“Shall we go to my room?”
Leaving the clutter of tea things and the brazier as they were, they left the room.
[ 70 ]
TSUGIKO’S ROOM was unchanged from the days before O-Nobu’s marriage to Tsuda, when it was also hers. The atmosphere from the past when they had sat here at neighboring desks remained in the walls and in the ceiling. The wooden dolls nicely arrayed atop the small cabinet with glass doors were as before. The pincushion embroidered with roses in its wicker basket was as before. The pair of single-stem vases in blue arabesque patterns they had purchased together at Mitsukoshi were as before.
Glancing around her, O-Nobu breathed in the aroma permeating everything of the virgin days she had spent here with Tsugiko. It was an aroma replete with saccharine reveries, and when those reveries had at last resolved themselves with Tsuda as their object, it was she who had danced jubilantly in front of feelings suddenly transformed into vivid flames. She who had assumed, because there was gas, even though it was invisible to her, that a flame had suddenly been lit. She who had concluded there was no need of discriminating in any way between the reverie and reality. Looking back, she saw that more than half a year had passed since that time. At some point it had begun to appear that reverie would, after all, stop at reverie. That reverie, no matter how far it went, was not to be realized. Or at best, that making it come true would prove exceedingly difficult. O-Nobu sighed faintly to herself.
Am I moving away little by little from my tangible self as though it were a pale dream from the past?
With these thoughts in mind, she looked at her cousin seated in front of her. This maiden’s destiny, which would take her down the same path she herself had followed or possibly bring her to a future even more contrary to expectations than her own, would be decided, in a matter of days, by the fall of the dice her uncle held in his hand.
O-Nobu smiled.
“Tsugiko-san, let me draw a lot for you today.”
“Why?
“No special reason. Just let me.”
“But there has to be a goal or it’s meaningless.”
“There does? Let’s choose one then—what would be good?”
“What would be good, how should I know? You have to choose for me.”
Tsugiko couldn’t bring herself to mention marriage. She even appeared troubled that O-Nobu might blurt it out. It was also perfectly clear that she wanted the subject indirectly broached. O-Nobu wanted to make her cousin happy. At the same time, she was unwilling to accept responsibility for something that might become a nuisance afterward.
“How about if I draw and you decide your own question? There has to be something in your heart you want most to know about—make it that, on your own, whatever you want it to be. Do you agree?”
O-Nobu reached for the gift she and Tsuda had bought her, in its usual place on top of Tsugiko’s desk. But Tsugiko moved quickly, gripping her hand.
“Don’t!”
O-Nobu couldn’t withdraw her hand.
“Why not? Let me try. I’ll draw one that will please you.”
O-Nobu, who was emotionally indifferent to the tallies, was possessed abruptly by a desire to play with Tsugiko. The impulse was like an intermediary, helping her recall her maidenly self in the days before her marriage. Employing the strength of her arm to take advantage of another’s weakness vitalized her in a manly way. Having wrested her hand from Tsugiko’s grip, she had already forgotten her original objective. She wanted only to seize the little box of tallies from her cousin’s desk. Or she wanted that merely as a pretext for vying with Tsugiko. They vied. Allowing themselves without embarrassment to cry out in the affected voices that seem to emerge instinctively from women, they lost themselves in playful battle. Finally they managed to upend one of the precious vases on display in front of the writing box. Tumbling offits rosewood stand, the vase fell to the tatami, spilling water as it rolled. The cousins finally released each other. Together in silence they observed the charming vase that had been suddenly dislodged from its natural place. Turning to face each other, as though suddenly gripped by an irresistible impulse, they laughed aloud in unison.
[ 71 ]
THIS UNEXPECTED tussle drew O-Nobu even closer to her childhood. For an instant a freedom she had never felt in Tsuda’s presence revived in her. She had completely forgotten herself in the present.
“Tsugiko-san, you’d better get a rag.”
“Why me? You spilled it, you should clean it up.”
Together they played at mutual concession and more butting of heads.
“Then paper, rock, scissors,” O-Nobu said abruptly, clenching her slender hand into a fist and thrusting it at Tsugiko. Tsugiko complied at once. The jeweled ring on a finger glinted between them. Each round, they laughed.
“That’s sneaky.” “That’s cheating.”
“You’re sneaky!” “You’re cheating.”
By the time O-Nobu finally lost, the spilled water had been neatly absorbed by the desk cover and the weave in the tatami. Calm and composed again, she took a handkerchief from her sleeve and blotted the wet spots.
“We don’t need a rag, this will do perfectly well. It’s not even wet.”
Returning the tipped vase to its original position, she carefully rearranged the disarrayed flowers. Then she settled herself as if she had forgotten completely the ruckus a minute earlier. Appearing to find this unbearably amusing, Tsugiko couldn’t contain her laughter.
When she had contained her laughing jag, Tsugiko removed the box of tallies in its paper cover from her obi where she had hidden it and put it away in the drawer in the bookshelf beside her. As she locked the drawer with a click, she looked pointedly at O-Nobu.
