The Perfect World of Miwako Sumida

by Clarissa Goenawan

  “Sounds like a good idea, but would that suit the décor?”

  “Absolutely,” Fumi said. “We can choose a scene with warm colors, like during sunset or sunrise. It will pair well with the wooden furnishings.”

  The restaurant owner’s eyes lit up. Fumi knew she was moving in the right direction.

  “The churches, the bridges, the rivers, the houses, the trees. Can you picture it? I’m sure it would be stunning,” she continued. “Is there a particular view that you love, or perhaps one that holds a special meaning?”

  “Yes, I enjoyed the winter in Prague. You know, when the snow covers the city and the rivers are frozen. It’s beautiful.”

  “Let’s do that then. A romantic sunset in winter.”

  “Ah, yes, yes.”

  Fumi took out her sketchbook and did some rough outlines. The restaurant owner made a few suggestions and the two of them discussed the color palette, and then they made an appointment a week later for Fumi to return with a detailed sketch.

  After the meeting, Fumi went straight to the studio. She wanted to look at that calendar. If memory served her right, it should be the reference she needed.

  Fumi put her things down in the office upon arriving. She looked around for Tama, but the cat was nowhere to be seen.

  “Tama!” Fumi called aloud, wondering where she might be.

  The cat didn’t appear. Something was wrong. Fumi kept calling Tama, circling the premises, but she wasn’t there. Not knowing where else to search, Fumi returned to her apartment. She opened the door to find the place empty.

  No Tama. No Miwako. She was all alone.

  Fumi grazed her fingers on the couch. Was she really gone?

  As Fumi tried to come to terms with what had just happened, the phone rang, startling her. She ignored it and continued to look around for signs of Miwako. When she found nothing and the phone rang again, Fumi finally went to pick it up.

  “Yes?” she answered.

  “It’s me,” a familiar voice greeted her on the line.

  “Ryu,” she said, relieved. “Where are you?”

  EPILOGUE

  I had told my sister I would be back before dinner, but I ended up returning later. It was almost ten when I reached the apartment.

  The moment I opened the door, she ran to me.

  “Ryu.” She hugged me. “What took you so long?”

  I mustered an awkward smile, still carrying my bags. “An accident disrupted train service. Some of the lines were down, so I had to take a different route.”

  “I thought something bad had happened to you.”

  “Nah. Look at me, I’m fine.” Behind her, I saw plates of food on the table, neatly shrink-wrapped. “Have you had your dinner yet? Or have you been waiting all this time?”

  She rubbed her neck. “I had a late lunch, so I wasn’t hungry. Why don’t you put down your things first and take a shower? I’ll heat up the food.”

  Her words made me realize how sticky I was and how awful I must have smelled. I rubbed my chin, which was covered in short stubble. “You’re right.”

  “I want to hear all about your trip,” she said, “but only if you want to share.”

  I smiled. “I’ll give you the details later, but it’s a long story. It might take a while.”

  “Don’t worry. Your sister runs her own company. She can take tomorrow off.”

  I laughed and went to my bedroom. Setting my bags down, I felt a sense of comfort. After three months, I was finally home.

  That night, I talked for hours with my sister. It began with the train ride to Kitsuyama and went all the way to the day I had decided to return to Tokyo, but not before making a side trip to Nara.

  “I went to Todaiji Temple,” I said. “Remember that time we went there together? After I was accepted to Waseda.”

  My sister listened patiently, not interrupting even once. I noticed she had cooked all my favorite foods—grilled eel, shrimp tempura, fried pork cutlet, simmered vegetables, sliced pickles, and miso soup—so I ate slowly, savoring each bite. I hadn’t had a good home-cooked meal in a while.

  By the time we were done eating, and even after we had milk pudding for dessert, there was more to tell her. I helped her with the dishes while continuing the story. After that, she made coffee and we sat together on the couch until I was done.

  “That’s all,” I finally said.

  “So you traveled to Kitsuyama with Chie, but when she went back, you chose to stay. Until one day, you simply decided it was time to come home?”

  “More or less.”

  “But you stopped to visit Todaiji Temple first.”

  “Correct.”

  “Why there?”

  I didn’t have a concrete answer. “I just felt that I needed to go there to pray.”

  “That sounds a bit strange,” my sister said, narrowing her eyes and smiling. “You had quite the journey, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, it was exactly what I needed.”

  “The most important thing is that you’re back safely.”

  I nodded. “What about you? How is everything?”

  “I’m good.” My sister rubbed her neck. “But Tama is missing again.”

  “Don’t worry about that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I cleared my throat. “Tama is fine. She’ll be back next week.”

  “Hang on.” Her eyes widened. “How do you know that?”

  A silence followed.

  “Ryu?”

  “I can’t really explain,” I finally said. “Intuition?”

