“I told you that I was nearly finished cooking, but now that you’ve dawdled it’s all become cold. The thought of you eating boxed dinners every night made me want to provide you with some warm home cooking, but now that I’ve gone to all that trouble I’m feeling rather disgusted.”
“No, it’s still warm enough,” I insisted, trying to put on a good face. “You know my usual fare.”
Simmered chicken and vegetables, an omelet, sardines wrapped in plum and basil, deep-fried tofu, spinach miso soup, and a sweetened rice ball for dessert . . . Even the green tea was better than anything I could brew. Rather than wax nostalgic over her culinary prowess, I simply savored it all.
As I ate, she went on about a Korean-language study group that had formed among soap opera fans. “Muraki-san’s pronunciation is good,” she remarked, “but she can only repeat basic phrases and can’t express anything meaningful. That’s because she has no sense of self. I, on the other hand, know what I want to say but, unfortunately, can’t get it out. I can’t remember the vocabulary, which isn’t surprising, since I’m the oldest member of the circle and my ability to retain it all is slipping.
“Oh, oh, I forgot,” she continued. “Your sister told me that she wants you to see Shō. I’d be happy to have them come here. But she’s finicky about the dust and the mites and the mold, so maybe you could go to their place.”
The bath had restored my spirits, but now my mood clouded over again. I didn’t want to think about Kasumi. I tried to remember her house but found that I had no memory of it, for I had never been there. I thought I wouldn’t get along with her husband, Kensuke. Besides, I had no interest in dogs or cats or kids; I found nothing soothing about small biological entities.
“Well,” I replied, dragging my feet, “I’m terribly busy right now. And as of next month my time off is being cut back.”
“That’s all the more reason to go this month.”
“Yes, but I want to take it easy now, as I have to brace myself for April, when the job will become horribly demanding.”
“But we’re talking about your nephew.”
“At this stage, he’s still just like a puppy or a kitten, right? I can go see him after he’s started to talk.”
“Do it for your sister.”
“What is this, the doting-grandparent routine?”
“That’s a terrible thing to say. You are so insensitive to other people’s feelings! All I’m saying is that if you put in an appearance, Kasumi will be pleased and I’ll be pleased. You’re almost thirty. Can’t you show a little concern and consideration? Could this be why you’re stuck all alone in this gloomy life of yours? Does this explain why you broke up with Mamiko-chan? Maybe she was right after all.”
“That has nothing to do with anything! Listen, lady, if you want to see your grandchild, fine, go ahead. Just because sis is treating you badly is no excuse to take it out on me.”
“How can you talk to your mother so rudely?”
“Why do I have to return bone-tired from work just to wear myself out even further? There are limits to how much a man can provide. That’s why I told you this morning that I wanted to come home this evening and simply collapse and that you should go straight home. How can you talk about my lack of consideration when you totally ignored how I feel?”
“Why is keeping company with your mother so tiring? What nonsense!”
“You really don’t get it, do you? You still don’t understand why I left home or why sis stays away.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! I’m always careful not to interfere in your lives. I don’t go seeking you out; I wait for you to get in touch with me. But then you two take advantage of that and go merrily on your way, totally ignoring me. There are limits to how much a parent can take!”
“So why did I go see you yesterday?”
“But then you claimed that you were being called to work and left almost immediately.”
“Aaaah!” I shouted. “Please! Leave me alone! Let me get some sleep!”
Mother stared at me without a word and then said simply: “All right. I’m leaving.”
“It’s late now. You can go home tomorrow. Let’s just go to bed.”
“I shouldn’t show such concern for a son who’s abandoned his home. It’s all for nothing. And I’m responsible for my own bad parenting. I brought this on myself, and so I won’t complain.”
“Now don’t be pigheaded! Okay, I went too far. You shouldn’t take what I say so seriously!”
She suddenly left the apartment. Reason told me to follow her, but my indifference won out.
