‘That is what you think.’
‘I know,’ Kaitarō said, leaning into Satō’s face. ‘You have nothing.’
‘As I said, you can’t be sure.’ Satō laughed. ‘But at least you managed to fuck her. Finally!’ He took a drag on his cigarette, still laughing as Kaitarō lunged and grabbed him by the throat. Satō was driven back, his head hit the wall and he dropped his cigarette, his hands were braced against Kaitarō’s forearMs He smiled. ‘Ah,’ he said, ‘there’s the violent streak I’ve been waiting for. What do you think this is? A showdown, like in the movies?’
‘You are going to settle,’ Kaitarō said slowly, driving his wrist into Satō’s throat. ‘You are going to settle out of court and give her custody of Sumiko.’
Satō’s breath was short but still he grinned at Kaitarō. ‘I don’t think so, Nakamura.’ He shoved at the forearm restraining him but could not get free. ‘I think mediation is necessary.’ Satō pushed again and finally Kai released his grip.
‘She’ll fight me,’ Satō continued, ‘and think of what she’ll be subjected to. The questions. Written statements scrutinised by august members of the community. All those people reading about my wife, judging our marriage. And she won’t deny it, will she? She won’t be able to lie to them, and she’ll be known as someone who sleeps around. Isn’t that what you are?’
‘Rina is not in danger. I took care not to be photographed with her.’
‘Yes, but one or two might have slipped through the net, so this is what you are going to do for me—’
‘No, Satō, this is what you are going to do for me.’ Kaitarō stepped up to him again; he could see the uncertainty in Satō’s eyes as he brought his face close. There was a flicker of fear. ‘You are going to settle out of court,’ Kaitarō continued. ‘You will get the apartment in Ebisu. You will agree to a further sum of money with Yoshi Sarashima, and you will cede custody of Sumiko to Rina.’
‘Why would I let my daughter live with that woman? And you?’
‘If you do not, I will send your family pictures of your mistress in Nagoya. I will disclose the details of your debts. I will talk to your father in person and tell him what you asked me to do, and then I will turn over all the evidence I have amassed on you to the courts. Rina may not have been building a case against you, but I have, and unless you behave honourably, you will never be welcome in Tokyo again.’
For a long time Satō was silent, and then he withdrew a cigarette from his own pocket.
‘I could keep her,’ Satō muttered, lighting the cigarette and throwing the match into the gutter. ‘We’ve both made mistakes. If I took the divorce off the table, spared us both the shame, she’d stay with me.’
‘But you won’t see a penny,’ Kaitarō retorted.
‘What about Sumiko?’ Satō asked.
‘You might be able to visit.’
‘I’d be at her mercy on that.’
‘She is kinder than you are.’
‘You’ve got it bad, boy, if you think that.’ Satō laughed.
Kaitarō’s eyes did not leave Satō’s face. He watched as this man he so despised turned his life and Rina’s over in his mind.
‘They’ll never accept you,’ Satō said, but his resolve was slipping. ‘We’re more alike than you think, you and I. And you won’t make her happy.’ He leaned back against the wall of the alley, fumbling with his cigarette. ‘She doesn’t really need people,’ he said quietly, ‘and when she realises that, you’ll be gone.’
For the first time, Kaitarō became aware of the alcohol on Satō’s breath, and just for a moment he wondered if the other man was more drunk than he’d thought.
‘She won’t truly love you,’ Satō said quietly. ‘When you settle into a normal life, a normal routine, you’ll never be enough for her.’
And Kaitarō would have laughed were it not for the feeling in his chest. A feeling he never expected to experience in relation to Satō. Pity. For a second that pity mingled with fear. He could not imagine living without Rina’s love, but then he realised he would not have to. Kaitarō felt his shoulders ease, the tension slipping out of them as he looked at Satō again. ‘What was between you and Rina is your business,’ he said, and Satō glanced up at him.
‘Squeamish, Nakamura?’
Kaitarō just shrugged.
