Beyond the tunnel, the blue ocean burst out before them.
When they arrived at the station, Taichi proceeded headlong step by step with the help of his cane. Natsuko gripped his hand, wide and thick and covered with sweat. Whenever she held onto it, she felt as if he was the only person who truly cared whether she lived or died. So if she were to live, she decided, she would live for him. It wasn’t as if she felt that there was anything particularly special about living for someone else’s sake, but if it were for anyone else’s sake but his, there would be no need for her to exist.
They passed through the ticket gate and reached the bus terminal. The stop for the shuttle bus had to be around here somewhere. When Natsuko spread open the map that she had picked up at the ward office, Taichi poked his nose over her shoulder to take a look, like an animal sniffing for food. But he couldn’t have understood anything. The stop for the shuttle bus seemed to be the one furthest from the station. She brought her husband through the plaza, when she saw a foot bath. He would no doubt like to try it, she thought, but they didn’t have enough time.
At that moment, he gave her hand a sudden tug.
“What is it?” she asked.
He pointed to a child at a pedestrian crossing. “You can’t ignore the signal, not when there are kids around. They might copy you.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Natsuko sighed, relaxing. Taichi could be persuasive, every now and then.
“Ah, what I wouldn’t do for a kaisendon,” he said, pointing, as innocently as ever, to a banner outside a nearby eatery.
Without uttering so much as a word, Natsuko led him into the restaurant. She had resigned herself to doing as he said. His stubbornness could be its own form of persuasion.
It was a set-meal restaurant, serving all kinds of local fish. Even though it was a weekday, the place was crowded with tourists.
Taichi’s eyes shone as he read the menu. It was a bit expensive, Natsuko thought, but her husband didn’t seem to have realized just how much she was stretching their finances. Natsuko ordered a kaisendon, and Taichi a tekkadon.
Their orders didn’t come for the longest time. Silence fell over the two of them, but there was nothing unusual about that. They had never been a particularly talkative couple. But Natsuko, as a wife, had never felt dissatisfied by her husband’s quiet disposition. She understood, at some vague level, that his life was fulfilled. And if he himself felt that it was fulfilled, there was no reason to deny him that. Even if his body continued to decline, and their finances too. And in order to complete that sense of fulfilment, it seemed necessary that she not say anything. Watching him sit there in silence, his eyes closed, she couldn’t help but think of a wild animal soaking in a medicinal bath to cure its wounds. For her part, she didn’t have anything in particular that she wanted to bring up either. If she were to start talking, she would no doubt end up telling him everything there was to hear about that life. But fortunately, her constant fatigue always invited her into a calm silence. She was simply too tired to tell him anything. Before she knew it, she wasn’t even able to bring herself to cry. Not talking, not crying, but at least it wasn’t boring. What kind of life was this, this state of nothing but denial?—but she put a stop to such thoughts, for they would surely just make her even more tired.
At long last, the two rice bowls arrived. Natsuko watched as her husband, his eyes closed, slowly lifted the slices of tuna into his mouth. He chewed slowly, no doubt due to his neurological disorder, and so looked as if he were truly relishing them. Natsuko remembered when she had gone once to a luxury Italian restaurant with her mother and brother. Back then, she hadn’t yet married Taichi, her mother was living off a widow’s pension, and her brother, though he had just graduated from university and found a job, hadn’t stuck to it, and spent his days wallowing in idleness. All three of them had no sense of thrift, no sense at all of the value of money. Red sea bream carpaccio paid for by credit card at a luxury Italian restaurant. It wasn’t real, she thought. That cold carpaccio, studded with green dill and caviar like miniature diamonds, didn’t look like a fish that had been alive. She couldn’t pin down its taste.
“This is hardly a high-class restaurant. That carpaccio was awful,” her brother began to complain in his usual high-minded way. “And this is hardly a real chef’s work. Looks more like some housewife put it all together.”
“Oh, you say such clever things!” their mother laughed ecstatically, no doubt seeing in her son the figure of a connoisseur.
The restaurant should have been sufficiently high-class for the both of them, and the food wasn’t at all bad. They certainly couldn’t have known any more highly ranked or expensive places than that one. But by insulting that high-class restaurant, they wanted to make out that they were regular patrons of even higher-class ones. Who were they trying to fool? Themselves, of course. They would tell themselves that they were high-class people who frequented high-class restaurants. They were no more than con artists conning themselves. The two of them continued to talk, about restaurants run by famous chefs, about members-only bars. Her brother had an endless list of phone numbers belonging to such places on his mobile. He showed one of them to their mother. And after looking at the number, the two of them smiled in satisfaction, leaning back in their chairs with full stomachs. If they were to behave in such a way in front of anyone else, anyone outside of their family, they would surely be met with contempt—but of course, they had no experience of that. It had been a long time since they belonged to society. Now, they went through their lives without friends, or even acquaintances. And so, in their own world, according to their own values, they had concluded that they were special.
