He’s thinking about her. He’s remembering their love-making. He’s thinking about it while he’s eating. That face. What does he look like when they’re?… What kind of a girl is she? What does he say to her? No doubt the same things he used to say to me. I’m sure she likes to gossip. I wonder if she’s told anyone. She must have another boyfriend, so maybe she’s told him.
Akiko wouldn’t tell anyone, would she? I think she’s sleeping with a student as well. She’s always talking to him. The same guy. Dangerous. Tamako doesn’t have a boyfriend. Tamako’s safer.
Even when he works, he can’t get his mind off her. That’s why he spends so much time shut up in his study. And that’s why his research hasn’t got very far, if you think about all the time he’s put into it. Otherwise by now he’d be… And his research isn’t so difficult. Just when will he get to be a full professor?
As she had often done in her previous jobs, Nanase avoided eating with the family as much as possible. She had to make an enormous effort to eat without reacting to the endless stream of meanness in the minds of the couple.
She couldn’t, however, let down her latch and completely shut out their thoughts. She had to find out the identity of the Hita in Shinzo’s memory. Considering that Shinzo’s field of study was psychology, she couldn’t underestimate the danger.
Shinzo rarely dwelt on his highly theoretical research during meals. Since he could only make deductions after examining a wide assortment of data, he almost never came up with an idea of importance while eating. As a result, Nanase had virtually no chance to gather fresh information about her powers, assuming there was any, from Shinzo’s mind. And since she wasn’t allowed to clean his study, her hopes of secretly reading his books had been dashed. In due course she’d find a way to get into his study, but it seemed wiser to wait for the opportunity to present itself rather than do something rash that might arouse unnecessary suspicion.
One day, when Shinzo came home late because he really had been preparing for a conference, Kikuko was unable to figure out whether or not he was telling the truth. She was still bothered about it during dinner, and she observed her husband closely.
Which was it? Was he really working? Or was he having sex?
Late that night, when Nanase went to the bathroom, she noticed a light on by the sink. Peering from the corner of the hallway, she saw the tall, thin Kikuko in a stark white nightgown standing in front of the mirror. She was holding a condom by her fingertips, staring at her husband’s semen. She seemed to be measuring the amount with her eyes. Kikuko had a pale complexion, sharply etched features and big eyes. These eyes were framed in black and opened so wide Nanase could make out Kikuko’s dilated pupils. Nanase shuddered at the ghastly sight and quietly returned to her room.
As the days passed, Kikuko’s jealousy developed into a fixation. Paradoxically, her play-acting was approaching perfection. While Nanase realized that Kikuko was unconsciously protecting herself from an eruption of her emotions, she also knew that this could have the adverse effect of precipitating a mental collapse. If Kikuko would only bring her jealousy to the surface, accuse her husband, clutch at him and cry hysterically, then she would feel better, thought Nanase. Of course she also knew that Kikuko was quite incapable of such behaviour.
Shinzo, completely unaware of Kikuko’s inner agony, took advantage of the fact that his wife didn’t seem to suspect anything and began an affair with Tamako. Now he made only half-hearted efforts to hide the evidence that would have worried him more in the past. For over a year he had been disgusted by Kikuko, who’d act like a painted harlot to add spice to their nightly bedroom scenes. He had even tired of sex with Akiko. The egotistical scholar, he was only interested in three things: his status at the university, his research and his sex life. Even worse, he didn’t feel the least trace of guilt. After all the self-denials of his student days, he seemed to think that it was now his God-given right to do whatever he pleased. And becoming a professor so young had made him arrogant and self-centred. He had lost all sense of common morals!
Nanase was finding it more and more unbearable to join them at the dinner table.
He’s seeing a new woman.
I prefer Tamako. Kikuko’s such a fool with the way she acts. She thinks she can keep me chained to her.
Just once I’d like to spread out on the bed his lipstick-stained shirt. Maybe I’ll do it. I wonder if I should tell him I’ve known for ages. What would he do then? He’d deny it. No. He’s too childish and selfish. He’d get upset. He’d take it out on me. And refuse to have sex with me.
Tamako is more genuine than Akiko. She has no affectations. She doesn’t act, she keeps nothing back.
The end of us. The end of our marriage. But it wouldn’t come to divorce. His status. His position at school. Any scandal in his private life would affect his advancement. He’s calculating. He’s calculating. Calculating.
The bitch. Pretending to be a good wife and mother – acting so ladylike and refined. For all that, treating me like a child. She has no idea of the importance of my research. For all her modesty, she lives only for sex.
Young girls these days have no qualms. About stealing someone’s husband. The impudence.
Anger towards the unknown woman burned like a red flame in Kikuko’s mind, and for a moment the hand holding her chopsticks shook violently. But she immediately put on a smile, turned to her husband and asked him sweetly if he wanted any more soup.
I’ll kill him.
“OK.”
What’s with that tone of voice?
