Throughout the following day, Ogata-Sàn remained in the apartment often studying the chess game which—so he told me—had been interrupted at a crucial stage the previous night. Then that evening, an hour or so after we had finished supper, he brought out the chess-board again and began once more to study the pieces. Once, he looked up and said to my husband:
“So, Jiro. Tomorrow’s the big day then.”
Jiro looked up from his newspaper and gave a short laugh. “It’s nothing to make a fuss about," he said.
“Nonsense. It’s a big day for you. Of course, it’s imperative you do your best for the firm, but in my view this is a triumph in itself, whatever the outcome tomorrow. To be asked to represent the firm at this level, so early in your career, that can’t be usual, even these days.”
Jiro gave a shrug. "I suppose not. Of course, even if tomorrow goes exceptionally well, that’s no guarantee I’ll get the promotion. But I suppose the manager must be reasonably pleased with my efforts this year.”
“I should think he has great faith in you, by all accounts. And how do you think it will go tomorrow?”
“Smoothly enough, I should hope. At this stage all the parties involved need to co-operate. It’s more a case of j laying the groundwork for the real negotiations in the autumn. It’s nothing so special."
“Well, we’ll have to just wait and see how it goes. Now, Jiro, why don’t we finish off this game. We’ve been at it for three days.”
“Oh yes, the game. Of course, Father, you realize however successful I am tomorrow, that’s no guarantee I'll be given the promotion.”
“Of course not, Jim, I realize these things. I came up through a competitive career myself. I know only too well how it is. Sometimes others are chosen in preference who by all rights shouldn’t even be considered your equals. But you mustn’t let such things deter you. You persevere and triumph in the end. Now, how about finishing off this game"
My husband glanced towards the chess-board, but showed no sign of moving nearer it. "You’d just about won, if I remember," he said.
"Well, you’re in quite a difficult corner, but there’s a way out if you can find it. Do you remember, Jiro, when I first taught you this game, how I always warned you about using the castles too early? And you still make the same mistake. Do you see?”
"The castles, yes. As you say.”
“And incidentally, Jim, I don’t think you’re thinking your moves out in advance, are you? Do you remember how much trouble I once took to make you plan at least three moves ahead. But I don’t think you’ve been doing that.”
“Three moves ahead? Well, no, I suppose I haven’t. I can’t claim to be an expert like yourself, Father. In any case, I think we can say you’ve won.”
“In fact, Jiro, it became painfully obvious very early in the game, that you weren’t thinking your moves out, How often have I told you? A good chess player needs to think ahead, three moves on at the very least.”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
For instance, why did you move this home here? Jiro, look, you’re not even looking. Can you even remember why you moved this here?”
Jim glanced towards the board. “To be honest, I don’t remember,” he said. “There was probably a good enough reason at the time."
“A good enough reason? What nonsense, Jiro. For the first few moves, you were planning ahead, I could see that. You actually had a strategy then. But as soon as! broke that down, you gave up, you began playing one move at a time. Don’t you remember what I always used to tell you? Chess is all about maintaining coherent strategies. It’s bout not giving up when the enemy destroys one plan but to immediately come up with the next. A game isn’t won and lost at the point when the king is finally cornered. The gaines sealed when a player gives up having any strategy at all. When his soldiers are all scattered, they have no common cause, and they move one piece at a time, that’s when you’ve lost.”
“Very well, Father, I admit it. I’ve lost. Now perhaps we can forget about it.”
Ogata-San glanced towards me, then back at Jiro. "Now what kind of talk is that? I studied this board quite hard today and I can see three separate means by which you can escape”
My husband lowered his newspaper. "Forgive me if I’m mistaken” he said, “but I believe you just said yourself, the player who cannot maintain a coherent strategy is inevitably the loser. Well, as you’ve pointed out so repeatedly, I’ve been thinking only one move at a time, so there seems little point in carrying on. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to finish reading this report.”
