Rina dropped the papers to the floor. She could feel the blood pounding at her temples. For a moment she remained very still, as though if she did she could pretend this had not happened, that her life was as it had been, as she wanted it to be. But this new information would not be held at bay, and the transformation it wrought was relentless. Images flew across her mind’s eye at furious speed. She thought of Kai, of all the months when things had so blissfully come together, each look, each kiss, each moment – all of them now, faster than she could imagine, were being rewritten.
They had been through so much together, some of the darkest and also most wonderful moments in her life. And Kaitarō was at the heart of it all. He had truly known her, understood her. She could still remember the anguish she felt when she thought she must walk away from him, the guilt and the longing. The terror of possibly losing Sumi resonated still, yet he had been like a saviour then, helping and guiding her. He could not be part of a trap, a deception. Instantly, she was transported to that autumn day in the museum gardens, her relief at being with him and no longer alone, the way she’d asked if all relationships were just dishonesty and betrayal and his calm, clear answer: Not us. He had promised never to lie to her, yet, surely, that was all he had ever done. Then, because it was without mercy, her mind presented her with memories of Hokkaido, how he had taken her to his home and laid himself bare; she thought of how he’d held her in their cave, the warmth of his arms around her, the bliss of being with him in Tokyo, working with him, living with him, and it hurt so much she could not breathe.
Rina walked into their bedroom. The bed was made, the coverlet pulled up tight, but just beneath it their pillows were slightly crumpled from sleep. If she picked one up, it would smell of him. Slowly, Rina backed away from the bed. What was it that her father had always told her? That the very best lies are close to the truth.
Next to the bed, lined up against the wall, were the flattened boxes she had just unpacked. She would have to fill them again. Sumiko could not live here. At the thought of her daughter a desperate grief overwhelmed her. She ran into the room she had intended for Sumi. The walls were a cold, pale pink. The stepladder stood by the paint tins, waiting for her to finish. Rina thought of all she had done, all she had planned in this room, and one thought dominated the others. If she had not been so stupid, if she had not been selfish and delusional, she could have been with her daughter. Her marriage might still have broken down, but she could be in Meguro, living with Sumiko, and they need not have spent any time apart. She had left her child to play house with a man who had been deceiving her.
Rina returned to her bedroom. At the top of the wardrobe was a leather weekend bag. She dragged it down, heedless of the towels and scarves that fell to the floor with it. She threw in underwear, shirts, a jumper, her jeans, one on top of the other. She added her toothbrush and toothpaste and reached for her camera, but as she did so she paused. It was the camera he had given her in Atami, the one she now carried every day and used for work. For a moment Rina did not know what to do, and then her gaze lit upon a shopping bag by her bed. It was a present she had bought for Sumiko, an obi, for Shichi-Go-San. Now that Sumi was seven, she could wear her kimono with a formal obi instead of childish ties. Shichi-Go-San would be her first step towards adulthood, and even though the ceremony was not for months, Rina had not been able to resist. She wanted everything to be perfect when they went to the shrine. Dropping the camera into her holdall, she reached for the obi and laid it flat on top. She would take everything that was hers, every part of herself, she thought, sealing the bag.
Next, she reached for the phone. After two rings Sumiko picked up and Rina breathed in a sob as she heard her daughter’s voice. ‘Darling, it’s Mummy,’ she said. She smiled as Sumiko squealed and began to talk about her day. ‘Darling, shhh – Sumi, I am coming to get you.’ There was a brief pause on the line as her daughter digested this. ‘Ask Hannae to pack some overnight things for you. I will be with you in an hour, and we will go to Shimoda.’ Rina listened to the wonder in her daughter’s voice, the excitement. Tears welled and overflowed down her cheeks as Sumi chattered on the line. ‘Yes, darling,’ Rina said. ‘I promise, I am coming.’ Rina rubbed at her eyes and nose, wiping away the tears. ‘I will come and get you, and I will never leave you again.’ There was a silence on the phone and Rina called out softly, ‘Sumi, did you hear me?’ She smiled at the joy in her daughter’s voice as she heard her shout, ‘Yes!’ ‘Sumi, I’m coming, tell Grandpa to expect me.’
