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Circus

 For readers who are confused by these stories, there is now a post with the title "Bridge." It explains what this is, gives context and more, not just orientation but a deeper glimpse into the main and supporting characters.

Sorry for the many typos and other proofreading errors.

We went together to take out the garbage. At the place to the side of the building where it goes, a little alley insert, there's a chicken-wire fence with a view to an overrun garden. Through the fence we saw a cat, a stray, calico, with a lot of orange and I think a little more white than usual for its type, white feet, thick fur as if grown wild. A female. And it came running toward us on its little dainty feet, taking light, dancing steps, but hurrying, seeming to accelerate the closer she got, picking her way through the green weeds shooting up from cracks between broken flagstones, among garbage left there, some sharp and dangerous. I worried for her! I liked her bright eyes, the whites clear like milk. She seemed an embodiment of summer- no, of spring because she was young and female and isn't spring a feminine season?

Usually cats, especially ones who live outdoors by their wits, are frightened of people and stay away. This one showed no fear at all, on the contrary, approached us like long-lost friends or saviors. Clearly, she had been taught by experience to see human beings as a source of food. Maybe someone had at times if not regularly, set dishes out for her, food and water.

I felt bad we had none to offer. In meeting us, she only met disappointment. Even if we'd come prepared (we hadn't known a cat would be there), we couldn't have gotten dishes through the chicken wire to the other side where she could reach the food on them. We couldn't even reach in to pet her and give some sort of comfort- not that she would have welcomed it from us; it was only physical nourishment she wanted. Any other kind didn't interest her.

Mitchell said he felt bad he didn't have his camera to photograph the animal who survived "in the urban jungle."

On our way back to the front door, return home, he talked about preparing for a trip we took to Japan, our second, shortly after we married (he'd visited before, when we were just lovers), and recalled preparing his photo equipment for the journey (I guess seeing the cat had reminded him). He'd bought extras of everything, in order not to lose any shots. In the past, he'd sometimes missed good ones when a battery ran out or memory card got full at the critical moment. He saw a stay in Japan as a great opportunity to take pictures, and he spent some extra money on gear that might turn out not even to be necessary. "Just in case," he said. And he got some photographs he liked from the visit.

He said planning for that creative work had made him feel good and free of his job and the limited outlook it involved. He felt a little like a criminal thinking about something that had nothing to do with the work for which he received a salary, earned a living. And the erotic photos he took of me and of us together also made Mitchell see himself as an outlaw, I think.

Jeff told me he sees us as partners in an invisible world we've made together. "We walk in stride even if separate," he said. "We have an understanding." And "We may not be together now physically, but we definitely already are in our minds." He actually said that.

Jeff likes old American folk music, is a fan of Bob Dylan, whose song-writing he thinks is underrated. "As a matter of fact he wrote some great songs," he told me and sent me one. "I'll Be Your Baby Tonight"! And it's beautiful.

"Close your eyes, close the door, you don't have to worry any more.."

--

Mitchell told me the story of coming to see me in Japan after I had left New York, gone back home to resume my life, with an option to return here later if things worked that way.

I'll try to tell you more or less what he said, of course not exactly in his words.

"I had to go ten days. I explained it to Pam, my need to get away. I didn't mention and she didn't ask why Japan of all places in the world to visit."

(At the time, Mitchell was still seeing Pam. They'd been together a while. Mitchell said he was already breaking off things between them when he and I met. I wonder. I know he had a hard time. And of course she did too).

"Pam even helped me get ready, pack my stuff. I would just go, show up, you know. I wasn't sure how or even if I would be able to find your address. I couldn't read one there, of course, not in Japanese. Ha ha. It's funny in retrospect, but that move took guts or desperation. I had to see you, like I said."

I had given him an open invitation, nothing specific.

"I'd have to ask someone for directions, hope they knew English. Ha ha.

"I would just go. I was on break between semesters," he reminded me.

Just show up, surprise me, he meant. I asked what had possessed him to do such a thing and he laughed.

"I wasn't thinking right. You know, a man in love!"

He went on. "Of course it would affect things between Pam and me. I'd be sleeping with you, for ten days carrying out my dream. I'd come back a changed person. There was no doubt of that."

He got to the airport and bussed in to Tokyo and decided to spend the first day and night there on his own, look for me later, once he'd gained some bearings, if he could.

"Outside the terminal, walking in an arc from it toward I'm not sure exactly where, I saw some apartment buildings, one with a view straight through because of the light at that hour. I could see from the front windows to the back. And I imagined living there, wondered how much the monthly rent would be. Probably cheaper than New York.