‘You tell her . . .’ Satō said, ‘you tell her that if she crosses me on the settlement—’
‘Rina can’t know I was here talking to you.’
‘What!’ Satō laughed, his merriness resuming. ‘You want me to cover for you?’
‘I want you to keep me out of your negotiations. Remember what I can do to you, Satō. I don’t want Rina to ever know how we met. My silence for yours.’
‘How do you know they’ll give me the apartment?’
‘Rina has told her father about our affair and that you want a divorce. Yoshi will protect her. He will agree to settle.’
‘You’ve worked it all out.’
‘I want to finish this.’
‘And will you ever tell her? Eventually . . . ?’
Kaitarō was silent. He looked at Satō, who quietly began to laugh. He was still laughing when Kaitarō drove him against the alley wall and even then he did not stop.
‘Don’t forget what I can do to you, Satō,’ Kaitarō hissed, his hand tight around the other man’s throat. ‘Don’t ever forget—’
He felt Satō try to swallow but he just increased the pressure on his windpipe; he felt Satō shove against his chest, but he would not budge. Eventually, Satō smiled and whispered into Kaitarō’s face, ‘You think you’re so much better than me?’
Kaitarō stared hard at the other man, taking in the bloodshot eyes, the burst capillaries on his cheeks, and, finally, his laughter.
‘I do,’ he said, releasing Satō’s throat. Then he walked out of the alley, away from the twinkling lights of Roppongi and into the night.
Home Free
Kaitarō was waiting for her in his apartment, idly tapping a pen on the wooden surface of his desk, although he was barely aware of this when she came in, transfixed by the sight of her.
She was happy. He could see it in the tilt of her chin, the turn of her head as she closed his front door and walked towards him. Her hair, longer now, swayed against her collarbone, brushing the silk ties that held her blouse together at the shoulder. She was beautiful. Even here at the end of a long day, she was beautiful and fine. He could not imagine a time when she would be otherwise.
She reached him and perched on the edge of the desk, moving a half-filled cup of tea out of her way; it had left water marks all over the surface. There were papers strewn everywhere. He was messy, he knew, but she didn’t seem to mind.
‘Are you ready to go?’
‘I could watch you forever.’
‘Why don’t you watch me over dinner?’
Kaitarō smiled and dropped the pen he had been playing with onto the desk; it rolled away from him, with the slogan facing up – Honma Real Estate Investments – Satō’s firm; Satō’s wife, but not for much longer. He knew that a few months ago, the sight of this pen might have caused Rina to pause, to question him, to question them and what they were doing. But that night she smiled and reached for his hand. Satō was fading from her life and she didn’t give a damn.
‘How’s Sumi?’
‘Desperate to get back to Tokyo. Yoshi says she asks for me every day, but I think she just misses her friends.’ Rina smiled as he pulled her towards him.
‘How long do I have you for?’
‘Just tonight. They’re returning to Meguro tomorrow and I’ll join them there.’
‘So soon?’
‘I need to be with Sumi. I miss her.’
Kaitarō handed her her handbag, holding on to the strap until Rina met his gaze.
‘It’s on
ly for a little while,’ she reasoned, ‘and I’ll see you in Hokkaido.’
‘One day I will have you forever and there will be no limits.’
‘Yes,’ she sighed, ‘but right now I’m hungry!’
Kaitarō laughed and let go of the bag. With an arm about her waist, he escorted her out of the building. They were nearly there; they were almost home free.
Later that evening, Rina sat at Kai’s desk. There was a photograph in front of her, a picture of them both that she had developed in black and white. Rina picked it up in her hands, framing it between her thumb and forefinger. She glanced at Kaitarō lying in the bed asleep. For once he was relaxed, in true repose, his features smooth and slack.
She loved his openness, the way he was so unguarded with her, that he was willing to live with a woman who would point her camera at him even in his sleep. There was courage in that. Real trust. She understood the bravery it took, particularly in front of a camera.