Rina carried the bag she had packed into the living room. She thought of what else she would need for Shimoda and remembered the train. She glanced at the clock. Sumi would have had lunch at school, but it was a long journey to Shimoda and she would need a snack. She could not come empty-handed; she must bring a treat, something Sumi would really like. Grabbing her keys, she ran down the several flights of stairs and out into the narrow street. She walked to the bakery on the corner and shivered as the cold air raced up her arMs She realised that she was standing outside in a T-shirt and her paint-stained dungarees. Several of the customers looked askance at her, but she ignored them and walked up to the counter, pointing to a box of freshly made manjū. ‘Red bean, please,’ she said to the girl behind the counter. As she waited, Rina rubbed her arms and took a deep breath. It would be all right. As soon as she could get to Sumi, she would make everything up to her. Rina glanced up and saw the store security camera pointing down at her. She had not lived in the area long, but she came into the shop nearly every day; she thought of all the versions of herself this camera must have seen: the woman in love, planning a new business, setting up house with Kai, to the person she was now.
At the checkout Rina noticed some boiled cherry blossom sweets and added them to her manjū; then she returned to her apartment, running up the flights of stairs as though they were nothing. She was gathering up her things when she heard a knock at the door. On the threshold was the deliveryman from Kyubey with the bentos she had ordered. For a moment it was as though she had returned to that morning and the day she had planned was proceeding as it should – before Satō had destroyed everything she loved. Nodding to the delivery boy she took the boxes and gave him his money, telling him to keep the change. She carried the bentos to the dining table and set them out, one in her place and one in Kaitarō’s. Normally, she would have chilled them in the fridge until he came home and then fetched him some tea or a beer while she made a salad, but none of that would happen now. Exhaling slowly, Rina left the bentos on the table and picked up her bag. Then she heard his key in the lock.
The Killing
He was smiling as he entered. His eyes were bright, his expression so happy it could almost have erased the day. He was breathing heavily, theatrically, one of their jokes about all the stairs they had to climb. ‘You had to pick an apartment on the sixth floor!’ he said, shutting the door and coming forward to kiss her. His camera bag was still in his hand, and he lowered it to the floor as his lips touched hers. Kai was here, the warmth, the taste of him as he enfolded her into his arMs He was home.
Rina looked up at him. She was still in shock. It was impossible that he was looking down at her as though nothing had changed, as though their lives were still the same. He smiled in puzzlement before seeing that she had an overnight bag on her shoulder and her handbag with it, that her grip on the leather straps was tight and unyielding.
‘Rina, what is it?’ he asked, laughing as he tried to pry her hand from the bags. She stepped forward and rose on her toes, pressing a kiss to his forehead. She felt his skin beneath her lips, the softness of his brows. This was something she did often – when they sat before the television together wrapped in blankets, or in their bed when she woke to find they had been sleeping nose to nose. She always kissed him. Only now, she was saying goodbye.
‘Rina?’ Kaitarō frowned. He stepped back to look at her and his gaze followed hers. He saw the papers scattered on t
he floor, the business card, now torn in two, the leaflet, credit card statement and invoice.
‘Satō was here,’ she said, watching as the full implications of this played across his face, turning his skin white.
‘I will kill him,’ he said softly.
‘No, Kai,’ she said, and he turned to face her. She was as surprised as he that her voice was still calm. ‘He told me the truth.’
‘What truth? Rina, whatever he said, whatever he claims, it is not true!’ He walked away from her and then pivoted, coming back. ‘It has nothing to do with us, who we are – nothing! He is just a spoiled and bitter man.’
‘He has spoiled us too,’ Rina said, picking up on his words. ‘And you let him,’ she said.
‘No!’ Kaitarō’s gaze darted around their home, as though it might help him. He spotted the bentos she had placed so carefully on the dining table. ‘Darling, let’s sit, let’s eat, we can—’
‘We are finished,’ Rina said, her voice low, and something in her tone, the certainty of it, seemed to reach him.
