Kazue missed school for several days. On the morning of the fourth day she turned up unexpectedly and stood in the doorway of the classroom like a giant roadblock. She surveyed the room with dark eyes. Her hair was no longer in curls and no longer was she hopelessly gluing those fake Elizabeth Eyelids over her eyes. The familiar dreary, uncool Kazue had returned, except for the fact that an unbelievably gaudy scarf, striped in yellow and black, was wrapped around her neck. The scarf she had knitted for Takashi curled around her like an enormous famished snake. When the other students entered the class and saw Kazue, most looked flustered and quickly turned their eyes away as if they’d just seen something they were not supposed to see. But clearly oblivious, Kazue sauntered over to one of the girls on the ice-skating team who had earlier borrowed her notes.
“Kazue, what happened to you?”
Kazue stared up at the student as if in a daze, embarrassed.
“You can’t go and take time off before the test!”
“I’m sorry.”
“You can at least lend me your English and Classics notes.”
Kazue nodded timidly, over and over. She plopped her school satchel down on the desk in front of her. Not surprisingly, the student who was sitting there looked up at Kazue angrily. She was an insider with very savvy fashion sense, well known for being good at baking cookies and cakes. She was reading a cookbook when Kazue interrupted her.
“Hey, you can’t just go slamming stuff down on other people’s desks, you know. I’m trying to figure out what cookies to bake. Show a little consideration.”
“I’m sorry.”
Kazue bowed again and again in apology. The unusual aura that had earlier suffused Kazue’s entire body was now nowhere to be found. Instead she looked peaked and ugly, like a fruit squeezed of all its juice.
“Look here, you got some mud on my book! How can you be so rude?”
Miss Cookbook made a big show of wiping off her book. Kazue had probably set her satchel down on the train platform while she was on her way to school, or she’d rested it on the sidewalk and the bottom had gotten soiled. A number of students who heard what the girl had to say flushed slightly with excitement at her words, but the rest just pretended not to hear. Kazue handed over her notes and then, drenched in the student’s belittling gaze, retraced her steps to her own desk. She turned back to look at me for support. I instinctively looked away, but not before I could sense what she was thinking. Help me. Get me out of here! I suddenly remembered that snowy night in the mountains when Yuriko had chased after me. That overwhelming impulse to use all my strength to ward off something horrible. The exhilarating feeling following the moment I thrust her away. I wanted to do the same to Kazue now, so badly I could hardly stand it. Finally, the first-period math class ended—without Kazue’s badgering the teacher with her usual endless questions.
“Hey. Hey? Can I ask you something?” As soon as classes had been dismissed, before I could get away, I heard Kazue’s pathetic voice coming up behind me. I had already begun heading down the second-floor corridor.
“What? What is it?”
I whirled around and looked at Kazue straight on, causing her to avert her eyes, a pained expression on her face.
“It’s about Takashi.”
“Oh? Did you get an answer from him?”
“Yes. Yes, I did,” Kazue answered reluctantly. “Four days ago.”
“That’s terrific! What did he say?”
I pretended to be excited—all the while waiting gleefully to see how Kazue would answer. It was going to be so great. But Kazue pursed her lips and said nothing. I guess she was searching for a good excuse.
“Come on, what did he say?” I asked impatiently.
“He wrote that he wants to get together with me.”
What a liar! I stared at Kazue’s face in blank amazement. But she just looked bashful, a blush rising to her shrunken cheeks.
“This is what he wrote: I’ve been interested in you for some time. Thank you for praising my father’s class, that made me very happy. If you don’t mind a younger man, let’s continue sharing letters. Please feel free to ask me about my interests or anything.”
“You’re kidding!”
I almost believed her. I mean, Takashi said he was going to send back her letters, but there was no way I could be sure he had. And besides, he had shown an interest in that pathetic poem, so maybe he did write to her. Or maybe he was evil enough to be teasing Kazue. I realized my plan had backfired and I started to feel desperate.
“Can I see his letter?”
