Kumi bowed her head politely. ‘Thank you. It was delicious.’
Perhaps because she was embarrassed that all the things she had eaten had been read aloud, Kumi now seemed eager to leave quickly. But just as she was going, Kei called out to stop her.
‘Um . . . Kumi,’ she said.
Kumi stopped in her tracks and looked back at her.
‘About your sister . . .’ Kei said, and glanced down at her feet. ‘Is there any message you would like me to give her?’ She held both hands up in the air as she asked.
‘No it’s OK. I wrote it in the letter,’ Kumi said, without hesitation.
‘Yes, I imagine you did.’ Kei furrowed her brow as if disappointed.
Perhaps touched that Kei showed such concern, Kumi grinned and said, after a moment’s thought, ‘Perhaps there is one thing you could say . . .’
‘Yes of course.’ Kei’s expression brightened instantly.
‘Tell her that neither Dad nor Mum is angry any more.’
‘Your father and mother aren’t angry any more,’ Kei repeated.
‘Yes . . . Please tell her that.’
Kei’s eyes were once again round and sparkling. She nodded twice. ‘OK, I will,’ she said happily.
Kumi looked around the cafe and once more bowed politely to Kei before she left.
CLANG-DONG
Kei went over to the entrance to check that Kumi had gone, and then with a quick pirouette, she started talking to the vacant counter.
‘Did you have a fight with your parents?’
Then from under the supposedly vacant counter a husky voice answered. ‘They disowned me,’ Hirai said, emerging from under the counter.
‘But you heard her, right?’
‘Heard what?’
‘That your father and mother aren’t cross any more.’
‘I’ll believe that when I see it . . .’
After being crouched under the counter for a really long time, Hirai was bent over like an old woman. She hobbled out into the room. As always, she had her curlers in. She was dolled up in a leopard-print camisole, a tight pink skirt, and beach sandals.
Hirai winced a little. ‘Your sister seems really nice.’
‘When you’re not in my position, I’m sure she is . . . yeah.’
Hirai sat on the counter seat where Kumi had been sitting. She plucked a cigarette from her leopard-print pouch and lit it. A plume of smoke rose into the air. Following it with her eyes, Hirai’s face showed a rare vulnerability. She looked as if her thoughts had drifted somewhere far away.
Kei walked around Hirai to take her position behind the counter. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ she asked.
Hirai blew another plume of smoke. ‘She resents me.’
‘What do you mean she resents you?’ Kei asked.
‘She didn’t want it passed down to her.’
‘Huh?’ Kei tilted her head sideways, unsure what Hirai was talking about.
‘The inn . . .’
The inn Hirai’s family ran was a well-known luxury place in Sendai, Miyagi Prefecture. Her parents had planned for Hirai to take over the inn, but she had a falling out with them thirteen years earlier and it was decided that Kumi would be the successor. Her parents were in good health, but they were getting on in years and as the future manager, Kumi had already taken over many of the inn’s responsibilities. Since Kumi had accepted she would take over, she regularly made the trek to Tokyo to visit Hirai and try and persuade her to come home.
‘I keep telling her I don’t want to go home. But she keeps on asking time and time and time again.’ Hirai bent the fingers of both hands one by one as if she was counting the times. ‘Saying that she was persistent would be an understatement.’
‘But you don’t have to hide from her.’
‘I don’t want to see it.’
‘See what?’
‘Her face.’
Kei tilted her head inquisitively.
‘I see it written on her face. Because of what I did, she is now going to be the owner of an inn she doesn’t want to run. She wants me to come home so that she can be free,’ Hirai said.
‘I don’t really see how all that can be written on her face,’ Kei suggested doubtfully.
Hirai knew Kei well enough to know she was probably struggling to picture this. Her very literal mind sometimes missed the point.
‘What I mean,’ Hirai said, ‘is it just feels like she is pressuring me.’
Frowning, she blew out another plume of smoke.
Kei stood there thoughtfully tilting her head to the side several times.
