“Why doesn’t animal control do something?” “Animal control?” My brother-in-law looked at me, his eyes wide. “What would they do?” “Well, get rid of it . . .” “Why would they do that? He’s not doing anyone any real harm.” I asked myself why digging holes in the ground that people can’t climb out of doesn’t qualify as “real harm,” but before I could say anything my brother-in-law spat on the ground and said, “Animal control ought to be more worried about the stray cats. There’s a whole bunch of them hanging around the house, treating the garden like it’s their own personal litter box. A couple of years ago, one of these cats had the nerve to give birth in our garage, then ran off and left the kittens behind. Can you believe it? Then the crows showed up, looking for an easy lunch. I had to stand out there and shoo them away. For a whole day. The mama cat never even came back. But what kind of parent does that? How irresponsible can you be? Now I chase the cats off whenever I see them. I’m sure I’d just look crazy to anyone who saw me, but those things bring nothing but grief.”
“You mean everyone just ignores it?” “Ignores what?” “Well, um, the animal . . .” “I guess this is why he needs a name. Except, yeah, everyone’s always ignoring him anyway. Who knows, maybe they never even noticed him. People always fail to notice things. Animals, cicadas, puddles of melted ice cream on the ground, the neighborhood shut-in. But what would you expect? It seems like most folks don’t see what they don’t want to see. The same goes for you. There must be plenty you don’t see.” As we got closer to the river, my brother-in-law was practically jumping sideways. He didn’t move like someone who was in his right mind. Maybe my husband and his mother had a reason to hide him from me. “It’s tragic. He’s been out here this whole time, just digging, with no one to keep him company. I’ve seen him out here for years, but he doesn’t seem to gain or lose any weight. I have no idea how old he is, or how long he’s going to live, but he never looks any different. All he does is dig holes, crawl inside, then climb back out. Maybe he’s a bit like me. Well, I mean, I’ve aged a little bit, but ever since I moved out back twenty years ago, not a damn thing’s changed. Maybe the girls on the magazine covers at the convenience store, the flavors of Cup Noodles, the lunch options. Now they’ve even got authentic Szechuan mapo tofu and goya chanpuru yakisoba. Except, at some point, they started charging for salad dressing. You have to pay extra for that.” I didn’t know how to respond. My brother-in-law wasn’t even sweating. He actually looked like he didn’t feel the heat at all. His cheeks were pale as ever. He didn’t have the slightest tan. Did he have an AC unit inside the shed? He had to. Otherwise he’d die from heatstroke. Maybe he was just used to this kind of weather? He was walking even more strangely now, leaping forward as far as he could, then stamping down hard where he landed. I did my best to stay right behind him, but I had no idea how to keep the right distance.
As we got closer, I could see the riverbank, just like before. The same smell filled my nose. I could see a grassless stretch of sand covered in rocks that I hadn’t noticed before. Maybe it was because of the rain we’d had the day before, but the river looked fuller. Even though it was surrounded by houses, the water was anything but muddy — it was clear and green as if we were close to its source. My brother-in-law pointed at something. In the tall grass, I saw a little girl wearing a yellow hat. She leapt out, jumped into the river and splashed her way downstream. A bird that had been walking on the water took flight. I stopped where I was and watched the girl’s exaggerated paddling. She dunked her head into the water. Parts of the river had to be deeper than they seemed. Her yellow hat came loose, floating on the surface of the water. When the girl emerged, she rubbed her eyes with both hands. It looked like she was smiling.
As we started walking again, more children appeared on the riverbank, one after another. Some were smaller than others. They were on the bank, in the river, carrying nets for catching fish or insects. They were throwing rocks, chasing small fish, yipping with delight. A few were wearing swim caps and trunks. At the edge of the water, little shoes were lined up in pairs. There were children with fishing rods in their hands and baskets at their hips. Their rods strained as they pulled in fish that looked blue in the light. In their creels, I saw heads and tails.
