15: Foolish—Career Follies
"I've been thinking," Lin said into the phone, speaking in his native Cantonese. He hadn't spoken Chinese for so long it felt like being welcomed home.
"That's always frightening," the voice on the other end responded to his comment with good humor. There was a pause and a sigh. "About what?"
"About my life. Mai is pregnant. I need to be able to provide for her… and our child." It felt weird to say those two phrases: he didn't think he'd ever be a father or have a wife to provide for. He'd always been more a loner in his formative years.
"I highly doubt you'll have any problems with either."
"Monetarily no," Lin agreed. "I've been thinking of quitting psychic investigations and entering the business world."
"You mean instead of controlling it from the shadows?"
Lin stayed silent.
"You hate business. With a passion. That's why you work with it in the shadows." Lin heard a sigh when he didn't answer the jibe. "Have you talked to Mai about this idea of yours?" More silence answered the other speaker's query. "Listen son, times have changed. A wife is not a biddable brood mare and if you treat her like she is, you'll only dishonor her. Mai is your wife, your equal partner. Don't make this choice without consulting her first."
It was on the tip of his tongue to remind his father that he and Mai were only engaged, not actually married. What he said instead was: "I'll heed your advice and talk to Mai."
"Good."
Lin was sure that Mai would agree with his choice, after all. Oh, she'd miss everyone at Shibuya Psychic Research, but in the end, she would see that this was for the best.
…
The opportunity presented itself sooner than Lin expected when Mai strolled into his office with tea for two. "Close the door please, I'd like to talk to you."
Mai was surprised by her fiance's business-like tone, but obliged and closed his door. Tea in hand, she perched herself on the side of his desk and watched him expectantly.
Taking the remaining cup, he said, "I just got off the phone with my father."
"That's wonderful," she said taking a healthy swallow of tea. She smiled now. "And seeing as you don't look harried or murderous, I have to assume it went well." She'd heard stories of his family. They even managed to rattle Naru to the point where he'd hide—not that the other admitted to such.
"It was," he nodded. "I… outlined…a plan, I guess you'd call it. My father said I should discuss it with you before hand."
Mai said nothing, merely took another sip of tea and waited.
"I've been thinking of quitting psychic investigations and ghost hunting," he blurted out.
Eyes wide, Mai set her tea down with a clatter and eased off the desk, upsetting the rest of her tea in her haste; she ignored the sienna liquid spreading across her fiance's desk, creeping unerringly towards the mess of papers. "Why?" she asked, wrapping her arms around herself. She shook her head. "Okay, back up. You told your father this?"
Lin nodded. "And he said I should talk to you, first."
"Then let's discuss. Why would you give up ghost hunting?"
The sorcerer looked at his fiancée, perplexed. "I have you to think of—and our child," he told her, reaching out to place a hand on her gently swelling stomach. She moved out of reach before he could touch her and Lin looked at her, hurt. "Mai?"
"And what about you?" she asked. If there was one thing she knew it was that he hated—outright hated—the actual business side of running a business. And she knew from his family that he was more of a shadow person, making and helping with solutions without being in the spotlight where he'd have to deal with people. Even at SPR, Lin dealt with the business side of things behind the scenes while Naru dealt with it up front, dealing with clients face-to-face.
"Me?" he asked astonished, gesturing to himself.
"Yes, you," she repeated. "Think about yourself once in a while." With that, she stomped out of his office, gathered her things, and left the building, not caring that her shift wasn't yet done and that Naru would probably dock it from her pay. Besides, she knew the director's wife and she was sure Chiaki wouldn't mind persuading Naru otherwise.
"Give up ghost hunting," she huffed, setting her groceries down on the counter and emptying the bags. "Who the hell asked him do that? Where'd he even come up with the idea?" she ranted, measuring out some rice and washing it before dumping it into the rice cooker and turning it on.
She started the soup next. "I don't want him to give up ghost hunting, baby," she told the baby in her womb as she added the dashi stock to form the soup base. The baby didn't answer her complaints. Going over to the fridge, she pulled out the mackerel that she'd marinated in miso this morning and a block of tofu. Setting those on the counter, she took out the grill pan, put that on the stove, and started to heat some oil.
"Ghost hunting makes him happy." She sliced the tofu and added it to the soup and lowered the heat to let the flavors simmer. Mai added the fish to the hot pan just as the rice cooker signaled completion. She put the cooked fish into the oven to keep it warm and turned off the stove, leaving the soup and rice covered and went to bathe and start on her homework. By the time she finished with both, it was dinner-time and Koujo still hadn't returned. Sad and still angry- because they seriously needed to talk about this decision of his- she took out two plates and divided the food, putting one back in the oven with saran wrap covering it.