Kazue stared at my outstretched hand and a troubled look flashed across her face. She shook her head vigorously.
“No can do. Takashi wrote that I wasn’t to show the letter to anyone. I’m sorry, I just can’t.”
“Then why are you wearing that scarf? I thought you were going to give it to Takashi as a present.”
Kazue brought her hand quickly to her throat. Medium-width yarn, tightly woven, interspersed with elastic thread. Each band of color was four inches wide in alternating stripes of black and yellow. I watched carefully for her reaction. Go on, what kind of excuse will you have this time?
“I thought I’d use it as my own keepsake.”
Ha! Caught you! I did a little dance.
“I deserve it! I had to wait for him, didn’t I? I waited for a letter from him so I get to keep the present.”
When I tried to grab Kazue’s scarf she batted my hand away.
“Don’t! Your hands are dirty!”
Her voice was threatening. I froze and stared at her. Within seconds she began to blush.
“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”
“That’s all right. It was my fault.”
I turned on my heel and walked off as if I were angry. Let her chase me.
“Wait! I was wrong to say that. I apologize.”
Kazue came after me but I kept walking, refusing to turn around. In fact, I didn’t know what to do next. I was perplexed. What was the truth? Had Kazue really gotten a reply from Takashi or was she just making it up? The school grounds were lively with the sounds of students laughing and carrying on now that classes were over for the day. But even still I could clearly discern the sound of Kazue following me: the patter of her feet, her rough breathing, the sound her satchel made as it slapped against her short skirt.
“I apologize. Wait. You’re the only person I have to discuss things with,” she said.
I thought I heard her crying. I stopped and Kazue caught up. Her tearstained face crumpled and she sobbed like a child left behind by its mother. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me,” she begged
“Why did you say such a thing? I’ve only been kind to you!”
“I know. It’s just that the way you say things sounds so nasty that sometimes it gets on my nerves. Besides, I didn’t really mean what I said.”
“But the two of you are really hitting it off, aren’t you. It’s just like I predicted, isn’t it?”
Kazue stared at me blankly. Finally her face took on such a strange light it would be hard not to describe it as insane.
“That’s right! We’re really hitting it off. Ha-ha-ha!”
“So are you going to go on a date?”
Kazue nodded yes in response and then let out a scream. From the window of the corridor she could see Yuriko and Takashi walking through the school gate. I quickly flung the window open.
“Hey, wait! What are you doing?”
Kazue turned white and looked as if she would run off at any minute. I grabbed the scarf around her neck and tore it off.
“Stop! Stop it!” Kazue begged, as I held her against the corridor wall with all my might.
“Takashiiii!”
Takashi and Yuriko both turned around at the same time and looked up at me. I hung the scarf out the window with both hands and waved it wildly. Takashi, wearing a black duffle coat, stared at me suspiciously. He grabbed Yuriko around the shoulders and escort
ed her out the school gate. A stylish navy-blue coat was thrown over her shoulders. She glared at me reproachfully. Crazy bitch of an older sister!
“What you just did was cruel.” Kazue crouched in the corridor sobbing. Students passing along the corridor looked over at us curiously and then walked off whispering. I gave Kazue back her scarf. She hid it behind her back as if ashamed to have it seen.
“He’s still with Yuriko, it seems. Did you lie to me?”
“No! He really sent me a response.”
“Did he say anything about your poem?”
“He said it was a good poem. Honest.”
“And about the self-introduction letter?”
“That he liked its straightforward honesty.”
“That sounds like what a teacher would write about one of your compositions!”
I was angry so I started to shout. But don’t you agree? Because Kazue lacked any imagination, she was only able to come up with a pathetic story. I wished she’d been able to lie more creatively. “What did your father say?” I asked coldly.
Kazue suddenly grew very quiet. Yes, that’s right. From that day on, Kazue began to fall apart.
