‘Hello . . .’ she greeted Kei.
Kei was caught by surprise at having someone she knew suddenly appear in that seat. Looking both startled and intrigued, she addressed Hirai as if it was the first time she had had such a visitor.
‘What . . . You came from the future?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Really? What on earth for?’
The Kei of the past had no idea about what happened. It was a straight question, innocently asked.
‘Oh, I’ve just come to see my sister.’ Hirai wasn’t in a position to lie. She tightened her grip on the letter she held in her lap.
‘The one who is always coming to persuade you to come home?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘Well, that makes a change! Aren’t you normally trying to avoid her?’
‘Well not today . . . Today, I’m going to see her.’
Hirai did her best to reply cheerfully. She had meant to laugh, but her eyes were not laughing. She was unable to produce a single twinkle. She didn’t know where to direct her gaze, either. If Kei got a good look at her, she would see straight through her. Even now, she knew that Kei could sense that something was wrong.
‘Did something happen?’ Kei asked in a whisper.
She couldn’t say anything for a while. Then in an unconvincing tone she said, ‘Oh nothing. Nothing.’
Water flows from high places to low places. That is the nature of gravity. Emotions also seem to act according to gravity. When in the presence of someone with whom you have a bond, and to whom you have entrusted your feelings, it is hard to lie and get away with it. The truth just wants to come flowing out. This is especially the case when you are trying to hide your sadness or vulnerability. It is much easier to conceal sadness from a stranger, or from someone you don’t trust. Hirai saw Kei as a confidante with whom she could share anything. The emotional gravity was strong. Kei was able to accept anything – forgive anything – that Hirai let flow out. A single kind word from Kei could cut the cords of tension that ran through her.
At that moment, it would have been enough for Kei to say just one more kind thing and the truth would have come pouring out. Kei was looking at her with concern. Hirai could tell, even without looking, and was therefore desperately avoiding looking at her.
Kei came out from behind the counter, bothered by Hirai’s reluctance to look at her.
CLANG-DONG
Just then the bell rang.
‘Hello, welcome!’ said Kei, coming to a standstill as she automatically called out to the entrance.
But Hirai knew it was Kumi. The hands of the middle wall clock said it was three o’clock, and Hirai knew that the middle clock was the only one of the three that showed the correct time. This was the time that Kumi had visited the cafe three days earlier.
On that day, Hirai had been forced to hide behind the counter. The arrangement of the cafe – located in a basement with only one entrance – left her no choice. The only way in or out was via the stairs that led to the street. Hirai always turned up at the cafe after lunchtime. She would order coffee, chat with Kei, and then head off for work. That day, she had stood up from her seat, planning to open her bar early. She remembered looking at the middle wall clock to check the time: exactly three o’clock. A little early, but she thought she might try her hand at making some snacks for a change. She had finished paying for coffee and was just about to leave. She actually had her hand on the door when she heard Kumi’s voice from the top of the stairs.
Kumi was coming down while talking to someone on the phone. In a panic, Hirai doubled back into the cafe and ran to hide behind the counter. Clang-dong, the bell rang. Hirai glimpsed Kumi entering the room as she ducked down. That was the story of her not meeting her sister three days earlier.
Now, Hirai was sitting in that seat, waiting for Kumi to come walking in. She realized she couldn’t imagine what clothes Kumi would be wearing. She hadn’t seen her face properly for years, in fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she had. It made her realize just how consistently she had avoided her sister’s visits. Now, her chest was full of regret. The pain intensified as she recalled the lowly tactics she had employed to avoid meeting her.
But right there in that moment, she could not allow herself to cry. She had never once cried in front of her sister. That meant Kumi would not consider it normal if she broke down in front of her now. She would want to know if something had happened. Put in that position, Hirai thought she would crumble. Despite knowing that the present would not change, she would nevertheless say, ‘You have a car crash, take the train home!’ or ‘Don’t go home today!’ But that would be the worst thing that she could say. She would end up being the harbinger of death, upsetting Kumi beyond measure. She had to avoid that happening at all costs. Causing her further suffering was the last thing she wanted to do. She took a deep breath to try to calm her unwieldy emotions.
