The Hole

by Hiroko Oyamada

  I looked down at my watch. It’s important to get some rest during lunch to keep from dropping dead, but I was ready to get back to work. I was going to have to stay late again today — and probably every day until I left. “So, wait, when you leave, who’s going to do your share of the work?” I looked at her in the mirror. She was holding her hand out, scrutinizing the stones on her nails. “I need to go back to the salon. I think I’ll use my overtime pay to get a few more rhinestones,” she muttered. White spots of water had dried on the mirror, covering her body from the chest down.

  We moved in on a Sunday — and the only day it rained in an otherwise dry rainy season. In some areas, the river flooded and people had to evacuate their homes. When the movers came early that morning, they looked as though they felt sorry for us, but we felt sorrier for them. They were the ones who had to carry our furniture in the heavy rain. Once all of our belongings had been loaded onto the truck, my husband and I got into our car. He put on some music, something between jazz and new age. I was asleep before I knew it. When I woke up, we were already there, parked in front of my husband’s family home. His mother, Tomiko, was standing by the door. It seemed like the rain was coming down even harder than when we’d left. It was so dark out that it could have been the middle of the night.

  As they got out of the truck, the movers nodded to Tomiko while giving questioning looks to me and my husband. Before we could say a word, Tomiko asked, “You’re going to sleep upstairs, right?” She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up, her round, babyish forearms showing. “Uh . . .” “Asa, did you just wake up?” As I rubbed the corner of my eye, a stray eyelash got caught under my fingernail. “Yeah, Muneaki did the driving . . . Sorry.” “Oh, it’s fine. I’m sure it was just the packing. That kind of work takes more out of us women. So — sleeping upstairs?” “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. Why?” “I told you over the phone about the curtains, right? The Katos left theirs up. I took them down and washed them this morning, but I had no idea it was going to be raining all day. We can’t dry them like this. How about staying at our house tonight? Or I could run over to the laundromat and use the dryers there. It’s not too far from here. Just a quick drive.” “We’ll be fine without curtains.” The mover leaned in and quietly asked, “Who’s she?” “Oh, that’s my husband’s mother. She lives next door.” “Oh, okay,” he said, smirking. The smell of his sweat mixed with the rain. The hair showing from under his hat was wet, but his uniform was completely dry. Maybe it was sweatproof.

  The movers started unloading and Tomiko took command immediately. “Are you boys doing this part-time? This weather is the worst, isn’t it? I put mats down in the entryway, so come on in . . .” In the house, the movers took off their shoes, revealing bright white socks, then stepped inside carrying wall and floor guards under both arms. My husband’s mother showed them around the house. “Over here’s the closet. That’s the kitchen. West is this way, so this room gets a lot of sunlight. Oh, maybe you don’t need these, but I brought them over to put under the furniture, to hold everything in place. You know, for earthquakes. What do you think? Do you need them?” The movers looked at my husband, who glanced at me. “Thank you, that’s great. We didn’t bring any.” As always, my husband’s mother was extremely well prepared. She had brought over a cooler stocked with plastic bottles of tea and vitamin water. She also had a few big bags with towels, duct tape, a tape measure, and some other useful items. She reached into one of the bags and pulled out a blue package with SIR GRIPS-A-LOT printed on the front. She handed it to the movers and asked, “You know how to use these, right? With anything heavy — the fridge, things like that — just slip these under it, nice and tight.” “Great, thanks.” “How many do you need? I brought seven. Did you bring any bookshelves?” “No . . .” “Okay. So, you have your fridge, cabinet . . . Did you bring a dresser?” “A dresser..? Uh, yes.” “Okay. Are you going to keep it upstairs?” My husband’s phone rang. “Sorry, I need to take this.” He stomped upstairs, his phone already up to his ear. His mother watched him go, then looked at me and shrugged. I bet most people would think she’s still in her forties. She never wore much makeup, but her cheeks were a healthy red. My mother was probably ten years younger than Tomiko, but definitely looked older. On some level, I guess I thought this was because my own mother became a full-time housewife when she had me. Tomiko was still working. I could hear my husband laughing. Tomiko dabbed at the sweat forming on her forehead. “He should be in charge of this. Well, I guess we’ll have to sort things out without him. Okay — how about putting the dresser upstairs?”