‘Oh god! Is that the time? Oh dear!’ Hirai said dramatically. She quickly stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray. ‘I’ve got a bar to open.’ She stood up and gingerly stretched from the hips. ‘You sure feel it in your back after three hours crouched down like that.’
Hirai thumped her lower back and headed quickly for the entrance, her beach sandals flip-flopping loudly.
‘Hold on! The letter.’ Kei picked up the letter Kumi had given her and presented it to Hirai.
‘Throw it away!’ Hirai said, without looking, waving it away dismissively with her right hand.
‘You’re not going to read it?’
‘I can imagine what it says. It’s really tough for me by myself. Please come home. It’s OK if you learn the ropes once you’re there. You know, that sort of stuff.’
As she spoke, Hirai pulled out her dictionary-sized purse from her leopard-print pouch. She put the money for the coffee on the counter.
‘See you later,’ she said and left the cafe, clearly desperate to get away.
CLANG-DONG
‘I can’t just throw it away.’ Kei’s face showed her dilemma as she looked at the letter from Kumi.
CLANG-DONG
While Kei was still standing frozen like this, the bell rang again and Kazu Tokita entered the cafe, taking the place of Hirai.
Kazu had gone out today with Nagare, the cafe’s owner and her cousin, to buy supplies. She returned carrying several shopping bags in both hands. The car key was jangling with other keys on the key ring hanging off her ring finger. She was dressed casually, wearing a T-shirt and blue jeans. This was in stark contrast to the bow tie and apron she wore when working.
‘Welcome back,’ smiled Kei, still holding the letter.
‘Sorry we took so long.’
‘No, it was fine. It was pretty quiet.’
‘I’ll get changed right away.’ Kazu’s face was always more expressive before she put on her bow tie. She stuck out her tongue cheekily and darted into the back room.
Kei kept holding the letter. ‘Where’s that damn husband of mine?’ she called out to the back room, looking at the entrance.
Kazu and Nagare did the shopping together. This wasn’t because there was so much to buy, but because Nagare was a difficult shopper. He would get so caught up with wanting to buy the best that he would often go over budget. It was Kazu’s job to tag along and make sure he didn’t. While they were gone, Kei handled the cafe alone. Sometimes when Nagare was unable to find the ingredients he wanted, he would get in a stink and go out drinking.
‘He said he would probably be late coming back,’ Kazu said.
‘Oh, I bet he’s gone out drinking again.’
Kazu poked her head out. ‘I’ll take over now,’ she said apologetically.
‘Argh . . . I don’t believe that man!’ Kei said, puffing out her cheeks. She retreated to the back room, still holding the letter.
The only people left in the cafe were the woman in the dress quietly reading her novel and Fusagi. Despite it being summer, they were both drinking hot coffee. There were two reasons for this: firstly, you received free refills with hot coffee, and secondly the coffee being hot didn’t bother these two customers as it was always cool inside the cafe, and they sat there for so long anyway. Kazu soon reappeared dressed in her normal waitress’s uniform.
Summer had only just begun, but today it was
over 30 degrees Celsius outside. She had walked less than a hundred metres from the car park but the sweat still beaded on her face. She exhaled sharply while wiping her brow with a handkerchief.
‘Um, excuse me . . .’ said Fusagi, who had lifted his head from his magazine.
‘Yes?’ said Kazu, as if something had surprised her.
‘May I have a refill, please?’
‘Oh, sure.’ She let her usual cool demeanour slip, and replied in the casual tone she had used while wearing a T-shirt just earlier.
Fusagi had his eyes glued on Kazu as she walked into the kitchen. When he came to the cafe, Fusagi always sat in the same chair. If another customer was sitting there, he would leave rather than sit anywhere else. Rather than coming every day, he normally made an appearance two or three times a week, some time after lunch. He would open up his travel magazine and look through it from cover to cover while occasionally jotting down notes. He would usually stay as long as it took to finish the magazine. The only thing he ever ordered was a hot coffee.