She sat down to eat alone. "It's time to eat," she commented to the empty air around her.
Stirring the soup, she took a sip. It was good, but… eating alone… without her fiance… everything just tasted lackluster and the little house felt empty and devoid. Still, she ate for forms sake because she was eating for two and the baby was hungry.
…
Flabbergasted at Mai's outburst, he stayed in his office to mull it over. He'd been so sure that she'd agree… it never occurred to him that she wouldn't. Try as he might, he couldn't make sense of her comment. Unable to fathom it, he tried to push it to the back burner of his mind and focus on the pile of work that dominated his desk. He failed spectacularly; he just couldn't concentrate beyond a sentence or two. Disgusted with himself, he decided to make another cup of tea. Maybe it would help his concentration. He collected his empty tea cup and left his office. He was greeted with darkness.
He nixed the idea of tea when his senses and Shiki told him that he was the only one in the office still. Dropping the crockery off in the sink, he checked his watch and saw that it was beyond closing time. Surely he couldn't have wasted all that time just trying to puzzle out Mai's comment, right? But the facts didn't lie. It was after closing and the sky was as dark as the office. Resigning himself to the inevitable, he returned to his office once again and shut his computer down, peering at the gargantuan pile of unfinished work that still sat on his cluttered desk. The completed pile was pathetic indeed, he mused morosely. Sighing, he turned the light out and locked the door to the building behind him. As he made his way home, he hoped, but didn't believe, that Mai would still be up so they could talk.
The house was dark when he let himself in; it disappointed him to no end. Putting his stuff down, he walked into the kitchen, the scents from her cooking leading him on. Turning on a light, he saw a note on the counter: 'Dinner in the oven. Tried to stay up, but the baby wore me out. –Love, Mai.' Lin shook his head, disappointment fading to faint amusement. Shrugging off the jacket, he draped it over the chair, pulled the food out of the oven, and ate his dinner cold, draining the tea after. Being as quiet as he could, he washed his utensils and put them in the drain board to dry. Dinner had been good, but he'd missed spending time with Mai. There was so much to do and they had an argument to sort out before they could do anything else. Walking into their bedroom, he undressed silently and slid into a pair of pajamas, joining Mai in the bed. They would talk tomorrow, he promised, pulling her close. It might have been his imagination, but she seemed to distance herself from him despite being in his arms.
…
Lin was in a foul mood the next day. He hadn't been able to talk with Mai at all other than a strained 'hello.' Worse, everyone at the office could sense the tension between them; it sat there, a big elephant in the room. As if that wasn't bad enough, people chose that particular Wednesday to bring their cases to Shibuya Psychic Research in hopes of Naru agreeing to investigate their claims of psychic phenomena problems. One potential male customer in particular had taken an unnatural shine to Mai despite her dropping the massive hint that she was off the market being engaged. After the fifth innuendo towards his fiancée, Lin had stormed from his office, dragged the man up by his belt, and frog-marched him out of the office. He returned, telling Naru in no uncertain terms that if he took his case, he'd kill him, leaving the person attached the pronoun open for interpretation. Naru didn't say a word; he knew better than to mess with Lin when he was in that type of mood.
The evening didn't get any better. Mai had gone home earlier and Ayako was at their house, performing a routine check on both mother and baby. After the bi-weekly check up, Mai insisted the priestess stay for dinner. Just when he thought he'd get his chance after the doctor left, his mother called and there went any chance to speak with Mai. To top off the horrendous day, his mother was planning to visit Japan. Lin wondered if his father had had a hand in that decision. It made him wonder if he could convince the ground to swallow him for the duration of their visit.
Thursday fared no better. The elephant had gotten even bigger and now dominated the room, gloating, leering, and making his temper shorter than it had been the day before. All of the regulars and irregulars gave him a wide berth and shot questioning looks towards Mai, hoping to receive answers about their troubles in paradise. And try as he might, he still couldn't make heads or tales of Mai's cryptic comment that he should think about himself once in a while. He did. That was why he was thinking about quitting ghost hunting. Mai and the baby needed stability and he just didn't have that as a ghost hunter. He glanced at his 'to-do pile' and noticed that it hadn't shrunk a bit. If anything, it had grown. Frowning, he pushed personal issues aside and got down to work. He wanted this pile littering his 'done-box,' not his 'to-do box.' Friday, he promised himself. Friday, he and Mai would talk. He would leave work early, her in tow, and they would talk.
