Saiyuu no Ryokou: The Continuing Adventures of Yuriko

The Story So Far: After a relaxing evening with the family, Yuriko has been awakened unbearably early to receive a "surprise" from Midori.

 

Volume 2, Issue 17

"Trail of Tears"

 

Yuriko grumbled loudly at the idea of a long pre-dawn walk, but she dutifully dressed. The two women left the house quietly. Midori led the way out of the house, armed with a flashlight, while Yuriko got the job of carrying a canvas satchel.

The night was still and damp, with a heavy mist under the pine trees. Midori set out on a path that ran past the pond and up into the woods above the house. As they passed the stand of pines, the two women paused for a moment in honor of a grieving girl's ghost, then moved on.

The sky was leaden. The grassy path gave way to low forest undergrowth. Midori lead the way up a hill, which steadily steepened until both women were panting. The undergrowth faded and pebbles rolled under their feet as they climbed. Yuriko would have asked where they were going, except that by now, she was using her free hand to steady herself and there wasn't much breath left in her for speech. She decided not to think about how she was climbing this mountain in the dark – it was safer not to.

They walked for a solid 30 minutes, until Midori stopped suddenly and stared up. Yuriko followed Midori's line of sight and found herself gazing up a sheer rock face that towered over them.

"You're not suggesting we climb that?" Yuriko's voice cracked.

Midori whirled in place, her hair swinging behind her heavily. "No, no!" she laughed, holding her hands up. "I was just thinking. Here," she gestured to the bag, which Yuriko held out to her. The writer pulled out a cloth and handed it to the singer. "Let's make ourselves comfortable."

***

Yuriko spread the cloth at the base of the rock face, while Midori pulled tea and leaf-wrapped rice balls from the satchel.

"I met Akira in the museum," Midori stated somewhat suddenly, after they had both seated themselves. The writer sat stiffly, clutching a thermos of tea tightly in her hands. Yuriko sensed that this would be a long story, and settled her back against the cold rock wall.

"He was standing in front of the some Edo period woodblocks, you know, second-rank bijinga. I commented on them, saying that they weren't very good and he agreed." She turned to face Yuriko, "At the time our local museum had not yet felt Aoi's bit and bridle and it was totally provincial. There was nothing on display that had any personality at all. I have to hand it to Aoi, she's really made strides in that area." Midori bit down on her own digression, then continued in a low voice.

"He and I would meet for lunch and take walks together, you know – the usual. All the while, I was suffering inside, making myself crazy at school with desire and fear and loneliness over a passion I was powerless to do anything about. I was making myself sick and I knew it, but didn't know what to do about it. Akira became a kind of refuge for me – a quiet place in the middle of my personal storm. He was a good listener and of course, I liked to tell stories. He encouraged me to write," she stared out into the darkness that surrounded them and sighed.

"I thought I loved him – I was sure that he loved me. He was kind and he never asked more of me than I was willing to give. I suppose, in retrospect, that that alone shouldn't have been such a motivating factor." Her laugh had no humor in it. "Compared to the nightmare I was living at school, being with Akira was like sleeping peacefully.

"So naturally, when he asked me to marry him, I said yes. The fact that I lay in bed every night dreaming of Sumire-sensei, not Akira, never really made an impression on me. I think I didn't think it was real...or something."

Yuriko reached out and took one of Midori's hands from the thermos, cradling it in her own. She tugged gently on Midori's arm, pulling the writer into the crook of her shoulder. Midori held herself stiffly for a long moment, then relaxed into Yuriko's embrace.

"It wasn't long before we realized we had made a terrible mistake. I wasn't what Akira wanted – a partner who would raise his children and nurture his dreams, writing after the children were in bed, or while they were at school. Akira didn't understand me at all – to be fair, at the time, neither did I, very well. I couldn't really be attracted to him. When we slept together, I let my brain wander off...or fantasized about Sumire-sensei, something that I'm still ashamed to think about. He could sense my distance and dissatisfaction, but blamed himself and his inexperience.

"We started to fight over little things...we'd go to bed angry, so we wouldn't have to have sex. Akira stayed out later and later with friends and coworkers, I stayed at home drinking, writing...anything but dealing with the problem. Neither of us was willing to confront the other, or willing to admit failure.

"About a year into our marriage I went off to a conference for young writers. My first book was being published and my agent thought it would be good for me. All I knew was that it was a long weekend away from home and I jumped at the chance. At dinner that night," Midori paused, closing her eyes in thought. "At dinner that night, I was seated next to a dark, beautiful Russian woman named Tatiana Vilorski. She was older than I was, and drank more heavily than anyone I'd ever met. She was gracious and funny and..."

"And?" Yuriko prompted after the silence had lengthened just long enough for dramatic effect.

"And we slept together that night and every other night of the conference." Midori shifted, embarrassed at the memory.

"Was she any good?" Yuriko asked quietly.

"She was...yes," Midori answered, just as quietly,

"Thank you gods," Yuriko breathed softly into the dark. "If she hadn't been, you might have stayed with your husband and I'd never have met you."

Midori's shoulders stiffened. With a short laugh, she relaxed once more. "I never thought of it that way." She laughed again, this time more lightly, then snuggled back into Yuriko's arms. "So, yes, she was good, and smart, and funny and..."

"And this part had better have an end soon, or I'll start to get jealous." Yuriko could feel Midori's smirk more than see it.

"And," the writer continued, "she was a way out. When she left Tokyo, I followed her."

"Just like that?" Yuriko could make out the general shapes of the trees that surrounded them, against the vaguely lightening sky. Dawn was coming.

"Just like that," Midori confirmed. "I followed her to St. Petersburg, where we lived in a one-room apartment over a laundry."

"What about Akira? Or your family?"

"Ah, you see, that was the point. You've met everyone now – you can see the problem, can't you? You can see what they're all like. Everyone is funny, unfairly talented, intelligent...but it was never enough."

Midori shook herself free of Yuriko and stood. She began to pace as she spoke. "I love my parents, but as parents, they were rarely around. Father had the business and Aoi...is Aoi." Her voice was faintly bitter. "Gin and Natsumi were the ones who took care of us, mostly. Father and Aoi only really took notice of us when we did something of note. Being funny or talented or a good student or creative was so average in my family that the only way to get attention was to be outrageously exceptional in one way...or another. Win an award, go to jail, run away from home – it didn't matter. Anything other than the norm and Aoi might just notice that you'd become pregnant at sixteen, or won a national award. Or Father might congratulate you for, oh, I don't know, figuring out a Unified Theory of Physics." Midori's voice was thick with resentment,

"So you ran away to Russia," Yuriko said.

"So I ran away to Russia." Midori echoed.

 

Continued

Saiyuu no Ryokou, all characters and situations copyright E. Friedman and Yurikon LLC. All Rights Reserved.