Michael looked in the bathroom mirror. He had just turned thirty-two in January, but due to a hectic work schedule of sixty plus hours a week, he felt twice as old. Although it was Saturday, he felt compelled to go into work, at least for a couple of hours as he knew that his best friend, college buddy and partner, Jim Hutchinson would be there as he was every day. Washing his face, Michael felt his chin. He hadnât shaved in two days but, he detected only a hint of stubble and the fact that it was the week end, he would forgo the drudgery of shaving.
Squinting in the mirror his slightly slanted, bloodshot Irish-Japanese eyes looked like two burnt holes in a blanket. He laughed at the phrase, âtwo burnt holes in a blanketâ, which was one of his motherâs favorite sayings. Michael was third generation Nisei as his father had been born in the United States. His grandfather came to the states from Japan, when he was eighteen before the Second World War, and fought the Nazis in Europe, from the cockpit of a P-51 mustang. He came home to his wife and two sons a war hero and a double ace.
Michael sat on the side of his bed, slipping on a pair of jeans, some white socks and Nike running shoes, happy that his Mother was in Japan with his Father and couldnât chastise him about sitting on the bed. She would have said,
âMichael, donât sit on the bed that way, youâll break it.â
He had never heard from any other source; that sitting on a bed would cause it harm. While tying his shoes, he wondered if people seeing them actually thought that he ran. Running was as abhorrent to him as much as eating raw fish, maybe more so. He grabbed a t-shirt, which had been given to him by Lisa, a girl he dated for a couple of years. On the front of it was printed,
âPain in the Ass Club President.â
She had told him many times, âMichael you are a big pain in the ass.â To which he replied, âI guess I must be doing it wrong.â
âNo you do it right. Thatâs one of the reasons that Iâm so crazy about you.â
Michael stood in front of the open door of the refrigerator and looked for something. He wasnât sure what he wanted, but as his stomach was growling he knew that he needed something. Grabbing a gallon container of premium orange juice from its place in the door, he shook it then unscrewed the cap. Placing it to his mouth, he tipped it back and took a long drink, first looking around to make sure nobody would see him. He could hear his mother chastising him for not using a glass also.
Taking his High School lettermanâs jacket from the hall closet, he went out the door into his garage, making sure it was locked behind him. He pushed the automatic garage door opener and a cold brisk February breeze slapped him in the face, like a virgin who had been groped. Now he was happy that he didnât shave. Throwing a leg over his 1989 Kawasaki 1000, he sat on the seat and removed his helmet from the handle bars. After placing his fur lined gloves on his hands, he inserted the key and pushed the start button. Even though the bike had well over four hundred thousand miles on it and it was sixteen years old, it hummed like a church lady, who had forgotten the words to a hymn.
Michael pulled out of his garage activating the garage door again, then down the street and onto Wilshire Blvd, heading west toward the 405 freeway. Anybody might think that on Saturday morning, the freeway would be clear, however as the 405 was one of the main routes to LAX, it was bogged down as usual. Michael split traffic all the way to Century and took the off ramp with most of the other vehicles. However when they went west toward the airport, he turned left and completed the three miles, past the strip clubs that featured âlive nude girlsâ. He wondered if the sign didnât read âliveâ; would the guys going there expect âdead nude girls?â As Michael walked in the door to the office, Hutchâs voice rang out,
âMike is that you? Iâm sure glad youâre here buddy. Weâve got a problem.â
âWhat?â asked Michael as he sauntered into the office.
âItâs Merdock again. Heâs pissed because he hasnât received his shipment.â
âI sent it Thursday, by FEDEX. He should have it by now.â Michael picked up the phone and hit the speed dial for Merdock & Company. The phone made what sounded like a dozen bleeping sounds; then began to ring.
âHello, This is Michael Yashamura, is Mr. Merdock there? Yes Iâll wait.â
Hutch sat there with a worried look, staring at Michael.
âRelax Hutch, you look like somebody ran over your dog. No I wasnât talking to you Mr. Merdock. Oh you did; Great? Thatâs what I was calling about. Ok ⊠fine, weâll talk to you later in the week then. Goodbye. Have a great weekend.â
âHe got it? Good; now I can relax. Iâll tell you I was so worried. When Merdock called about twenty minutes ago, he was pissed. I thought we were going to loose him.â
âWe wonât loose him, unless one of our competitors is willing to lower their prices forty percent. You really have to stop getting so upset. Itâs not good for you.â
âMike you donât have a wife and kids and a mortgage like I do. Wait until you are married and have kids. You wonât think it will be as funny then.â
âNo I donât have a wife and kids and I donât think I ever will, but I do have a nineteen hundred dollar a month lease and I go out at least three times a week. What I spend on dating would put one of your kids through UCLA. You know, I donât remember thinking that it was going to be this difficult to run our own business, do you?â
âNo I donât.â
âWell maybe we should both stop worrying. The company gained twenty percent in the last quarter, and I think we are going to have to hire another person. There is just too much work for the six of us.â
âAs always, youâre right.â Hutch mumbled, âIâve been here since seven, so I guess Iâll go home. Jamie has a little league game at one. Donât stay too long Mike. You deserve some time off too. Hey do you want to come to the game? You havenât seen the family in a long time, and we are going to have a bar-b-queue after.â
âNo thanks, I have several letters to write and Iâve got a diner date tonight. Speaking of time off. Do you think you can hold this whole thing together for a few weeks? My parents have been bugging me to go to Osaka, for a visit. I havenât seen them in almost three years.â
âIf we can hire that person you were talking about, I think it would be OK. I know it will do you a lot of good, but didnât you tell me that you didnât like to fly.â
âYah, but unfortunately itâs the only way to get there, so I guess Iâll have too.â
âOKâ, said Hutch, âIâll guess Iâll see you Monday then. Iâm outtaâ here. If my wife calls tell her I left a half hour a go. See yaâ.â
Michael just nodded his head as Hutch left the office. He could think of several dozen places he would rather be at the time, but work was first. As he caught up on his correspondence, Michael thought about having a wife and kids. Not possible he thought; as five years ago, when the business was in its infancy, he made a decision that would affect the rest of his life. He secretly had a vasectomy. It wasnât just because of the business; it was more. Michael didnât like what children did to a marriage, or a relationship. Itâs tough enough to keep two people together, without the battle between parents and kids. He was witness, almost on a daily basis to the situation between Hutch, his wife and his two children. If for some unknown reason he had to have kids someday, he could always adopt.
Although, he was born in the United States to a second generation Japanese father and a first generation Irish mother, he still felt a strong connection to his heritage and his grandfather's homeland of Japan. Michaelâs Dad was not religious, but his Mom was Irish Catholic, so when it came to religion, his Mother believed it would beneficial for him to be raised Catholic. When he was in his early teens, his Mom even broached the subject of him going into the priesthood. Michael considered it for a few seconds, but as he had no sexual desires toward boys, he told her no. In 1985 Michaelâs Uncle sold his construction company and moved back to Japan. He was married there and had two daughters. Mikeâs Dad finely sold his restaurant business three years ago and moved to Osaka, where Mikeâs Uncle had a new construction business.