The Dream of Water

by Kyoko Mori

  “Sylvia, this is Cindy Seton. How are you? Listen, my husband has some antiques you and Jacques might be interested in. Here are the times we’ll be home so you can come and look at them.…” The machine cuts her off while she’s mentioning the times.

  “She sounds exactly the same,” I tell Cadine, who is standing in the doorway next to me. “Very perky.” Mrs. Seton used to teach at Kobe Jogakuin, but I never took classes with her.

  “Sylvia,” the next voice starts, equally loud, but very low. “This is to tell you that Mike and I can’t come over for dinner on Saturday because we’ve already been invited to the Stephans’ that night. So we’re busy. Maybe another time.”

  That’s all. She doesn’t thank Sylvia or express regret.

  “Mrs. Peterson.” Cadine wrinkles her nose. “Sylvia,” she mimicks in a nasal tone. “Mike and I can’t have dinner with you because we’re so busy. We’re so popular everyone else invites us to dinner.”

  I start laughing. She rolls her eyes.

  The machine beeps one more time and then Vince’s voice comes on. He is talking so softly that I have to strain to hear him. He sounds half-asleep.

  “So the movie’s at seven every night.” He says the name of the theater, but I can’t catch it. “Call me and let me know when you want to go. I’ll come and pick you up. Don’t forget to call that guy Peter about your meeting with the writers’ group tomorrow. He’ll give you directions.”

  “Everybody sounds so weird,” Cadine says after Vince’s message is over. “What’s wrong with Vince? You can’t hear half the stuff he says.”

  “He kind of mumbles, I guess.”

  “Maybe he spends too much time having to speak Japanese,” Cadine says. “You know how you don’t open your mouth very much when you speak Japanese? Vince does that with English, too, so you can’t hear him.”

  Cadine pushes the button again and replays the messages. Halfway through, we burst out laughing and can’t stop. She’s right; everyone sounds weird. They sound like caricatures of themselves: extra perky, extra rude, extra low-key.

  “We live with some weird gaijin people,” Cadine shrugs. We play the messages a third time so we can laugh more.

  * * *

  As I sit down by the phone upstairs after dinner, the sun is low over the Rokko Mountains to the west. Birds are swooping down outside, their wings almost grazing the eaves. They must be swallows going after insects. I close my eyes and listen to the phone ringing on the other end.

  My stepmother, Michiko, answers on the third ring. “Mori residence,” she says, businesslike.

  “Hello. This is Kyoko. I’m in Kobe, as I said in the letter I sent Father.”

  She doesn’t say a word. I watch the swallows flying diagonally across the windows.

  “You should have called sooner,” she says finally, her voice shrill and accusatory. “I’m going to Hokkaido tomorrow. When I come home next week, your father is going into the hospital.”

  For a moment, I am relieved. There won’t be time to see much of them. Then I understand that my father must be having a health problem.

  “What’s he going to the hospital for? Is he sick?”

  “Nothing serious. He has some polyps on his intestines. He’s having them taken out. They could be cancer, but most likely not.”

  According to my watch, it’s a little past seven. “Maybe I should come and see you tonight,” I suggest. “I’m going to visit my grandmother on Saturday. Then I’ll be going to Hiroshima to see my uncle Shiro. After that, I only have a few days before I leave. I don’t have much time.”

  She doesn’t answer.

  “Is that inconvenient?” I ask.

  “You can come if you like. Your father’s here. He got home about an hour ago, and we had dinner. Did you eat?”

  “Yes.”

  “You can come and have some coffee, then.”

  “Okay. Tell me how to get to your place.”

  “Wait a minute. Let me ask your father first and make sure he wants to see you tonight.” She covers the receiver to talk to him. The voices are muffled. She comes back on and asks, “Are you anywhere near the commuter train? See, we don’t even know where you’ve been staying all this time.”

  “I can get to the train.”

  “Take it to Ashiya and wait for me a block south. That way, I won’t have to park the car. Your father says you can just take a cab, but I think I should come and meet you in my car.”