There's an old Yiddish saying: 'Man plans, God laughs.' In Lin's case, it was certainly true. He'd meant to leave early, take Mai to a restaurant and have that talk that they desperately needed to have. Again, fate being a capricious bitch had screwed that up royally. The person—client, he reminded himself—came into the office before the sorcerer could leave and broke down, telling them about all the horrible things happening in the house they'd just moved into with the kids. To Lin, it sounded like one of the kids had PK, but Naru was interested in the case and was talking to the person—client—in length. Lin barely managed to restrain himself from glaring a hole in the person's head. As if sensing that his right-hand man was about to strangle someone, Naru hastily wrapped up the interview and asked the client to write down their contact information. They would be there tomorrow or Sunday, depending on room space available and the availability of his associates.
That was the cue that Lin had been waiting for. Before Naru could say a word to him, he swept into his office, picked up his briefcase, put on his coat, and turned out the light. On the way to the door, he wrapped his arm around Mai, grabbed her belongings, and escorted her out the door, shutting the door on the shocked faces of the other workers. He didn't hear what Naru said as an excuse, he didn't care. All he cared about was talking to Mai—relieving some of the pressure that had his heart throbbing and his gut twisting in an oily grip. On the way home they stopped for some ingredients for dinner and a snack. At home, he took the landline off the hook and turned his cellphone off. He watched her do the same and followed her into the kitchen where she made tea and spread the tea cookies they'd bought on a plate. Putting the tea on the table along with the cookies, he took a seat and motioned her to do the same. She did so with trepidation. She hoped they could resolve this conflict; she didn't like fighting with him, it hurt too much.
"We need to talk," he said.
"We certainly do," she responded. Her voice sounded tired.
"Why did you get angry with me, Mai? Was it because I suggested we give up ghost hunting?"
She frowned at him. "You were the one to suggest that you give up ghost hunting. Don't include me in that equation. I have no intention of giving up paranormal psychology or ghost hunting."
He stared at her, absolutely stunned. He'd assumed… that she'd also give up ghost hunting along with him… But she was right: he had suggested that he give up ghost hunting and Mai obviously had no intention of following suit. "You told me to think of myself," he said musingly.
"So I did," she told him. "And have you?"
"Of course," he answered. "You and the baby—you'll need stability. I can't give you that if I'm still involved in paranormal psychology."
"Why ever not?"
"Because it's dangerous, or can be. Our case in Suwa?" he queried where she and Hara-san almost died. "The Yoshimi case?" Naru had been possessed, then he'd over-exerted himself using his PK; Takigawa-san had received a few cracked ribs; Yasuhara-san a concussion, John nearly the same.
Mai shook her head. "I know very well that it can be dangerous. I've never pretended otherwise. But you're not thinking about yourself," she pointed out. "You're thinking of me and the baby."
He stared at her, still perplexed. "And so?"
Mai sighed, wondering how someone so wonderfully brilliant and knowledgeable could be so obtuse sometimes. Leaning forward, she grasped his hands and gripped them tightly.
"Koujo," she began, "you love ghost hunting and paranormal psychology, despite how dangerous it has the potential to be. It's gallant of you to think that because of me and our baby that you should choose a safer career, but you… you hate business with a passion. You don't mind teaching… but what subject would you want to teach year after year? You participate in business and teach at S.P.R. because both are a necessary evil. If… you were to become a normal businessman…" she shook her head. "All of your training, all of your talent, everything that makes you, you, would disappear. I'd spend year-after-year watching you slowly lose a piece of your soul here and there. Our child would wonder why its father is so cold and taciturn all the time. And I can't do that, Koujo. I just can't. And that's not fair to the baby. When have I ever asked you to give up something you love? Neither me, nor the child growing within me want that. That's why I got so angry with you. Because you only took me and the baby into consideration—not yourself or your own happiness."
He hated to compare this to the cliché of a light bulb, but that's what it was. It suddenly made sense why she'd gotten so angry with him. She was right: he did hate business. And he didn't want to teach for the rest of his tenure before he could retire. As boring as ghost hunting and paranormal psychology (and as dangerous) could be, he absolute loved being a pioneer in an obscure field of study and slowly working to make it as respectable as hypothetical science was today. Love rushed into him as he stared at his fiancée.
"You're right," he murmured. "You're so right." He shook his head in amazement. "Why did I ever think that leaving Psychic Phenomena Research was a good idea?"
"I have no idea, but it'd be career suicide."
"True," he murmured, standing and hauling her into his arms. "So true." He touched his lips to hers, feeling the fire that had been smoldering leap into an inferno. "So very true."