Understanding Othello
The cherry blossoms were almost at Aomori when she forgave him.
He was in his office, twirling moodily from side to side on his leather chair, pretending to read an official document, but really gazing out of the window and thinking of the blossoms when he heard a key in the lock. Ignoring it, he tuned back into his restless thoughts.
Why had he said such things? Stupid...Penniless...Orphan...Immature...Untidy...Lazy... Those vitriolic words had poured from his mind, through his heart and out of his mouth. He could almost see the fresh sakura-blossom in her hair wilt under his cruel tirade; its delicate pink making a mockery of the delicate flush rising in her cheeks as she let him raze her to the ground.
Jealousy- the Green Eyed monster, "which doth mock the meat it feeds upon." Well, he knew all too well what that meant now. His own words, directed at her innocent face, laughter destroyed, hope fled with his words in her ears. Takigawa, the annoyingly honourable monk, had resigned only fifteen minutes after he had discovered Naru's foul accusations, with a look that promised unforgiveness, and only one sentence.
'She's my little sister, Naru.'
How his heart had stopped at that sentence. How, suddenly, it had unfrozen and begun to beat, and each beat was iron around his heart, squeezing tighter and tighter, as he understood...He finally understood.
Betrayed. Belied. Fooled. Mocked. Twisted. Encircled by a wed of lies forged of his own doubt and insecurity; played like a fish on a line; confounded and bamboozled beyond all reason.
Masako; and what an unusual Iago she was. Beautiful, seductive lies had woven doubt into his mind...Her subtle comments, her convenient presence at the perfect moment, just in time to water the planted seed with liquid poison. Even though he knew Mai was his.
The thought...The possibility of a rumour having even a grain of truth inside had almost destroyed him. He had been ready to give up, to disappear, to start again somewhere else in Japan maybe or perhaps to return home. Then the rage had consumed him; a powerful wind had risen for a second, blowing all the papers from his desk, and rattling the windows, before he had mastered himself and internalised it.
Then he had unleashed it upon her, instead.
He wished he had just blown out the windows.
Of course, Masako had been fired; he had also ensured she was never to come near him or Mai again- restraining orders (he had cited harassment) had been filed and accepted for a distance of
600 metres. He had then written to Takigawa, apologising, and explaining. He had still not heard back.
He was so sorry.
She had moved, he had learned, a week after the fight, instructing her neighbours not to give out a forwarding address. He had left her a card, hoping that the old lady who had kindly told him to 'give her space' might send it on for him. He really hoped that she had.
He missed her, in the simplest terms, her scent; roses, cherries, vanilla and the way she would run a hand soothingly through his hair when he was stressed. He missed being able to creep up on her, make her jump, then hug her to him affectionately. He missed thinking about their first official kiss; where it would be, how perfect he wanted to make it for her. He wanted to have that kiss someday.
He put the paper down, and then rested his head on his arms, uncaring that the document was being creased beyond repair, breathing deep breaths of sorrow, shoulders relaxing from more than a month's worth of tension, conflict and regret. She had not collected her pay checks; her salary was mounting up- that apartment she dreamed of was getting closer each week. He was paying her overtime; it was his fault she had no job...And where was she? Was she safe? Why had he driven her away- she could be anywhere! With anyone; who might hurt her, or take advantage of her kindness.
"Think'st thou I'd make a life of jealousy,
To follow still the changes of the moon
With fresh suspicions? No; to be once in doubt,
Is once to be resolved."
He murmured under his breath, sitting upright again, disgusted with his moment of weakness. Running a hand through his hair, he looked once again at the copy of Shakespeare's 'Othello' sat by his desk. He had referred to it; the decisive work on Jealousy- praying that it would give him an insight into his situation. However, Othello had killed Desdemona, and then himself, which, he thought wryly to himself, was probably a little melodramatic in his own case.
"Naru."
For a moment he mistook the voice for hers, but Ayako stood in the doorway, her face disapproving.
"Yes?"
Ayako's face softened momentarily.
"Was that 'Othello' you were quoting?" She asked, face returning to the frown which had become a rather permanent resident on the face of each member of SPR recently. His nod encouraged her to go on.
"I played Emilia in High School; Drama Club y'know. Remember this part?" She leaned forward.
"I hold my peace, sir? no;
No, I will speak as liberal as the north;
Let heaven and men and devils, let them all,
All, all, cry shame against me, yet I'll speak!"
He smiled dryly up at her.
"How apt for your nature. Your point?"
She rolled her eyes at him, coming further into the room.
"My point is; why are you still here? You messed up, you should apologize! Mai probably doesn't know that you've realised you were wrong and jealous, and a caveman!"