“Why, Jiro, this is sheer defeatism. The game’s far from lost, I’ve just told you. You should be planning your defence now, to survive and fight me again. Jiro, you always had a streak of defeatism in you, ever since you were young. I’d hoped I’d taken it out of you, but here it is again, after all this time."
“Forgive me, but I fail to see what defeatism has to do with it. This is merely a game
“It may indeed be just a game. But a father gets to know his son well enough. A father can recognize these unwelcome traits when they arise. This is hardly a quality I’m proud of in you, Jiro. You gave up as soon as your first strategy collapsed. And now when you’re forced on to the defensive, you sulk and don’t want to play the game any more. Why, this is just the way you were at nine years old.”
“Father, this is all nonsense. I have better things to do than think about chess all day.”
Jiro had spoken quite loudly, and for a moment Ogata-San looked somewhat taken aback.
“It may be very well for you, Father,” my husband continued. “You have the whole day to dream up your strategies and ploys. Personally, I have better things to do with my time.”
With that, my husband returned to his paper. His father continued to stare at him, an astonished look on his face. Then finally, Ogata-San began to laugh.
“Come, Jiro,” he said, “we’re shouting at each other like a pair of fishermen’s wives.” He gave another laugh. “Like a pair of fishermen’s wives.
Jiro did not look up.
Come on, Jiro, let’s stop our argument. If you don’t want to finish the game, we don’t have to finish it.”
My husband still gave no sign of having heard.
Ogata-San laughed again. “All right, you win. We won’t play any more. But let me show you how you could have got out of this little corner here. There’s three things you could have done. The first one’s the most simple and there’s little I could have done about it. Look, Jiro, look here. Jiro, look, I’m showing you something.”
Jiro continued to ignore his father. He had all the appearance of someone solemnly absorbed in his reading. He turned over a page and carried on reading.
Ogata-San nodded to himself, laughing quietly. Just like when he was a child,” he said. “When he doesn’t get his own way, he sulks and there’s nothing to be done with him.” He glanced towards where I was sitting and laughed rather oddly. Then he turned back to his son. “Jiro, look. Let me show you this at least. It’s simplicity itself.”
Quite suddenly, my husband flung down his news-paper and made a movement towards his father. Clearly, what he had intended was to knock the chess-board across the floor and all the pieces with it. But he moved clumsily and before he could strike the board, his foot had upset the teapot beside him. The pot rolled on to its side, the lid fell open with a rattle, and the tea ran swiftly across the surface of the tatami. Jiro, not sure what had occurred, turned and stared at the spilt tea. Then he turned back and glared at the chess-board. The sight of the chessmen, still upright on their squares, seemed to anger him all the more, and for a moment I thought he would make another attempt to upset them. As it was, he got to his feet, snatched up his newspaper, and left the room without a word.
I went over quickly to where the tea had spilt. Some of the liquid had begun to soak into the cushion Jiro had been sitting on. I moved the cushion and rubbed at it with the edge of my apron.
“Jus
t like he used to be,” Ogata-San said. A faint smile had appeared around his eyes. “Children become adults but they don’t change much.”
I went out into the kitchen and found a cloth. When I returned, Ogata-San was sitting just as I had left him, the smile still hovering around his eyes. He was gazing at the puddle on the tatami and looked deep in thought. Indeed, he seemed so absorbed by the sight of the tea, I hesitated a little before kneeling down to wipe it away.
“You mustn’t let this upset you, Etsuko,” he said, eventually. “It’s nothing to upset yourself about.”
“No.” I continued to wipe the tatami.
“Well, I suppose we might as well turn in fairly soon. It’s good to turn in early once in a while.”
“Yes.”
“You mustn’t let this upset you, Etsuko. Jim will have forgotten the whole thing by tomorrow, you’ll see. I remember these spells of his very well. In fact, it makes you quite nostalgic, witnessing a little scene like that. It reminds me so much of when he was small. Yes, its endugh to make you quite nostalgic."