Natsuko couldn’t eat any more and so gave her sashimi to Taichi. He, as ever, took it as a matter of course. He could eat anything, seemingly without end. Her mother and brother called him vulgar for that. They were always disparaging him.
Before finding her current position at the children’s center, Natsuko had been working part-time at the ward office. The job involved hardly anything more than stapling together the bulletin for a group that the office ran for local children who weren’t attending school. She wasn’t an airline stewardess, but she was doing the kind of manual work that as a child she had always wanted, so she couldn’t say that her wish hadn’t come true. Once the bulletin was ready, she would be handed a bundle of papers to staple together. And the person who made that bulletin was Taichi.
Three months after they first met, Taichi told Natsuko that he had fallen in love with her at first sight, and asked her to marry him. There was no helping it—she brought him home to meet her family.
She had told them in advance that he would be coming, of course, but her mother hadn’t put out so much as a glass of water for him.
“So, you’re Natsuko’s boyfriend?” Her mother looked him over doubtfully. Her brother wouldn’t even take a seat, looming over the sitting Taichi with his arms crossed.
“Yes, that’s right.” Taichi smiled, and took a sip from a bottle of barley tea that he had brought with him.
“You said you work at the ward office?”
“Yes.”
“The ward office.” Her mother sighed.
Taichi began to introduce himself. That he was from a seaside town in Hokkaido, a wonderful place surrounded by nature—and that, in spite of that, he couldn’t swim. On hearing this, Natsuko broke out into laughter, but the others remained stone-faced.
After a while, he ran out of safe stories to tell. Yet her mother and brother refused to bring up any topics of their own, and so the four of them sat in silence.
“Why don’t we get something to eat? Won’t you let me treat you all?” Taichi suggested, and for the first time both her mother and brother nodded in agreement.
“I’m not very familiar with the area though . . .” he added innocently, without understanding anything. Natsuko remained silent. Without uttering so much as a single word, her brother led them to a Korean restaurant.
“All that child ever wants is meat. Never mind that I’m in the mood for a nice kaiseki course,” her mother muttered.
Her brother was the first to take a seat and, after looking at the menu, ordered a bottle of sho¯chu¯. Her mother sat down beside him, and he showed her the menu. “Why don’t you get something to drink?”
“You know I can’t hold it.”
The two of them chatted lightly while thinking about what to order. Natsuko and Taichi weren’t even given a choice. Her brother went ahead and ordered the deluxe galbi and the samgyetang.
Once the meat was all lined up on the table, her brother finally spoke up. “Well? Let’s dig in. It isn’t like we get to eat this kind of thing every day.”
“But you’re always eating yakiniku.”
“Not this deluxe stuff. I’m not completely clueless when it comes to money, you know.”
Neither her mother nor her brother said anything to Taichi. They wouldn’t even glance in his direction. Taichi merely looked on while nibbling on a piece of gyu¯tan. Natsuko sipped at some cola, without even touching the food.
“Mom, try some of the japchae. This is the kind of thing that I’m always eating,” her brother said elatedly.
The meal wouldn’t end. Her brother just kept on drinking.
Finally, Taichi stood up. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I’ll have to excuse myself. The last train will be leaving soon. Goodbye.” He laid out several bills on the table apologetically before leaving. “It’s been fun,” he murmured in a low voice—but her mother ignored even that.
When they arrived home, her mother called a family meeting.
“Just how much does that man earn?” she asked sternly.
“I don’t know.”
“Impossible.” She shook her head. “Thinking you’d marry a man without even knowing how much he earns. Show me the ring. Don’t tell me he didn’t even give you a ring?”
Natsuko took it off to show her.
“Such a small diamond. You poor thing.”
“It’s not the size that’s the problem, it’s the lack of taste,” opined her brother as he gulped down a glass of water to soothe his throat, parched from too much liquor. “Just think how embarrassing it’ll be when people find out it isn’t a Harry Winston design.”
Her mother nodded along in silence. Natsuko felt as if she were on trial.
“More importantly, which university did he go to? Has he ever spoken about politics or art?”
“A university in Sapporo, I think.”
“I don’t want a brother-in-law I can’t discuss things with at my level.”
Natsuko’s mother had no doubt harbored these kinds of expectations for her daughter’s future partner ever since her own husband had passed away. And her brother was no different. They would both cheat Taichi out of everything given the chance. Not just money. His pride as well. They would rob him of everything that he had. Because they were the kind of people who thought that they could take everything while giving nothing back. They had no reason to think that way, but that didn’t stop them. For her mother, men were no more than objects for exploitation. She thought that she could have that kind of attitude toward them simply by virtue of being a woman. Ever since Natsuko was a child, she would often say to her: Are you listening? When you grow up and find a boyfriend, he’ll surely take you to a French restaurant, a beautiful place like a castle. And when the food arrives, he’ll wait for you to start eating first. He’ll just sit there, watching you for a while, before he starts eating. He’ll tell you how cute you are. That’s what they do. Men take a woman out to a restaurant, watch her eat, and then pay for it all themselves. That’s romance. You’ll love it.
