Moving In
Elly could fit everything she owned into two suitcases. “It’s pathetic,” she said, as she hung her clothes in her half of the closet. “But this is all I’ve got. Besides a change of clothes I left in Kobe, I haven’t had time to acquire much else since my mission.”
“I don’t think traveling light is pathetic. It’s more depressing discovering you can’t pack all of your earthly possessions into two suitcases. I think my parents moved to Maine so they’d have a good excuse to get rid of all the junk they’d accumulated over the past thirty years.”
“You should try growing up in Japan with a sister and a brother. I look forward to accumulating some junk.” Her other suitcase held her underwear, among other things. She didn’t need any assistance with that. “I’m sorry, but I can’t go through life with a couple pairs of jeans and T-shirts. Aunt June says I should wear kimono more often.”
“I’ve never seen you in a kimono.”
“I have a few pictures from Coming-of-Age Day. I’m just saying, a decent kimono is not exactly conducive to a minimalist lifestyle. I didn’t bring any with me.”
“Okay, excepting kimono.”
“You’ll say anything I want to hear, won’t you?” Elly stacked the rest of her vanity items on the bureau. Connor picked up the Yasmin box and examined it curiously. Elly pretended a lack of concern. She hadn’t raised the subject with him. He’d never raised the subject with her. The next few weeks were going to be interesting in that regard.
“What’s it like?” he asked.
Elly said over her shoulder, as she disappeared into the bathroom, “It gives you very regular periods.” She poked her head out the door, “Where do you keep your toothbrush?”
“In the kitchen. The cupboard left of the sink. According to the theory that things you put in your mouth belong in the kitchen.”
“How logical.” Elly took the box from him and went to the kitchen. In the cupboard, on the bottom shelf, was his toothbrush propped up in a drinking glass. She added her own. On the second shelf was a bottle of Tylenol, a box of Comtrex cold tablets, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, a box of Q-Tips, and a box of Band-Aids. She placed her contact solution and lens case on the second shelf, along with the Yasmin box. She resolved right then and there to stop hiding stuff.
Connor watched from the doorway. “Elly, did you ever worry about getting pregnant? You know, from the dreams?”
“It crossed my mind. How about you? Did you worry about getting me pregnant?”
“I tied my foot to the bed once. I had to make sure my body wasn’t getting hijacked by my id. I’d never had dreams like that before. I sort of freaked out.”
“Why, do you sleepwalk?”
“No, it was your basic neurotic overreaction. In fact, the next morning I completely forgot what I’d done. When I got out of bed, I did a good imitation of a falling tree.”
Elly laughed. “Did you hurt yourself?”
“Pride, only.”
“Well, it was a noble thought, in a strange way.”
They stepped back into the bedroom. Elly glanced around, took a deep breath, exhaled. “That’s everything, not counting a change of clothes for tomorrow.” She mentally ticked off the items she’d need. “Oh,” she said, “where is it?”
Connor retrieved the clear plastic sleeve from the desk. Their marriage license. Elly stared at the document, examining it as if it were an ancient parchment manuscript. She said, “To tell the truth, Connor, the reason I started on the pill was because I knew I was going to marry you.”
“When was that?”
She looked into his blue eyes. “The end of last month.”
“Then you were thinking a lot clearer than I was.”
Elly put the marriage license down and threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. He pulled her closer. She opened her mouth against his. Her heart raced. Her desire plumbed a depth of feeling that simply hadn’t existed before that fateful day on the Nakamozu Nankai. The last of their dreams had left behind a key. Somewhere deep within her, a door began to open. If he chose to seduce her right here and now, she would willingly walk through it.
He seemed to realize this as well. He ended the kiss, both to her relief and regret. “I love you,” he whispered.
An ecstatic thrill swept through her, followed by a pang of guilt. Only minutes before, she’d resolved to stop hiding. If need be, some things she would hide forever. A little thing like not being able to say “I love you” wasn’t getting in the way of her getting married.
Before she left, she took the Yasmin box from the kitchen cabinet and put it in her underwear drawer. She was all for being open and for being honest. But she was also in favor of avoiding uncomfortable conversations that could easily be avoided with a bit of discretion.
Discretion won.