But this interest in meaningless play that Tsugiko appeared able to sustain endlessly couldn’t hold O-Nobu’s attention for long. Having forgotten herself briefly, she sobered more quickly than her cousin.
“How wonderful to be so carefree all the time!”
O-Nobu returned Tsugiko’s gaze. Her harmless remark was lost on her cousin.
“And you’re not?”
“As if you’re not as carefree as anyone,” she might have been saying; and her emphasis seemed to convey an accumulated resentment at being treated by everyone like a young lady who understood nothing of the real world.
“Whatever in the world is so different about you and me?”
Their ages were different. Their personalities were different. But where inside themselves and in what way they differed with regard to being in consideration of others and feeling constrained was a question Tsugiko had yet to consider.
“What sorts of things do you worry about, Nobuko-san? Tell me.”
“I have no worries.”
“That’s what I thought. So you’re as carefree as I am.”
“Perhaps you could say I was carefree—but in a different way from you.”
“What makes you say that?”
O-Nobu could hardly explain. Nor did she feel like explaining.
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
“But we’re only three years apart—just three.”
Tsugiko hadn’t taken into account the difference marriage made.
“It’s not only about age. There are changes in status. When a girl becomes someone’s wife, or when a wife loses her husband and becomes a widow—”
Tsugiko looked doubtful.
“Did you feel less burdened when you were here with us or now that you’re with Yoshio-san?”
“I really couldn’t—”
O-Nobu faltered. Tsugiko didn’t give her a chance to prepare a reply.
“It’s easier now, isn’t it? I thought so.”
O-Nobu felt obliged to respond.
“It isn’t that simple.”
“But he’s the man you wanted, isn’t he? Tsuda-san?”
“He is—so I’m happy.”
“Happy but not carefree?”
“I wouldn’t say I’m not carefree—”
“I don’t know what to say when you grill me that way.”
“I don’t mean to grill you, but I don’t understand so I can’t help it.”
[ 72 ]
AS THE grade of the conversation gradually steepened, it had turned back at some point toward the question of Tsugiko’s marriage. Though O-Nobu wished to skirt the subject if she could, in view of what had passed between them so far she felt an obligation that made avoidance impossible. Even if she couldn’t express the sort of prediction an inexperienced young lady might like to hear, as a slightly older woman who knew more about relations between men and women than her cousin, she wasn’t beyond wanting to extend her the kindness of a relatively emphatic warning. And so she made her way over treacherous ground gingerly and by harmless indirection.
“I don’t know what I can say. Tsuda was a personal matter and I understood myself. But when someone else is involved, it’s like a foreign country to me, I have no idea.”
“Must you tiptoe around?”
“I’m not tiptoeing.”
“But you sound so uninvolved, you sound cold.”
O-Nobu paused a moment before replying.
“Tsugiko-san. There’s something you may not know: a woman’s eyes see clearly for the first time when she encounters the person whose destiny is closest to her own. That’s the moment, the only moment when her eyes accomplish more than ten years of seeing in just one second. And moments like that come very rarely. You might live your whole life and die without ever having one. And so my eyes might as well be blind. At other times—”
“But Nobuko-san, you have such clear eyes, why won’t you use them to see for me?”
“It’s not that I won’t, I can’t!”
“But don’t they say the onlooker sees the go stones more clearly than the players do? You were on the sidelines; you should have been able to see way more impartially than I could.”
“You intend to decide the course of your life based on someone else’s vision?”
“Of course not, but it’d be something to refer to—especially from the person I trust most of all.”
O-Nobu was silent again for a moment. When she began again she was more serious.
“I told you a minute ago I was happy—”
“Yes?”
“You know why I’m happy?”
O-Nobu came to a full stop. Then, before Tsugiko could speak, she subjoined, “There’s only one reason. Because I chose my husband with my own eyes. Because I didn’t rely on an observer watching the game. Do you understand?”
Tsugiko looked forlorn.
“So there’s no chance for someone like me to be happy—”
O-Nobu had to say something. But nothing came to her. Finally, all at once, in a voice that sounded suddenly excited, she spoke in a rush of words.
“There is. There is. Just love someone! And make him love you! If you can just do that, you’ll have more prospects for being happy than you can imagine!”
Vividly etched in her mind as she spoke was an image of Tsuda and no one else. Though she was speaking to Tsugiko, scarcely the shadow of an image of Miyoshi came to mind. Tsugiko, who fortunately had interpreted O-Nobu’s remarks as solely for her own benefit, was not sufficiently stirred to take her exalted mood seriously.
“But who?” she said, looking at O-Nobu as though slightly dismayed. “That gentleman we met last night?”
“It doesn’t matter who. Just love the person you’ve decided is the one for you. And make him love you no matter what.”
The cutting edge of O-Nobu’s pertinacity, normally hidden away, gradually revealed itself. Gentle Tsugiko stepped back a little each time it emerged until, becoming aware of a distance between them not easily bridged, she breathed a quiet sigh.