He raised an eyebrow.
"A caveman?"
"Neolithic. Or earlier. You know what I mean. Why don't you get out there, find her, and sort it all out? It's not like you to mope, Naru." She replied seriously, banter forgotten. He looked away.
"I'm not. I... Ayako, what if she doesn't forgive me? What if I really 'killed' her- if only in spirit? She's so strong, Ayako, but so incredibly fragile! She has nobody, Ayako, nobody... I'm afraid I might have done something irreparable. I need her back, whole, happy, laughing and being clumsy, and being beautiful again...I need her, Ayako."
Naru had swung his chair around to face her, leaning over his desk, desperately trying to show her what he meant, how much he understood he had screwed up big time, and how eager he was to fix it; but how scared he was that it could not be fixed. Ayako gasped at the unusual animation and passion in his expression, even if the words were delivered in a low, urgent whisper.
"Can you forgive yourself if you do not try? I don't know what she will say; but I do know that you must be pro-active now. If you don't, it will only become harder for both of you."
Naru nodded.
"Thank you, Ayako. Where is she, then?"
Ayako looked startled and uneasy.
"Huh? I don't..."
"Please; enough lies have been spoken in this office for this decade. You know where she is, as does Monk-san, John, Yasuhara and Lin- you have all known for a while now. I'm surprised none of you have gotten her wages for her."
Ayako fidgeted nervously.
"Naru, I promised I would not tell where she lives or what she was doing."
His face fell, and he toyed with his copy of Othello again in his distraction.
"But."
He looked up, seeing a small smile run across Ayako's lips and eyes, making them sparkle mysteriously.
"If you were to go to Kyoto, to the Gardens...The small bench facing south by the pool, about twenty minutes from the Gate...Perhaps, if you were to sit there, this afternoon about five thirty... I should hurry; you'll need to catch a train soon."
And with that, she turned and left. He smiled.
Four hours later, a breathless rush to the bullet train, and from the train to the Gardens, Naru was sat at the bench. She was walking along the path leading slowly towards his seat, wearing a dress in pale blue. She had lost weight, and her steps were a little listless, but she was never more welcome in his eyes. He waited for her to see him, then stood.
"Mai...I'm sorry. Really, so sorry."
He bowed low, almost comically low, but she did not laugh or speak.
"I was wrong to say all of those things. I was a jealous fool, Masuko's toy, I was stupid, Mai... I should never have listened to a word she said. I doubted us, and I'm sorry. I miss you. I was scared for you. I care about you. Please, forgive me."
"I forgive you."
He looked startled, and suspicious; her tone was flat, her voice devoid of pleasure.
"You do? Then, will you please come back and work with me?"
"Yes. I will work with you, as an equal member of the team. I will be treated with respect, and I will not be looked down on. I will not be your girlfriend. Did you think it would be that easy? Did you think that, after spewing your insecurities at me in anger, after causing me such grief, that things would return to the way you like them? Poor Naru, the consequences of our actions are hard to bear, huh?"
Her anger was gentle fire, sarcasm not as harsh as he deserved. He sat down.
"I deserve that. I deserve all the anger I made you feel. But, before you judge me, read this."
He handed her the well worn copy of Othello, with parts highlighted, and corners folded.
He sat there, while she read, as the light faded around them. When it became too dark to see, they sat in a small inn, drinking cha, in silence.
When she had finished, she laid the book down.
"The Moor is of a free and open nature,
That thinks men honest that but seem to be so,
And will as tenderly be led by the nose
As asses are."
She quoted, and he smiled ruefully at her choice of quotation. She tentatively smiled back, making his heart swell.
"I 'loved not wisely, but too well...' my dear Desdemona. I'm sorry..."
"Shush..." She put a finger to his lips, looking surprised at her own audacity.
"No more apologies, Naru. I have forgiven you, and now I think I understand a little more. But promise me- Never again, ok?"
"I promise."
And she kissed him. Softly, sweetly, everything he had imagined and desired. Moisture on his cheek made him start, as he realized it was his own. Her hair brushed it away, gone in a moment, and he was glad.
"I pray you, in your letters,
When you shall these unlucky deeds relate,
Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate,
Nor set down aught in malice: then, must you speak
Of one that lov'd not wisely but too well;
Of one not easily jealous, but, being wrought,
Perplex'd in the extreme; of one whose hand,
Like the base Indian, threw a pearl away
Richer than all his tribe... I kissed thee ere I killed thee, no way but this,
Killing myself, to die upon a kiss."
Othello, Act V, scene ii.
Some feedback would be helpful- would anyone be interested in a Hamlet themed but probably happier! lol Part II?