• 4 •
That evening I received telephone calls from three different people—quite an event for our household. The first call came while my grandfather and I were watching the detective series Howl at the Sun. The phone startled my grandfather. He scrambled to his feet and ended up tripping over the leg of the kotatsu table. When I thought about it later I realized that Grandfather was probably waiting for a call from Mitsuru’s mother. I couldn’t help but laugh at the way he looked as he rushed to answer the phone. “Eh-hem. Hello,” he said, his voice thick with phlegm. But soon he was standing rigidly at attention. For a con artist my grandfather was timidly honest.
“Thank you for all you’ve done for my granddaughter…. Studying? No chance of that. She ought to be, but she’s just sitting here watching TV…. What’s that? She stopped by your house, did she? Well, thank you for looking after her…. And she even made an international phone call? I had no idea…. No, she didn’t tell me. I’m very sorry for the inconvenience.”
Grandfather went way overboard. Chattering about stuff that was not his business and bowing in apology with the telephone in his hand. My mother was just like that—humbling herself unnecessarily. It gave me a chill just looking at him. Ever since he started his affair with Mitsuru’s mother, I’d begun to close my heart to my grandfather. Finally he handed the phone to me, his brow dotted with a nervous sweat.
“You shouldn’t have said I was watching TV! We’ve got finals next week, you know!” I said.
The call was from Kazue’s mother, Kazue’s fish-faced mother. I recalled Kazue’s dreary house and answered the phone with a curt greeting. Kazue’s father’s muffled voice hit my ears. He must have been standing next to his wife, fidgeting with irritation. Excellent! So my scheme to ensnare that pathetic family was succeeding after all. I had a splendid chance to get my revenge for their being so horrible to me on the day my mother died. For using me as little more than a stand-in for Mitsuru. For coercing me to go home with Kazue. For the cost of the international phone call. I had my chance to trap them all.
“Has my daughter been acting strangely lately?” Kazue’s mother asked nervously.
“Well, that’s not easy for me to say—especially since I was told to have nothing to do with her. I really don’t know.”
“What’s this? I had no idea you’d been told such a thing.”
As Kazue’s mother’s voice grew more and more flustered, Kazue’s father grabbed the phone. In no mood to mess around, he spoke forcefully and with his usual arrogance. “Listen here. What I want to know is whether or not Kazue is still seeing that Takashi Kijima fellow. I thought I could get it out of her, but I ended up losing my temper. You’re just a second-year student in high school, I said. You’re too young; you’d better not be doing anything shameful. But she just started crying and I haven’t been able to get another word out of her. So I’m asking you. Is she involved in unseemly behavior?”
By the time he’d stopped talking I could sense the anger hovering around the edges of his words. I suspected that Kazue’s father was jealous of Takashi. No doubt he wanted to be the only man ever to influence her; he wanted to control her for as long as he lived. Images of Kazue as a dark demon began to loom up in my imagination at that moment, one after another.
“No. She’s not doing anything of the sort. All the other girls are writing love letters and knitting scarves and meeting boys at the school gate and such, but Kazue hasn’t done anything unseemly. I think you must be wrong.”
Her father’s suspicions were particularly sharp because he wasn’t willing to let it go.
“Well, then, who’d she make that ugly scarf for? No matter how many times I ask, she won’t tell me.”
“I heard she made it for herself.”
“Are you saying she would spend all that precious time knitting something like that just for herself?”
“Yes. Kazue is good at handicrafts.”
“And the letters that were sent back? Weren’t they love letters?”
“In social studies class we had a creative writing assignment. I think she wrote those for class.”
“I heard that this student Kijima is the son of one of the teachers there.”
“Yes, that’s right, so I guess she decided to use him as a fictional character.”
“Creative writing, huh?”
My convoluted explanation had done little so far to allay his doubts.
“A parent worries, you know. If she goes on like this, she’s not going to be in any shape for her final exams. She’s got her sights set on the university economics department; she can’t allow her grades to drop.”
“You don’t need to worry about Kazue. She always talks about how much she respects you, sir. She says she wants to be just like her father, and he graduated from Tokyo University. Kazue’s really popular with the other students too.”
