“You’re right, I don’t. Is that why you slept with me?” It was hard to ask, but it wasn’t out of the question. “To spite me? Because of Fumi-nee.”
Miwako shrugged again and lay back on the bed. “I don’t know,” she said softly.
I should have been angry, but all I wanted to do was lie next to her, to take her into my arms again. I had no right to be upset. After all, it had been my idea. I’d kissed her first, initiated everything. I’d finally slept with the girl I had pursued for months, but I wished I could take it all back.
No. There was no way to have known what would happen after this.
“Hey Ryusei, don’t you think Fumi-nee would make a bad sister-in-law for me if we ended up together?” Miwako asked. “She doesn’t like me.”
This time, I managed to laugh, trying not to read too much into the mention of us together.
“Even you can see she hates me,” she continued. “So you should know she’s not the reason I slept with you.”
I could tell Miwako was lying. Despite their frequent bickering, Fumi-nee liked her. My sister had mentioned more than once how much she loved Miwako’s bluntness. Miwako was just trying to make me feel better, and while I appreciated it, it didn’t make it easier to process that what had happened meant nothing to her.
Nothing personal. Just sex.
Miwako got up and grabbed my hand. “Let’s go. I’m hungry.”
I looked out the window. “It’s still drizzling.”
“I don’t mind, do you?”
“Yes, I do.” I didn’t want her to get sick.
She shrugged. “There’s an umbrella by the door.”
Miwako stopped walking. She glanced at me and said, “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” I asked, tilting my head to listen.
Without answering, she turned back and ran into the alley we’d just passed.
“Wait,” I shouted, chasing after her. “Where are you going?”
The alley was sandwiched between two apartment buildings, and some residents had illegally dumped their rubbish there. An old television set, broken plastic chairs, and a tattered giant teddy bear with missing limbs were piled among cardboard boxes.
Stopping in front of one cardboard box, Miwako crouched down and opened it. There was a kitten inside. Its fur, white with patches of black and orange, was soaked. The tiny animal looked cold and frightened.
“Don’t touch it,” I said. “You’ll only make things worse for it, since you can’t bring it back.”
Ignoring my advice, Miwako picked up the kitten. It purred and curled up in her arms.
“Don’t worry. I’m going to take care of it,” she said.
She had to be joking. “Are you even allowed to keep cats in your apartment?”
“No one needs to know.”
“Don’t be irresponsible. What will happen if your neighbors report you to the landlord?”
Miwako stroked its belly. “You’re being paranoid. No one will find out. Even if someone did report it, I could always ask my mother for help.”
“If you say so,” I said, sighing. No matter what anyone said, once Miwako made up her mind, that was it.
She glanced at me. “Do you think we can keep it in the studio?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. The cat will climb all over the canvases and mess up the paints. Fumi-nee would never allow it.”
“That’s true,” she said. “Anyway, I’ll explore the options. I guess before we find it a permanent home, I’ll just have to look after it.”
Cradling the kitten, Miwako seemed so at ease. Her expression softened, and she was so calm and peaceful—it was the same look she had when she was reading. Perhaps keeping the cat wasn’t such a bad idea.
“Is it a boy or girl?” I asked.
Miwako checked. “A girl, I think.”
“What’s her name?”
She prodded the box, searching for clues. “Nothing here. I guess we can name her whatever we like. Any suggestions?”
I took the kitten from her. “What about ‘Tama’ for ‘jewel’?”
“I like that,” Miwako said.
“She’s like a treasure, isn’t she? Because you dug her out from all that other stuff. Maybe I should get in an old box and see if you’d pick me up too.”
Miwako glared at me. “Don’t be stupid.”
I laughed. “Doesn’t she look like one of those lucky cat figurines?”
She nodded. “Hey Ryusei, do you know what a cat does with its nine lives?” She recited the old English proverb. “For three it plays, for three it strays, and for the last three it stays.”
I chuckled. “Well, cats have good balance and reflexes, so they tend to escape from what would normally be deadly situations.”
“No,” she said, her expression serious. “Cats really do have lives to spare, and they can go between the worlds of the living and the dead.”
I murmured in vague agreement, wondering why she was so adamant about this, though I found it endearing. “Shall we head back?”
She nodded.
For a brief moment, I managed to brush off what had happened between us. Miwako hummed as she carried the kitten back to her apartment, and I sheltered them with a translucent plastic umbrella, the sounds of our steps overlapping.
“Where do you think Tama is now?” my sister asked, still looking at the painting of the cat.
“Probably at Miwako’s mother’s house,” I said. “She told me that if her landlord found out about Tama and threatened to evict her, the family would put her up there.”
“Tama must miss Miwako.”
“We all do, don’t we?” I said, and my sister started to cry.
I offered my hand to help her up. “Should we go home? It’s getting dark. Or do you want to stay here a while?”
She wiped her tears away. “No, let’s go back.”