* * *
When I awoke, I was alone. It was as it should have been, yet everything felt inexplicably strange. Could it be that Mother had stayed over after all, or that I had gone to stay with her? The days seemed to be stampeding toward me like random lottery numbers. After tomorrow might come yesterday, followed by the year before last—and then the world of five years hence. The time in which I was myself seemed to be a matter of wait-and-see. Such was the illusion into which I had fallen.
Unable to shake the feeling that I was wandering about lost, I set off for work. The talk on everyone’s lips was of Yasokichi’s resignation, along with whatever nasty comments could be made about him: he had taken advantage of his paid leave so that he wouldn’t have to come in anymore; he was selfish; he had no guts; he was a wimp . . . Yasokichi was in reality a totally harmless guy, and so I was stunned at the degree of vitriol directed toward him.
When I was leaving the store following my shift, I happened to find myself with Minami-san, and we went off to McDonald’s together. As I sipped my oolong tea, I remarked: “Yasokichi has gotten a bad rap, hasn’t he? Everyone’s been dumping on him.”
He looked at me askance and asked: “Weren’t you the one who lit the fuse, Hiyama?”
“What? Me?” I replied in surprise.
“When he confessed to you that he was leaving, didn’t you tell him more or less to just give up?”
“I said no such thing. Where did you hear that?”
“He told me he needed to talk about something, and so we went out drinking after work last night. He said that you were the first person he confided in about what he’d done and that he felt hurt when you gave him the cold shoulder.”
“He told you that?” The thought that Yasokichi would relate our conversation to a third party left me feeling betrayed.
“But you did tell him something, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but it sounds like he took it the wrong way.”
“I don’t think so, because I told him the same thing.”
“Really?”
“I told him that if he can’t face up to his own incompetence, he should quit.”
“Ouch, that’s harsh! He wasn’t so bad as to deserve that label.”
“But he was incompetent. When I talk about someone who is competent, I think of you. You know how to be decisive.”
“Hmm, well, I suppose . . .” I mumbled, embarrassed by the sudden words of praise.
“When you’re dealing with customers, you don’t constantly go running to supervisors for help. You know your way around.”
“True.”
“Yasokichi always got others to cover his ass. And the real problem was that he simply didn’t get it. Don’t you agree?”
I hadn’t thought that Yasokichi had been such a burden on everyone, but I was afraid that if I contradicted Minami-san, he would take that as sign that I was defending a fool, conclude that I lacked good judgment, and then reverse the high opinion of me that he had just expressed. And so I meekly agreed with him.
“What it really comes down to is that there was something rather childish about him, and instead of working on that flaw, he tried to evade it. We all tried to help him deal with it, but it was a wasted effort. And that’s why we’re speaking up about him now.”
“You think that Yasokichi will never grow up?”
“That’s right. He had his chance, but he blew
it. He may delude himself about becoming a tax consultant or whatever, but I don’t see how he can possibly pull it off.”
“I made it very clear to him that he’s not cut out for it.”
“Here you tried to get him to face reality, and all you got was a slap in the face.”
“Yes indeed. The truth is that I very much wanted Yasokichi to rise to the challenge. If that’s what it was really all about, I think there would still be hope for him.”
“From what I’ve seen, people who leave jobs like this in order to study to become tax consultants, accountants, lawyers, or some other type of professional are usually just running away. Those who actually succeed manage to keep on working even as they’re hitting the books.”
“I told him the same thing.”
“Yes, I’m sure you did.”
“I told him that as a friend. If a friend can’t level with him, who will?”
“Indeed.”
“But he didn’t listen and took it all personally. That’s what really gets me.”
“If he’s determined to go down in flames, it’s his own fault. I didn’t have very high expectations for him in the first place.”
“Really?” I blurted out. Minami-san had pampered Yasokichi from his first day on the job in the sales department, so this was surprising to hear.