I continued to wipe away the tea.
"Now, Etsuko" he said. “This is nothing to upset yourself about.
I exchanged no further words with my husband until the following morning. He ate his breakfast glancing occasionally at the morning newspaper I had placed beside his bowl. He spoke little and made no comment on the fact that his father had not yet emerged. For my part, I listened carefully for sounds from Ogata-San’s room, but could hear nothing.
“I hope it all goes well today,” I said, after we had sat in silence for some minutes.
My husband gave a shrug. "Its nothing to make a fuss about, he said. Then he looked up at me and said: “I wanted my black silk tie today, but you seem to have done something with it. I wish you wouldn’t meddle with my ties.”
“The black silk one? It’s hanging on the rail with your other ties."
“It wasn’t there just now. I wish you’d stop meddling with them all the time.”
“The silk one should be there with the others, I said. “I ironed it the day before yesterday, because I knew you’d be wanting it for today, but I made sure to put it back. Are you sure it wasn’t there?’
My husband sighed impatiently and looked down at the newspaper. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “This one will have to do.”
He continued to eat in silence. Meanwhile, there was still no sign of Ogata-San and eventually I rose to my feet and went to listen outside his door. When after several seconds I had not heard a sound, I was about to slide open the door a little way. But my husband turned and said:
“What are you up to? I haven’t got all morning, you know.” He pushed his teacup forward.
I seated. myself again, put his used dashes away to one side, and poured him some tea. He sipped it rapidly, glancing over the front page of the newspaper.
"This is an important day for us," I said. “I hope it goes
“It’s nothing to make such a fuss about,” he said, not looking up.
However, before he left that morning, Jiro studied himself carefully in the mirror by the entryway, adjusting his tie and examining his jaw to check he had shaved efficiently. When he had left, I went over once more to Ogata-San’s door and listened. I still could hear nothing.
"Father?" I called softly.
“Ah, Etsuko,” I heard Ogata-San’s voice from within. "I might have known you wouldn’t let me lie in.”
Somewhat relieved, I went to the kitchen to prepare a fresh pot of tea, then laid the table ready for Ogata-San’s breakfast. When he eventually sat down to eat, he remarked casually:
“Jiro’s left already, I suppose.”
“Oh yes, he went a long time ago. I was just about to throw Father’s breakfast away. I thought he’d be far too lazy to get up much before noon.”
“Now, don’t be cruel, Etsuko. When you get to my age, you like to relax once in a while. Besides, this is like a Vacation for me, staying here with you.”
“Well, I suppose just this once then, Father can be forgiven for being so lazy.”
“I won’t get the opportunity to lie in like this once I get back to Fukuoka,” he said, taking up his chopsticks. Then he sighed deeply. “I suppose its time I was getting back soon.”
“Getting back? But there’s no hurry, Father.”
“No, I really have to be getting back soon. There’s plenty well.” of work to be getting on with."
“Work? What work is that?”
“Well for a start, I need to build new panels for the veranda. Then there’s the rockery. I haven’t even started on it yet. The stones were delivered months ago and they’ve just been sitting there in the garden waiting for me.” he gave a sigh and began to eat. “I certainly won’t get to lie in like this once I get back.”
"But there’s no need to go just yet, is there, Father? Your rockery can wait a Ii ttle longer.”
“You’re very kind, Etsuko. But time’s pressing on now. You see, I’m expecting my daughter and her husband down again this autumn, and I’ll need to get all this work finished before they come. Last year and the year before, they came to see me in the autumn. So I rather suspect they’ll want to come again this year.”
"I see."
“Yes, they’re bound to want to come again this autumn. It’s the most convenient time for Kikuko’s husband. And Kikuko’s always saying in her letters how curious she is to see my new house.”
Ogata-San nodded to himself, then carried on eating from his bowl. I watched him for a while.
“What a loyal daughter Kikuko-San is to you, Father,” I said. “It’s a long way to come, all that way from Osaka. She must miss you.”