Deep in the grass, I saw something dark, moving quietly. It was the heads of children. Weren’t they worried about ticks? Did they ever get cut by the grass? In a fortress of leaves, it looked as though children were playing a game, but I had no idea what the rules were. Every now and then, a child would shout something and hop out into the open. When this happened, the others would break into laughter. Then the one who jumped out would start counting while the others hid in the bushes. Another group was playing house. Pairs of girls were picking wildflowers and sticking them in each other’s hair.
I could see violence, hear consolations. Reconciliation. Pain and anger dissolving in a deafening chorus of rock, paper, scissors. What was going on? Where had all these children come from? Why were they playing here like this? “It’s summer break.” “Summer break?” My mouth fell open. He was right. It was summer vacation. In my day-to-day life, I never really thought about what the date was — not anymore. I knew the day of the week. I had to know when to put out the trash and when the big sales were. But aside from that, I’d lost track of time. “It’s almost Obon. If they’re not playing, what else can they do?” Obon. We’d be visiting my parents soon. I’d set it up to coincide with my husband’s time off — Obon was just around the corner. I barely ever looked at my schedule now. My planner was stashed in my bag, together with that stupid 30,000-yen bonus from my old job. I know I brought my bag when we moved, but couldn’t even remember where I’d left it. Had I even looked at a calendar in the last two months? Where did the days go? Boys and girls were singing “The Cuckoo.” I couldn’t hear them very well, but I was pretty sure they weren’t singing the actual lyrics. Some older children were having younger ones build a dam out of rocks. Taking everything in, I kept on walking. The sky was blue and I could see large clouds hovering in the distance. The grass was green and the water was clear. A large bird swooped into the river and the children cheered and shrieked. In a voice full of pride, my brother-in-law asked, “What do you think? It’s a nice river, a wonderful river. A treasure trove of wildlife. A play place for children . . . Believe it or not, it used to be even more beautiful, back when I was a kid. In those days, the river was full of sweetfish, but now it’s mucked up with wastewater from all the houses and high-rises. Then again, not all is lost. The birds still migrate here. We get a lot of fish, too. No sweetfish, but lots of little guys no larger than your thumb. We have plenty of insects, too. Mole crickets, dragonflies, grasshoppers with wings and legs missing. The kids are always catching them, then cutting them loose. If there’s anything you want to know about the river, ask away. I’m your man. Everyone else graduates. They grow up and move on. They stop playing here, stop coming to read comics at the store. I’m the only one who’s in it for the long haul.”
“Sensei!” a shrill voice cried. A few boys ran up the bank toward us. One of them was carrying a one-liter plastic bottle. “Sensei, look! Sensei!” “Are you their teacher?” My brother-in-law shrugged at my question and said, “I told you. I’m unemployed.” Then he got closer and spoke quickly and softly so no one else could hear. “What else could kids call a grown-up who spends all day playing with them? I’m too old for them to call me by my name, and it’s not like I want them calling me ‘sir’ or anything like that. They’re just sticking to what they know — and I’m not sinister enough to make them do otherwise.” Before he could even finish speaking, the boy with the bottle spoke up. “Sensei!” He held up the bottle so my brother-in-law could see. It was dry inside, with black centipedes crawling around, climbing upward, then tumbling back to the bottom. The boys seemed to enjoy it. My brother-in-law grabbed the bottle, held it up to the light, tilted it sideways to get a better look, then handed it to me. It wa
s heavier than I expected. The centipedes climbed over each other as they moved up the sides of the bottle. I could feel them wriggling, their tiny movements tickling my palm. One of the boys said, “Nana’s gonna soak ’em in oil!” Then another one said, “And it’s gonna smell real bad when she does.” I looked closer. The centipedes had white parts on their backs. “Gross,” I said — to the boys’ dismay. The one closest to me snatched the bottle back and quickly stuffed it under his shirt, revealing a suntanned stomach. I could hear little legs in motion, squeaking against the plastic. “They’re great centipedes! Real specimens!” my brother-in-law said, scratching at the corner of his mouth. “Hey, don’t let the centipedes bite!” “Who cares if they do? That’s what the centipede oil’s for!” “But that stink is out of this world! The smell will kill your nose dead!”
