by Guy Willard
Seiko seemed disappointed. “So early? But there are still some songs I want to hear Tatsuya-san sing for us!”
“Why doesn’t Seiko-san spend the night at our place?” said Tatsuya to Fumio. “It would be no trouble. The two of you can have the bed, and I can sleep on the sofa in the living room.”
“Oh no,” said Seiko. “I wouldn’t dream of inconveniencing you like that.”
“If you’re worried that I’ll overhear you, I’ll spend the night at a friend’s place.”
“A friend?” said Seiko teasingly. “You mean one of your many girlfriends, don’t you?”
“Has Fumio been making me out to be a playboy or something? I’ll get back at you for that, Fumio.”
The pair of them, Seiko and Tatsuya, seemed so much at their ease already. No doubt the beer they’d drunk had helped, but Fumio knew it wasn’t the only reason. The look in Tatsuya’s eyes when he talked with Seiko was a blatant indication of how much he fancied her.
“No,” he said, “I’ll see Seiko to the station where she can catch a taxi home.”
“Party-pooper.” Tatsuya picked up a mike. “All right, you two can leave, but I’m staying here to sing a few more songs. I was just getting warmed up.”
“Good night, Tatsuya-san,” said Seiko somewhat wistfully. “It was nice meeting you.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
Fumio and Seiko went to the counter to pay their bill, and added an extension fee for Tatsuya’s use of the room. Then they headed for the station. As they walked along arm in arm, she pulled herself closer to him.
“I haven’t had so much fun since I can’t remember when,” she said.
“You certainly seemed to be enjoying yourself. Especially during that duet with Tatsuya. You two sounded good together.”
“He has a very nice voice.”
“So do you, Seiko.”
“You know,” she said after a pause, “wouldn’t it be nice if we could set Tatsuya up with one of my unmarried girlfriends?”
“Hmm.” Fumio gazed at her sideways, thinking of the happy look on her face as she’d chatted with Tatsuya. “Are you sure you don’t want him for yourself? After all, you and I aren’t officially married yet.”
“Silly....” She hit him hard in the ribs with her elbow, then walked ahead a few paces so he couldn’t see the expression on her face. As she passed under a street lamp, she suddenly called back over her shoulder with a saucy look: “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were actually jealous.”
“Jealous? Who wouldn’t be?” What he’d intended as a joke was turning, with no volition on his part, into a spiteful teasing which gave him a strangely perverse satisfaction. “You were practically making love with him with your eyes.”
“I was not!”
“You were, too. And I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a hard-on for you.”
“How indecent.” She seemed genuinely hurt by his words, and Fumio regretted what he’d said. And then she suddenly seemed to cheer up. “Actually, I’m happy that you feel so jealous. It only proves how much you care for me.”
“Well….” He scratched his head awkwardly, secretly relieved at her misunderstanding.
She pulled closer to him and pressed her face against his shoulder. Then she put her mouth to his ear. “If you like,” she whispered, “we can go to a love hotel from here.”
Fumio felt a stab of anger. He knew she’d become aroused from being with Tatsuya tonight, and in her mind, he himself would probably be serving as a substitute for the man she really wanted. But he had no intention of letting her have Tatsuya even in this indirect manner.
“I’d love to,” he said, “but I can’t just leave Tatsuya back there waiting for me.”
“I suppose not….”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right.”
At the station there was a long line of cabs waiting at the taxi stand. Seiko got into the first one and Fumio waved as she was driven away. On his way back to the karaoke place, he realized that her amorous behavior tonight could easily be explained by her sexual frustration…for which he himself was to blame. They’d tried to make love several times since their first attempt, but he had either been “premature” or unable to get erect from the start. And though she’d never once complained about it, he knew it had to be very difficult for her.
When he got back to the karaoke room, Tatsuya seemed somewhat surprised to see him.
“Back so soon?” he said with a puzzled look. “You needn’t have been concerned about my feelings.”
“What do you mean?”
“I thought for sure the two of you were headed for a hotel.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, it seemed to me she was definitely in the mood for it.”
“Unfortunately she has to get up early tomorrow morning, so we had to call it off.”
“A pity. I envy you, Fumio. You can tell just by looking at her that she’s good in bed.”
“Wouldn’t you like to know….”
“Bastard!” Tatsuya threw the song menu at his head but Fumio easily managed to dodge it with a quick sideways twist.
21
Fumio found life in the Akiyoshi home, after an initial period of adjustment, rather pleasant. It had been years since he’d last enjoyed the security of being part of a family. Getting married to Seiko had turned out to be much simpler than expected. They’d both gone to the city office for the necessary paperwork, which they’d filled out, stamped with their personal seals, and turned in, all in one afternoon. In Fumio’s case, he’d also had to apply for an official name change, along with the transfer of his name from his family registry in Yamagata to the professor’s—a process which would take somewhat longer.
His mother had told him over the phone that she was a little saddened by all this, but Fumio cheered her up with the prospect of a big wedding ceremony sometime next year at one of Tokyo’s most exclusive hotels…something which was bound to impress their relatives in Yamagata, all of whom would be invited, of course.