  “All right. I’ll be at the station in about half an hour.”

  “I’ll be waiting in my car.”

  After I hang up the phone, I grab my backpack and run downstairs. Sylvia and Cadine are doing the dishes. Cadine has cut off the tops of some carrots and put them in a dish of water to see if they will grow leaves.

  “I’m going to see them right now. I want to get this over with.”

  “Good luck,” Sylvia says.

  “I’ll tell you about it when I get back, if you’re still up.” I get my shoes and go out the back door.

  * * *

  In Ashiya, I walk a block south from the train station and look around. Michiko isn’t here. None of the cars driving up and down the riverside street seems to be slowing down to stop. The sky is still light with the afterglow of the sunset. I stand waiting for ten, fifteen minutes before Michiko comes walking across the street in a green pantsuit.

  She stops a few feet away from me. “I almost didn’t see you,” she says frowning. “This isn’t the block I meant. I was looking for you on the other side of the station. I thought you’d be able to figure out which side I meant, since I’d be coming from the north.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know exactly where you live now, so I wasn’t sure which way you might be coming.”

  “I guess you’ve never had a very good sense of direction.” She turns around and crosses the street to a white Mazda parked by the curb with the flashing lights on. She opens the door and sits down. “Get in. The door’s unlocked.”

  As soon as I sit down and close the door, she starts driving.

  “Did you go to your grandfather’s house already?” she asks a few seconds later. She is squinting at me as though she expected me to say yes so she could add this to the list of things I have done wrong.

  “No. I thought it more proper to contact you and Father first.”

  “You don’t know then.” She squints back into the rearview mirror.

  “Don’t know what?”

  “Your aunt Akiko’s in the hospital. She had to have a major operation on her liver.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “I hear she is. But she’s not seeing anyone but Kazumi, so you won’t be able to see her.”

  “She’s not fully recovered?”

  “I don’t know the details. The operation was almost a month ago, so she must be doing pretty well. Maybe she doesn’t want any intrusion. Receiving visitors takes a lot out of you when you’re sick. Believe me. I know it from all my operations on the ulcers. You’re not her immediate family. You haven’t seen her for so long. She must think it’ll be too awkward and exhausting to see you. You’re almost a stranger to her now.”

  We are going up the hill above the grade school Kazumi, Jumpei, and I once attended. When we had schoolwide concerts and athletic events, my mother and Akiko came together and sat side by side in the audience. They met us afterward and took us out for ice cream. Our teachers always thought that the two of them were sisters, not sisters-in-law.

  “Poor Akiko,” my stepmother says. “She’s been through so much misfortune. Her husband doesn’t come home anymore. He’s taken an apartment near Osaka and lives with another woman. Kazumi asked him to proceed with an official divorce since he and Akiko are married in name only. He wouldn’t do it. Maybe he’s interested in your grandfather’s money or his company. I don’t know.”

  I close my eyes. The uphill movement of the car makes me feel as if I’m falling backward. When I open my eyes, I can see the sky has begun to darken. No
one has told me, till now, about Akiko’s husband living with a girlfriend. I’m not surprised by the secrecy. Women from good families never talk about divorce. A woman in my aunt’s situation would usually pretend that her husband had to move away because of his job. Only after years of separation might she admit, “We haven’t lived together for so long, and now that the children are grown, we have nothing in common.” Even then, the woman would not initiate a divorce and call attention to her single status.

  “It’s all your grandfather’s fault,” Michiko continues, grimacing. “He supports Akiko and Kazumi with his money so they don’t need her husband. No wonder he left. He felt inferior.”

  “I sure hope Aunt Akiko is okay. I really wanted to see her and Kazumi.”

  “You might not be able to see Kazumi, either. She’s very busy taking care of her mother. She’s gone all day, and she has a lot on her mind. If she can’t see you, you shouldn’t take it personally. But if you do see her, don’t mention what I told you. It’s none of your business. You shouldn’t be intrusive. Don’t say you heard anything from me.”

  We come to a large condominium building, where she drives the car into an underground garage. The white lights in the garage turn her green suit ashen blue.