We left the studio, walking side by side and holding hands on the quiet street. My sister said she didn’t want to take the bus.
“Let’s take our time,” she said, and I mumbled in agreement. I wasn’t in the mood to argue, even though the night was cold and windy. I offered my jacket to her, but she declined.
“Our bodies aren’t so different,” she said. “You don’t need to be a gentleman.”
It pained me to hear her say things like that, but I couldn’t think of the right response.
“Did you keep those letters Miwako sent you?” my sister asked.
“No. I threw them away a long time ago.” I lied, not wanting her to worry. “None of them said anything important. They were just the usual hellos, asking how I was doing. They could have been to anyone.”
“Oh,” she said. I caught a hint of skepticism in her voice.
“You know I’m not the type of person to keep letters, don’t you?”
She gave a thin smile. “Of course not. You’re not that sentimental.”
Dear Ryusei,
This is my last letter. I’ll say what I should have the first time I wrote to you.
It’s about what happened the day we found Tama.
I know I hurt you. You probably thought I did it just because I could, without any thought about what it meant for you.
But that’s not true.
Ryusei, I only did what I did that day because it was you. Yes, there was something that drove me to it, something I’ve been hiding from you. I can’t go into detail, but I promise that when we meet again, I’ll tell you the truth.
Miwako
6
She
Isn’t
Cut Out
to Be
a
Model
When I opened my eyes, everything was bright. The white ceiling was blinding. The fan moved slower than usual. I counted its tur
ns. One, two, three, four. I had to stop because my head hurt so badly.
The door opened. My sister entered in her pink pajamas, face covered with a homemade mask.
“I called for you so many times,” she said. “Why didn’t you come out?”
“I was sleeping.” I tried to sit up, but my whole body ached. “What do you want?”
My sister leaned in closer and took a sniff. “Have you been drinking?”
“Just a little.”
“You’re still drunk.”
“Stop raising your voice. My head hurts.”
She crossed her arms. “Miwako’s mother is on the phone.”
I tensed, feeling instantly more alert.
“But since you’re not in the right state of mind, I’ll tell her you’re still sleeping.”
“No,” I said, forcing myself up. “I’ll take the call.”
My sister shrugged and I walked past her out of the room.
“Ryu!” she shouted. “Go take a shower after the call. You smell awful.”
“Shut up,” I said, already aware I reeked of alcohol and sweat.
I tried to steady myself as I walked to the living room. Clearing my throat, I went to pick up the phone.
“Good morning, this is Ryusei Yanagi.”
“Good morning, Yanagi,” a woman with a muffled voice greeted me. “This is Akemi Kojima, Miwako’s mother. We met during the wake.”
Kojima. Had that been Miwako’s previous family name?
“Yanagi?”
“Yes, I’m sorry,” I quickly said. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Kojima?”
“It’s about Miwako.”
I waited.
“She left instructions for what to do with her personal belongings. Your name is on the list. I’m thinking of distributing her things this afternoon. I know this is rather last-minute, so if you have another engagement . . .”
“I’ll be there,” I said. “What time should I come?”
“Is five o’clock all right?”
“Yes, that’s fine.” I grabbed the pen and notepad Fumi-nee always left next to the phone. “Can I trouble you for your address?”
I wrote as Miwako’s mother dictated. The house was in Katsushika. It would take me at least an hour to get there, probably more.
After setting the phone down, I sat at the kitchen table.
“Ryu.”
I looked up. My sister held out a glass of water.
“Lemon water,” she said. “It’s excellent for a hangover. Make sure to finish it.”
I sat up and took the glass from her hand.
“If you’re not feeling better in an hour, I have some aspirin.”
“This is fine,” I said, gulping down the sour liquid. “I’m just a little dizzy. Nothing to worry about.”
“When it comes to curing hangovers, you should trust me a little more.” She winked. “Your older sister hasn’t worked at a bar for the last seven years for nothing.”
I laughed, but somehow it sounded like I was choking. Before my sister could say anything else, I returned to my room, not wishing to worry her.
The first thing I noticed upon arriving at Miwako’s family’s home was the nameplate out front. It bore the name Kojima, not Sumida. Other than that, the house was pretty much what I’d expected—a simple, single-story modern structure in an idyllic neighborhood in northeast Tokyo.
Just as I was about to go through the gate, I spotted Jin smoking by the roadside half a block away. I walked over to him.
“Hey,” I called awkwardly.
He straightened his posture. “Oh, hey. What brings you here?”
“Miwako’s mother invited me. What about you?”
“I’m here with my girl. She got a call too.” He gestured to the house. “Sachiko and Chie are already inside.” Jin held out his box of Hope Menthol. “Want a smoke?”
“Thanks,” I muttered. I slid a stick out and leaned toward Jin, who lit it for me. I took a deep puff and exhaled the white vapor. I began to cough. It had been a while since I’d last smoked.
“Are you all right?” Jin asked.