The coffee served at the cafe was made from mocha beans grown in Ethiopia, which have a distinct aroma. But it didn’t appeal to everybody’s tastes – though it was deliciously aromatic, some found its bitter fruitiness and complex overtones a little overbearing. On Nagare’s insistence, the cafe only served mocha. Fusagi happened to like this coffee, and he seemed to find the cafe a comfortable space to leisurely read his magazine. Kazu returned from the kitchen holding the glass carafe to pour Fusagi his refill.
Standing by his table, Kazu picked up the cup by the saucer. Fusagi would normally continue to read his magazine while waiting for her to pour his refill – but today was different: he looked directly at her with a strange expression.
Sensing that his manner was different from usual, she thought he must want something else besides the coffee refill. ‘Is there anything else?’ she asked with a smile.
He smiled at her politely, looking a little embarrassed. ‘Are you a new waitress here?’ he asked.
Her expression didn’t change as she placed the cup in front of Fusagi. ‘Er . . . hmm,’ was all that she replied.
‘Oh, really?’ he replied a little bashfully. He seemed pleased to have communicated to the waitress that he was a regular customer. But satisfied with that, he immediately lowered his head and returned to reading his magazine.
Kazu went about her work with a deadpan expression as if nothing was out of the ordinary. But with no other customers, there was not much to do. Her only work at that moment was wiping some washed glasses and plates with a tea towel and returning them to the shelf. As she went about this task, she started talking to Fusagi. In this small, intimate cafe, it was quite easy to hold a conversation from such a distance without raising one’s voice.
‘So, do you come here often?’
He lifted his head. ‘Yes.’
She went on. ‘Do you know about this place? Have you heard its urban legend?’
‘Yes, I know all about it.’
‘About that seat as well?’
‘Yes.’
‘So are you one of those customers planning on going back in time?’
‘Yes, I am,’ he replied without hesitation.
She let her hands pause briefly. ‘If you return to the past, what are you planning to do?’ But realizing the question was too intrusive and not something she would normally ask, she immediately backtracked. ‘That was a rude thing to ask. I’m sorry . . .’ She bowed her head and returned to her wiping, avoiding his gaze.
He looked at her with her head bowed, and quietly picked up his zipped portfolio. From it, he pulled out a plain brown envelope. Its four corners were crumpled as though he had been carrying it around for a long time. There was no address on the envelope, but it looked like a letter.
He held this letter tentatively in both hands, holding it up a little in front of his chest for her to see.
‘What’s that?’ she asked, pausing once again in what she was doing.
‘For my wife,’ he muttered in a quiet voice. ‘It’s for my wife.’
‘Is that a letter?’
‘Yeah.’
‘For your wife?’
‘Yeah, I never managed to give it to her.’
‘So, you want to return to the day you meant to pass it to her?’
‘Yeah, that’s right,’ he answered, once again without any hesitation.
‘So, where is your wife now?’ she asked.
Rather than answering straight away, he paused in awkward silence. ‘Um . . .’
She stood looking squarely at him, waiting for him to answer.
‘I don’t know,’ he said in a barely discernible voice as he began to scratch his head. After this admission his expression hardened.
She said nothing in reply.
Then, as if offering an excuse, he said, ‘Hmm, but, I really had a wife,’ and then he hastily added, ‘Her name was . . .’ He began tapping his head with his finger. ‘Huh? That’s odd.’ He tilted his head. ‘What was her name?’ he said, and went quiet again.
At some time during this, Kei had returned from the back room. Her face looked drained, maybe because she had just witnessed Kazu and Fusagi’s exchange.
‘Well that’s odd. I’m sorry,’ Fusagi said, forcing an awkward smile.
Kazu’s face showed a subtle mix of emotions – it wasn’t quite her normal cool expression, but nor was she showing much empathy.
‘Don’t worry about it . . .’ she said.
CLANG-DONG
Kazu silently looked to the entrance.
‘Ah,’ she gasped when she saw Kohtake standing in the doorway.
Kohtake worked as a nurse at the local hospital. She must have been on her way home. Instead of her nurse’s uniform, she was wearing an olive-green tunic and navy-blue capri pants. She had a black shoulder bag on one shoulder, and she was wiping the sweat from her brow with a lilac handkerchief. Kohtake casually acknowledged Kei and Kazu standing behind the counter before walking up to Fusagi’s table.
