been difficult, working in the mission's kitchen, not understanding anything anyone said, smiling at everyone to be polite, being treated like a child because she could not speak English well, returning to her room alone every night, crying and drinking herself to sleep. She had a drinking problem, but the nuns showed great patience in leaving her alone. Although there were three other Japanese with whom she could speak, she avoided them.

A year passed. During that time she gradually became accustomed to her new life. Never before had she felt more a part of nature, more a love for nature, than in the wilderness of Canada. The evergreen stretches of forest, the leaden and ominous winter skies, the clouds that churned like whirlpools, and the snow that fell in a thick, silent veil softened her tough exterior and showed her the beautiful mysteries of God's work.

One day she was working in the kitchen with Ichiro, one of the other Japanese, when Julie entered. Julie looked like a lumberjack with her broad shoulders, big boots, and work clothes. "Where's Joe?" Julie asked in a gruff voice.

That first encounter had intimidated Yoshiko, but it also aroused her curiosity about who this Joe was. She later met him and, although she never slept with him, fell in love with him, a love that still consumed her. Her life took on a new dimension. Long-buried feelings found their way to the surface again. By falling in love with Joe, Yoshiko became at odds with Julie. In the beginning she and Julie had glared at each other, but when Joe left the mission a month later the two became best friends. Yoshiko took the first step by offering her friendship in the form of a visit to Julie's room. She picked some flowers in a nearby field and gave them to Julie.

When she apologized about Joe, Julie told her, "You can use anything you want in life, but never use people." Yoshiko had since reflected upon this a lot. She had suffered considerable grief from having hurt Julie's feelings. She expected a lifelong enemy after stealing Joe away, but instead of anger and abuse, which had always spurred her rebelliousness, she was greeted with kindness and love. It was her first experience with forgiveness.

They had talked about God. Julie was unlike any Christian Yoshiko had met. She radiated sincerity, belief, confidence in God. With Julie Yoshiko felt a presence of warmth and love, of giving without expecting anything in return. Julie did not put on affected airs. Julie had a jaded past herself about which she was not ashamed. This, too, was a new experience for Yoshiko: the belief that God loved all people, good or bad, and forgave all their sins. She had always had the impression God loved only those who were truly pious. She had understood God only as something abstract, something from which, because of her rebelliousness and promiscuous behavior, she was condemned to be forever excluded. Through Julie, however, God became something tangible, something she could believe in without guilt, something that could fill the void in her life.

Julie had told exciting stories of her experiences with men. Yoshiko played the role, more through the language barrier than affectedness, of an innocent young woman wanting to learn from the worldly experiences of an older sister. Julie made her feel as if her past, over which she had felt so much guilt and confusion, was really not so bad. She had not sinned as terribly as she had thought. Julie made her feel as if God loved her, too.

She was overjoyed when Julie decided to return with her to Japan. Readjusting to life in Japan would not be easy, had not been easy. Julie was her link to the West and to her own family. Yoshiko's parents had welcomed Julie as if she were one of their own. All the family were now attending mass regularly together. Yoshiko's parents seemed proud of Julie and Yoshiko for joining the weekly group the church sent to Nishinari, the section of Osaka where the homeless and destitute gathered, to hand out blankets, food, medicine, and a little love to those whose lives were nothing more than a scrap of food or a bottle of cheap sake where they could find one.

Yoshiko finished her bath. After she changed into a clean pair of jeans and a sweater, she checked the mailbox. There were three letters. One was from Joe. She started to open it, then decided against it. She would save it for later when she was in the right frame of mind. Right now was not a good time. She always felt a certain loneliness when she read his letters, a sense of something slipping away. She remembered the time when Joe promised to meet her at the Toronto airport but did not show up. She wanted to know why he had not met her, but in all her letters to him she had never been able to summon the courage to ask. She had wanted him in the same way she now wanted Harlan. She tried to compare Joe to Harlan. Joe was shy, withdrawn, hated society. But he was also strong, independent, and gentle. He was a hermit-philosopher. He always wrote her beautiful letters about nature, animals, God--things he had never expressed to her in person. Perhaps he had found contentment. Perhaps he might still share his life with her. Harlan: He was a question mark. There was something cold about him. Perhaps it was because he was in a foreign country, like when she went to Canada. Perhaps deep inside he, too, was simply afraid. Yoshiko put the letter in her purse and went to the refrigerator to see what vegetables were left. She decided to make some curried rice. It was one of Julie's favorite dishes.

Sachiko was seated at her desk in her bedroom. Her head was seething with images and ideas. She felt she would explode if she did not write them down or explain them to someone. She picked up her private phone and dialed Yumi's number. Yumi answered the phone.

"Yumi, this is Sachiko."

"Hi, Sachiko. How are you?"

"I'm sitting here going out of my mind. I had to talk to someone."

"Is it about Harlan?"

"Yes."

"I thought so. What's wrong? What happened?"

"I don't know if anything is wrong, but I went to his place today and he was in bed with another woman."

"You're kidding! That's terrible. Did you actually see them in bed together?"

"No. I knocked on his door and he came outside with just his pants on and told me there was someone else there."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing. He said he would call me later, so I came home. I didn't know what to say. I can't seem to speak English well when I'm with him."

"Did he know you were going to his place?"

"No. I just went there today on an impulse. I wanted to see him. I felt bad because I hadn't slept with him before. I thought maybe I should have. I was too scared that last time. I wanted to make sure today that we were still friends."

