No. 6 - Jenni

The weaved mats were cool and soft against her back. She was still wearing the thin yukata from the onsen, but it was pushed up beneath her arms – an unconscious cushion. The blinds of the window were open, and she could see the beginning slope of the mountain inches from the pane. Snow drifted softly down and glowed blue in the twilight. She wanted to stop and close the curtains, afraid that someone would follow the subtle glow the closet light shed onto the deep drifts. But he fell asleep so quickly, and she was afraid that in the space between the floor and the window, she would lose him for the night. It was cold. The heavy comforter draped over his shoulders, and she felt its weight inside her. He grunted his satisfaction into her ear. Although his skin prickled in the icy air, he raised up to look at her beneath him. With the pads of his fingers he traced the curves of her breasts. First the smaller one, the one that he loved, and then the larger one that he loved just a little less. In the soft light he could not see the details of her body, but he knew them already. As his fingers read the small bumps on her areole like Braille, he already knew their sum. Fifteen. He knew the precise time it would take for her nipples to harden beneath the gentle pull of his fingers. Four. (Two seconds less than usual, due to the scintillation of the cold air.) He fitted himself into her again. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, and remembered the bears. They had ridden in the cable car to the top of the mountain across from the hotel. The sign said “Bear Park” and she thought, if they were lucky, they might catch a glimpse of a bear as it moved from a natural stream to its cozy den. As they rode in the small bucket, the mountains revealed themselves as the heads of balding men. Black trees fell in strands across the pasty white scalps. At the top of the mountain they hastily jumped out onto the platform and the bucket continued in its circle, never stopping. The wind was blowing steadily, and they were careful as they walked along the snowy sidewalk. The signs of decrepit tourism surrounded them. Cardboard bodies of bears with the faces cut out for pictures. A gift shop. A half-hearted snow slide. They found the sign that led towards the bears, and they followed it. Planks bordered the bear enclosure, blocking any sight. They climbed the stairs to the small platform, and looked down on the bear den below. Thirty bears looked back at them from a small space surrounded by a chain link fence. It was hardly bigger than her parents’ standard subdivision backyard. An old candy machine held pellets, and she put in two coins and turned them into its belly. A handful of small brown cylinders flooded out into her hands. She gave half to her lover, and together they began to toss them to the bears. At the sound of the money in the machine, a few bears stood up on their back legs. Each had learned a small trick; a way of standing out in a crowd. One waved his hand. Another put her hands together like a child kneeling beside her bed. A few roared half-heartedly. At first the girl was excited to see them connect with her. Their large wilderness acknowledged her small city of self. And then she began to notice the scars on their faces, and the missing patches of fur. The bears on the outskirts of the circle did not recognize her presence. They did not even look up, or roll over onto a different side. She tossed the pellets to them, but they did not see. Suddenly, it became too much. She could not choose who would get the remaining pellets. She threw the entire handful into the air above the enclosure, and watched as they fell scattered amongst the bears. Those who had been performing small begging motions with their hands stopped, fell onto all fours, and swayed slowly around the enclosure looking for the food. A taste of bile rose in her throat, and she walked away from the bears holding her lover’s hand. He took pictures of her in the snow, away from the small fenced in area. He felt her legs tighten around his back as her body rose to meet him in the air. Her voice was warm in his ear and it said his name. As he moved deeper into her, his thoughts melted away and his body gave itself over. As she whispered his name she thought of the woman she had met in the onsen who had asked to hear the story of her new love. After the short narrative, the woman had smiled. Just remember, it might not last more than this year. His breathing was growing faster. The bears crowded back into her mind. A small, fenced-in space. The memory of the woman faded, as the bears pawed at her face. Through the window’s unguarded view she strained to find the form of a bear walking among the winter trees. She lifted her arms over her head and spread her palms outward in offering.