‘Hello, Fusagi, I see you’re here again today,’ she said.
Hearing his name, he looked up at Kohtake in puzzlement, before averting his eyes and lowering his head in silence.
Kohtake sensed that his mood was different from usual. She supposed he might not be feeling very well. ‘Fusagi, are you OK?’ she asked gently.
Fusagi lifted his head and looked directly at her. ‘I’m sorry. Have we met before?’ he asked apologetically.
Kohtake lost her smile. In a cold silence, the lilac handkerchief she had just used to wipe her brow dropped from her hand onto the floor.
Fusagi had early onset Alzheimer’s disease, and was losing his memory. The disease causes rapid depletion of the brain’s neural cells. The brain pathologically atrophies, causing loss of intelligence and changes to the personality. One of the striking symptoms of early onset Alzheimer’s is how the deterioration of brain function appears so sporadic. Sufferers forget some things but remember other things. In Fusagi’s case, his memories were gradually disappearing, starting with the most recent. Meanwhile, his previously hard-to-please personality had been slowing mellowing.
In that moment, Fusagi remembered that he had a wife, but he didn’t remember that Kohtake, standing before him, was his wife.
‘I guess not,’ Kohtake said quietly as she took one, then two steps back.
Kazu stared at Kohtake, while Kei pointed her pale face down at the floor. Kohtake slowly turned round and walked to the seat at the counter that was furthest from Fusagi and sat down.
It was after sitting down that she noticed the handkerchief that had dropped from her hand. She decided to ignore it and pretend it wasn’t hers. But Fusagi noticed the handkerchief, which had fallen near his feet, and picked it up. He stared at it in his hand for a while, and then he rose from his chair and walked over to the counter where Kohtake was sitting.
‘You’ll have to excuse me. Recently I’ve been forgetting a lot,’ he said bowing
his head.
Kohtake didn’t look at him. ‘OK,’ she said. She took the handkerchief in her trembling hand.
Fusagi bowed his head again and shuffled awkwardly back to his seat. He sat down but couldn’t relax. After turning several pages of his magazine, he paused and scratched his head. Then a few moments later, he reached for his coffee and took one sip. The cup had only just been refilled, but—
‘Damn coffee’s cold,’ he muttered.
‘Another refill?’ Kazu asked.
But he stood up in a hurry. ‘I’ll be leaving now,’ he said abruptly, closing his magazine and putting away his things.
Kohtake continued to stare at the floor with her hands on her lap as she clenched the handkerchief tightly.
Fusagi moved to the cash register and handed over the bill. ‘How much?’
‘Three hundred and eighty yen, please,’ Kazu said, glancing sideways at Kohtake. She punched in the amount on the cash-register keys.
‘Three hundred and eighty yen.’ Fusagi pulled out a thousand-yen note from his well-worn leather wallet. ‘Right, here’s a thousand,’ he said as he handed the note over.
‘Receiving one thousand yen,’ Kazu said, taking the money and punching the cash-register keys.
Fusagi kept glancing at Kohtake, but with no apparent purpose. He appeared to be just restlessly looking around while waiting for the change.
‘That’s six hundred and twenty yen change.’
Fusagi quickly reached out his hand and took the change. ‘Thanks for the coffee,’ he said, almost apologetically, and hurried out.
CLANG-DONG
‘Thank you, come again . . .’
Upon Fusagi’s departure, the cafe fell into an uncomfortable silence. The woman in the dress quietly read her book, unbothered as ever with what was going on around her. With no background music playing, the only sounds that could be heard were the constant ticking of the clocks and the woman in the dress occasionally turning the page of her book.
Kazu first broke this long silence. ‘Kohtake . . .’ she said. But she was unable to find the appropriate words.
‘It’s OK, I have been mentally preparing for today.’ Kohtake smiled at Kei and Kazu. ‘Don’t worry.’
Before the Coffee Gets Cold Page 6