"Sachiko, you're crazy! You should have told him you were coming. You always set yourself up for a fall. You have to learn to be more careful."

"I know, but I can't help myself. I'm too impulsive. Besides, it was not really that shocking to me. He's a writer, and artists and writers are usually passionate and need more experiences than other people. I know he likes me. He's very honest about everything with me. He wants me to help him get his book published. I'm his agent."

"I think you are hopelessly romantic."

Sachiko and Yumi talked for over an hour. By the time she hung up, Sachiko had calmed down. Yumi thought Sachiko was mistaken in wanting to get involved with Harlan, but she had also said that Harlan was a nice person and was glad Sachiko and Harlan were friends. Yumi had hated Tom. She was afraid Sachiko would eventually be abandoned by Harlan, too. She said she could not bear seeing Sachiko get hurt again.

Sachiko had met Yumi four years ago at Kobe Women's University. In another month they would graduate together. They had done everything together these past four years, confessed all. If everything went well, Yumi would be married in June. Yumi had met an American, Terry, who was married and had two children, at a summer Christian camp. He had returned to the U.S., divorced recently, and was now planning to come back to Japan.

When Sachiko had met Yumi, Yumi was under great pressure from her family to break off the relationship. Yumi waited patiently for a reencounter for two years. Finally, she went to America to meet him. This caused a great uproar. Terry was the first man with whom Yumi had slept. She loved him as passionately now as she did the night she lost her virginity. The plan was for Terry to return and work as a teacher. Sachiko hoped all would work out for them.

It seemed to Sachiko human contact was such a fragile thing that the hope two people would want each other in the same way at the same time and with the possibility of doing something about it was remote. It was possible some people could encounter their soul mates in this lifetime, like Yumi and Terry, but she doubted the possibility for herself.

She felt as if she were destined to be a voyeur of life's passions, a vicarious participant in life's sensuality. Her role as helper in Yumi's affair was an example. When Yumi had gone to America, it was Sachiko who spoke to Yumi's family to calm them down. It was she who took a day to prepare a list of English schools in the Kansai area for Terry to apply to, this with the idea he would think it was Yumi who had done so. Whenever a letter for Yumi from Terry arrived, it was delivered to Sachiko's address. Sachiko enjoyed the role of go-between. It was her nature to help people. But sometimes she wished she were the person involved. She sometimes thought she would die a virgin. It was her burden. She and Yumi often talked about this. One time Yumi had said, "After Terry and I are married, perhaps you should come to our house and watch us make love. It is beyond imagination!"

Yumi and Terry would live in Ashiya when they were married. Sachiko wondered where she and Tom would have lived if they had married. Sachiko preferred Ashiya because it was quiet and refined. Kobe was nice, too. It was a beautiful city with an international flavor, unlike Osaka. Either Kobe or Ashiya would have suited Tom. There were many foreigners in Kobe and Ashiya who seemed sociable and liked to gather together. There were few foreigners in Itami City. Sachiko supposed Harlan did not care for sociable types. She had taken him to a popular restaurant in Ashiya for their one dinner date. He had hunched his shoulders and peered suspiciously at the other foreigners.

Sachiko opened the top drawer of her desk and pulled out some stationary. She began to write. Only in her letters could she express her true self in English, her true feelings. She could confess everything in her letters to Harlan without being intimidated by his presence. The words flowed smoothly. She shut herself within the walls of her private world. In her thoughts she talked to the letter as if it were a living person. She hummed a song as she wrote:
 

Dear Harlan,

How are you? I'm glad you are honest. My brain is always full of
imagination, so I have imagined you and she will get much closer.
Nothing was shocking to me. As I told you, my character is complicated.
I myself even enjoy this situation, which is subtle and risky, or
unbelievable to others. I think I am more tolerant than other women,
and I prefer to like someone rather than to be liked. I like you very much.
I was happy to hear that you liked me. I would not like to disturb your
private life with her, but I would like to see you if you have time.

I wish I could speak English more fluently. I feel I had spoken English
better before I went to Mexico than now. I don't know why I can't speak
my third language well when I'm with you. Anyway, I'm your crazy pen pal.
I can't express how much I'm glad you read my letters...
 

...It was just like a scene out of a book or movie. Will you continue
writing? I enjoyed your novel so much. I understood the characters so
much. Will you write about Japan? I want to help you any way I can
to get your book published. I like you a lot, but please don't worry. I like
to be with you, but I know you are not my possession. I understand you.
You are a nice person. In May or summer, if we have time and money,
let's go to Tokyo.

I'llwrite you again tomorrow. Don't worry about today. I understand
you and she will get closer. I don't want to bother you in your private
life. Be a great writer. Eat vegetables.

Your agent,
Sachiko

She sealed the letter in an envelope and put it aside to mail the next day. She was tired and got ready for bed. It had been a long day. Writing the letter had further exhausted her. When she had pen and paper in hand, she could not control herself. Yumi always said writing letters was Sachiko's incurable disease. It did not matter if he did not write back. He was probably too busy writing another novel. Sachiko had never known a writer before. The world of artists and writers had always seemed remote, but now she knew one, knew the magic of his words, his physical presence. She had felt his lips upon hers, upon her breasts, and taken him with her hands and mouth. That night had been one of uncompromising clarity. He had appeared before her as a savior, but things were different now.