The Mountain

It's the big day. Don't forget the ring.

What if she says no. I had a nightmare. We were walking on the beach and talking. Here in Japan. I started to say how would you feel about getting engaged and a high school marching band who was on a field trip on the beach started playing. Waves crashing and french horns sousaphones and trombones, fat kids in uniforms. She started to say I don’t want a serious relationship and I said IT'S TOO LOUD. Let's go over there. We went behind a concrete pier piling and there was just a little trickling stream. I said but we love each other and she was saying no. But the kids from the marching band were there. We were sheltered from the sound and they could hear us. I said NOW IT'S TOO QUIET, god dammit. I had a nightmare where I floated the idea to her. And she said no. And here we were in Japan.

What if she does say no. There's no way to not be nervous. I hate keeping a secret from her. I hate society. I hate rituals, special occasions, I hate normalcy, birthdays, anniversaries and Christmas. I hate having this special big thing in my pocket that I have to hide from her. Like oh yeah the one thing I really want to do baby is go to Mount Fuji. The rest is your trip. You can shop at stores of miniature Japanese record players and Taschen style books of 70's dom porno vintage movie posters etc. etc. But I want to see Mount Fuji.

She said I always wanted to go to Japan. I thought OK that's where I'll propose. And here we are. The hotel's really nice, super Japanese, you sleep on mats you array yourself on a tatami floor. There’s a frog sculpture outside which I take as a sign. She likes frogs. Capturing frogs in streams. What if she says yes. Is that a problem. Will I fuck it up and be bad to her in some way. The thighs of the Japanese schoolgirls in their tartan skirts as they grip the seatpost between their legs with their underage Japanese thigh muscles on the amusement park ride whirling above me, their white cotton panties like in the movies. It's just scenery now. I love her. Holding her hand in the dark, waking up after the nightmare crawling over to her bed. Saying I had a nightmare. The the hot skin of her forearm, smelling the top of her head.

I tell her it's your trip. We'll do what you want. All over Tokyo which I hate except when we're riding in cabs, blowing through the preposterous size of the city, the skyscrapers wide as as whole cities in themselves like they Ctrl-C Ctrl-V'd 20 New Yorks and it just goes on and on and on, nobody stopping, everybody moving, you can't pee, you can't sit, you can't throw out trash, the 1996 sarin gas attacks made them destroy every single trash can in this city of 34 million. Public benches encourage degeneracy. I hate Japan. She loves it. A women's city of shopping, aesthetically curating, quirky cartoon baby animals everywhere, vending machines of miniature vending machines that sell even smaller vending machines, vending machines that give you a baseball size capsule and inside is a perfect lifelike frog, a tiny rice cooker that works, some weird 70's Japanese mascot she knows about, she says oh yes it's Chugaboo-Chan. I knew she'd love it and she does. It's for her. Just one thing I told her. Take your time baby but we gotta get to Mount Fuji.

I get away for ten minutes to meditate near the Imperial Palace which is closed. Maybe Mount Fuji will be closed. Some religious festival and the buses will be full etc. Not early enough, we'll break some Japanese rule... and what.

I could propose when we move in to our new house.

I could propose next to vending machines of little gundams in the arcade section of the Don Quixote. Which is a store where they blast cheerful music, a cartoon penguin is everywhere. They sell a billion kinds of skin cream and electric tweezers and coffee drinks with no caffeine, 40 dollar fruit, dildos, erotic maid outfits. I could propose... I don't know. Here at the little shrine. With the trees in the wind at night dancing and shimmering like they're underwater.

What if she says no. What if she says yes and I'm too old. She went to a Japanese pancake restaurant. Tried to get a pancake. As with all things in Japan you can't do it that way. You can't sit and order from a waiter and they bring you a pancake. You have to use a computer to make a reservation for the pancake. You leave the restaurant, you come back at an allotted time and the pancake is ready. I went to eat somewhere else and she came with me until her pancake appointment. I couldn't find her in the pancake restaurant. The waitress came and said sir your daughter is upstairs. We went on like a Japanese tilt a whirl at the amusement park and the attendant pointed to English words on the no children no epileptics sign.. She was pointing at No One Over 65 May Go On This Ride.

She went to this vintage book and poster store a nerd recommended. She loves it, she could spend days there. I'm looking for her in the store. The aisles deliberately narrow with stuff sticking out, you have to excuse yourself past irritated weebs and cinephiles. Japanese posters for weird old movies, it's heaven for her, and I dragged her away from it to come out to this cabin so I could propose, and I JUST WANT TO GET IT OVER WITH. My erstwhile therapist would tell me savor this special moment. You only get to do it once. But I hate special occasions. I like waking up with her after dozing off with the dog watching Seinfeld. We get to the cabin. The trees dancing and I turn around. The mountain, big as a planet.

I had another dream. In my dream the sky was orange-gold over the ocean and stars were falling, one at first then dozens, into the golden sea. And I called for you. And you came and held my hand.