I nodded. “I’m fine. A little out of practice.”
“I didn’t know you quit smoking.”
“I didn’t really. I just don’t go out of my way to buy cigarettes anymore. My sister doesn’t like it when I smoke around her.” Even though nearly all her clients at the bar smoked.
“Ah, that sister of yours. She’s gorgeous.” Jin paused. “You know, I’ve wanted to tell you this for the longest time. There’s something different about her. I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s definitely there. And I don’t mean it in a bad way.”
I said nothing.
“Let’s just say she’s special,” Jin said.
“She is,” I said.
Jin nodded but said nothing else. If the circumstances had been less somber, he probably would have teased me about how close my sister and I were. Instead, we continued to smoke in silence. Suddenly, I recalled the conversation with Miwako on the day we’d slept together.
“Hey Jin, remember how you told me you knew Miwako in high school?” I asked. “How the two of you didn’t get along?”
“I can’t believe you remember that.” He chuckled. “But yeah, we certainly didn’t.”
“Why not?”
He shook his head. “You don’t want to know.”
“I do.”
Jin stared at the cigarette in his hand. “Are you still in love with her?”
“Stop dodging the question.”
“It’s important.” He took a puff and turned to face me. “If you’re still not over her, you’re not going to want to know.”
A pain tugged at my chest. I forced myself to look nonchalant, though I doubted it was fooling anyone. “Did you sleep with her?”
He laughed. “No way. Don’t be crazy. No offense, but she’s not my type.”
“Oh, right,” I mumbled. “You’re an only child.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Nothing. Forget it.” I flicked the ashes off my cigarette. “Tell me this thing I wouldn’t want to know.”
“You just can’t give it up, can you?” Jin blew the cigarette smoke slowly. “When we were classmates in high school, Miwako caught me and a good friend of mine smoking behind the school. She ratted us out to the teacher and we got in trouble. I thought she hated us, but in this strange turn of events, she ended up sleeping with my friend.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I don’t get what was going through their heads, really,” he continued. “My friend was dating a girl who—again, no offense—looked way better than Miwako. I thought they made a cute couple. The week after my friend slept with Miwako, everyone found out about it.”
I was silent.
“If you ask me, I don’t even think they liked each other. After that one encounter, they never spoke more than was necessary. As if nothing had ever happened.”
“Miwako must’ve been furious that everyone knew.”
“That’s the thing. My friend isn’t the type to brag about things like that,” Jin said before taking a puff. “You might not believe this, but I’m pretty sure Miwako was the one who spread the news. What her goal was, I have no idea. But thanks to her, my friend got dumped pretty publicly by his girlfriend.”
“Your friend didn’t tell you anything?”
Jin shook his head. “Like I said, he wasn’t the type to talk about private matters. When I cornered him, he only said he’d been curious. That’s it. Curious. I couldn’t believe that guy. He’d always been quiet. Not a loner, mind you, just didn’t talk much.” He stopped and stared at his cigarette.
“So that was why you didn’t like Miwako? Because she slept with your friend for no reason?”
&
nbsp; “I just found her appalling. You know, the way she did things. First off, did she really have to report us to the teacher? It was completely uncalled for. I have no issue with her choosing to sleep with my friend, but why tell everyone about it? I just don’t get it.”
Taking a puff, I told Jin, “Miwako had her own way of thinking.”
“You’re blinded by love, my friend.”
“This has nothing to do with that.”
Jin raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”
After taking a final inhale, I crushed the cigarette against the concrete wall. “I’d better go in now.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Take care. Let’s catch up soon.”
I nodded and walked toward the house. The iron gates were closed, but not locked. Beyond the entryway, several pairs of shoes were laid neatly in front of the door.
“Excuse me,” I called out.
“One moment, please,” said a soft voice from inside of the house.
A lady in a black kimono came out in a hurry. A surgical mask covered her nose and mouth, which explained why her voice had been so muffled on the phone. Even though half her face was covered, I recognized her as Miwako’s mother. They had the same bright eyes.
“Good afternoon,” I said, bowing.
She opened the gate. “Please come in. My apologies for asking you here on such short notice.”
“Don’t worry about that. I had no plans this afternoon.” I took my shoes off. “Are you unwell, Mrs. Kojima?”
She shook her head. “It’s the cat. I’m allergic.”
“Ah, is Tama here?”
“That’s the cat’s name?”
“Yes.”
“My daughter never told me she had a pet,” she said, sighing. “So, you’re familiar with the cat, Yanagi? I found it wandering in front of Miwako’s apartment.”
Before I could answer, Tama walked out of the house. The bell on her collar jingled. Mrs. Kojima kept her distance as Tama came straight to me. The cat purred and circled my legs. I crouched down to stroke her head.
“Hello there. How are you?” I greeted her. “It’s been a while.”
Tama purred again and curled her tail around her legs.
The Perfect World of Miwako Sumida Page 6