Rina rested her cheek in her palm. She treasured these moments in the quiet of the night – a recent gift for them, the chance of spending an evening together. In the past months, whenever they had been apart, Rina had imagined herself in this apartment, imagined that the small studio was her home, that her photographs clipped to the walls belonged there and that the world contained only this man and this desk and this bed. Now the fantasy had spread into reality and it would include her whole life – her daughter. Once they found a bigger place, and soon they would, they could be a family. Then Sumi would be with her always and none of them need ever be apart.
She looked again at the photograph in front of her. It was an experiment, part of a new sequence she was planning on intimacy, the layers between public and private life. The shot had been taken in this apartment, the camera propped on the very desk she sat at now. She had pointed the lens towards the bed and set the timer to take the shot in ten minutes’ time. Then she’d sat next to Kaitarō, who was facing away from her, wrapped in a cocoon of sheets. She was still watching him when he turned towards her and his arm curled around her waist as he rolled over in the bed. Rina looked up then, just as the shutter clicked, freezing them: she, looking straight at the camera, her eyes large and dark, the freckles on her nose standing out in stark relief and flickering over her cheeks; Kaitarō blurred, relaxed in sleep, his arm curving around her waist.
Rina loved what she had captured in this picture, the unguardedness of it. There was something predatory about it too, which thrilled her – her gaze staring at the lens capturing him, unknowing in sleep. She also loved that even in this state he was possessive, his hand grasping hers and his other arm curled around her waist, for they were both of the same mind, intertwined, each of them wearing the hint of a smile.
She had always been drawn to black-and-white photography: the revelation of it. You could see more of a person when they were staring back at you in monochrome with nothing to distract from their nature. She looked at the image of Kaitarō rolling into her like a wave curling on the shore.
Outside, dawn was breaking over the city. In the distance the monorail train rumbled past, the sunlight catching on the corners of darkened glass. Rina smiled, for the thought of all the eyes and faces within no longer frightened her. Anyone could look into her world now and she would not mind. Rising from the desk, she hunted around the room for her handbag. She opened her notebook to see if she would need to pick up anything for Sumi before she met them in Meguro. Putting it back, she peeled off her T-shirt, crumpling it into a ball and stuffing it down into the bag. She stood for a moment, silhouetted in the light, the sun outlining the curves of her shoulders, her breasts small and high, the globes of her bottom in white lace panties, feet bare on the wooden floor. Rina reached up to the curtains in front of her, brightly coloured squares of silk patched together, like hanging quilts. She had bought them for Kaitarō in the market. They looked good, she decided, nothing like the decor she’d selected in Ebisu. There was not a trace of beige upholstery or lacquer cabinets here, only the coloured squares of her curtains and the rush basket filled with film and photographs. When they returned from Hokkaido and had found a new place, all these things could come with them.
Behind her, Rina heard a shutter click. She raised her arms, twining her hands together above her head. The shutter clicked again and she looked over her shoulder at him, her face partly hidden by her arm. He was sitting up, the sun slanting down on his face, catching his stubble in the early morning light. He lifted the camera once more and pointed it towards her. Rina raised her eyebrow and smiled.
First Love
Kaitarō stooped beneath the wooden lintel and took a seat at one of the booths. From where he sat he could see the sea, the great grey swathe of it struck through with flashes of light. The clouds rolled in thick and dark, giving the air a twilight hue even though it was only early afternoon.
He had wanted to get there early, wanted to be prepared so as not to evince surprise when he saw her. He had memories of this place, memories of what it could do to a woman, but then Megumi loved it here and had wanted to stay. He ordered some tea and mussel tempura. He thought of what he’d said in his letter to her, how inadequate the phrasing, how brief his explanation for coming home. Still, he had learned to become distant in intimate circumstances. It was a lesson he had learned in this very town, and old habits died hard.