When the changes were finalized, he received word from the city office that his name was now Akiyoshi Fumio, and that he was the officially adopted son of the professor and his wife.
The living arrangements of the two-generational household were the usual in such cases: the younger couple lived on the second floor so that the older people wouldn’t have the inconvenience of climbing the stairs. The upper floor consisted of a bedroom for the young couple, a study for Fumio, plus another room for the children to come. In addition, there was a small, western-style toilet. But for bathing, they still had to use the Japanese-style wooden bath downstairs. Also, because the only kitchen in the house was on the first floor, Seiko would have to cook downstairs. This didn’t matter much because the younger couple ate their meals in the dining room next to the kitchen anyway, usually late at night after the older couple had gone to bed.
In the evenings, Fumio enjoyed sitting on the tatami mats in the living room, watching TV. The sliding doors could be opened onto the garden, allowing a cool breeze to play through the room. The house was built in the old-fashioned Japanese style, in a quiet residential area about five minutes’ drive from Kunitachi Station. Most of the homes here had stubbornly kept their Japanese character, with hedges lining the front, and walled-in gardens behind. There was an ume-plum tree in the garden, as well as a small pond filled with carp.
He’d just come home from school today, and Seiko brought out a tray from the kitchen holding a bottle of beer and a chilled glass. “Would you like to take a bath first, or have dinner? Mother has cooked for us today.”
“In that case, I think I’d like to eat first.”
“Fine.”
The older woman began setting out the dinner things, and wouldn’t dream of allowing Fumio to help her. It was Seiko’s duty to assist with the serving. When everything was ready, the three of them began eating.
“Seiko,” said her mother, “mi
nd your manners.”
The way Seiko held her chopsticks was a bit childlike, and her mother was constantly apologizing to Fumio whenever she noted this lapse in her daughter.
“We’ve spoiled her,” she said. “This child is hard-headed and willful, and must have her own way. I hope you’ll bring her into line, Fumio-san.”
Seiko groaned. “Mother, we are not living in the Meiji period. A husband does not bring his ‘bride’ into line anymore.”
Fumio laughed. “It’s true, Mother,” he said. “If a man these days tried to tell his wife what to do, she’d divorce him just like that. No, I’ll let her do as she likes, as much as possible. An independent woman is an asset to any marriage.”
“You indulge her too much,” said the older woman, though with a smile. “Seiko, make sure you hold onto Fumio-san, because you’re not likely to find another man as kind as he is.”
“I’m quite happy with him, thank you.”
As soon as Seiko had finished eating, she excused herself and went upstairs.
Fumio stayed on chatting with his mother-in-law. Though she didn’t drink much, she accepted the glass of beer he poured out for her and merely took ceremonial sips from it as he drank his. He could hear Seiko upstairs laying out the futon.
“Fumio-san, you’re going to have quite a handful with our selfish daughter. I only hope marriage will make her more responsible.”
“On the contrary, it is I who will constantly be in her debt.”
“My, my, you are the newlywed, aren’t you? But of course, you’re at the happiest period right now, so I suppose it can’t be helped.”
Fumio smiled, but he secretly hated this remark. It always sounded like an ominous warning that things would go downhill after this. What he resented most was the necessity of putting on an act of delirious joy whenever anyone congratulated him upon his marriage.
“Why don’t you take your bath now?” she said.
“What time is Father coming home?”
“Oh, he has to attend a ceremonial dinner, so he said he might be a little late tonight.”
Fumio went down the hallway to the bathing room, where he slipped out of his clothes and got into the tub. As he sank down into the piping hot water, he let out a contented sigh. What added to his pleasure was that the bath tub was made of hinoki wood, and its fragrance, brought out by the hot water, filled the tiny dark bathroom. The little window was halfway open, allowing a bare glimpse of the darkening sky. The leaves of the ginkgo tree next door were silhouetted against the frosted window glass like a shimmering lace curtain.
Seiko knocked on the door and slid it open, placing his yukata in the wickerwork basket. “Would you like me to wash your back for you?”
“No thank you.”
He finished bathing and dried himself off. And then he tied his loincloth on—he’d become quite adept at it by now—before slipping on the light kimono. The professor had asked him to always wear Japanese yukata in the evening. Feeling relaxed after his bath, he went into the kitchen, poured himself a glass of beer and settled down in a bamboo armchair on the veranda.
Seiko had gone to take her bath, and her mother had retired to her room. Left alone for a few minutes, Fumio gazed blankly out into the garden, idly following the progress of the smoke from the mosquito coil at his feet. In a little while Seiko came out to join him, wearing her striped pajamas. She too had a glass of beer in her hand.
They chatted for a few minutes, but Seiko soon realized that Fumio was feeling sleepy after his bath.
“If you’re tired, why don’t you turn in? Don’t worry about Father. I’ll look after him.”
“All right.” Going upstairs to their room, he noticed right away that the two futons were lying side by side with no gap between them, a sign that Seiko probably looked forward to making love tonight. In the weeks he’d been living here, they had yet to physically inaugurate their official status as husband and wife.