“I suppose she feels the need to get away from her father- in-law once in a while. I can’t think why else she would want to come so far.”
“How unkind, Father. I’m sure she misses you. Ill have to tell her what you’re saying.”
Ogata-San laughed. “But it’s true. Old Watanabe rules over them like a war-lord. Whenever they come down, they’re forever talking about how intolerable he’s getting. Personally I rather like the old man, but there’s no denying he’s an old war-lord. I expect they’d like some place like this, Etsuko, an apartment like this just to themselves. It’s no bad thing, young couples living away from the parents. More and mow couples do it now. Young people don’t want overbearing old men ruling over them for ever.”
Ogata-San seemed to remember the food in his bowl and %egan to eat hurriedly. When he had finished, he got to his Feet and went over to the window. For a moment he stood there, his back to me, looking at the view. Then he adjusted the window to let in more air, and took a deep breath.
“Are you pleased with your new house, Father?” I asked. . “My house? Why, yes. It’ll need a little more work here and there, as I say. But it’s much more compact. The Nagasaki house was far too large for just one old man.”
He continued to gaze out of the window; in the sharp —morning light, all I could see of his head and shoulders was a hazy outline.
“But it was a nice house, the old house,” I said. “I still stop and look at it if I’m walking that way. In fact, I went past it last week on my way back from Mrs. Fujiwara’s.”
I thought he had not heard me, for he continued to gaze silently out at the view. But a moment later, he said:
“And how did it look, the old house?”
“Oh, much the same. The new occupants must like it the way Father left it.”
He turned towards me slightly. “And what about the azaleas, Etsuko? Were the azaleas still in the gateway?” The brightness still prevented me from seeing his face clearly, but I supposed from his voice that he was smiling.
"Azaleas?”
“Well, I suppose there’s no reason why you should remember.” He turned back to the window and stretched rut his arms. "I planted them in the gateway that day. The day it was all finally decided.”
“The day what was decided?”
&n
bsp; “That you and Etsuko were to be married. But I never told you about the azaleas, so I suppose it’s rather unreasonable of me to expect you to remember about them” -
“You planted some azaleas for me? Now that was a nice thought. But no, I don’t think you ever mentioned it.”
“But you see, Etsuko, you asked for them” He had turned towards me again. “In fact, you positively ordered me to plant them in the gateway."
“What?—I laughed—“I ordered you?”
“Yes, you ordered me. Like I was some hired gardener. Don’t you remember? Just when I thought it was all settled at last, and you were finally to become my daughter-in-law, you told me there was one thing more, you wouldn’t live in a house without azaleas in the gateway. And if I didn’t plant azaleas then the whole thing would be called off. So what could I do? I went straight out and planted azaleas."
I laughed a little. "Now you mention it,” I said, “l remember something like that. But what nonsense, Father. I never forced you.”
“Oh yes, you did, Etsuko. You said you wouldn’t live in a house without azaleas in the gateway.” He came away from the window and sat down opposite me again. “Yes, Etsuko,” he said “just like a hired gardener.”
We both laughed and I began to pour out the tea.
“Azaleas were always my favourite flowers, you see,”I said.
“Yes. So you said.”
I finished pouring and we sat silently for a few moments, watching the steam rise from the teacups.
“And I had no idea then,” I said. “About Jim’s plans, I mean.”
I reached forward and placed a plate of small cakes by his teacup. Ogata-San regarded them with a smile. Eventually, he said:
“The azaleas came up beautifully. But by that time, of course, you’d moved away. Still, it’s no bad thing at all, young couples living on their own. Look at Kikuko and her husband. They’d love to have a little place of their own, but old Watanabe won’t even let them consider it. What an old war-Lord he is.”
“Now I think of it,” I said, “there were azaleas in the gateway last week. The new occupants must agree with me. Azaleas are essential for a gateway.”
A Pale View of Hills Page 12