You’ll love it. That’s what her mother had said. Natsuko had no idea what it was. In any event, she wanted to marry Taichi. No doubt he was far removed from her mother’s image of the ideal man. She had opened a hole in the shell that was her family and could feel the wind creeping in from outside. Vague though this feeling was, she knew that it was what she had been looking for. In all the years that she had been living with her family, this was the first time that she had felt a real sense of self.
During lunchbreak the following day, Natsuko and Taichi met in the cafeteria at the ward office.
“Your brother had a lot to drink yesterday, didn’t he? Is he okay?” Taichi asked worriedly.
“He did, didn’t he?” was all Natsuko said in response.
“Your mother didn’t say much. Is she shy in front of strangers? Or did I do something wrong?”
“No,” Natsuko replied sharply. “Not at all. My family is a bit weird. So it’s okay if you don’t want to marry me.”
“Huh?” The pork cutlet that Taichi had been holding in his chopsticks fell to the floor with a silent thud. “But you’re the one I’d be marrying, Natchan. What a strange thing to say! You were so nervous yesterday. You must be exhausted. Let’s put it behind us. Just try to imagine the wedding. You’ll be so beautiful!”
“I’m sorry.” She should have thanked him, but for some reason, she merely hung her head in apology.
They got married as planned. As if Taichi hadn’t realized anything about her family, not even the thinly veiled sense of disgust that they felt toward him. Nothing at all. Surely he must have felt some kind of discomfort? But she doubted that he would ever pinpoint its true identity.
Taichi finished his wife’s leftover kaisendon. Natsuko looked once again at her watch. They could still make their schedule, maybe. “The bus will be leaving soon,” she urged him, and the two of them left the restaurant.
Shortly before they reached the bus terminal, his cane perhaps having gotten caught in the stone pavement, Taichi stumbled and fell to the ground. Natsuko picked up the cane, but merely stared down at her husband, while five or six passersby quickly surrounded him and helped him to his feet. He thanked them all with an embarrassed grin.
When they finally boarded the empty shuttlebus, Taichi waved to the small crowd that had come to his aid. “Such kind people,” he said softly.
What about her family then? What did he think about her mother and brother, whom Natsuko couldn’t call kind even out of hollow flattery? Maybe it was because they had gone on a trip, or maybe it was because she had finally been able to put some distance between themselves and her family, but she suddenly found that she wanted to talk to her husband about things that they had never discussed before.
She vividly remembered the day when her mother had been forced to let go of her apartment to pay off her brother’s debts. That had been long after Taichi was no longer able to work. He and Natsuko lived in a small apartment, paying the rent out of his pension and the income from her part-time job. Her mother called her out of the blue, using her as an outlet for her explosive anger, as a scapegoat, as a means of avenging herself. It’s all your husband’s fault! her mother shrieked when she and Taichi went to visit. This would never have happened if not for that worthless husband of yours! She must have truly believed that, that if her daughter had married someone wealthy, he would have built her a new house. Taichi knelt formally on the living-room floor, hanging his head in silence. Why didn’t he say anything? People liked Taichi, especially ever since he had been struck by his disability. No matter where he happened to fall over, people came to help him. Once, he had even been brought home in a police car. He’s brazen, completely shameless, her brother had said hatefully. More than anyone, Taichi was unreasonably hated by others, but he was also unreasonably loved. There was no doubt that unreasonableness affected everyone in life, to one extent or another, but how was it possible to face that much of it and still be so indifferent to it all?
The bus began to climb the steep mountain slope. After passing some cheap inns and a bunch of hotels, the coast came into view down below. It was around here, Natsuko remembered, but the bus showed no sign of stopping. Every time it swayed left and right, the couple too swayed from side to side. Finally, they reached a point at the top o
f the mountain where there wasn’t anything to see at all, and went through a narrow one-way tunnel before at last arriving at the hotel.
As soon as they stepped off the bus, she noticed that the rose garden by the side of the hotel had closed. The pink paradise that her mother, with her girlish tastes, had loved so much was now overrun with dead grass and closed to visitors.
“Ah,” Taichi exclaimed. “The air’s so fresh here. And the greenery . . .” He looked around casually, as if free from all worry.
The hotel had seen better days. The frame around the automatic door at the entrance was rusted over. The glass was a pale blue in color. The eight-year-old Natsuko hadn’t felt anything at all when she had gazed through that pale blue glass, but looking at it now, she could feel the weight of that old, neglected automatic door. Maybe it was because of the time of year, but the once bustling lobby stood empty. Only the old grand piano remained as she remembered it.
When she finished checking in at the front desk, she noticed that Taichi had sat himself down in a wheelchair. The hotel staff must have prepared it for him. He sank into the backrest with content, without showing any sign of embarrassment or humility. Truly, he was like little more than a piece of luggage. She doubted that he would even mind being treated that way. She pushed the wheelchair slowly as the staff guided them both to a sofa by the window. Taichi said nothing by way of thanks.
Touring the Land of the Dead (and Ninety-Nine Kisses) Page 2
