toward the car.
Ayako's perfume, unlike any other Mitsuo had ever smelled, pervaded the car. He imagined her scent soon spreading through the expanded hothouse he intended to build. He thought about the best way to bring it off. He didn't know whether he could make himself understood.
Flexing his shoulders, he said, "Finally I feel relaxed."
Ayako sat with her purse in her lap. She seemed to giggle, but when Mitsuo looked at her face he found it impassive.
"Why don't we just loosen up and be ourselves?" he suggested.
Ayako shifted in her seat, placed her purse beside her, and giggled softly.
Mitsuo set about getting what he wanted. As he spoke, he drove even faster. "I know you must be tired. I sure am, with all this trouble about being polite. Man, my shoulders are stiff." Judging from the squeak of the springs beneath her seat, Ayako was trying not to laugh.
"You were really staring at me."
"Of course. That's what omiai is all about."
"I figured you must like me, the way you couldn't keep your eyes off me. By the way, I'll be happy to come help you in the hothouse. I'd appreciate it if you pay me, though. An average part-time salary will be good enough. The truth is, I'm sick of working at the gas station."
Mitsuo felt her eyes upon his face. A straightforward woman, he thought, and the kind he wouldn't have to waste valuable time trying to win over. In his confusion over how to proceed next, he blurted out what he had intended to be his punch line.
"Let's go to a motel."
Silence dropped upon the car like an anchor. Mitsuo had expressed what had been on his mind from the moment he met her. The whine of the engine sounded like a roar in the dense quiet of the car. He repeated his proposal.
Ayako shifted toward her door as though she contemplated bailing out. Mitsuo pressed the accelerator still harder, and the car sped along at twenty kilometers over the speed limit. Ayako screamed, sounding ready to burst into tears. "No! Let me out! You're the crudest bastard I've ever met." She beat at Mitsuo's shoulder with her purse, and for a moment he lost control of the wheel.
"I'll marry you. I promise. There's no problem."
"You're proposing? Just like that? What about my feelings?"
"Come on. It's not like you're a virgin. I can tell. Big deal, I'm not either. We're the same kind of people. I'll marry you. Really, that's what I want."
Ayako calmed down a little. She shifted her purse back to her lap and said, "It seems to me you don't take marriage very seriously. You're probably thinking, 'I'll marry her and if things don't work out, I'll just get a divorce.' You need to think more carefully about it."
"A little time alone will be good for us. We can talk freely in a motel." Mitsuo maintained the car's speed. Pain spread over the shoulder which Ayako had pounded.
As he drove, he searched for a motel sign. A group of yellow-helmeted children streamed along the roadside beside the guardrail. Mitsuo drove through a village where paddies lay filled with water, ready to absorb rice seedlings. The surface of the water acted as a perfect mirror, reflecting the brilliant sky. At length Mitsuo spied a gaudy sign advertising a motel. He followed a lane bordered by weed-filled thickets to a fortresslike structure surrounded by a high concrete wall. Lining the wall were plastic tubes in the shape of lanterns, their color faded by the elements. Mitsuo glanced at them in the rearview mirror, and saw them sway in the rush of air that rose from the car as it passed by.
Pieces of glass jutted out along the top of the concrete wall. There was no sign of anyone at the entrance to the motel, which consisted of a row of small mortar buildings with attached garages. Mitsuo made a circuit of the rooms before selecting one at random. Ayako sat quietly, and made no effort to leave the car.
"Let's go inside and talk. It'd be embarrassing to come this far without going in. I'm sure someone's staring at us."
"All right, I'll go in. But just to talk." Ayako stepped carefully out of the car. Mitsuo congratulated himself on how well everything was going. Success was now assured. He drew a plastic curtain which hid the car from view. A door led from the garage into the attached room. The thin carpet was moist and smelled of mildew. Mitsuo hit every switch on the wall. A fan began to buzz.
Ayako stood in the doorway holding her purse in front of her with both hands. A light above her head cast a shadow across her face.
"I'll marry you," Mitsuo insisted.
"You really mean it? Don't play games with me."
"Don't worry. If it's a game, you'll enjoy it, too."
"All I want to know is if you'll marry me."
"How many times do I have to tell you?"
The phone rang with a low and gloomy tone. "Are you spending the night, or just resting?" a voice inquired.
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