"No! Nononononono! Pleathe! It hurth!"
Sumire was backed all the way against the headboard, knobby knees pulled against her chest, head shaking violently, madness in her eyes, which were rolling wildly.
The huge, hulking shadow loomed over her, covering half the wall.
"Be quiet, child, or your mother will hear."
"Thorry, I'm thorry," she whimpered. "I'll be good, I'll be quiet--"

Oh my god.

"Wake up. Wake up! God, you poor thing, you're having a nightmare."

Nick felt himself being shaken briskly and pulled himself up to consciousness, sitting up abruptly.

He found himself face to face with a concerned looking Japan Airlines flight attendant, and Sumire, who was sitting tensely next to him. He could feel perspiration cooling on his body from the air circulating on the plane.

"Nick, are you okay? I know we aren't supposed to wake you, but you were kind of thrashing around, and he was so concerned about you--" Sumire gestured toward the flight attendant, who gave an uneasy bow. Sumire rattled off some rapid-fire Japanese, and he bowed again before hustling off to do her bidding.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he said, trying to sound calm, hoping he hadn't said anything, hoping the woman next to him didn't know what he'd been dreaming about.

The flight attendant returned with a warm towel and cup of tea, both of which Nick accepted gratefully.

Sumire waited until he left to ask her next question.

"How often to you have nightmares about what happened to me?" She shook the shoulder of the arm that wasn't holding the tea when he didn't answer. "Hm? Nick, answer me!"

Nick inhaled and exhaled through his nose and took another drink of his tea before setting the cup down to give himself a moment to think. The cup gave a telltale rattle just before he let go.

Sumire sighed and picked up the towel, leaning in to wipe his face again, moving smoothly down to cover his neck this time as well. Her soft touch felt lovely to Nick, comforting and soothing in equal measure.

"Nick, I'm so, so sorry," she said, her voice anguished. "I never should've shared all of it with you. It's such a burden, and not yours to shoulder, I had no business dumping it on you." She set the towel down again.

She sat back in her own chair, covering her eyes with her hand. "The gift that keeps on giving," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Aww no, don't say that," Nick begged, turning to face her. "We're friends, right? I'm glad you finally have someone to tell, especially if it helps you in some small way." He reached out and patted her shoulder awkwardly. "I don't know, maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I hadn't seen all those pictures of you in your apartment from when you were little. You know, the ones of you with your dad, eating watermelon, looking at the tadpoles and all that?"

He drew a shuddering breath, making Sumire lower her hand to look at him in concern. "I just can't get the images out of my mind, I can't." He shook his head. "You were so small, so tiny. And he's a beast. He must go over two hundred pounds, easy. I just don't understand." He shook his head again, sniffing. "The truth is that if someone stood over me with a gun and said, 'Do this or I'll shoot you, I'll kill you dead, you motherfucker,' I don't think I could, you know? Or even if they had the gun on Darcie and said they'd shoot her, I still don't think I could, I'm just not physically capable, it would be like telling me to breathe underwater, you understand?" He looked into Sumire's eyes, his own eyes anguished. "For him to want to do that to you, to choose it, and to do it again and again--"

"Nick, stop." Sumire swallowed before she spoke again. "Please, just stop. I survived by building a weird, flimsy wall around what happened, and by repairing myself using a child's tools. It's a substandard repair job, I'll admit, but it works for me, I can get through my days. I can't start pulling at it for you, you understand?"

Nick sighed and nodded. "Yes. Don't think I don't. I get how idiotic it is that all of this has to get raked over again because I, a man who wasn't involved at all, am having a crashing, neurotic case of the vapors over something you experienced, survived, and dealt with long ago. I'm not asking you to, all right? I can't help what I dream about, but I'm not trying to get you to pick at this scab for my sake, I'm not, I won't, I swear it." He looked intently into Sumire's eyes and nodded again for emphasis.

"Thank you. I know you can't help what you dream about, and I'm sorry for that." Sumire reached out and patted his hand.

"So, you want to try to sleep again, or you want to work on the script?" she asked, squeezing his hand and releasing it.

"I think I'm done with sleep for a while," Nick said with a rueful smile. "Let's work."

So they practiced listening for a couple hours, with Sumire saying things in a "good" accent and a "bad" accent, and Nick trying to hear and repeat the difference.

"And does it really make a difference if I call someone by their name but don't put '-san' or '-chan' after it?" Nick asked when they were taking a break. The flight attendants had brought them a delicious snack of fresh fruit and jellies (the food on Japan Airlines was famous, and for good reason), and they were eating while they talked.

"Well, I guess if it's mutual, like you both do it? It might not matter so much," Sumire replied, spearing a particularly delectable bit of melon. "But usually it's the man who does it, and it does show a lack of respect, or at least a definite hierarchy. I mean, have you ever heard me call you just Nick when we're speaking Japanese? Ever? Even once? I literally don't think I can, you know?"

"What? You mean because I'm a man?" Nick stopped chewing and turned to look at Sumire, surprised. "Seriously?"

Sumire nodded. "My father called my mother 'Christine-chan,' and he got teased for it by absolutely everyone, all the time. People said it was because she was a gaijin, a foreigner, you know, that she wouldn't put up with the disrespect and all that. Every other Japanese man I knew just called his wife by her name, without the ending, and that was it. It's called 'yobi-sute.'" Sumire took a drink of her champagne before continuing. "'Yobi'" is the nominal or noun form of 'yobu,' which means 'to call,' and 'sute,' is the root for 'to throw away,' get it?"

Nick shook his head, fascinated.

"It means 'to throw away' or 'toss away' their name, like it's worthless, like their name isn't worth anything. Like I'll call you by your name, but I'm tossing it off without the proper ending because I don't respect you."