Kaitarō grasped the strap of her bag at her shoulder and pulled it from her hands, throwing it clear of both of them. ‘Stay with me,’ he said. ‘I have always protected you. You and Sumi.’ He stood before her, blocking the front door, vibrating with energy. Rina turned and walked away from him into their bedroom. She took one of the flat-packed boxes against the wall and folded it into shape. She opened the wardrobe, ripping her clothes out by the hangers, throwing everything inside until the box was stuffed. Then she picked up the ball of string on her bedside table and tied the box tight.
‘Rina . . . please think about what you are doing.’
‘I have thought, Kai,’ she said, and the endearment was strange on her tongue, as though it were fighting her and what she had decided to do. ‘You have had months, a year, to tell me the truth. You could have made this right.’ She pulled out another box and headed for the chest of drawers.
‘Rina, I couldn’t. Look at what we have. I didn’t want to lose you. I was trying to protect you. What does it matter how we met?’
Rina lifted out a row of folded clothes and lowered them more carefully into the box this time. Then she turned and Kaitarō stepped back at the pain in her eyes.
‘You were protecting yourself,’ she said. She picked up the ball of string again and held it in her hands. ‘I was never the person I wanted to be with him, you know?’ she said, and then suddenly she laughed. ‘Yes! You do know, because I was myself with you.’ She watched as Kaitarō took a step towards her. Rina was gripping the string now, pressing it into her fingers as the grief surged through her. ‘You are not you any more. What we had was not real.’ Her voice was soft, nearly a whisper. ‘I thought that we were honest with each other – about everything.’
‘We are!’ Kaitarō pleaded.
‘No,’ Rina said. ‘You don’t value me. What am I really? To you? To Satō?’
‘We are not the same—’
‘I am just a stupid woman who can be betrayed, twice. A woman who can be lied to. I was raised better.’
‘Rina, Yoshi and I—’
‘Don’t,’ she said. ‘Don’t talk about my father.’ Kaitarō stared at her, and the misery on his face pressed her back, back, until her knees stopped at the edge of their bed. She sat down and looked away from him. He was worried, she thought, very worried, but he was glad that she was not screaming. Perhaps he believed this could be salvaged, but it was not so; she would make sure of it. Kaitarō took another step towards her and she held out her hand to ward him off. She was speaking softly, not because she was calm, but because she was broken. She was broken and weak, as she had been for many years. She thought of Sumiko. What would her daughter think if she could see her now and what she had become? Rina imagined Sumi, older, on her coming-of-age day, watching her as she sat on this bed. She would despise me, she thought. I am not fit to be her mother. I left her because I wanted to play with a lover. I could not tell a lie from the truth. Slowly, she lifted her eyes to Kaitarō, and this time there was fury in her face.
‘You have taken everything from me,’ she said, hurling the string at him and then the clock on her bedside table, her books. Walking towards her, he caught some of the missiles and let others fall to the wayside. He grasped her hands.
‘Rina, stop it,’ he whispered.
‘No!’ she screamed, finally hitting out at him. ‘You have destroyed me.’
‘Rina . . . Rina,’ Kaitarō said; he could not stop saying her name. He took hold of her arms and pressed her down into the mattress of their bed. She pushed against the strength of him all around her, his weight; he was trying to subdue her, and the only thought that Rina had was that once more she was being overpowered and handled.
‘I love you,’ he said, wiping at the tears running down her face. ‘I love you more than life.’ His words, when they reached her, caused her to fight back. She wrenched her hands free and gripped the sides of his face. They were close, very close, nose to nose; she could feel his breath on her face.
‘I don’t know you,’ she said. ‘And I don’t want to know you.’ She shoved at him, just as he tried to press her back onto the bed. She kicked out trying to catch him in the groin, but he was too strong, too heavy. With one hand she reached up and dragged her nails down his face, watching his skin bead with blood. The second man she had made bleed that day. ‘I don’t need you,’ she said, looking him straight in the eye. ‘I will be better on my own.’