  The movers spread protective mats over the stairs and down the hallways. Tomiko brought out a pair of slippers. “Asa, why don’t you put these on? I did some cleaning before you got here, but still . . . By the way, I had professional cleaners come in, too. You’re all set now. Mildewproof and miteproof.” Maybe that was why it smelled like chlorine. “We appreciate it.” “The Katos did a great job of keeping the place clean, so it was easy . . . They had a little boy, but his mother kept a real close eye on him. You know how kids are always putting stickers on everything? Well, I was worried we’d end up with cartoon stickers on every surface, but look around. Spick-and-span, right?” “Where’s Grandpa today?” “Pretty sure he’s sleeping. He was watching TV a little while ago. He’s in front of the TV all day, nodding off . . .” “What about Dad? Is he home?” “No, he’s on another overnight golf trip. You didn’t see the Atenza out front, did you? Talk about bad timing, with this rain and all . . .” My husband’s parents had two cars: a dark-blue compact and a larger silver midsize. I guess the bigger one belonged to my father-in-law. I’d never spent much time with him. He came to our engagement party and wedding. I’d see him when we visited over the holidays, but Tomiko did most of the talking. He’d never left much of an impression on me. He was past retirement age, but was still working in some capacity, although the details were never clear to me. One of the movers sprinted toward us. “Sorry, excuse me, Matsuura-san . . .” “Yes?” my husband’s mother answered before I could respond. “Where do you want the microwave? Should we plug it in next to the fridge? What about the rice cooker?” “Well, let’s take a look.” Before I could say anything, my husband’s mother had run into the kitchen with the movers. My husband was laughing even harder upstairs. “I’m telling you, it’s really coming down. But that’s my luck for you. I mean, how many times in your life do you make a big move like this? Of course, I had to move on the one day we get flood warnings. Hey, welcome to my life, right? Heh.” I was alone, standing by the open front door. The rain didn’t reach me, but I could feel the moist air. The smell of chlorine mixed with the acidic smell from outside. I looked at the doorstop the movers had put down, then looked at my feet. The slippers had a dog face stitched over the toes with a pink tongue sticking out. They were really comfy. They had to be brand new. Did she buy them for me? Was she going to take them back after the move? “Hey, Asa, can you come here a second?” As I walked toward the kitchen, the dog’s ears flopped with every step. I hurried through the living room, over the smooth floor, and into a kitchen that was much bigger than the one I was used to. Looking out the big window, I saw a garden that couldn’t have been more than ten feet wide. I didn’t see any plants, only some puddles and a few holes that appeared to be man-made. Maybe the Katos took their plants with them when they left — or maybe the boy ripped everything up before they moved out. Through the rain, I could see the outline of Tomiko’s garden next door. For a second, I thought I saw a person standing in the trees, but when I tried to get a better look, nothing was there. “Is there something . . .” “No, it’s fine. We just figured it out. So we’ll have the fridge over here and the kitchen cabinet will go over here, okay?” The movers gave me blank looks, waiting for an answer. I put on a big smile and said, “Sounds good!”

  The rain was still coming down as we went to sleep that night. When I woke up in the morning,
I went over to the upstairs window and took down the brand-new bath towels that Tomiko had used to cover the windows the night before. I could see the dry, white sky. I had woken up earlier than usual, but it was already bright out. For a second, I felt as though we’d moved someplace far away, a place where the days and seasons follow an entirely different rhythm. The Scandinavian midnight sun came to mind, but we hadn’t left Japan. We hadn’t even left the prefecture. We were only slightly closer to the mountains. I guess we’d moved to a new town — but this place was barely big enough to call a town. What was the postcode here? It really was bright outside. Judging from the sun, it looked like it could have been noon, but when I checked the clock, it wasn’t even six yet. I looked back at my husband. Still asleep. I cracked the window open, and the buzz of brown cicadas filled the room. Cicadas. The first I’d heard this year. And with that, the rainy season was brought to an unceremonious end. Summer had arrived.

  There was a river a short walk from the house. It was miles from the ocean, but still fairly wide and muddy in places. I don’t know why, but I thought if we were this close to the river we would have cooler summers. I was wrong. Even when the river was out of sight, the pungent smell of grass and stagnant water was overwhelming. On the other side of the river was a mountain, half of which was covered with gray houses. It looked like a new development. I bet some of the homes were still for sale. I’d seen their banners around town: MISONO GARDENS: YOUR NEW LIFE IS WAITING FOR YOU. My husband took the car to work every morning, so the only way for me to get around was to walk or take the bus. Except during rush hour, the bus came only once every sixty minutes, and it was a forty-minute ride to the train. And I wasn’t desperate to meet up with old friends or go shopping, so I ended up staying home most of the time.

