Multistoried floats danced through the thronged streets like junks sailing through rough night seas, masts emblazoned with lights. Like burning box kites anchored to the earth with Lilliputian mooring lines, threatening at any moment to break free and fly into the dark sky. Gangs of sweating bearers, wearing short happi coats decorated with the crests of their merchant sponsors, surged to and fro calling out guttural encouragements to their companions.
Yoisho! Korasho! Yoi korasho!
Yoisho! Korasho! Yoi korasho!
Red, green, blue, and gold streamers rippled from the telephone poles. Leafy bamboo branches arched over the streets. From the green stems hung thousands of tanzaku, folded strips of colored paper inscribed with a wish or poem. In her dream, Elly reached up and added her own to an overhanging branch. What did I write? She smiled at Connor. He wore a gray yukata. She had on a bright summer kimono, too colorful for a married woman, but she was young and in love.
They continued ahead of the procession to the river. The water's surface was alight with Chinese lanterns, bobbing in the currents on their little rafts. The taiko drums pounded like distant thunder. Flutes and fifes trilled, calling to the magpies. The sky above was clear and shot through with stars. Everyone knew the lovers would meet this night.
The parade reached the river and spilled out along the levee, the bearers mixing among the barkers and carnies. Cheers arose as the first rocket rose on its comet's tail, rising to meet Vega and Altair high above, and exploding in the night sky.
She leaned against him and gazed up at the sparkling bouquets, wanting the night to go on forever, Orihime to never leave her lover again.
They rode the train back to Kudoyama. She recalled the Sada Masashi song about a girl leaving home to get married against her father's wishes. As the night train takes her farther and farther away, the girl counts the passing stations, numbering every fear, concern, and second thought that crosses her mind.
Elly's present distress was not shared by her future self, who snuggled against the shoulder of this dark-haired, blue-eyed gaijin. What did you do? she wanted to ask. This dream, for all its magic, seemed more real than the others. How did you cross the bridge?
At Kudoyama station, a taxi zipped around to collect them at the curb. The walk was no more than a kilometer, but too far in kimono and geta. The driver dropped them off at the front gate, bid them a good evening, and careened back down the hill.
Inside they followed their familiar routines, throwing open the windows to let in the cool mountain air and taking out the futons. But first she had to get out of the kimono. His expression broke into a grin. She must have made some indelicate quip about how getting out of a kimono wasn't something you did by yourself. He began to untie her obi. She twisted around and kissed him impatiently, impertinently.
She's teasing me, Elly thought, a tad annoyed.
Returning to the bedroom after a soak in the o-furo, she extinguished the light. He was standing at the window. She wrapped her arms around his waist. He hugged her closer. The valley glowed with starlight. A bottle rocket flew low over the canopy and popped like a faraway flashbulb.
The throbbing drone of the cicadas filled the night. He smoothed away her bangs and kissed her forehead. The stinging in her eyes—the look of concern on his face—told her she was crying. She was not sad but overcome. The emotions were nestled deeply inside her, connected to every part of her being, and yet she could not understand them.
She raised her mouth to his, tasted him, his cheeks as a bed of spices, his lips like lilies, the roof of his mouth like the best wine. He lowered her to the futon. She welcomed the cool breath of night air on her skin, the warm caress of his hands across her body.
She pressed against him, wanting to feel his weight, wanting to be as close to him as physically possible. His left hand under my head and his right hand embracing me. She smiled at him. I sleep, but my heart waketh. It is the voice of my beloved saying, Open to me my love, my dove, my undefiled.
A soft kiss, and they glided back to earth. The gentle breeze cooled her skin. The tears dried on her cheeks. She rested her head on his chest. Yet in the falling afterglow Elly felt him waver, she felt his fear, felt the magical world grow distant and dim and uncertain.
I opened to my beloved, but my beloved had withdrawn. I sought him, but I could not find him. I called him, but he gave me no answer.
She whispered to herself, No.
In that flickering, transparent moment, as Connor pulled himself out of unconsciousness, he hesitated. He wanted her to take hold of him and make him stay. But she would not make him. Don't let go, he told himself. Yet he knew that this other self lived in a world more real than the one he now occupied alone. So he let go and fell back through the darkness.
He hit the ground hard and stared up from the depths of the abyss. All at once he no longer saw darkness, but welcome light. A vision of intimacy and beauty ravaging safe solitude in ways he could not have believed. The light descended and she was with him. She said nothing and she did not leave. He lay back on the bed, unconsciously shifting to one side, as if she truly slept there beside him.
And when he closed his eyes she was there, the girl on the Nakamozu Nankai. Then and all through the night.