He tried to grab both her hands and pin them together as they writhed on the bed. She managed to hit him again, smacking his bloody cheek, and suddenly Kaitarō screamed loud and high, a scream of despair, full in her face. The force and volume of it terrified her.
Rina thrashed frantically and kicked him, causing him to lose his balance. Scrambling to her feet she ran down the corridor into the living room; she could feel Kaitarō close behind her. He grabbed her by the back of her dungarees and pulled her to the floor. Rina gripped the sides of the door frame but she could not hold on and fell hard, smacking her chin. She tasted blood in her mouth and kicked out at him, trying to crawl towards the phone on the bureau or the front door – whichever she could reach. For a second she could move freely and then she felt his whole weight come down upon her, pressing her into the floor of their home, crushing her against the wood. She tried to shift him. ‘You are nothing!’ she screamed. He reached beneath her and turned her to face him. ‘Nothing but a whore!’ Kaitarō knelt above her. He held her wrists in one hand and the string in the other. He shook out the twine, ready to wind it about her wrists and secure her in place, but his focus was on her hands. Rina kicked upward fast, kneeing him in the balls, crushing the sacs up into his groin. As he recoiled in pain, his grip slackened and she was free. She turned over, crawling fast, knowing that she had to get away from him, that this could not be saved. Yet as she rose to her knees he looped the string around her, catching at her shoulders and drawing it around her neck. ‘Stop it!’ he screamed just as Rina lunged forward choking, gasping, feeling her nails lose purchase on the string. She clawed at his wrists, his hands, scratching and scratching. ‘Just listen,’ he was saying. ‘Listen!’ Blood filled her face; she could feel it pulsing beneath her skin. She could not breathe, could not breathe. She kicked and kicked, but he just pulled harder. She tried to gasp at the air but there was nothing in her lungs. ‘Rina . . . please stop,’ she heard him say, almost pleading. She weakened, falling to the floor, and he turned her to face him, his grip on the string loosening.
Her first breaths came in wisps but then the air was like lightning and Rina inhaled deeply, feeling the oxygen coursing through her. It was painful but she could breathe and it gave her strength. ‘Stay with me,’ he whispered. He was stroking her, smoothing her hair from her face, massaging her throat, pulling the string away. Rina looked up into his eyes and the sight of him, the knowledge of his
lies, of the life she had loved and lost, broke her heart anew. ‘Stay with me. I am nothing without you,’ he said. She watched a tear roll down his face and it was this, his weakness, a weakness which mirrored her own, that filled her with rage. Even now, she could stay with him, cling to him, instead of finally relying on herself. ‘I don’t need you,’ she said.
His hands, which had been stroking and soothing her throat, paused. He shook his head. ‘I don’t want you,’ she said, pushing away from him. ‘I will be better on my own,’ she shouted, grappling with him as he threw her back onto the floor. Her head hit the wooden boards hard and his hands gripped her neck, tightening. Rina tried to break his hold, clawing at his fingers, but he was too strong. She kicked, kicked again, but she had lost one of her shoes and her stockinged foot just slipped along the floor. Fighting to breathe, Rina’s chest swelled and contracted. The pressure around her neck intensified, his fingers pressing down hard on her windpipe as the pain returned and she was robbed of air. Once more, she tried to push against him, but her vision blurred and there was only the violent pulsing of blood in her head and weakness spreading throughout the rest of her. Rina writhed, keening, squealing against the loss of her life. She kicked again and again until she could no longer tell if she had truly moved or imagined it. Kaitarō was crying, sobbing in his grief, pressing her down into the floor of their home. Beyond his shoulder, she could see the ceiling, the hanging screen and the corridor to their bedroom, the cranes in flight. This is it, she thought; all I will ever be. ‘Sumiko – ‘ she whispered, but she could not speak. She tried to say the name and though her lips moved, nothing else did. There was no sound. ‘Sumi, Sumi—’
What's Left of Me is Yours Page 26