Zen Attitude

by Sujata Massey

  I didn’t want to get distracted, so I gave him a hard look and said, “Remember how I thought the tansu was the link between Nao Sakai and Nomu Ideta’s deaths? Nomu Ideta, the old man who originally owned it, was Nana Mihori’s elder brother. I was sent to buy the tansu from Nao Sakai so there would be no suspicion she was behind it.”

  Hugh stared at me, then said, “You refused to deliver the tansu because the age was wrong. Perhaps it’s valuable for a different reason.”

  “All I know is that Nana and Akemi have some kind of secret. And now Mohsen’s vanished, and Jun Kuroi is in danger.”

  “Mohsen’s fine,” Hugh said easily. “He flew to Korea for a few days so that the British company that’s going to hire him can finish the paperwork and allow him to reenter with a proper visa.”

  “You knew this all the time that I thought he had been murdered?” I was outraged.

  “You should have asked instead of hanging up every time I answered the telephone. In fact, Mohsen called last night to see how you were doing. It was pretty embarrassing not to be able to tell him where you were, that I was completely out of your life.”

  “Thank God he’s all right,” I said. “I can’t wait to tell Lieutenant Hata.”

  “Just because the Mihoris haven’t killed Mohsen it doesn’t mean they aren’t plotting against another man,” Hugh said. “Perhaps you heard them talking about me.”

  “Don’t make me laugh! They hardly know you exist.”

  “Since you’ve left me, I’m the one who’s stuck with the tansu, and it’s a risk. I want it out.”

  “Okay, I’ll get rid of it. Maybe Mr. Ishida will let me put it in his warehouse,” I said.

  “Can you do it tomorrow? You need to come to the flat anyway, as half your wood-block prints are gone.”

  “Stolen?” I was horrified. My financial losses were mounting.

  “Not quite.” Hugh chuckled. “We were surprised yesterday morning by a contingent of ladies who had a shopping appointment you apparently forgot.”

  “Oh, no!” I remembered them now: the Cherry Blossom Ladies’ Club. I could have cried for the lost sales.

  “I made them some tea and told them you’d been called away on a sudden buying trip. Angus handled the sales. You cleared about ninety thousand yen.”

  Having bought the prints months ago, I could barely remember how much cash I’d laid out for them, but ninety thousand yen—about seven hundred and fifty dollars—would be very useful.

  “How did Angus price them? Usually I give the customer a price ten percent lower than the tags on the back of the pictures.”

  “Angus sold them exactly as marked and everyone was perfectly happy. Don’t complain.”

  “Mrs. Maeda would be impressed,” I said, smiling. “She’d probably rather have Angus for her sales-clerk than me!”

  “Who’s Mrs. Maeda?”

  “My new employer. I’ve been working afternoons at her antiques shop in Kamakura.”

  “You created a whole new life for yourself, didn’t you? Just like that.” Hugh snapped his fingers. “Well, if you stop home with me tomorrow morning, you can sort out the tansu and take a shower, change your clothes—”

  “I suppose I’m not exactly fresh,” I said, pushing back my damp bangs. I’d showered two hours ago, but Akemi had some kind of unscented organic soap that might not have done its job.

  Hugh’s voice dropped. “I love your smell. So much that I haven’t changed the sheets.”

  I reminded myself that he was with me as a matter of duty. I said, “The sooner we go to sleep the sooner we can leave.”

  “That’s true.” He sounded businesslike again. “All right, shall we flip for the futon?”

  “Are you crazy? Neither of us should have to suffer sleeping directly on the tatami.” I shuddered. “It’s full of little biting creatures.”

  “What’s with the chirping over there?” He looked suspiciously at the corner before he started undressing.

  “It’s a cricket. You should feel blessed! In the Edo period, aristocrats kept crickets in cages and fed and watered them all summer because their chirping sound was considered so beautiful. There are still some high-class restaurants that use crickets for a dining accompaniment.” I kept going, trying to distract myself from the sight of Hugh’s casual disrobing. When he unbuttoned his madras shirt, I saw a very slight expansion at the waist; not enough to be unattractive, but enough to make me want to touch it.