“No, I didn’t think he’d amount to much, and I didn’t trust him either. He’s a kid without substance. I wondered how long he’d last.”
“So you knew all along?” I asked, finding myself going along with the flow.
“Yeah, I knew. Of course, everyone has the potential to grow. But I sensed that Yasokichi was a weakling who wouldn’t be able to develop what he had.”
“It’s a matter of lifestyle.”
“Yes. I hate to say it, but he’s been holding us back, and now that he’s gone, our overall efficiency is bound to pick up.”
I nodded in agreement. I wanted—and yet was afraid—to ask if he knew whether I would be transferred to the refrigerator department.
After Minami-san left, I stayed at McDonald’s for dinner. I had set a rule for myself not to eat there more than once a day, but today I was violating it.
I wondered whether I would ever meet Yasokichi again. It seemed to me that railing against an ex-employee did not constitute workplace bullying. His situation had hardly been miserable, and yet he had quit nonetheless. I thus concluded that the problem had been his. A man who cannot face up to his issues runs away from them. He had quit as though it were the most natural thing in the world to do. I concluded that he should enjoy his sense of liberation to the utmost while he still could, for it was only a question of time before he felt more fettered than free.
* * *
The student has come. Have explained the situation. Three-way meeting planned for tomorrow or the next day. Your schedule, Daiki?
I saw Hitoshi’s e-mail on Saturday morning. I had turned off my cell phone on Wednesday evening while at McDonald’s, thinking that Yasokichi, knowing that I had Thursdays off, would call to suggest we go drinking. I had then left it off to avoid my old lady. When I finally turned it back on, there were no messages from either of them.
Just this message from Hitoshi. He had sent it on Friday evening. I e-mailed back: Middle of Sunday evening possible. Have Monday off, so late Sunday night also possible.
Around noon on Sunday he finally replied: Sorry about the distance, but could you meet us at Ōkubo Station?
I replied that I wouldn’t get off work until after nine, when the store closed.
The time doesn’t matter. Circumstances dictate that we meet at the student’s place. Just let me know when you’re on your way. Incidentally, I’ve switched to a new cell phone. Here’s the number: . . .
Despite my best efforts to rendezvous at the appointed hour, I found myself held up by the last customer of the day. He had clearly mastered the trick of manipulating the bargaining process by showing up just before closing time on Sunday to get the best possible discount—but he was after the latest and most expensive single-lens reflex digital camera. Just when I thought I had sealed the deal, the customer insisted on an additional 3 percent rebate or four-gigabyte CF card. Feeling compelled to consult with Tajima, I went looking for him but instead ran into the manager.
“What is it with you, Hiyama? Are you turning into some sort of Yaso?”
I didn’t understand what he meant. “Sorry, but—”
“You know: Yaso—a guy who can’t solve a problem without running to others for help.”
“Uh, I understand. But I can’t authorize a further price reduction all on my own.”
“Then don’t make decisions about matters in which you can’t be decisive!”
“I guess that means that I shouldn’t offer a further discount then.”
“That’s what I meant by saying you shouldn’t pull a Yaso.”
“I understand.”
Inside I was panicking, but to keep myself under control I kept repeating to myself, You mustn’t be a Yaso, you mustn’t be a Yaso! I robotically returned to the customer and informed him that we couldn’t offer any additional discount. Hearing this, he stormed off in a huff.
I kicked myself for not having continued looking for Tajima. He would have okayed the deal. For all his weirdness, he didn’t make mistakes in matters of profit and loss. Or rather, he loathed seeing a sale slip by and was thus very good at his job. My sense was that if I had offered a further 2 percent rebate, the purchase would have been made. Making regular customers of nerds like the guy I’d just dealt with is always good business, and I was confident Tajima would have agreed. If I had taken the initiative, the phrase pull a Yaso wouldn’t still be ringing in my ears. I needed to avoid repeating that mistake; otherwise, more people might say the same about me. As soon as I returned to work on Tuesday, I’d unleash the taunt on another employee. For now, I headed off to Ōkubo, mumbling to myself.
