Jon Athan - Am I Beautiful?

As soon as Miki was restrained by the employee, the train sped off. The noise in the subway car dwindled to whispers. Adam took a seat while smiling and nodding at the other passengers.

Only one question ran through his mind: What the hell have I gotten myself into?

Adam stayed on the train to collect his thoughts and calm his nerves. He didn’t want Miki to catch a taxi and intercept him at the next station, either. He got off at Nezu Station, just a few stops away from Tokyo Station. He hailed a cab and asked the driver to take him back to his hotel. Using the translation app on his phone, he instructed the driver to take the long way.

During his trip back, the driver spoke to Adam about business, tourism, sushi, and even religion. Adam responded with short answers, grunts, and nods. He couldn’t stop thinking about Miki. He felt a knot in his stomach and a throbbing pain in his head. He was hoping the embarrassing encounter would persuade Miki to stop pursuing him.

But he had a bad feeling in his gut. At heart, he knew it wasn’t over. He had opened Pandora’s Box through his act of adultery, and he couldn’t close it without self-destructing.

Adam gazed absently at his cocktail, ignoring the world around him. His mind was plagued with thoughts of love and affairs, divorce and loneliness, and stalking and obsession. He was drowsy, head bobbing like a sleepy baby’s. Sleeping with one eye open meant not sleeping at all. And he constantly looked over his shoulder while traveling between business meetings, afraid Miki would catch him off guard and confront him in front of his business associates.

It had been two days since his encounter with Miki in Chiyoda. He hadn’t seen her since her meltdown at the subway station.

He now sat at a booth in a rooftop lounge with Dallas and two Japanese businessmen, Takeuchi Sadao and Yamamoto Yūji. There was a salmon eclair on his plate. He only took one bite of it before another bout of nausea attacked his stomach. Dallas had been nibbling away at a small margherita pizza. Noticing Adam’s withdrawn behavior, he took the lead during their casual meeting. But he couldn’t do it all on his own.

Dallas waved his hand in front of Adam’s face to get his attention. Adam finally looked away from his drink. He could see the fake happiness on Dallas’ face as he smiled and laughed with their business associates, clearly trying to make light of the situation, but he didn’t hear anything. His hearing faded in slowly. He heard feeble voices, then clanking silverware, then more voices from the other patrons, then the lounge’s classical music, and then he heard the laughter at his table.

“I’m sorry,” Adam said, offering them a slight smile. “I was, um… I’m listening now. What were we saying?”

“We were talking about the business deal, obviously,” Dallas said. He was irritated by Adam’s sulky attitude, but he kept smiling. Face aching, he said, “So, why don’t you tell our wonderful friends here about your business proposal, Adam?”

“Please, Mr. Miller, you have our undivided attention,” Takeuchi said with a bow. “We are listening.”

Adam said, “Thank you, Takeuchi-san.” He nodded at the younger Japanese man next to him and said, “And thank you, Yamamoto-san. I appreciate your patience.”

In Japanese, -san was another title of respect added to names regardless of gender.

Adam shuffled in his seat. He had practiced his pitch a dozen times before his flight to Japan and another dozen times at the hotel before his business meetings had started. But since then, his speeches had been replaced by excuses for his wife concerning his infidelity.

‘ I was drunk. ’

‘ She drugged me. ’

‘ It didn’t mean a thing, I swear. ’

‘ Dallas pushed me into it! ’

He licked his lips, then he said, “The travel industry is booming. We get paid to organize trips to dozens of countries across the globe. You get paid to do the same. We’re based in America so our clientele is American. You’re based in Japan so your clientele is Japanese. I propose a partnership—a deep relationship between our countries, our cultures, and most importantly for us , our businesses.”

“What do you have in mind?” Takeuchi asked.

“Culture exchange, study abroad, and homestay programs organized between our companies. Of course, that would be in addition to our regular tourism services. Essentially, we’d be sharing our customers while expanding our businesses. If we create an official partnership, we create an image of trust.”

Dallas said, “And that’s our goal. Our hope is to create this image of trust. A… An allegiance, you know? With trust comes confidence. We’re talking leads and sales. Your clients will be more willing to work with us, and our clients would be more willing to work with you. I mean, let’s be honest here, we can’t compete with those huge international corporations on our own.”

Takeuchi puckered his lips and nodded. He hummed in contemplation, then he smiled at Yamamoto—his young colleague, his apprentice.

He asked, “What do you think, Yamamoto-san?”

Yamamoto wasn’t as confident in his English skills, so he spoke slowly when he said, “I think… we need more information. We need numbers… statistics . Our business is doing well now. This type of partnership, it… requires a lot of time and patience.”

Dallas said, “Fortunately, we have a lot of time, a lot of patience, and a lot of statistics. As a matter of fact, I have a few files in my briefcase I’d like you to look at. Maybe tonight after our drinks or maybe I can stop by your office tomorrow. I wish we could have met during business hours today, but sometimes things don’t work out. But I do appreciate you giving us the opportunity to meet now.”

Takeuchi said, “We appreciate it as well. I have a few meetings tomorrow, but if you can stop by around five o’clock in the afternoon, we can discuss this further. Does that sound good to you?”

Dallas said, “It sounds wonderful, sir.” He turned towards Adam and asked, “Isn’t that right?”

Adam stayed quiet. His dark blue irises a shade darker than usual, his eyes were wide with anger and confusion. At first, Dallas thought he was glaring at him. Then he noticed he was looking past him. He glanced over at the bar. It was busy with men and women in suits and dresses—nothing out of the ordinary. Adam’s head began to tremble and his breathing intensified, slow but loud. He clenched his fists, crushing a napkin in his right hand.

Dallas could see he was on the verge of screaming. He smiled at the Japanese businessmen, as if to say: ‘ No worries, he’s just joking around. ’ The men looked at each other and discussed Adam’s behavior in Japanese.

Dallas grabbed Adam’s shoulder and said, “Come on, buddy, let’s get some fresh air.” Adam continued staring at the bar as he stood up. Dallas nodded at the Japanese men and said, “I’m sorry, sir. We’ll be right back.”

“It’s fine,” Takeuchi said. “Health first, business later.”

“ Arigatou. ”

‘ Thanks. ’

Dallas ushered Adam out of the lounge. They stood in a hallway with the hotel elevators to their left and floor-to-ceiling windows to their right. The view of Tokyo was gorgeous—a jagged skyline comprised of skyscrapers of all shapes and sizes, beautiful temples wedged between massive apartment complexes and tiny houses, branching expressways lit up by bumper-to-bumper traffic.

The men stood in front of the windows, like selfish tourists setting up camp to take time-lapse photography.