‘Big Sis?’
Hearing that voice, Hirai’s heart skipped a beat. It was Kumi’s voice, a voice she’d thought she would never hear again. She slowly opened her eyes to see her sister at the entrance looking back at her.
‘Hi there . . .’ Hirai lifted her hand, waved and smiled as widely as she could. The strained look that she had been wearing was gone. But in her lap, clenched in her left hand, was the letter. Kumi stared at her.
Hirai could understand her confusion. Until now, every time Hirai had seen her, she made no effort to hide her awkwardness. She normally adopted a coldness to convey to her that she just wanted her to hurry up and leave. But this time was different. She was actually looking at Kumi and giving her a full-faced smile. Usually reluctant to even make eye contact, she was now looking at her and nothing else.
‘Wow . . . This is strange. What’s up with you today?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, in all these years, you’ve never been so easy to find.’
‘You think?’
‘I know!’
‘Oh, Kumi, I’m sorry about that,’ Hirai said, shrugging her shoulders.
Kumi slowly approached her, as if she was starting to feel more comfortable with her apparent change of heart.
‘Um. Could I order, please? I’d like a coffee, some toast, and then curry rice and a mixed parfait?’ she called out to Kei, who was standing behind the counter.
‘I’ll get right on it,’ Kei said, glancing briefly over at Hirai.
Recognizing the Hirai she knew, she seemed much more at ease as she disappeared into the kitchen.
‘Can I sit here?’ Kumi asked Hirai hesitantly, as she pulled out the chair.
‘Of course,’ Hirai replied with a smile.
Elated, Kumi broke into a smile. Taking the chair opposite, she slowly sat down.
For a while neither talked. They just looked at each other. Kumi kept fidgeting and couldn’t seem to relax. Hirai just kept looking at her, happy just to stare. Kumi returned her steady gaze.
‘It’s definitely pretty strange today,’ she mumbled.
‘How so?’
‘It feels like something we haven’t done for ages . . . just sitting here looking at each other . . .’
‘We haven’t?’
‘Oh, come on. Last time I came, I was standing at your front door and you wouldn’t let me in. The time before that you ran away with me chasing after you. Before that, you crossed the street to avoid me, and then before that . . .’
‘Pretty awful, wasn’t it?’ Hirai agreed.
She knew that Kumi could keep on going on. It was obvious what was really happening – when she pretended not to be home when her apartment lights were on, when she acted like she was really drunk and said, ‘Who are you?’ pretending that she didn’t recognize her. She never read Kumi’s letters, she just threw them away. Even the very last letter. She was an awful big sis.
‘Well that’s how you are.’
‘I’m sorry, Kumi. I’m really sorry,’ Hirai said, poking her tongue out, trying to lift the
mood.
Kumi couldn’t let it go unremarked. ‘So tell me the truth, what’s happened?’ she asked with a worried look.
‘Huh? What do you mean?’
‘Come on, you’re acting all weird.’
‘You think?’
‘Has something happened?’
‘No . . . nothing like that,’ Hirai said, trying to sound natural.
The awkwardness and worry in Kumi’s look made Hirai feel like it was her who was living her final hours, like someone in a sentimental television drama suddenly redeeming herself in the face of death. She felt her eyes redden at the cruel irony. She wasn’t the one who was going to die. Overwhelmed by a wave of emotion, she could no longer maintain eye contact and lowered her gaze.
‘Here we go . . .’ Kei appeared with the coffee just in time.
Hirai quickly lifted her face again.
‘Thank you,’ Kumi said, politely nodding.
‘Not at all.’ Kei placed the coffee on the table, gave a little bow, and returned to behind the counter.