Kazue’s father seemed to appreciate my words.
“Good, good. That’s what I always tell her. I tell her that once she gets into college she can date all the boys she wants. If she’s a Q University student, she’ll have her pick of anyone.”
Hmm. I wonder. I could just picture Kazue at university. Unattractive, uncoordinated Kazue? I almost burst out laughing. Why, I wondered, did this clan who trusted “hard work” always defer their own pleasure, their own happiness, to some vague point in the future? It would be too late, wouldn’t it? And why did they always believe so easily everything others told them?
“Well, you’ve certainly reassured me. Good luck with your exams. Please feel free to stop by and see Kazue at any time.”
My, my, what an about-face that was! Is this really the same man who told me to have nothing more to do with his daughter? Kazue’s father hung up the phone. My grandfather, who’d been eavesdropping on the conversation all the while, spoke with bright conceit.
“How about that! I’m not as timid as I used to be. I wasn’t one bit nervous about talking to that Q School parent!”
I ignored him and went back to watching my TV show. I’d already missed the best part. I was spreading the evening paper out in front of me in irritation when the phone rang again. Once again Grandfather ran to get it. This time he called out cheerfully, “Yuriko-chan? What a nice surprise. How’ve you been?”
Grandfather looked like he wanted to chat for a bit, but I grabbed the phone from his hand. “What the hell do you want? Spit it out!”
Yuriko laughed brightly in response to my brusque command.
“I see you’re still as grumpy as ever. And here I was calling you politely to tell you something. And I wanted to ask why you called out to Takashi today. You startled me.”
“First say what you called to tell me.”
“It’s about Takashi. I know you probably like him, so I’m just calling to tell you not to get your hopes
up.”
“Why? Is he in love with you?”
“With me? No. I think he’s probably gay.”
“Gay?” Now I was startled. “Why do you think that?”
“Because he doesn’t have the slightest bit of interest in me, that’s why. Nice talking to you!”
How conceited can you get! She really got under my skin. I was furious on the one hand; on the other, things began to make more sense. “So that’s it?” I mumbled to myself. Grandfather turned to look at me and then said somewhat reluctantly, “You know, you don’t need to be so rude to your sister. She’s the only sister you’ve got.”
“Yuriko’s not my sister!”
Grandfather was getting ready to reply, but when he saw how livid I was he thought better of it.
“You’re so angry these days, even with me. Has something happened?”
“Why should something have happened? It’s because of you, you know. Running around with Mitsuru’s mother like that, it’s disgusting. Immoral. The other day Mitsuru’s mother made some stupid suggestion about how all four of us should go out for dinner: you, me, Mitsuru, and her mother. And now I’m not getting on with Mitsuru anymore either because of it. Ever since Yuriko came back, everybody’s turned into a sex maniac. It’s just disgusting.”
Grandfather cringed and seemed ready to shrink into the floor. He turned to look at the bonsai that were lined up in a corner of the room. Now there were only three: the black pine, an oak, and a maple. It was just a matter of time before he sold those as well, and that also pissed me off.
The phone rang a third time. Grandfather moved listlessly toward the telephone but this time I answered first and heard a woman’s hoarse voice calling my grandfather’s first name.
“Yasuji?”
It was Mitsuru’s mother. When she had spoken to me, that time in the car, her voice had been as raspy as her mannerisms were coarse. But when she called out my grandfather’s name, she sounded so sweet you’d think she was the Virgin Mary. I thrust the receiver at my grandfather without saying anything. He snatched the phone from my hand, blushing redder and redder under my gaze, and spoke with a touch of formality. “It’s really pretty there when the plums are in bloom, isn’t it.” It sounded like they were planning a trip, maybe to a hot spring. I sat down by the kotatsu table, stretched my legs out under heated quilts, and lay faceup on the floor pillows, watching Grandfather out of the corner of my eye. He knew I was watching him, so he pretended to be nonchalant but his voice betrayed his excitement.
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