“Nana, would you please reheat the soup?”
I really feel like killing him.
“Here you are.”
It wouldn’t come to divorce. Once he’s found out, he’d just fool around more openly. He’d be parading his affairs in front of me.
She just lives for sex. She demanded it last night. She’ll demand it again tonight. Her smell gives me a headache. Makes me sick. How can she consider herself an intellectual? Dried-up old bag.
I’ll kill him in the act. Both of them. It’ll be the ruin of all of us. Newspapers. Tabloids. Murderess Lurks Behind Gentle Façade. Big headlines.
Tamako’s youthful sex. Young muscles, young legs, young behind. To give my love only to this woman. Obviously I was made for better things than that.
Just my luck to start working here when they’re having their first marital crisis, thought Nanase. What rotten timing.
Two months after Nanase had arrived at the house, Kikuko went to her parents’ for the day to show them their grandson.
That afternoon Shinzo went off to the university, and Nanase was left alone. She quickly took care of the cleaning and washing, and then, with her heart pounding, she sneaked into Shinzo’s study.
The Western-style room was about seventy square feet. Bookshelves extended from floor to ceiling on all four walls, interrupted only by the door and windows. Almost all of the books were on psychology. There were more books piled up on the parquet floor and on a large desk facing the window that looked out into the back garden. Ten or so volumes lay open. Yet, strangely enough, there was no sense of disorder; even Nanase, who knew little about the academic world, could tell right away that everything was carefully organized.
More than half the books were Western, and most of these seemed to be in German. Many of the newer books were written in English and placed on one part of a bookshelf; among these were the parapsychology studies by Rhine and Saul that Nanase herself had read. Her heart skipped a beat. She couldn’t read German, so she removed a few recent English volumes near Rhine’s book and tried skimming through them, frustrated by her meagre high-school ability. She finally figured out that two of the books were experimental reports on ESP.
Shinzo must have done research on parapsychology! He had written comments in the margins of the books and had underlined certain parts in red. And in the shelves filled with recent publications, there were some popular books on parapsychology written by Ja
panese authors.
Although one glance at the books and materials spread out on the desk made it clear that Shinzo’s current research was unrelated to parapsychology, Nanase was unable to shake off her anxiety.
Looking further, Nanase discovered a thick file labelled “Psi Ability” on a shelf full of files and folders. She opened it excitedly. Psi ability, she knew, referred to ESP.
The ESP ability of about one hundred people, apparently chosen at random, had been measured through tests and recorded on cards resembling medical charts. Judging from the dates, it was clear that Shinzo had been involved in ESP research while still a student.
From among the cards, Nanase discovered one with her father’s name.
Seiichiro Hita.
Nanase was stunned.
Even if Shinzo couldn’t remember exactly who her father was, the fact that he could still remember the name of one out of a hundred subjects must mean that her father had shown some singular ability. The card was a mishmash of numbers and symbols completely indecipherable to Nanase, but instinctively she sensed danger – for herself.
Just at that moment, as if to add fuel to Nanase’s anxiety, the living-room telephone rang.
Nanase panicked. If she left the card where it was and Shinzo came home while she was still answering the phone, she might never get another chance to go into his study. Nanase removed the card and quickly returned the book to its place on the shelf.
It was Kikuko on the phone. After asking if Shinzo was home, she said that she’d be late and gave Nanase detailed instructions for dinner. Nanase was unable to read Kikuko’s mind over the phone, but if her husband hadn’t returned yet, Kikuko probably just assumed he was engaged in, as she put it, one of his “beastly interludes”. In which case she could stay out later herself.
After she hung up the telephone, Nanase stared blankly at the card in her hand. Oh no, she thought. Not having time to open the clasp of the file, she had ripped the card out and torn it in the corner. Now it would be impossible to put the card back.
If Shinzo remembered who Nanase’s father was and discovered that the card was missing, then he’d suspect Nanase first. He might start checking into her background, wondering what she had to hide. And yet there was even greater danger in returning the torn card. On some completely unrelated occasion, he might find that the card had once been ripped out of the file.
Once Shinzo suspects me and begins to investigate, he might uncover my power, thought Nanase with a shiver. She could not keep still. What a blunder I’ve committed, she thought, stamping her feet in vexation. The worst possible scenarios of what might happen to her – scenes she had imagined over and over in the past – flooded her mind. Placed on a laboratory table, surrounded by scholars, cross-examined, her face made public, an object of contempt… Ever since Nanase had realized that the disclosure of her power would spell her doom, these frightening images had tormented her. Her teeth chattered in terror.
As she saw it, the fate of a heretic was the same no matter what the age. After being loathed and feared by all “normal” people, what would be waiting for her? Surely not the death sentence, but there would be experimentation, public exhibition and ostracism, and for Nanase this was more frightening than a death sentence. Yet she could predict all of this with some accuracy. Realistically speaking, once human society learnt she had superhuman powers, it would never leave her alone.