  “I’m going out for a leak. If I don’t return, the tanuki got me.”

  I used Hugh’s absence to change into a semiclean T-shirt and bury myself completely under the thin sheet. The pocket phone rang, and, having a strong feeling it was my phantom caller, I did not pick up. If it was Angus, he could leave a message on my voice mail.

  The phone had stopped ringing by the time Hugh returned and slipped in next to me.

  “This wretched futon is so narrow I’ll be on top of you, like it or not,” he whispered as he curled against my back, wrapping his arms around me. Even if there had been room, I couldn’t move away. I was paralyzed with longing.

  “You’re not being fair,” I muttered as he began kissing the nape of my neck.

  “Aha. You’re wearing my vest.” His hands moved underneath the T-shirt, stroking my breasts. “I want it back.”

  “It’s yours.” In a sudden movement I pulled the shirt over my head. I turned to face him. My hands shook as they reached for him.

  Hugh kissed me deeply, then broke away. “We can’t.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “When I made plans to come to Kamakura tonight, it was just to humor my brother! I didn’t expect I’d find you.”

  “You were with Winnie.” I felt a stab of pain.

  “She’s like an older sister to me,” Hugh repeated, stroking my hair. “It’s not even worth talking about, not when we finally have time alone together.”

  It was our night. A succession of terrible events had moved the stars in line and brought him to my bed. It was meant to be. I moved my mouth in a trail down his stomach, knowing how to give the kind of pleasure he could not resist.

  “You don’t understand! I have nothing with me. No condom—”

  “Tonight I don’t care,” I whispered, climbing on top.

  “If we do it, you’ll hate me tomorrow,” he murmured.

  “I don’t care.” And as I slid down on him, I learned why so many people had unprotected sex. The feeling was more intimate and delicious than anything I’d ever dreamed of. I looked down at him, willing him to open his eyes again and watch me moving in the candlelight. He did.

  “This is too good.” His expression was pure rapture.

  “I love this. I love you,” I blurted.

  The cricket sang, Hugh grabbed my hips, and I flew.

  Chapter 22

  I awoke to warm pressure on my mouth. I savored the kiss and took my time opening my eyes.

  “Such a beautiful morning,” Hugh said, looking from my face to the window. “It’s the first time since I left Scotland that I’ve been woken by birdsong.”

  I squinted at my watch, which said 5:30. It was as if Hugh had some kind of inner alarm clock that always went off before mine. When I told him what I was thinking, he laughed.

  “It’s happiness, Rei. I always wake up first and watch you. Have you forgotten?”

  When things between us were bad, he got out of bed before I awoke. That was the other side to the coin. I got up, slipping my wrinkled rayon sundress over my head before digging in my backpack for some clean underwear. I drew back my hand when I caught a glimpse of something moving underneath the clothes.

  “Hey, maybe you’ll get a chance to see a tanuki in daylight.” I beckoned to Hugh, who leaned over to examine the heaving laundry.

  “Better keep your distance. Whatever it is could be rabid.”

  “Don’t be such a dad.” I made a face at him and turned to the backpack as something brown started to emerge.

&
nbsp; “Snake.” Hugh breathed the word so softly I could barely hear it. “Back up slowly. We’re going out the window.”

  A small, flat head rose out of the backpack. I was gripped by indecision. Should I run like crazy or play dead? Hugh’s hand on my shoulder finally got me edging backward on my knees. When we reached the open window, he went out first, pulling me so that I landed on top of him. We were out.

  “We’re alive,” I sighed. Then, seeing Hugh look in the window, I cried out, “Don’t!”

  “He’s just emerged. A small fellow, maybe a foot and a half long. Brown with a flat, pointed head.”

  “A mamushi. The bite is usually fatal.” I was completely shaken. “God, how long have I been sleeping with a snake?”

  “Six months, if you want your aunt’s opinion.”

  “That’s not funny. Come away from the window, I don’t want you getting bitten,” I begged.

  “I’d rather watch his progress. Hey, he’s investigating your apple-pear things.”