In the distance, I heard fireworks going off. A black dragonfly glided over the surface of the river. A boy swung his net at it, but the dragonfly darted away, then landed gently on the water. While we walked, I asked my brother-in-law a question: “What made you want to leave the house?” He put on a sad face for only a second, then broke into a broad smile. With his teeth showing, he really did look just like Grandpa. “We didn’t see eye to eye!” he said as he tried not to laugh. “What can I say? They’re not bad people. I know that. Mom, the rest of them, they’re all good folks. I’m an upstanding citizen myself — wouldn’t hurt a fly. Anyway, no one’s to blame. It’s just, families are strange things, aren’t they? You have this couple: one man, one woman. A male and a female, if you will. They mate, and why? To leave children behind. And what are the children supposed to do? Turn around and do the whole thing over again? Well, what do you do when what you’ve got isn’t worth carrying on? The things people do for family. My old man worked himself to the bone, my mom always took care of Granny — no blood relation of hers. And they never got along. Granny died when she was pretty young, but dying is no simple matter. A lot of things happened before the end. Mom’s still looking after Gramps, and he doesn’t really get along with anybody. I guess it never ends. She’s always putting someone else first. Seeing everything my parents did to keep the family going . . . It’s a little spooky. Well, it spooked me out. Know what I mean? Maybe you don’t, and I guess that’s for the best. One rebel per household, right? I couldn’t handle it, so I got out . . . Fortunately, I had a little brother with a good head on his shoulders. He found a bride of his own. It’s a real relief. I mean it, from the bottom of my heart. Then again, if you think about it, what’s the source of that relief? I guess on some level I’m happy that my bloodline isn’t going to stop. It’s a bit complicated, right? And a little embarrassing at this age! Even downright shameful. What a shameful life! Look at me, the family disgrace, hidden from my little brother’s bride and all . . .” The buildings on the opposite bank were starting to look familiar. This had to be the place. “I think it was right around here . . .” I looked around, but couldn’t find the hole. My brother-in-law kicked at the grass with the toe of his shoe, but there was nothing there, not even a click beetle.
Two children popped their heads out of the grass. “Sensei! What are you doing?” “Sensei, is that your wife?” My brother-in-law put a finger to his lips to shush them. “Don’t go starting rumors! You want to get sued? She’s my brother’s bride.” “Your brother’s bride!” “What’s she like?” “She’s a real good person.” “Sensei, what are you guys doing?” “We’re looking for a hole. Have you seen one?” “A hole?” the kids repeated in unison as they looked at each other. “This place is full of holes! They’re everywhere.” One of them leapt up, then vanished underground. The other child and my brother-in-law broke out laughing. Suddenly there were holes everywhere. The child had slipped inside one and was shaking with laughter. “Holes all around us!” And there really were. Some were narrow and others were wide; some were shallow and others were deep. There were holes partly covered with grass, almost like traps, and narrower ones that looked as if they’d been scooped out with some sort of tool. One hole was brimming with dirty water, trembling. Bugs were hatching on the surface. Children popped up all around me, wriggling out of their holes. My brother-in-law twisted in laughter. “Um, the animal . . .” “Sensei, I think your brother’s bride is trying to say something!” “I’m not going in!” My brother-in-law was shrieking. He screamed again and again. “I’m not going in! No holes for me!” I tried to find the hole I’d fallen in, but none of them seemed like the right one. “Full of holes! Full of holes!” I felt like I couldn’t stand there any longer, watching my brother-in-law howl with laughter. I made my way up the bank alone, assuming he’d follow me, but he didn’t. He didn’t say a thing. As I walked up the path, it looked like there were even more children playing by the river. Some were wearing tank tops and underwear. Another group was doing a weird dance, and several other kids were gathered in a circle around a boy defecating on the ground. As soon as I got home, I looked out the window to see what Grandpa was doing. He was in the garden, pointing the hose upward, covering the grass in mist. A rainbow fell over him.
