Free and clear
...written on 11.10.02, @ 11:06 p.m.
Sun November 10, 2002
As I got up from the floor I heard a ringing from somewhere. I was pretty sure I hadn't taken my cellphone off manner mode since the meeting this afternoon in Gifu, so I was thinking that it could be my right ear which has been practically deaf since my earache incident almost a month ago, but in the past couple of days it has either been snapping, crackling and popping like rice crispies or capturing high pitched sonar sounds from Mars (I'm going back to the doctor tomorrow). It turned out it was my apartment phone. I lunged back to the floor to grab it.
"Where are you now?" asked Fred. I told him I was in my apartment and he told me he was outside and wanted to give me something. I told him to come on up.
He gave me two presents, one from him and one from his parents and sister and invited me out to dinner. I slapped on my jacket and we went to Shiringkhala, our favorite restaurant in Ogaki.
We talked about the company trip that I missed and many other things including my quirky correspondence with my neighbor. So we filled up on nepali food and conversation and he let me off in front of my apt building after we agreed on a time to go back to the Dr's.
When I got to the top of the stairs, I saw a plastic bag hanging on my door. It was the CDs (celtic music, Melissa Etheridge) that I had lent my neighbor along with a Simon & Garfunkel CD. Now, THATwasn't mine. Had Obata-san made a mistake? His note didn't indicate that he was giving me a different CD.
Anyway, I went in and grabbed his Bach CDs and went over and knocked on his door. It was almost 9pm, kind of late for someone who leaves his apt at 5:30 am, so I was very wary of the time factor.
He opened the door and with a warm greeting, invited me in. He apologized for being out of pocket. He has been super busy, leaving early and returning late and hasn't had time to attend to much else other than work. (Ah, maybe I haven't done anything wrong at all!)
We talked about music, his work, and my dr's appt. He then again lamented about having to work so hard and pointed to his neck and said that it hurt. I perked up immediately at this because one of the things I like better than giving blow-jobs (so, are we awake now?), is giving massages.
Obata-san kneeled down on the floor, where I joined him, and to the tunes from Sarah McLachlan's "Surface" CD, I proceeded to knead my fingers and hands all over his neck, shoulders and back.
Delicious! I love giving massages! I absolutely lose myself in it and feel so energized afterward. I got myself in some big trouble one time though in college for giving someone a massage.
I was off on a Student Development Leadership lab.These weekend offerings were full of big and small group interactions, exercises and discussions on personal growth and leadership topics. I had a mini-crush on one of the facilitators and during a long break in between sessions in a room full of people, I gave him a rather long massage afterwhich he dreamily proclaimed that I had "magic hands and fingers".
Our last event of the weekend we were to close our eyes and find a partner. I cheated and peeked my way over to him and snagged him. We were to use only our hands to express many different emotions. Our fingers stroked, swatted, and interlaced with one another and I could smell his aftershave on my hands and wrists (Later, this scent would always make me blush.) .We finally opened our eyes to each other and when he saw that it was me, he said that I did indeed have very expressive hands.
The big trouble I referred to was that in that room full of people where I gave him that massage, was his girlfriend. I didn't know this until months later at the next leadership lab when she pulled me aside to say that she had hated me for months. I cried when she said this because she had always seemed so sincere and friendly to me and I felt horribly hurt and deceived and I honestly didn't know that they were going out.
Ah well, you may all rest easy, for there were no girlfriends in the room at Obata's place.