“Are you doubting what I say? It’s true. I’m not fibbing, it’s true. I’m truly happy, do you understand?”
Having compelled Tsugiko to affirm what she said, O-Nobu continued, as if speaking to herself.
“It’s the same for everyone. A person may not be happy now, but all it takes is her intention and there will be happiness in her future. She will be happy. She will be happy and show everyone. Do you see, Tsugiko, do you agree?”
Failing to understand what O-Nobu was thinking, Tsugiko could only consider vaguely that this prediction was intended to apply to her. But it made little sense no matter how hard she thought about it.
[ 73 ]
JUST THEN the footsteps that had rapidly approached down the hall stopped and the door was thrown open. Home from school, Yuriko barged into the room. Removing the bag hanging heavily from her shoulder and depositing it on her own desk, she spoke only a formulaic word of greeting to her elder sister. “I’m back.”
Her desk was installed in the corner just to the right of where O-Nobu once had sat. Yuriko had been allowed to move in to the room the minute O-Nobu had left to join Tsuda, and she had been far from unhappy about her cousin’s departure. Knowing how she felt, O-Nobu was careful to say something.
“Yuriko-san, here I am again—I hope you don’t mind?”
Yuriko didn’t even say “Welcome.” Lowering her right leg to the tatami from the edge of her desk, where she had rested it as she rubbed her big toe encased in black tabi-socks that appeared to be in need of darning, she replied.
“I don’t mind you being here—as long as your husband hasn’t kicked you out.”
“What a thing to say.” O-Nobu laughed as she spoke and, after a pause, resumed.
“Yuriko-san , if I had been kicked out by Tsuda, I assume you’d feel at least a little sorry for me?”
“Umm, I guess so—”
“And if that happened, I could stay in this room again?”
“I suppose—”
Yuriko appeared to be considering.
“You could stay as long as Sister had left to be married.”
“I mean before Tsugiko-san gets married.”
“You’ll be kicked out before that? That would be—I hope you’d put up with whatever you’d have to not to be—I mean, I’m living here, too.”
Yuriko joined the two older girls in laughter. Without removing her hakama, she moved to the brazier and, sitting down between them, began at once to eat the rice cookies on the wooden tray the maid had brought in.
“Snack time so late? This tray brings back memories.”
O-Nobu recalled the days when she was about Yuriko’s age. She remembered vividly coming home from school and reaching for the eagerly awaited tray. Tsugiko, watching with a smile as her little sister gobbled the cookies, seemed to be recalling the same past.
“Do you do have snack time at home even now?”
“Sometimes—it’s a bother to shop for snacks, but even when we happen to have something at home, it doesn’t taste the way it used to; it’s not as yummy anymore.”
“Because you don’t get enough exercise.”
While they were talking, Yuriko had emptied the tray. Finished, she broke into their conversation as incongruously as bamboo grafted to a tree.
“It’s true—Sister will be going to wife any day.”
“She will? Where?”
“I don’t know, but somewhere.”
“Really? What’s the husband’s name?”
“I don’t know his name, but she’ll be going.”
Patiently, O-Nobu framed a third question.
“What will he be like?”
Yuriko replied insouciantly.
“Probably like Yoshio-san. Because Sister adores Yoshio-san. She says he’s a wonderful person who does whatever Nobuko-san wants.”
Tsugiko flushed and lunged at her sister. Shrieking, Yuriko leaped away.
“Uh-oh, the truth is out.”
Pausing briefly at the entrance to comment, she ran from the room, leaving O-Nobu and her sister behind.
[ 74 ]
SHORTLY THE maid conveyed to O-Nobu an invitation to stay for d
inner, and she left her seat together with Tsugiko once again. The cheerful faces of the entire household were assembled in the bright room. Even Hajime, who had been sulking about something under the engawa and had had to be coaxed out, was engaged in a good-natured conversation with his father. Yuriko had already come in to report that her younger brother had opened his mouth wide and snapped at a rice cookie dangled from above in front of his nose “just like a dog.” Smiling, O-Nobu tuned in to the rambling of her canine cousin.
“When Mercury appears in the sky something bad happens, right, Father?”
“People thought so a long time ago. But now that science has advanced, nobody thinks that anymore.”
“How about in the West?”
O-Nobu’s uncle appeared not to know whether the same superstition had prevailed in Western antiquity.
“In the West? Never in the West.”
“But don’t they say that Mercury came out before Caesar died?”
“You mean before Caesar was murdered—” It appeared that Uncle’s only choice was to camouflage his ignorance.
“You’re talking about the Roman Empire—that’s a different story from the West.”
Persuaded, Hajime lapsed into silence. But he posed another question almost at once. This one, quirkier than the first, he presented as a splendid syllogism. A hole in the ground called a well filled with water; the ground must therefore be on top of water; ergo the ground should sink. Why didn’t it? Uncle’s response was such confabulated nonsense that everyone was amused.
“There’s no way it will sink.”
Light and Darkness Page 19