  “How can you look at him?” If I’d kept reaching into the backpack, I could have been killed. Somehow the snake was more menacing than the arrows that had sped at me last night—maybe because I had an innate loathing of reptiles, but no particular emotions toward sharpened steel.

  “Shhh, there he goes, out a hole at the edge of the flooring. He’s under the house now,” Hugh said.

  “I’m going back in.” I was hit with a fresh wave of panic.

  Hugh followed me without argument, slamming all the window screens shut behind him. I curled up on the futon, watching Hugh shake out my backpack. Dirty clothes rained onto the floor along with a twisted, torn plastic shopping bag that hadn’t been there before. I looked inside and saw some flaky bits of snakeskin.

  “Look at where the carrier bag came from.” Hugh held it by the edge. “Union Supermarket. The same place as the larger bag your clothes were in last night. The clothes you thought Akemi dropped off for you.”

  We were out of the teahouse with my luggage in minutes. On the main road we walked for ten minutes before a taxi finally came by. At Kamakura Station, Hugh insisted on booking seats in the first-class Green Car, and I was too shell-shocked to argue about saving money. By the time we’d loaded my baggage in the overhead rack, every seat in the Green Car was filled, and the weirdly loaded silence that comes with packed trains descended.

  Hugh busied himself with The Japan Times while I stared out the window, trying to make sense of the morning. I did not want to believe Akemi had planted the snake, just as I couldn’t believe she had left me a sitting duck in the front row at the archery tournament. Still, Akemi was the strongest, most athletic person I’d ever met. She could strangle a man or trap a snake; I had no doubt of that.

  Wajin was the other possibility. He was spooky, deceitful, and far too interested in what I was doing at the temple. And even if he wasn’t a sports champion, he had more physical strength than most people thought.

  The Union Supermarket bags also made me think of Miss Tanaka, who did all the Mihoris’ grocery shopping. She had looked askance at my laundry hanging on her clothesline with Akemi’s things—had she known since then that I was staying in the teahouse?

  The pocket phone chirped, and the commuters around us looked up in annoyance. Hugh pulled it out of his shirt pocket.

  “Don’t answer it,” I begged.

  “It could be business,” he said, clicking it on. “Hugh Glendinning here.” After a few seconds he shut it off. “Nobody there, or the caller is extremely shy.”

  “Of course,” I said bitterly. “That happens all the time.”

  “We’ll get the number changed, then,” Hugh said, putting the phone away and handing me the newspaper.

  “Not now, thanks.” I wanted to think more about Miss Tanaka.

  “Feeling sick, are you? Either it’s the lack of food in your belly or . . . how early can morning sickness start?”

  “Stop that!” I’d been trying to avoid thoughts of his sperm percolating inside me.

  “Do you feel different?” Hugh persisted. “Some women sense it right away.”

  “Sure, I feel different. Someone tried to kill me twice within the last twelve hours. And you’re trying to scare me again.” I broke off, noticing a salaryman in the next row who seemed to have perked up his ears. One of the problems with riding first class was that the passengers were more likely to understand English.

  “Whether or not we’re going to have a child, we need to settle somewhere livable. I think we should go to the U.K., although I can work anywhere in Europe, with my passport.”

  “I don’t want to go away! What are you talking about?” I was confused by the jump in the conversation.

  “Tokyo’s not what it’s cracked up to be. It’s turning out to be dangerous as hell, plus I’m tired of being treated like an outcast while everyone raves about you.”

  “Nobody raves about me,” I said.

  “Come on! I can’t go through a meeting with my boss without him asking after you; at home it’s the concierge and those Cherry Blossom women. You fit in brilliantly, but I never will. I’m the wrong color and I can’t speak.”

  “It’s not true! You’re respected, Hugh. You have a position in society, while I don’t.” Even as I spoke I was castigating myself for missing all the warning signs he’d been throwing me—things I had noticed before Angus had come but had tried to ignore. Now I understood Hugh’s irritability at being watched on the train and his retreat to Winnie’s meat-and-potato dinners. He was burned out on the country I could never leave.