As he sat there smoking his cigarette, wondering what to do, he heard the front door opening downstairs. It seemed the professor was back. His relief at this interruption was tempered by the fact that he would have to go down to drink with him. After finishing off his cigarette, he got up with a sigh.
By the time the professor came out to greet Fumio in the living room, he was already wearing his own yukata. His wife was in their bedroom putting away his suit. Seiko was in the kitchen preparing his nightcap and the snacks to go with it.
“Ah, Fumio-kun. Why don’t you sit over here?” He indicated a place at the table as he seated himself on the seat cushion opposite.
The older man had never looked as relaxed and joyful as he’d been since Fumio moved in. In fact, anyone would have thought it was the professor himself who was the happy newlywed.
As Seiko brought out the cocktails she’d prepared, the professor tapped out a cigarette from his pack. The two men sat watching TV as they drank. Long after the women of the house had retired, the professor and Fumio continued drinking and talking. Akiyoshi’s face was flushed and his eyes had an unfocussed look. Obviously he’d drunk quite a bit at his dinner, and the additional cocktails he was drinking now had further intoxicated him.
As they talked, Fumio leaned back a little, cooling himself off with a paper hand-fan, purposely allowing his yukata to become a little disheveled, revealing generous glimpses of his white cotton loincloth.
Though he didn’t look in the professor’s direction, he knew exactly where the other man’s attention was focused. Fumio got a furtive pleasure from this little game of allowing glimpses—and glimpses only—for he knew what a thrill it gave the professor. It was the least he could do in return for all that had been done for him.
He took another sip of his drink and threw his head back to laugh—ostensibly at a joke on TV. Glancing at his father-in-law, he noted the older man’s head nodding heavily. Fumio yawned, stretched, got up.
“If you’ll excuse me, Father, I have to use the toilet.”
The professor seemed not to have heard him. Fumio stepped out into the darkened hallway and walked down to the urinal room just beside the toilet. As he closed the door behind him and began loosening his loincloth, he heard a slight noise out in the hallway.
“Is that you, Seiko?” he asked.
The door slowly creaked open.
“It’s me,” whispered the professor. He tiptoed in.
“What are you doing, Father? Someone’s sure to see you!”
“Don’t worry. They’re both asleep.”
“You promised not to do anything in your home.”
“I know. I just want to stand here, that’s all.” He was practically begging for permission, like a little boy pleading for candy.
Fumio could hear the clock ticking loudly in the other room. Suddenly the professor put his arms around Fumio’s shoulders. Instinctively, Fumio pushed him away with his elbow. The older man tumbled backwards, hitting the door with a loud bang and rolling out into the hallway.
A commotion was heard from the direction of the older couple’s bedroom. “What’s the matter?” called the professor’s wife.
“Nothing,” Akiyoshi answered in a calm voice. “I just had a little slip on the floorboards. A bit too much to drink tonight, perhaps. I’m no longer as young as I once was.”
The sound of slippers shuffling along the floor indicated the approach of the professor’s wife. Her voice sounded concerned. “Be careful, Father. Here, take my arm.”
“I’m all right,” said Akiyoshi in an exasperated tone. “Fumio-kun will lend me his shoulder. Won’t you?”
“Of course, Father.” He had put his yukata back in order and stepped out into the hallway before the light could be switched on. The older man got to his feet, leaning heavily on the young man’s shoulder. As they made their way to the older couple’s bedroom just beside the front entrance, Fumio could feel the warmth of the older man’s body through the light cotton material of their kimonos. It was all he could do to repress a shudd
er.
When he said goodnight and left them, he heard Seiko upstairs quietly opening the door of their room. As he mounted the stairs, he pretended to miss a step so he could bang his knee. Alarmed, she hurried down and helped him to his feet, guiding him the rest of the way up.
As she settled him into his futon, he murmured, “I’m sorry. I think I had too much to drink tonight. Your father was so happy that he wouldn’t let my glass get empty.”
“I understand. Please sleep it off, and let’s hope you’re okay in the morning.”
She turned out the light and curled up snugly in her own futon, with her back to him. Fumio could tell she was secretly disappointed. At the same time, he wondered if the professor had made him drink too much on purpose, to prevent the young couple from making love tonight. Was the old man actually jealous of his own daughter?
22
Fumio had kept his marriage a secret from his university friends, so when Harada, Kurita, and Mori invited him to an all-night party, he had no choice but to accept. There would be three girls attending as well, making up a total of seven. Harada, who was in charge of the get-together, had rented a party room in Shinjuku for the occasion.
By midnight, the celebration had gotten to its wild stage. Everyone had already done their party tricks: Kurita’s usual impersonations of well-known singers, and Mori’s rather dismal magician’s tricks. Fumio’s specialty was something he used to do back in high school when his soccer club had their get-togethers: he stripped his torso bare and applied cosmetics to make it look like a face, then made that face go through various expressions using his abdominal muscles.
Now Harada stood up and suggested they play the classic party game yakyuken. Two people—a boy and a girl—would dance and cavort to the accompaniment of everyone’s singing and handclaps, and then climax their performance with rock-paper-scissors. The loser had to strip off one item of clothing. The game would continue until one of the players was too embarrassed to remove anything more, whereupon the other was declared the winner.