Otherness Read Online Free PDF Page B

each other's eyes as they honeymooned in Fiji, hardly noticing the mountains or the reefs or the exotic native dancers for the resonant happiness, the amplified autarchia of their union. And for the following year, also, it had remained that way for the two of them, as if they were characters from a happy romantic tale, brought into the real world. In those days even the intense pressure of Tetsuo's career had seemed to take second place to their love.

    It had lasted, in fact, up to the time when Reiko became pregnant. Until then she hadn't believed they would ever stop being lovers and begin the long tedium of life as a married couple. But they did.

    Tetsuo closed his eyes tightly and shuddered, then collapsed in a lassitude of spent coitus. His breath was sweet, his weight a pleasure for her to bear, and with her fingertips Reiko lightly traced the familiar patterns of his back. The boy she had known was filling out, gaining the looser fleshiness of a grown man. Tonight, however, she felt a slight relaxing of the tension that had slowly mounted along his spine over the grinding months and years.

    Tetsuo seldom spoke of his work, although she knew it was stressful and hard. His supervisors seemed still to hold him under suspicion over an incident a few years ago, when he had tried unsuccessfully to introduce un-Japanese business practices into the firm. This, she imagined, was one reason why he had grown so distant, allowing the flame of their passion to bank in favor of more important matters. That was, of course, as it would have to be.

    But now all seemed restored. Tetsuo had remembered; all was well in the world.

    When, instead of simply rolling over and going to sleep, Tetsuo stroked her hair briefly and spoke to her softly in unintelligible mumblings of fondness, Reiko felt a glow like the sun rise within her.

2.

    It was her first trip to the airport since the honeymoon, so long ago. Reiko could not help feeling disappointed, for the experience was not at all the same this time.

    How could it be? She chided herself for making comparisons. After all, different destinations attracted different classes of people. The occupants of this departure lounge could hardly be expected to be like those down the hall a ways, bound from Tokyo to Fiji, or Hawaii, or Saipan—young couples close-orbiting on trajectories of bliss.

    Sometimes on such honeymoon flights groups of newlyweds would have singing contests to help pass the time, clapping with courteous enthusiasm however terrible the voice. After all, there were harmonies that went beyond music, and much holding of hands.

    Travelers not bound for the resorts dressed differently, spoke and behaved differently. It was as if the departure terminal were a series of slices of modern life—each distinct, representing a separate phase or molting.

    Jets destined for Europe or America generally carried tour groups of prosperous older couples, or gaggles of students, all dressed alike and hanging together as if their periphery were patrolled by dangerous animals, ready at any moment to snap up the unwary straggler.

    And, of course, there were the intense businessmen, who spent their transit time earnestly studying their presentation materials . . . modern samurai . . . warriors for Japan on the new battlefields of commerce.

    Finally, there were the gates nearest Reiko, from which departed flights for Bangkok, Manila, Seoul. These, too, carried businessmen, but bound instead for the rewards of success. Women told each other rumors about what went on during these . . . kairaku expeditions. Reiko had never really been sure what to believe, but she sensed the anticipation of the ticket holders in this particular lounge. Most of the passengers wore suits, but their mood did not strike her as businesslike. They carried briefcases, but nobody seemed much interested in working.

    Reiko had few illusions about the "commerce" that went on during such trips. Still, the Koreans were