At a quirky coffee shop's entrance, Rob and Makiko waited with novelist Yuri Kameyama while a worker fetched the manager. "This place looks like an illustration from Peter Rabbit," Rob said.

Yuri responded in Japanese. Makiko translated. "A novelist who loves Peter Rabbit owns it."

The manager, a thin man with bony shoulders and an undertaker's gait, greeted Yuri first, then led them to a roped-off second floor. After removing and reattaching the rope for them, the man pulled out chairs at a back table. Rob took a menu and reluctantly ordered a tea and cake set, like the others. Before the manager left, a disheveled man in his thirties with a Canon digital camera unhooked the rope at the top of the stairs. "The photographer," Yuri explained. The photographer declined a tea from the manager. He also refused Rob's offer of a seat. Instead, he leaned against a mock fireplace with the camera against his thigh.

"Does he know I'm a photographer too?"

Makiko spoke to the man in Japanese. Yuri summarized their conversation. "He had no idea and no curiosity." She winked. "He's an artist who does this for the money."

Rob settled back into his plush chair. "Got it." The man clicked his camera a few times, and Yuri pulled a notepad and pen from her bag. Makiko's smile faltered, maybe in trepidation. Her eyes danced around like an adult strapped into a roller coaster for the first time. When the manager returned with the tea and cake, Rob tasted his tiny sliver of cheesecake. "May I start?" he said.

Yuri lifted her teacup. "Please."

"When was your first success as a writer?"

"My first year out of college."

"Lucky."

Yuri understood English well and used complex sentences when she spoke, but Makiko translated her responses, perhaps because Yuri preferred to have time to think. "She said you've been lucky too."

"That's true." The Japanese photographer snapped shots during the small talk. Then he undid the rope at the top of the stairs. After he lifted his camera in goodbye and left, they laughed. "I hope his art goes well today," Rob said, putting his small fork onto the empty plate. "What's your latest book about?"

Yuri smiled. In English, she pointed out that she was the interviewer.

"Okay. Sorry."

Yuri sipped her tea. "How successful do you feel as a father? Do you have any regrets?"

Whoa. Diving right into the deep end. Rob took a deep breath. "Makiko and I were separated for almost ten years, so I was unsuccessful. All I can hope for is a second chance." He folded his hands in his lap and met Makiko's steady gaze. No tears from either of them, but her concentration suggested a need to control her feelings, maybe?

Perhaps she had no idea what to make of him.

"You've given it some thought," Yuri said.

"Way before what happened in Afghanistan, but that set me in motion. That and my father passing away last year." He slid forward in his seat. "I'll try my best to contribute to Makiko's happiness." I'll try my best? The phrase echoed the Japanese Prime Minister's ineffectual response to a crisis, quoted in the morning newspaper. Rob reached out for Makiko but touched the chair instead. "I'm sorry my selfishness interfered with us. I regret it very much, and I was a stupid ass for waiting so long to come here. I'm sorry."

Yuri and Makiko chatted in Japanese. Yuri scribbled notes.

Rob resisted an urge to ask for a translation. He felt like a man on trial, but their serenity suggested his honesty had paid off. The bottom line: being a bad husband had affected his ability to be a good father, and he took full responsibility. Absolutely. But he had never neglected Makiko or been a danger to her. Any suggestion otherwise, he'd counter. Yukiko had every right to leave, but no right to prioritize vengeance. Emphasizing that, however, was counterproductive and probably pointless. "I was a bad husband." He held up his hand as if taking an oath. "I promise never to marry again."

Yuri laughed. Margot told him beforehand that Yuri had had a child out of wedlock, a fact that somehow reassured him about doing the interview. Yuri came across as frumpy, at first, but he liked her. Like Rachel, she tolerated human fallibility with a sense of humor. She understood imperfection. Many women did.

"I've lived with my mother's side of the story," Makiko said. "I love her."

"You should." Rob bobbed his head up and down. "I love her too, believe it or not."

Makiko did not move a muscle, not even to breathe. She glanced at Yuri.

"In my own way, of course." Rob turned to Yuri. "If I didn't love her, why would I feel so much anger? I must love her if I'm angry at her." He laughed awkwardly.

"What would you do differently?" Yuri said. "Anything?"

"Honestly? I'd have stopped Yukiko from taking Makiko to Japan. I didn't know about it until afterwards. To stop it, I'd have been a different person, more attuned to Yukiko's feelings, but I would change that. I have, I think." He did not want to talk about Yukiko. He wanted to win over Makiko. "When Makiko was young, she knew I loved her very much. It's up to me to show that's still true and always has been. The present matters now, doesn't it?"

Yuri nodded and pressed her pen against the paper. She did not write much then. She spoke softly to Makiko. "Are you angry with your father?"

"I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't be. I had a happy childhood without him."

Rob squeezed his eyes, then blinked away a blurry, watery view while Yuri looked at her notepad. He exhaled and forced himself to look at Makiko. Her eyes were nearly closed as she imbibed her hot tea, oblivious, perhaps, to the impact of her words. Her self-absorption, her lack of empathy, equaled his at that age, even into his twenties and thirties.

"My stepfather was very good to me," she said. "I love him too."

Too! Huh! Ah, she means in addition to her mother. "I've enjoyed my interactions with him," Rob said. Afraid his hand would shake, he let his tea sit. "Look, I'm a stupid ass, but so was your mother. I don't blame her, I don't, but both your parents are fools. My faults were as a husband, not a father. Hers were as a mother. With the Japanese government's blessing, she separated us for no reason except revenge." He wanted to pace the floor, he wanted to take her hand, he wanted to hug her, but he did not want to anger her. He had to shut up. "Okay, I regret saying that. I'm still an ass, some things don't change, but I can be a good father, even if your mother won't make peace."

Without haste, without averting her dry eyes, Makiko excused herself and went downstairs. Yuri crossed her legs.

Rob ran his fingers through his hair. "Am I asking too much?"

Yuri reached over and touched his hand. When Makiko returned, Yuri repeated his question.

"What are you asking?" Makiko said.

"I want you to give me a chance. Is that too much?"

"No."

"Great, I can live with that." He stood and offered his hand to Yuri. "Great talk. Thanks, Yuri. Thanks, Makiko." He took out a camera from a leather briefcase he had placed by his chair. "Yuri, I want your picture before we go, to add to my collection."

"Collection?"

"Of study cards." Margot had encouraged him to create a deck of Japanese celebrity cards. He pulled them from the briefcase he started carrying around when doing business. "These people have been invited to the opening of my photo exhibit. Margot hopes I'll recognize them and greet them by name."

Yuri quickly thumbed through the deck. Each index card consisted of a photograph with a name and a few pieces of information. The photographs came from the Internet, magazines, and in a few cases, Rob's camera. "You need one to remember me."

"No, never. Come to the opening, bring your son."

She tilted her head.

"Did you make a card for Brian Keating too?" Makiko said.

Rob took the cards from Yuri. "No." Makiko's question was a joke; one of her first in front of him, so he tried to smile.

"Wow, Brian Keating's going to your opening?" Yuri said. "Maybe I should go." She laughed. Reaching out, she took Makiko's hands. They swung their arms together.

"I hope to see him too," Makiko said.

"You're so lucky your father can arrange that." Yuri sighed like a lovesick teenager.

Brian Keating excites young women and mature women alike. I think that is realistic. Do you?

Sometimes people stick by celebrities even if they are awful human beings. Why is that?

Thank you for reading LOUD!