"Not knowing what to do, I scanned the surroundings and saw a marquee for entertainment geared to foreigners. Like me, that is. And I decided to go see it, kill some time in the afternoon. Inside the theater (on a block extending from the arc I'd followed) was a production that had all the trappings of a circus. It was an introduction to the city with live performers. Think clowns.

Some people in the theater, Japanese staff, I mean, were nice, others not so much. As I ordered a drink from the concession stand, the guy behind the counter became irritated- though he tried to hide it. I hadn't given him clear instructions about what I wanted- naturally enough; since I'd just arrived in the foreign city I wasn't sure what the choices were.

"Dealing with that guy brought me back to reality. There's an impulse to imagine any new place far away a paradise compared to home. I saw Japan wasn't. It's just like anywhere else, has good and bad.

"I talked to others sitting nearby as we waited for the show to start in the sort of antique-yellow colored theater. Compared notes on our impressions of the city. They had plenty more than I did, needless to say. I realized I was sweating, had been, and should think of changing my shirt. A quick search of the backpack I carried (traveling very light) failed to turn up the one I had in mind. Deodorant also didn't come to hand right away as I'd hoped.

"What about my toothbrush, cholesterol medicine?

Pam had packed, organized my bag. I couldn't call her to ask where this or that was. Not phone to the other side of the world. Three or four in the morning her time then. I was on my own, had made my choice."

En route to another woman, a man doesn't seek the help of the one he's left. "You're not a child anymore," my best friend had told him when he came to her for advice about his dilemma, whether to choose Pam or me. I know he'd felt embarrassed, as she'd confronted him with himself. He saw in that moment how he looked to others.

"Sometimes a man has to stand on his own two feet," Mitchell said, proud now that he'd put the choice behind him. He acted like he'd known all along which was right.

His recounting of the Japan trip continued. He told me what else happened in the theatre.

"One of the fellow American tourists in the row beside me noticed my search- I was going through a side pocket of the bag- and I said, "Reach middle age and a lot of things go wrong."

"'That's right,' that guy or someone else, his friend, who'd overheard laughed, commiserating. Later, outside, it occurred to me I was older than both of them. They were in their twenties, not acting in desperation like me.

"The 'circus for foreigners' or whatever it was called, had two acts of equal length and a long break between them, a half hour or so to accommodate the needs of the travelers who were the audience. I thought the substantial intermission was a good idea, made the show seem shorter.

"I had time to go outside and I walked to clear my head- I mean to activate it, start thinking about my next move, getting to you."

He still didn't know the way there. I was with my family outside the city in the house where I grew up. My apartment in Tokyo was no longer available. I'd given it up when I came to New York.

He stopped in a food store to buy something to drink, as he had in the end gotten nothing from the lobby concession stand at the theater. The store was a small one and well-organized, and he wondered if my family ran a business of that kind. He thought if so they'd run it well.

"Because I found you impressive and knew your family would be as well," he said.

At that point I still hadn't told him what my family did. He'd never asked, maybe saw them- us- as figures in a fantasy.

"I'd strolled at a fairly rapid clip- needing to stretch my legs after the airplane, the bus, then the theater- and didn't really notice where I was going. When it came time to return, I realized I'd lost my way. Nothing serious. I was going in generally the right direction. I asked someone. He pointed and I was able to make out the marquee blocks ahead, vertical like most in Japan, space saving. Yellow with light letters. Probably lit up neon after dark."

Return where, I wanted to ask, but he continued.

"As I started back, my view of the sign marking my destination was interrupted by runners approaching, several young women, among them one who was strikingly attractive, in a grey brown mesh outfit, slim with great hips and sculpted bright face. I'd been wondering where all the beautiful women like Akemi were in Japan. I'd noticed none yet. And there one was. I turned around after she and the others passed. I didn't really care who saw me stop in my tracks on the pavement to gape."

I finally got out my question, and he answered. "That was the thing. I didn't have a place to go, so I thought of the terminal." The bus from the airport had let him off outside the train station.

Rather than explain what he did there, he went on about the woman who had caught his eye.

"Looking from behind, all I saw was her back. For a moment it was hard to pick her figure out from the others, her friends. But then I did. Slim, nice curves for sure, curves blessed by nature. Hips that mesmerized even in the not especially poetic motion of running. I wished I could see her face too, to look at it longer, really take it in."

I'll stop now. Sometimes Mitchell talks about himself a lot and I just listen, ask questions but let him go on. He assumes anything he says will interest me. I'd almost forgotten how to talk about myself. Thank you for helping me remember.

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