  We get out of the car and climb the stairs. “When Akiko went into the hospital,” Michiko says, walking ahead of me, “I gave your grandfather a million yen to express your father’s and my good wishes. I figured they needed help. He took the money and said, ‘It’s good to have relatives in our times of need. We can help each other so much.’ What a joke. He never gave us anything when I was sick.”

  We are at the top of three flights of stairs. She stands in front of the door, puts the key in the lock, and turns it.

  “Words are cheap,” she says as she opens the door to her place.

  My father, Hiroshi, is drinking tea in the dining room, which has large windows facing south. Though the air conditioner is on, he doesn’t have a shirt on over his shorts. On his chest, I can see the dark red scars from the surgery he had for tuberculosis. They curve around his nipples and disappear under black hair.

  Hiroshi doesn’t get up or say anything. He just sits there looking in my direction. I don’t take a step toward him, smile, or say hello.

  “Shouldn’t you put on a shirt?” Michiko asks. “You don’t want to embarrass her.”

  “She’s my daughter. I don’t have to stand on ceremony.” He nods toward the chair across the table from him. I sit down while Michiko goes to the kitchen to make coffee. The windows of the dining room overlook the city. It’s basically the same view I have from my room at Sylvia’s house, though his house is a few miles to the east. Soon the curve of the bay near downtown Kobe will be lit up by the neon signs.

  “Good evening,” I greet him, putting on my stiff and formal voice as though we were strangers. “I hope you are well.” I stare directly at his bare chest, narrowing my eyes a little into what I hope is a clear expression of disapproval.

  My father ignores both my greeting and my expression. “What’s the phone number at your friend’s house where you’re staying?” he asks.

  Because I haven’t memorized the number, I have to look for the notebook I carry in my backpack.

  “Why would you need that number?” Michiko asks from the kitchen. “She won’t be there much. She’s already made all her plans. She’s busy seeing everyone but us. We don’t want to call and bother her friends in her absence. They probably don’t even speak Japanese.”

  “That’s true,” he says. “Forget it. We don’t have much time anyway.”

  I put the notebook away. Michiko brings the coffee and sits down next to me. After a while, she says to Hiroshi, “There’s not enough time for all of us to go out to dinner before she leaves, but at least you should take her out once while I’m out of town.”

  “No. You should take her the night I go to the hospital. Ask Kazumi, too. Try that Chinese restaurant near the station. I’ve heard good things about it.”

  Michiko frowns. “How can I go out to eat while you’re in the hospital? You’ll need me there. I’m supposed to be there.”

  “They won’t do much the first night, except prepare me for surgery and ask me a lot of questions. I won’t need you then. Go ahead and make a reservation.” He lights a cigarette and immediately flicks it over the ashtray, which is already full.

  “But you’re her father. You should go while I’m in Hokkaido.”

  “I don’t have time for that. I have a lot of work to do before I go to the hospital.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t have time anyway,” Michiko says. “She’s already made plans with everyone else. I wouldn’t be surprised if she has no time left for you.”

  They both turn to me.

  “You don’t have to take me to dinner if you’re busy,” I say. “But I don’t have all my plans made. I would still like to see Akiko and Kazumi. Maybe I should call Kazumi. You mentioned asking her out to dinner.”

  “She’s very busy. I told you in the car,” Michiko says.

  “Call her now,” Hiroshi suggests. “She should be home by now. The phone’s right over here.” He points to the shelf behind him.

  “Your father might be sleeping,” Michiko says to him.

  “No. He stays up late.” Hiroshi gets up, takes the phone off the hook, and hands me the receiver. He is already dialing the number. The phone begins to ring on the other end.

  Kazumi answers right away. “This is the Mori residence.” She sounds just like Aunt Akiko.

  “Kazumi. This is Kyoko. I’m calling from my parents’ house. How are you?”

  “Your father mentioned you were coming in June.” She pauses. “Did you call to speak with Grandfather?”

  “No. Why would I want to talk to him? I called to talk to you.”