The flow of conversation had been interrupted. Hirai was lost for words. Ever since Kumi had appeared in the cafe, Hirai had wanted to hug her tightly and yell, ‘Don’t die!’ The effort alone of not saying this was keeping her busy.
As the pause in the conversation grew longer, Kumi began to get restless. She was fidgeting out of discomfort. Bending a letter pad she held on her lap, she kept glancing at the ticking wall clock. Hirai could see what she was thinking by how she was behaving.
Kumi was choosing her words carefully. Looking down, she was rehearsing in her head what she wanted to say. Of course the request in itself was simple – Please come home. But articulating this was a struggle.
It was so hard to say because every time she’d raised it over the last several years, Hirai had flatly refused, and the more she had repeatedly declined and refused, the colder she had become. Kumi had never given up, no matter how many times her sister refused, but she never got used to hearing no. Each time she heard it, it hurt her – and it made her sad.
When Hirai thought about how hard it must have been for Kumi to have been made to feel this way again and again, the tension in her chest felt like it had reached breaking point and snapped. For so long, Kumi had had to bear these feelings. At that moment, she was imagining that Hirai would once again refuse, and naturally, this left her at a loss. Each time, she battled tenaciously to find courage. But she never gave up, ever. She looked up and stared directly and boldly into Hirai’s eyes. Hirai didn’t look away; she looked directly back at Kumi, who took a short breath and was about to speak.
‘OK, I don’t mind coming home,’ Hirai replied.
Technically it wasn’t a reply because Kumi hadn’t said anything yet. But Hirai had known all too well what she was going to ask and so responded to what she expected her to say: ‘I want you to come home!’
Kumi’s face betrayed her confusion, as if she didn’t understand what Hirai had said. ‘What?’
Hirai responded gently and clearly. ‘OK . . . I don’t mind going home to Takakura.’
Kumi’s face still showed disbelief. ‘Really?’
‘But you know I wouldn’t be much use, don’t you?’ Hirai said apologetically.
‘That’s OK. No problem! You can just learn the work as you go. Dad and Mum will be so pleased, I’m sure!’
‘Really?’
‘Of course they will!’ Kumi replied and made a deep nod. Her face swiftly turned red and she burst into tears.
‘What’s up?’
This time it was Hirai’s turn to be dismayed. She knew the reason for Kumi’s tears: if Hirai returned to Takakura, she would reclaim her freedom. Her persistent efforts over so many years to persuade Hirai had paid off. It was no wonder that she was happy. But Hirai had never imagined it would lead to so much crying.
‘This has always been my dream,’ Kumi muttered, looking down, her tears spilling onto the table.
Hirai’s heart beat wildly. So Kumi did have her own dreams. She had wanted to do something too. Hirai’s selfishness had robbed her of that – a dream worth crying over.
She thought she should know exactly what she had got in the way of.
‘What dream?’ she asked Kumi.
With red teary eyes, Kumi looked up and took a deep breath. ‘To run the inn together. With you,’ she replied. Her face transformed into a big smile.
Never had Hirai seen Kumi show such an ecstatic, happy smile.
Hirai thought back to what she had said to Kei on this day in the past.
‘She resents me.’
‘She didn’t want it passed down to her.’
‘I keep telling her I don’t want to go home. But she keeps on asking time and time and time again. Saying that she was persistent would be an understatement.’
‘I don’t want to see it . . .’
‘I see it written on her face. Because of what I did, she is now going to be owner of an inn she doesn’t want to run. She wants me to come home so that she can be free.’
‘I feel she is pressuring me.’
‘Throw it away!’
‘I can imagine what it says . . . It’s really tough for me by myself. Please come home. It’s OK if you learn the ropes once you come . . .’