  In the apartment there were no signs of Angus, excepting his mess. I added my laundry to the heap resting inside in the washing machine and turned it on before entering the bathroom.

  “What happened to maid service?” I asked when I saw the shower floor coated with long red hair and scum.

  “Yumiko said the flat was getting to be too much and resigned. Hey, can I shower with you? Time is short, I’ve really got to be at the office within a half hour or so.”

  I told him to go ahead of me. I wanted to be alone; it was disturbing that he had not realized how upset I was about his casual suggestion that we leave Japan. I banged things around in the kitchen as I made a pot of tea and toasted bread. When Hugh came in and sat down cheerfully across from me, I found I could barely eat. Either my stomach had shrunk, or I wasn’t used to bread anymore.

  “Will you be here when I get home?” Hugh drained his mug of tea, setting it down with a bang.

  “Probably not. Don’t worry, I’m never going to the Mihoris’ teahouse again. I’ll find one of those little rooms you can rent by the week.”

  “If it’s the mess that bothers you, I’ll get a new maid, I promise!”

  “It’s not the mess. I’m not going to live with you anymore.”

  “What are you talking about? Last night you admitted that you loved me!”

  “Not enough to leave Japan.” I swallowed the lump in my throat.

  “Hey, I’m not gone yet! Everything can be negotiated.”

  “It’s not fair to make you stay in a country where you feel like an outsider. You’re young and free and have a million career choices,” I said, feeling even more glum. “I don’t want to hold you back.”

  “I should have never said what I did. I should have just kept it bottled up!” Hugh sounded anguished.

  “That never works.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” His voice was lower, controlled. “I’d like to talk to you, but I have to go. Don’t forget your money in the sideboard, top left hand drawer.”

  I looked at him sharply.

  “Angus sold four of your wood-block prints, remember? I’ll see you around, then.” He was out the door so fast I could barely say good-bye.

  So that was the way things were again. I stood under the shower for a long time, the first time in my life I didn’t enjoy it. Then I dried off, dressed, and telephoned Mr. Ishida’s antiques shop. The phone rang endlessly; he did
n’t believe in answering machines. I decided to look at the tansu one last time before arranging to have it sent to Mr. Ishida’s warehouse. I walked into the study and was surprised to hear a groan. Angus peered at me from under a mountain of twisted sheets and a quilt.

  “Oh, I didn’t mean to walk in on you!” I apologized, looking carefully to make sure no one else was under the covers. “Were you here all the time?”

  “No, I was at Club Isn’t It, then Gas Panic, then some place you wouldn’t know called The Underground.” Angus buried himself back in the pillows. “I got in while you were showering, and I didn’t think you’d want me to stick my head in and say hallo.”

  “Very true.” I squatted down next to the futon. “While you rest, would you mind if I looked at the tansu?”

  “What do you wanna see? It’s full of my gear again.”

  “I promise I won’t snoop. I’m just examining the integrity of the piece.”

  “Well, you do own it. Go ahead.” Angus turned on his side, keeping watch as I pulled out each tansu drawer. His clothes had spilled over the sides, and one grimy sock was stuck in the narrow gap between the side wall and bottom of the tansu. I pulled it gently, trying not to snag the fabric, and the bottom of the tansu shifted.

  “It’s been doing that lately,” Angus said. “Something broke off, and now the bottom comes up all the time.”

  It took a minute for his words to sink in. I knocked the wooden panel that formed the base of the tansu and heard a hollow sound.

  “It’s a false bottom. You knew all the time?” I stared at the lumpy quilt that covered Angus. When he didn’t respond, I tipped the tansu on its side. The false bottom slipped halfway down. I could see that the bottom had been carefully fitted with small wooden pegs that fit into hollows in the side of the cabinet. I removed the panel and was left with a disappointingly empty flat space.

  “You didn’t find anything in here, did you?” I asked.

  “Just a roll of some old paper,” Angus mumbled from within his swaddling.

  “What did you do with it?”

  “I recycled it. It was old, but the thin paper part had the right texture.”