Just like my brother-in-law had said, it wasn’t long until Obon. My husband and I drove out to see my parents. It was just the two of us in the car. On the way, there were so many times I thought about asking my husband about his brother, but I decided against it. What would I do if he said they weren’t brothers? If that were true, then who was he? And what would I do if they were brothers? How could I respond to that? What could I say? I pretended that the jazz he was playing had put me to sleep. We spent two nights with my mom and dad. When we got back, my husband still had one day off, which he used to go out with friends from his school days. He invited me, but I passed — as he knew I would. Tomiko had work off, too, so Grandpa stayed out of the garden. He had to be in the house, in front of the TV, sleeping the day away. In the evening, Tomiko went out to water the plants. The whole routine took her less than ten minutes. Once Obon was over, my husband and Tomiko went back to work.
In the middle of the night, I heard a sound in the dark. It wasn’t loud, not at all, but it woke me up. I got out of bed and looked out the window. The ring of light outside Tomiko’s house flickered for a moment. Looking toward the gate, I thought I saw someone under the neighbors’ running lights, heading out to the street. It looked like Grandpa. I turned to my husband. Asleep. He was almost like a porcelain doll.
I quietly left the room, hurried downstairs, slipped into my shoes, and walked out the door. Nothing was going on at To-miko’s. Maybe no one had noticed Grandpa leaving. I looked around to see if I could find him, but it was too dark. There were only a few streetlights and a couple of houses with lights on. He wasn’t in the light. I looked all around, into the thick darkness. I thought I could feel something move — a shift in the air — so I ran in that direction. It had only taken me a couple of seconds to run downstairs, put my shoes on, and come outside. I told myself that I should be able to catch up with him, as long as I didn’t run in the wrong direction. I was running as fast as I could, almost tripping over my own feet, when I saw someone’s back a few steps ahead of me. “What are you doing out here?” It was my brother-in-law. “I thought I saw . . .” “Gramps? He’s right there, walking.” I saw my brother-in-law’s bright white shirt sleeve rise up and point ahead. It really was Grandpa, striding forward. He was moving with purpose, as if he knew exactly where he was headed. I turned to my brother-in-law. “Where’s he going?” “How would I know?” He sounded annoyed. “I was in the garden. That’s the only reason I saw him. But I guess I wasn’t the only one who did.” “Me? I was in bed, but I heard something, so . . .” “Really? You must have a good ear. Do you have perfect pitch?” I shook my head. Apparently pleased, he said, “Me neither.” I couldn’t see the moon or a single star in the darkness overhead. All the houses on the street were silent. No cicadas. My brother-in-law stopped talking. I said nothing. Grandpa was walking even quicker now. I was afraid to walk that quickly, but t
ried to keep up.
Grandpa headed down the path toward the river and we followed closely behind. There was almost no light. It was cold. There were no cicadas, but I could hear insects all around us. It was as if the sound was coming from underground. It couldn’t have been crickets. Whatever was making the sound had to be much smaller. It rose up from the river, from the weeds on the bank, filling the air. Cold air crept up the sleeves of my old T-shirt, giving me goose bumps. My brother-in-law looked bored as he walked. I wanted to tell Grandpa it was time to head back, but he moved with such certainty that it made me hesitate. If there was somewhere he wanted to go, I felt like I had to let him. In the dim glow of the streetlights and the lights from the cars across the river, I strained my eyes to get a better look. From what I could see, it didn’t seem like Grandpa was in his pajamas. Was that a polo shirt? My brother-in-law was in his usual outfit — leather shoes and all. His white shirt practically glowed in the dark. His shoes scraped against the concrete pavement, but Grandpa didn’t turn around. My brother-in-law sneezed loudly — but Grandpa still didn’t seem to notice.
The Hole Page 7