  If I did go out, I’d usually just walk to the supermarket and back. It was the peak of summer, and I tried to avoid walking around in the middle of the day. The supermarket opened early in the morning — maybe because it was summer, or maybe because most of the people in the area were old. After seeing my husband off and eating breakfast, I’d go shopping for groceries. It was clear from the size of the parking lot that they were expecting most shoppers to drive. But early in the morning the store was deserted. At around nine or ten, it got really crowded. Even the parking lot was a zoo. The middle-aged couples evidently hated pushing their shopping carts, weighed down with giant bags, all the way to their cars, so usually the husband would pull the car around front. It was far worse on weekends, when they had their weekly sales. The lot would fill up, with cars spilling out into the street. Shopping first thing in the morning sometimes meant going without certain items like meat or fish, but that was a small price to pay for avoiding big crowds and the walk home under the intense heat of the summer sun. Once I was finished at the supermarket, I’d spend the rest of the day at home. There were no libraries or malls or bookstores within walking distance. Once we’d finished moving in, I felt like a kid on summer vacation: no homework, no plans. I started looking for a job, but I was having trouble getting around. All I could do was check the bulletin boards at the grocery store and the other small businesses in the area. Under these circumstances, I couldn’t imagine finding anything very soon. I’d wake up a little before six, pack my husband’s lunch, make his breakfast, see him off, go shopping, clean the house, or maybe run the laundry — but, after that, I didn’t have anything to do. Living the dream? Really? It was weird to think about how, until now, I’d been working from morning till night. That life didn’t seem real anymore. We were two different people: the me who had to work all day to make ends meet, and the me who had nothing to do after lunch except waste time until making dinner in the evening. I was pretty sure I’d get sick of my new routine within a week — but it only took a day. Every day after that was as mind-numbing as the one before, ad infinitum. In theory, I could watch TV, use the computer, read a book, bake like I used to when I was single — but it seemed like everything cost money. I had to spend money to pass the time. People say housewives get free room and board and even time to nap, but the truth is napping was the most economical way to make it through the day. The hours moved slowly, but the days passed with staggering speed. Soon I lost all sense of time. I didn’t have any appointments or deadlines. The days were slipping through my fingers.

  When I opened the windows, I could hear the cicadas. Maybe it was the weather, or maybe it was all the trees in the area, but I’d never heard so many cicadas in my life. Their cries were so close that I wondered if they were coming from inside me — if maybe I’d swallowed one. After only a second, I would get used to the noise, but when something changed and I could feel their cries on my skin again, it made me feel like I was going to suffocate. It wasn’t very loud when the windows were shut, but I needed to keep the windows open to get some fresh air. I wasn’t bringing in any money, so it didn’t feel right to blast the AC when I was the only one at home. How could I allow myself to nap in air-conditioned bliss when my husband was sweating at his desk?

  I was half-asleep on the couch when I got a call from an unknown number. I sat up, stared at the numbers for a second or two, then pressed ACCEPT. “Hey, Asa, do you have a minute?” It was Tomiko, but her voice was different from the way it sounded at home. It was lower, drier. “I’m really, really sorry about this. There’s something I had to take care of this morning, but I didn’t get around to it. Well, it’s not that I didn’t get around to it. I guess I forgot.” “Forgot about what?” “There’s some money I need to deposit today, but I left it in an envelope at home. It’s ready to go. The deposit slip is in there, too, filled out and everything. The problem is, if I do it when I get home, it’ll be too late. It has to be in by five, six at the latest. I really need it to be in on time, so I was thinking about leaving work early . . . But I thought I’d ask you first. Could I ask you to take care of it? Are you busy today?” She sounded weirdly polite. Maybe she had coworkers nearby. But was there anyone else around? It was abnormally quiet on the other end of the line — nothing but the sound of her voice. I bet her work was nice and air-conditioned. I’d been on the verge of falling asleep, but I had to get up and open the curtains to get a breeze going, then close them again because it was too bright outside. A headache was starting to spread around my temples, humming with the cicadas. I heard something that sounded like a child screaming. It was early July — too early for summer vacation — so the child had to be too young for school. It was an oddly full scream for a child that age. I tried to focus on the phone. “I’ll take care of it,” I said. The day before, I’d taken the bus to the train, then went all the way to the dentist to deal with a cavity, but that was over now. I didn’t have any plans today. Not today — or any other day for the foreseeable future. Morning, noon, and night, weekdays and weekends, I had nothing but time. Tomiko took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. “What a relief. Thanks. So — the envelope’s somewhere in the house. I’m not sure where I left it, but there aren’t too many places it could be. It’s either on the shelf by the door, on the kitchen table, or on the low table in the altar room. Like I said, the slip’s in there with the money. Do you think you could take it down to the convenience store?” “The convenience store?” “That’d be easiest. It’s a whole lot closer than the bank. You know where it is, don’t you? The tiny 7-Eleven by the river . . .” “I know where it is.” “Okay. You sure? Sorry to ask you to do this. I guess I had a lot of things on my mind this morning and didn’t realize I’d forgotten it back at the house. I can’t really ask Grandpa to take care of this, you know? It involves money and it’s hot out. You have no idea how much this helps. It’s really hot out there, Asa. Be careful, okay? Why don’t you take the change and buy yourself some ice cream for the trip back? Actually, you’d better finish the ice cream first, then walk home, okay? Otherwise, it’ll melt.” By the end of the call, it almost seemed like she thought she was giving directions to a small child.

  When we got off the phone, I
looked at my screen. “SAVE NUMBER?” It had to be Tomiko’s work number. Of course I didn’t have it. I didn’t even have her cell number. How did she get mine? Did she ask my husband? Why didn’t she just call the home phone? She knew I’d be here. After thinking about it for a few seconds, I decided I’d better keep her number. It couldn’t hurt to have a way to reach her. I typed in TOMIKO (WORK), then pressed SAVE. As I typed, it occurred to me that I had no idea where she worked. I didn’t even know what kind of job she had.