  Michiko is staring at my face, her lips drawn tight.

  Kazumi starts laughing. “You sound just the same,” she says. “It’s been a long time.”

  “Is Aunt Akiko all right? I heard about her surgery. Can I see her?”

  “Of course. She’s eager to see you. We knew you were coming because your father told us, so we already talked to the doctor. The doctor said she should wait another week before seeing anyone except me. She’s doing well, but he’s afraid of her getting too excited and having a setback. So can you come next week?”

  “Of course. I don’t want to leave without seeing Aunt Akiko.”

  “She’ll be happy to hear that. I’ll tell her tomorrow when I go to see her. She talks about you every day.”

  “So it’s not as though she doesn’t want to see me.”

  “Why wouldn’t she want to see you? She misses you a lot.”

  I glance at Michiko. She gets up and goes into the kitchen.

  “What are your plans?” I ask Kazumi. “Can I see you soon? I don’t have to wait till next week to see you, do I?”

  “I’ll be here tomorrow morning,” she says. “I don’t go to the hospital till the afternoon. You should come and pay a visit to Grandfather, you know,” she reminds me.

  “I’ll come tomorrow morning then. He doesn’t work till the afternoon, right? I can pay my official visit to him and still see you. Is he the same as he used to be?”

  “Yes.”

  “Too bad. But I guess I do have to see him.”

  Michiko comes back with a pot of tea and sits down. She pours the tea for Hiroshi. They are both listening to my end of the conversation. “Listen,” I say to Kazumi, “I want to visit my mother’s grave in Osaka. Can you come with me some morning or afternoon soon? I don’t remember the way to the temple. It’s been a long time. But you know the way, don’t you?”

  “I can go with you anytime.”

  “How about the day after tomorrow? That’s Friday. I’ll be going to see my grandmother on Saturday. When I see her, I want to tell her that I visited my mother’s grave in Osaka. She would be glad to hear me say that.”

  “I’ll be happy to go w
ith you.”

  “One more thing. My parents think one of them should take us out to dinner. What are your plans next week?”

  “Whatever suits you and them is fine by me. I’m not working anymore, so my schedule is pretty flexible. I have a lot of time on my hands.”

  “Great.” I glance at Michiko again. “I’ve been warned that you may be too busy to see me. I was afraid you’d have no time for me.”

  “I would never be too busy to see you. Don’t be silly.”

  “I’ll talk to my parents about dinner and tell you tomorrow. Tell Grandfather that I’ll come to see him tomorrow morning, will you?”

  “You don’t want to tell him yourself? He’s upstairs. I can get him.”

  “No. It’s all right. You tell him.”

  She laughs.

  “You know how it is. I’m never very eager to talk to him. But it’ll be good to see you.”

  “It’ll be good to see you, too.”

  When I hang up, Michiko is frowning at me from the immaculately polished dining table. Behind her, the white walls are spotless. In the glass-covered cabinet, not a dish is out of place. She must polish the glass panels and wash the walls every morning. When I lived with them, she cleaned the house at least once every day, twice if she saw some dust in the afternoon. I sit down and take a sip of the coffee, which is cold by now.

  “So you’re leaving a week from Sunday?” Hiroshi asks me.

  “Yes. I’ll be leaving in the morning.”

  He looks toward Michiko and then back to me. “Michiko will take you and Kazumi out to dinner on Friday night next week, then.”

  “Only if you’re free,” she adds.

  “I don’t have any plans.”

  “I won’t be able to join you,” Hiroshi says. “I’m going into the hospital that afternoon. They won’t let me leave once I check in.”

  “No,” Michiko interrupts. “They don’t let you eat before surgery. I know from all those times I had to have surgery on my ulcers.”

  “If I have time next week while Michiko is gone to Hokkaido, I’ll call Kazumi,” Hiroshi continues, “and Kazumi can call you. Maybe we can go out then. But don’t count on it. I’ll be busy.” He purses his lips and jerks his head up and down once, as if to say, discussion closed. It’s as if we are planning a business meeting.