Hirai had said all those things. But she was wrong. Kumi didn’t resent her. Nor was it true that she didn’t want to inherit the inn. The reason that Kumi didn’t give up trying to persuade Hirai to return was because that was her dream. It wasn’t because she wanted her own freedom, and it wasn’t because she was blaming her: it was her dream to run the inn together with Hirai. That dream had not changed, and nor had her little sister, who was there in front of her with tears of joy streaming down her face. Her little sister Kumi, who had loved her big sis with all her heart, had, time after time, come to persuade her to return to the family, never giving up. While her parents had disowned her, Kumi had hung on to the belief that Hirai would come home. How sweet her little sister still was. Always the little girl, always following her around. ‘Big Sis! Big Sis!’ Hirai felt more love for Kumi than she ever had before.
But the little sister that she so loved was now gone.
Hirai’s sense of regret grew. Don’t die on me! I don’t want you to die!
‘Ku-Kumi.’ Hirai called her name in a soft voice, as if it had just slipped out. Even if the effort was futile, she wanted to stop Kumi’s death. But Kumi didn’t seem to have heard Hirai.
‘Wait a bit. Got to go to the toilet. I just need to fix my make-up,’ Kumi said getting up from her seat and walking away.
‘Kumi!’ Hirai cried out.
Hearing her name suddenly screamed in that way stopped Kumi in her tracks. ‘What?’ she asked, looking startled.
Hirai didn’t know what to say. Nothing she said would change the present.
‘Er. Nothing. Sorry.’
Of course it wasn’t nothing. Don’t go! Don’t die! Sorry! Please forgive me! If you hadn’t come to meet me, you wouldn’t have died!
There were many things she wanted to say, and apologize for: selfishly leaving home, expecting Kumi to look after their parents, leaving it to her to take on the role of heir. Not only had she neglected to think how hard that was for her family, she’d never imagined what really led Kumi to take time from her busy schedule and come to see her. I see now that you suffered by having me as your older sister. I’m sorry. But none of these feelings could be formed into words. She had never understood . . . But what should she say? And what did she want to say?
Kumi was looking at her kindly. Even if nothing was forthcoming, she still waited for her to speak – she understood that she had something she wanted to say.
How kindly you look at me after I’ve been so horrible for so long. You held on to these kind feelings while you continued to wait for me for so long. Always wishing we could work together at the inn. Never giving up. But I . . .
After a long silence of being lost in her feelings Hirai managed
to mutter just two words. ‘Thank you.’
She didn’t know whether that one phrase could contain all these feelings or whether it conveyed how she felt. But every part of her at that moment was invested in those two words.
Kumi looked perplexed for a moment, but then replied with a big grin. ‘Yeah, you’re definitely acting strange today.’
‘Yeah, I guess,’ Hirai said, squeezing out her last strength to produce her biggest and best smile. Visibly happy, Kumi shrugged and then twirled round and headed for the toilet.
Hirai watched her walk away. Tears welled up in her eyes. She felt she could no longer stem the flow. Yet she did not blink. She fixed her gaze on Kumi’s back, watching her until she disappeared. As soon as Kumi was out of sight, she dropped her head and her tears fell from her face and landed like rain on the table. She felt the grief surge from the bottom of her heart. She wanted to scream and bawl, but she couldn’t cry out.
If she did, Kumi would hear it. She desperately covered her mouth to stop herself from yelling her sister’s name and with shoulders trembling she muted her voice and cried. From the kitchen, Kei called out to her, concerned by her strange behaviour.
‘You OK, Hirai?’
Beep beep beep beep beep . . .
The sudden sound came from the coffee cup: the alarm warning that the coffee was about to get cold.
‘Oh no! That alarm!’
Kei understood everything when she heard it – the alarm was only used when a person was visiting someone who had died.
Oh dear . . . Her sweet little sister . . .
With Kumi in the toilet, Kei looked over at Hirai. ‘Surely no . . .’ she muttered in dread.
Hirai saw how Kei was looking at her, and simply nodded sadly.
Kei looked distressed. ‘Hirai,’ she called.
‘I know,’ she said, grabbing the coffee cup. ‘I’ve got to drink up, right?’
Before the Coffee Gets Cold Page 13