* * *
I didn’t reach the station till after ten. Hitoshi and his companion were waiting at the north exit. One look at the latter sent a chill down my spine: he was the spitting image of myself, even more so than Hitoshi. He had a boyish face, and wore his pants low. His hair was dyed brown, and he had stubble on his chin.
Hitoshi introduced us: “This is the student. This is Daiki Hiyama.”
“Hey, that won’t do!” the kid protested. “Give him my name.”
It was all very creepy. He even had my voice.
“I didn’t tell him your name because I don’t know it myself.”
“Well, it’s Hitoshi Nagano.”
I was shaken, as though someone had stabbed me in the chest.
“If you’re Hitoshi, where does that leave me? What is my name?”
“I dunno. How about Mr. Adult? Or Mr. Official?”
“Actually, it goes by seniority. That makes me Hitoshi and you the student.”
“But I’m now the master of the house, so how about Mr. Landlord?”
“How about we discuss this name business later? Daiki, have you eaten?” Hitoshi was clearly running the show.
“No, not yet.”
“Then let’s look for a convenience store.”
“Where are you studying?” I asked, but Hitoshi immediately interrupted.
“We’ve got the same alma mater, except that he’s very much my junior.”
“Hōsei,” the student clarified.
“Oh? In Ichigaya?”
“Yes.”
“It’s changed enormously since I was there. Nothing but super-modern buildings now. It’s a totally different campus.”
I stepped away from Hitoshi as he lapsed into sentimentality on a subject about which I did not want to hear: universities. At the Family Mart across the street we bought food and booze and then headed for the student’s apartment. We remained silent as we walked.
Some ten minutes later we found ourselves in front of a decrepit two-story building. The student’s room was on the first floo
r. Upon opening the door, my nose was assailed by decades of mold, sweat, and cigarettes, sending me into a sneezing fit.
“Daiki-san, how did you meet this guy?” The student posed the question the moment we stepped inside. I had no idea how to respond, unable to suggest that Hitoshi was ME. And yet it only felt natural for the student to ask such a question.
I traced my memories of Hitoshi and finally attempted to explain: “It feels like two or three weeks ago, but actually it was only last week. It was a Monday, and I had the day off. I’d gone back to where I grew up in Hatogaya. On the way home, I stopped at the McDonald’s near Warabi Station, where I picked up a cell phone someone had left behind. It was this guy’s. Thinking I’d pull a prank, I called his mother and tried to pass myself off as her son. When the scam went off without a hitch, I got carried away and asked for some money, saying that I’d been involved in a car accident. Again she fell for it, and even when I said that a friend would collect the money, she didn’t show the slightest suspicion. So I went there. But it turned out that I was the one who had been fooled. She had simply been playing along. Right, Hitoshi?”
Not waiting for his response, I went on: “All of a sudden this guy appeared. I froze on the spot. After all, he’s, uh, ME. When he said he’d call the police, I panicked. But then he said that if I gave him my business card he’d let me off the hook, so I did. And then he called me right away. We then arranged to meet at the Kita-Urawa McDonald’s. Right?”
Hitoshi had been listening with his arms folded and his eyes shut. A moment later, he looked serenely at the student and said, “Everything Daiki says is true.”
“Right . . .” the student muttered.
“Do you understand?” Hitoshi said triumphantly. “It’s just like I told you yesterday. This is the real world. Memory doesn’t cut it any longer, because it changes according to whim. That’s why your getting fixated on my house was meaningless. Any day now you’re going to wind up like Daiki here, who’s forgotten his home and family and is now living an alternate reality. The person involved doesn’t even notice. I too have probably forgotten a whole lot of things. My present memory of myself is whatever’s happening right now. The same is true for Daiki.”
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