Nick nodded. "Wow," he breathed, impressed. "Japanese is so complicated and cool. You can insult someone just by how you say their name."

Sumire nodded and grabbed a strawberry.

"So would you prefer to be called 'Sumire-san'? Or 'Mimi-san'? Since '-san' is more respectful than '-chan'?" Nick asked curiously. "Right? Do you feel minimized when I use '-chan'?"

Sumire shook her head. "It's kind of normal for girls to be called '-chan,' actually, though I guess that sounds sexist, doesn't it. It's considered cute, like a diminutive in Italian, you know?"

"Now that I do know a little about," Nick said with relief. "My nonna used to call us 'ragazzini,' which meant 'very small children, as opposed to 'ragazzi,' which just meant 'small children.' " He shook his head. "Talking to you always makes me end up feeling like a total idiot."

"No, Nick, say it ain't so!" Sumire said with a laugh, shaking her head. "My goal is to educate, not make you feel stupid."

"No, I'm joking," Nick assured her, giving her his million dollar smile. "You do, you have, educated me. I'm so much smarter than the dork I was when we met."

Sumire nodded and took another drink of her champagne.

"And that's it, in a nutshell," Nick said to the air around him with an ironic grin.

"Hm? What?"

Nick just shook his head. "No, nothing, it's nothing."

"Come on, tell me!"

"You have no, uh, response to my charm at all, do you?" Nick realized how his words sounded and had the good grace to look embarrassed.

"What?"

"Oh god, I think the champagne is going to my head," Nick said, and Sumire could see the red creeping up his neck from the collar of his shirt.

"Okay." He turned to face her, grinning sheepishly. He raised an eyebrow and looked up, as if figuring out something in his head. "Probably since I was, oh, maybe five? Maybe even younger? I've had a certain, let's call it power, over the ladies around me." He shrugged. "Women like me. At first it was my mom's friends. They thought I was adorable. They gave me candy, cookies, whatever, you know? They liked to pinch my cheeks? Yeah.

"Then it was girls at school. I always got more valentines than other boys. I got chased on the playground, I got picked first for dodgeball, you know, all that good stuff. I got voted class president in seventh grade on basically no platform at all." He was afraid to look in Sumire's direction, but he finally did anyway, and saw her looking at him, lips pursed, shaking her head slightly.

"And you're proud of this stuff?"

"No, not proud, just telling you how it's been for me, that's all," he said, popping some blueberries into his mouth.

"So by high school, you know, I was modeling, and my appeal had a definite, shall we say, sexual component to it, that swung both ways. I was popular with dudes and ladies alike, and cultivated a kind of androgynous look, I guess you could say.

"People came on to me, everywhere, all the time, to a greater or lesser degree. And it only got more intense after I started doing movies. I've never needed a pick up line in my life, because my face, my fame, has been my pick up line." He looked again at Sumire. "Wow, I never realized how shitty all of this sounds, I'm sorry."

Sumire made a rolling motion with her hand, indicating that he should continue. "Is there a point somewhere in here, or did you just want me to know how wonderful the world thinks you are?"

"Yes, yes, there's a fucking point!" Nick laughed. "So, I'm rolling along, secure in my popularity, then I meet you, Sumire Susan Kotani. And you hate me." He saw Sumire taking a deep breath to speak, and held up a hand. "No, wait, let me finish.

"You found me disgusting. My house, my condoms, my lack of hygiene," and he paused to laugh at the memory, "my taste in women, my habits in choosing and leaving women--" he glanced at her, and his gaze softened.

"And my looks, my money, my charm, none of it mattered to you at all, did it?" he concluded. "You didn't let me get away with anything. I had to earn your friendship, your respect, everything, one sincere step at a time."

"Can I say something now?" Sumire asked. "Okay.

"You make it sound like I can't tell you're attractive," Sumire said. "I can tell. I remember when you were doing yard work for Nishimura-san, and you had your shirt off, I thought you looked, um, really nice--"

"Really nice?" Nick repeated, laughing so loud that nearby people turned to stare at him. "Well, thanks for that."

"Like I said a few months ago, just because I'm not one of those women who rolls over on her back when she sees you--"

"Yeah," Nick interrupted. "I've been meaning to ask you about that? Please point them out when you see them? Because I'd love to see a woman do that, and I don't think I ever have--" he couldn't continue because he was laughing so hard.

Sumire slapped at his shoulder and kept talking.

"Like I was saying, I don't relate to the world like that, you know?" She suddenly got serious. "I just don't. I don't think I can, and I don't know if I ever will. I don't see people, especially men, as attractive or whatever." She looked out the darkened window, then back at Nick. "I'm sorry if that bothers you."

"Oh, no, Mimi-chan, please. I meant to be funny, not to make you feel bad. Don't be sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, all right?" Nick made a face of contrition, wishing he could hug her.

"God, listen to us," Sumire said. "We've had this conversation so many times, haven't we? Let's try to grow beyond it, what do you say?"

Nick nodded. "Sounds good. How?"

Sumire looked at the barrier between their two huge, comfortable, first class seats. "Well, here's a start." She pushed the button that lowered it, so there was nothing between them, and their two reclining chairs were in effect one wide one now.

"No, Mimi-chan, it's okay, I want you to be comfortable," Nick protested.

"I will be," Sumire said, pushing their fruit trays out of the way and turning off the lights. "Now come on, let's try to sleep."

She scooted closer to the middle, and reached over the blanket for Nick's hand.

"Oyasuminasai, Nick-san."

"Oyasuminasai."

And he did sleep better with his hand in hers, knowing she was nearby, keeping his nightmares at bay.

https://youtu.be/g6i4FPZcdfA

End of Part One