Megumi would tease him about the letter, he thought, but after a moment he stopped himself. The old Megumi would have teased him, the girl who had loved the barren wildness of Hokkaido, who wanted to be a fisherman’s wife. It was hard to believe that the woman he was about to meet might not bear any resemblance to his Megumi at all. She might be puzzled by his letter, even annoyed. She might think him irrelevant to her life. Still, he’d wanted to warn her, to spare her any surprise when he brought Rina here. He remembered Megumi as a friend, and if there was any hurt at all, he wanted to spare her that.
Kaitarō looked up, startled, as an umbrella snapped shut by the window. He glanced outside and there she was in the rain, looking in at him, in the café where they used to meet. Her face was the same. There were wrinkles around her eyes and her skin had thickened, blunting her cheekbones, but it was still her, and her eyes as they sought his were kind.
She crooked her finger at him, gesturing for him to join her so they could walk on the beach as they used to, over the sand that stretched out behind her, now pitted with rain. He held up the plate of tempura, the tightness in his throat easing; this was a battle they had always fought.
She gave him a small shrug and he swallowed in relief as she entered the shop. She put her umbrella in the stand and came towards him. Her scarf was in her hand as she sat down. She folded it neatly into a square and then placed it in the pocket of her anorak. It was a matronly gesture, but somehow it fitted.
‘Mr Nakamura,’ she said.
‘Mrs Honjima. Can I get you anything?’
‘They know what I like,’ she said. ‘They’ll bring it along.’
She was relaxed as she looked at him, but he knew she couldn’t really feel that way.
‘You are getting married?’ she asked.
‘You are married,’ he said.
‘Yes.’ Megumi rolled up the sleeves of her cardigan, giving him time to gather his thoughts. It was unlike him to be slow and unable to ease a situation. Even so, he couldn’t help but stare at her. His gaze travelled over her face, from her cute snub nose to her faint eyebrows. He noticed fine white strands mixed in with the black of her hair. Her lipstick seemed too bright for her skin. She hadn’t worn any when he had known her.
‘There’s no need to feel bad, Kaitarō,’ she said after a while.
‘How is Tsuji?’
‘I am happy with him. Very happy. He was the right choice for me.’
‘I never had any doubt!’ Kaitarō laughed and then paused when she stiffened.
For a moment he
saw her as she had been at their last meeting. She stood on the stretch of sand that she loved and he had told her he was leaving, that he was not cut out for life in Hokkaido with her. He had expected her to shout at him, to throw something in his face, but it was her stillness that he remembered. He waited for her to turn to him so he could comfort her, had wanted to hold her, this girl who had been his only friend, but she waved him off.
She stood still for a long time, her arms crossed over her chest, looking at the sea. He called to her as she moved away from him, but she kept on walking. She walked to the edge of the water and then on, out into the waves till they soaked her skirt. It was the last image he had of her, standing in the twilight, with the waters, grey, all around her.
‘Thank you for meeting me, Megumi.’
‘Why have you come home?’ she said finally. She pressed her lips together, rubbing the lipstick into her skin.
‘I missed you.’
‘I’m glad!’ she said, and they both laughed. She had always been honest with him; he admired it.
‘Have you seen your mother?’ she asked after a while.
‘Yes, I got in this morning.’
‘She is a woman of great strength.’
‘I know,’ Kaitarō snapped, before bowing his head in apology. ‘And now she is alone.’
Megumi said nothing. He wondered if she still disapproved of him, if she thought he had been wrong to leave his mother here, to leave them both here.
‘You look well,’ Megumi said. ‘The city suits you.’
The waiter approached bringing a tray of pebble-brown sweets, tea, and a damp hand towel. He smiled at Megumi and chatted with her about the day’s catch and asked if Tsuji would be in later. Kaitarō thought that under normal circumstances she would have introduced him, but Megumi seemed to sense that he wouldn’t stay long, that he didn’t want to leave too much of an imprint.
‘I wouldn’t like Tokyo,’ she said when the waiter had left them. ‘I’ve seen it on those shows, you know. Lots of rich people in their tiny apartments.’
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