  She chuckled. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  I laughed and reached for my coffee, but the cup was already empty. Setting it back down, I glanced at the clock. Three in the morning. “We should sleep now, or you’ll wake up with dark circles under your eyes.”

  My sister turned to look at the time. “I didn’t realize it was so late.” She got up and collected the cups. “Go to sleep, Ryu. I’ll clean up.”

  “I’m not tired yet,” I said, and it was the truth. Despite the long journey and the late hours, I was surprisingly alert and energetic. “Let me do the dishes. You should rest.”

  “You’re all grown up, aren’t you? Not listening to your older sister anymore.”

  I laughed, but then I recalled a question that had weighed on my mind for years. I had never been ready to ask it, or rather, I had been afraid to hear her answer, but somehow, at that moment, I felt it was time.

  “Fumi-nee, can I ask you something?” I asked.

  She turned to me. “What is it?”

  “Back when we had just moved out of the orphanage, you used to cry in the middle of the night.”

  My sister froze for a moment. “So you knew.”

  “What were you thinking about?” I asked.

  She paused for a while, seemingly thinking it through. “Our misfortune. I used to wonder what we had done to deserve such tragedy. Why was it us who’d lost our parents? It could have been anyone, so why us?”

  I was at a loss for words. The same question had replayed itself in my mind for years. Why had it been our parents’ car that had skidded in the mountains? Why on that one stretch of road bordering a deadly cliff? Why hadn’t they taken us along that night, so we could have died together as a family? Then no one would have been left behind.

  “But,” my sister said as she put her arm around my shoulders, “I’ve come to terms with it since then, and it was you who gave me the strength to carry on. So thank you, and don’t you ever forget how important you are to me.”

  I felt myself flush. I knew my sister was the reason I was still here too. The reason I had been able to make friends, to go off to college, to meet and fall in love with Miwako Sumida, and finally, to let her go.

  Fumi-nee had supported me all my life and
asked for nothing in return. I should have been the one thanking her. I loved her, but those words were so heavy to say aloud. Yet the warmth of her arm around me made me feel that she knew.

  My sister put her head on my shoulder. “Was there something else you wanted to ask?”

  I paused, remembering the dream I’d had the night before. In my dream, I’d been with Miwako and Tama in the studio.

  “Ryu?” She moved away and looked at me. “Why are you so quiet all of a sudden?”

  I tilted my head. “Actually, I was wondering if Tama could stay with you for good in the studio.”

  My sister thought for a moment, probably caught off guard by the sudden change of topic. “Sure. I wouldn’t mind that,” she eventually said. “Tama and I, we get along fine.”

  “That settles it, then.”

  She nodded. “But are you sure Miwako would be happy with that?”

  “Of course. I think it’s what she wanted. It just took me a while to figure that out.”

  Miwako looked radiant as she smiled and laughed, watching Tama rolling around on the floor. She wore a loose beige sweater and pastel-colored chiffon skirt, the same one she’d worn the day she first met my sister. Her long hair was tied up with a plain black hairband, but the wind had made it messy. Some of the stray hairs stuck to her face, but she didn’t seem to mind.

  I came over and sat next to her.

  She turned to me. “Ah, Ryusei, you’re here.”

  Coming from her, my name sounded so tender, even if laced with pain.

  “Thank you for taking care of Tama,” she said.

  “You don’t need to thank me,” I said. “Fumi-nee does most of the work.”

  “Is that so?” she said, seemingly surprised. “If that’s the case, do you think we could ask Fumi-nee if Tama could live with her?”

  My sister and Tama? I wondered why I hadn’t thought of it. They were perfect together. “Of course,” I said. “I’ll ask her.”

  Miwako gave a slight smile. “Thank you. I know I can always count on you.”

  I looked at her. “What are you going to do now?”

  “That’s a good question.” She picked Tama up. “If it’s all right, I want to spend a week with this young lady first, and after that . . .” Her words trailed off.

  “After that?”

  “I have to leave,” she said. “I’m not sure what’s waiting for me, but I’m looking forward to it.”

  “I’m glad,” I said.

  We fell into a long silence before she asked, “Do you hate me for what I did?”

  “Of course not,” I said, “but I am angry sometimes.” She had killed the most important person in the world to me.

  She tilted her head. “Can you forgive me?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I’ll try, if it makes you feel better. Is that enough?”

  Miwako nodded. “It’s enough.”

  Stillness descended upon us again until I called, “Hey, Miwako.”

  She raised her head. “Yes?”

  As I looked into her eyes, the words disappeared. “Nothing,” I said. “It’s nothing.”

  For a split second, I wanted to tell Miwako Sumida that I still loved her. But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to burden her with my feelings.

  Instead, I decided to remember her every detail. Her bright eyes behind black-rimmed glasses, her silky straight jet-black hair, her long neck, her collarbone, her slim fingers, her unpainted nails, and her smile, which never failed to convince me that the world was a perfect place.