from their covers, but her own eyes, fractured in the wrinkled foil, were the ones that looked lifeless.
On the way home, seeing that the street was still empty, she sneaked a quick peek at the package in her pocket. They were the wrong brand, not Mandom SuperPlus. “John” would be angry. He would stare at her with contempt.
“Just don’t think about it,” she counseled herself, taking a detour so she could walk a little longer along the embankment by the train tracks. She liked it there. Plum trees lined the tracks; since it was March, they were just starting to bloom, and the blossoms, lit by the streetlamps, were bright against the cold, dark sky. “Think about something else instead.” So she thought about the vending machines, but couldn’t understand why the three types of machines were grouped together, next to each other like that, occupying the same street corner. If you bought the pornography, why would you need condoms? And how did the batteries fit in?
The extra shampoo would never go to waste. She decided that she would pack the bath salts in “John” ’s suitcase, as a surprise, the next time he went to America. It would be a considerate, wifely gesture, if indeed he noticed, and would perhaps make him feel nostalgic for home.
As it turned out, he did notice. He returned the gesture by bringing her a package of prickly neon-colored rubber rings, “Texas Ticklers,” that he’d bought in a vending machine in the men’s bathroom of a truck stop in America. She looked curiously at the quivering apparatus sitting in the palm of her hand. It looked like a small pelagic squid, like something she remembered from her cousin’s fishing tackle box. “John” lay on his back, waiting, and she attached it to him with a dexterity that she was practicing to hide her distaste.
Sex with the squids on was more abrasive than usual, and after a couple of tries, she asked “John” if it would be all right not to use them anymore.
“Fine, whatever.” He shrugged, obviously offended. “I bought them for your pleasure.”
“John” felt it was unseemly for couples to announce a pregnancy too early in a marriage, but after a year, he announced it was time to try. By then, though, Akiko had lost weight and her menstruations were beginning to dry up. She hadn’t told “John” because it hadn’t mattered. But suddenly her periods became his business, and as soon as they did, she stopped having them entirely. After the second year, he began to grumble; his mother was expecting a grandson, he said, people at work were beginning to talk. But still, nothing. Now, in the third year of their marriage, he was stony with rage.
4.
The Deutzia 2 Month
SHŌNAGON
Hateful Things
A good lover will behave as elegantly at dawn as at any other time. He drags himself out of bed with a look of dismay on his face. The lady urges him on: “Come, my friend, it’s getting light. You don’t want anyone to find you here.” He gives a deep sigh, as if to say that the night has not been nearly long enough and that it is agony to leave. Once up, he does not instantly pull on his trousers. Instead he comes close to the lady and whispers whatever was left unsaid during the night. Even when he is dressed, he still lingers, vaguely pretending to be fastening his sash.
Presently he raises the lattice, and the two lovers stand together by the side door while he tells her how he dreads the coming day, which will keep them apart; then he slips away. The lady watches him go, and this moment of parting will remain among her most charming memories.
Indeed, one’s attachment to a man depends largely on the elegance of his leave-taking. When he jumps out of bed, scurries about the room, tightly fastens his trouser-sash, rolls up the sleeves of his Court cloak, over-robe, or hunting costume, stuffs his belongings into the breast of his robe and then briskly secures the outer sash—one really begins to hate him.
JANE
I had a lover in
On the way home, seeing that the street was still empty, she sneaked a quick peek at the package in her pocket. They were the wrong brand, not Mandom SuperPlus. “John” would be angry. He would stare at her with contempt.
“Just don’t think about it,” she counseled herself, taking a detour so she could walk a little longer along the embankment by the train tracks. She liked it there. Plum trees lined the tracks; since it was March, they were just starting to bloom, and the blossoms, lit by the streetlamps, were bright against the cold, dark sky. “Think about something else instead.” So she thought about the vending machines, but couldn’t understand why the three types of machines were grouped together, next to each other like that, occupying the same street corner. If you bought the pornography, why would you need condoms? And how did the batteries fit in?
The extra shampoo would never go to waste. She decided that she would pack the bath salts in “John” ’s suitcase, as a surprise, the next time he went to America. It would be a considerate, wifely gesture, if indeed he noticed, and would perhaps make him feel nostalgic for home.
As it turned out, he did notice. He returned the gesture by bringing her a package of prickly neon-colored rubber rings, “Texas Ticklers,” that he’d bought in a vending machine in the men’s bathroom of a truck stop in America. She looked curiously at the quivering apparatus sitting in the palm of her hand. It looked like a small pelagic squid, like something she remembered from her cousin’s fishing tackle box. “John” lay on his back, waiting, and she attached it to him with a dexterity that she was practicing to hide her distaste.
Sex with the squids on was more abrasive than usual, and after a couple of tries, she asked “John” if it would be all right not to use them anymore.
“Fine, whatever.” He shrugged, obviously offended. “I bought them for your pleasure.”
“John” felt it was unseemly for couples to announce a pregnancy too early in a marriage, but after a year, he announced it was time to try. By then, though, Akiko had lost weight and her menstruations were beginning to dry up. She hadn’t told “John” because it hadn’t mattered. But suddenly her periods became his business, and as soon as they did, she stopped having them entirely. After the second year, he began to grumble; his mother was expecting a grandson, he said, people at work were beginning to talk. But still, nothing. Now, in the third year of their marriage, he was stony with rage.
4.
The Deutzia 2 Month
SHŌNAGON
Hateful Things
A good lover will behave as elegantly at dawn as at any other time. He drags himself out of bed with a look of dismay on his face. The lady urges him on: “Come, my friend, it’s getting light. You don’t want anyone to find you here.” He gives a deep sigh, as if to say that the night has not been nearly long enough and that it is agony to leave. Once up, he does not instantly pull on his trousers. Instead he comes close to the lady and whispers whatever was left unsaid during the night. Even when he is dressed, he still lingers, vaguely pretending to be fastening his sash.
Presently he raises the lattice, and the two lovers stand together by the side door while he tells her how he dreads the coming day, which will keep them apart; then he slips away. The lady watches him go, and this moment of parting will remain among her most charming memories.
Indeed, one’s attachment to a man depends largely on the elegance of his leave-taking. When he jumps out of bed, scurries about the room, tightly fastens his trouser-sash, rolls up the sleeves of his Court cloak, over-robe, or hunting costume, stuffs his belongings into the breast of his robe and then briskly secures the outer sash—one really begins to hate him.
JANE
I had a lover in
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