Smoky Blue Literary and Arts Magazine #6

encountered on deck had reasserted itself. Her outlook, he thought, seemed to change with the frequency of a traffic light. Stop. Go. Stop. Go. A ruddy-faced American businessman and his round-faced wife, both in their fifties, presented themselves at the table. “Care if we come to roost. Place is packed.

I guess everybody is here for the last night,” the man said.

While Peter’s mind went into high gear seeking an excuse to fend the couple off, Maria blithely declared they were welcome. Was she teasing Peter? Or was she simply relieved to be free of his questions? The Americans hailed from Akron. Ted and Evelyn Mortinson. Ted was in inner tubes and exhibited the kind of chamber of commerce pat ‘em on the back bonhomie Peter despised. The Mortinsons were coming to Japan for the first time, and, once everyone had ordered, the conversation gravitated to timeworn topics--geisha, jinrickshas, hara kiri, and, Evelyn’s great concern, the safety of the drinking water.

While Maria responded to the questions with competence and a winning, if counterfeit, smile, Peter glumly dedicated himself to consuming his medallions of beef and to quaffing down multiple glasses of Cabernet Sauvignon. Peter wanted to be alone with Maria, and he intended to wait out the intruding couple. But that did not happen.

Ted had just launched into an exposition on the prospect for self-sealing inner tubes when Maria’s father strode up to the table. Peter sensed the man had been monitoring them; certainly he had glanced over from the Captain’s table several times. Peter felt like a medical school specimen under a microscope.

“Come, Maria, it’s time to go. Morning will come quickly.” Federoff’s paunch challenged his vest and provided a resting place for his watch fob. His dark beard and forbidding stare made Peter think of Lionel Barrymore as Rasputin in the recent film, Rasputin and the Empress. It would be easy to believe, Peter thought, that he was a glutton, a bribe giver, and a debaucher.

“But, father, I am not finished, and we are having a nice talk.”

“We must go. I am sure these people will understand.” He offered an indulgent smile, but his voice lacked warmth.

When Maria hesitated, Federoff placed his hand on his daughter’s arm, rather too firmly Peter thought. Maria immediately got up from the table. “Goodbye,” she