In a daze, Nanase wandered aimlessly from room to room. Just when her thoughts ran to burning the card in her hands, the front doorbell rang. Nanase realized that Shinzo was standing on the porch.
He’s come home early.
Nanase panicked, folded the card in half, hid it behind a beam in the corner of the guest room and dashed to the front door. As she ran, she rubbed her cheeks with both hands: the colour must have drained from her face.
When she opened the door, Shinzo stared sharply at her. On reading Shinzo’s mind, Nanase let out a silent scream. He had remembered who Seiichiro Hita was.
She’s his daughter. I’ll test her at once. Is psi ability hereditary?
His test results should be in my file. I’ll go get them.
“Wasn’t your father the Mr Hita who headed the general-affairs department at Takebe Paper Manufacturing?” asked Shinzo as he took off his shoes.
“Yes, that’s right.” Nanase answered resignedly, knowing that Shinzo had already checked into her background. Trying to deceive him now would be even more dangerous.
“I want to talk to you.” He stared at her again. “Would you like to come to my study?”
Nanase knew it was hopeless, but she hesitated a bit, and then answered, “Mrs Negishi told me to go shopping for dinner.”
“Don’t worry about that.” Shinzo frowned.
I’m the head of this house.
“It’s important. Come right now,” he ordered.
Kikuko’s got even the maid to treat me like a fool.
Nanase nodded, realizing there was no way to get out of it.
“All right. Then I’ll bring some tea right away.”
Shinzo grunted and went straight to his study without bothering to change.
Nanase removed the card from the beam, so she could at least destroy the evidence that she had taken it. She burned it over the kitchen stove. Should I pack my bags and escape right now? No, that would be a mistake – I’d attract even more attention and would be found out in the end anyway. I’ll decide what to do after I figure out how much Shinzo knows.
When Nanase, bearing a tea tray, walked into the study, she imagined that this was how a suspect in a criminal case feels on entering the interrogation room of police headquarters. As she had expected, Shinzo had taken down the file in question and was searching through the cards, puzzled.
That’s funny. It’s the only card missing. I wonder if I gave it to Professor Kabashima because of the unusual results. Even so, I would have kept a copy.
Professor Kabashima had been Shinzo’s adviser when he was a student. He had been especially interested in parapsychology, but luckily for Nanase he had died five years earlier. Nanase was somewhat relieved to find that Shinzo didn’t seem to be linking the disappearance of the card to her. She waited for him to speak, while painstakingly reading every single thought in his consciousness.
“Sit down here.” Shinzo pointed to a small stool next to his steel desk chair. He started questioning her immediately. “Is your father well?”
Why is the only daughter of the general-affairs manager of Takebe Paper Manufacturing working as a maid?
“He’s dead,” Nanase answered. Shinzo had asked the question, knowing her father was dead, so he could gauge Nanase’s reaction. She spoke without expression. “He died two years ago, the year before I graduated from high school.”
“I’m so sorry.”
I’ve got to find that card.
“Did you know my father?” Nanase decided to take the initiative and pick his brain on various matters without giving him a chance to ask questions.
“Yes, I do. I did, rather. I remembered today at the university.” Shinzo had been talking to an old classmate at the university when he recalled who Seiichiro Hita was, and he had called up Nanase’s reference to confirm her father’s name. “Your father once helped with some research. This is probably difficult for you to understand, but he took part in a psychological experiment known as an ESP test.”
His results were amazing. Kabashima was surprised, too. That’s why his name stuck in my mind.
I was right after all, thought Nanase as she immediately considered her next question. Whatever else, she had to keep Shinzo from asking why she was working as a live-in maid. That she feared her power might be detected if she stayed in one place for too long was something even wild horses could not drag out of her.
“Uh… when was that?”
“Seven years ago.”
Why does she keep pestering me with questions? I can’t ask her anything. It should be the other way around.
Nanase read in Shinzo’s mind that at the time the Takebe Paper Manufacturing building had been located next to the psychology department and that they had looked for subjects among the company’s employees. Her father had probably taken the test for fun. Little could he have imagined what disaster this would bring to his only daughter.
Shinzo was itching to give Nanase the ESP test. If she asked him any more questions, the egocentricity common to scholars would come to the surface and he’d flare up at her.
“Your father had a special ability.” Now that Nanase had lapsed into silence, Shinzo started explaining. “Everyone was surprised. We wanted to give him further tests, but seeing that he was general-affairs manager and busy with his work, the opportunity never presented itself. And after a while, we forgot about it.” Actually, the experiment had been discontinued due to Professor Kabashima’s sudden death. “However, it really is a shame that Mr Hita died. Did you hear anything about this experiment from your father?”
“No, I didn’t.” This was the truth.
Nanase knew better than anyone, of course, that her father hadn’t been a telepathist. Considering the extent of her own power, however, he probably did have some kind of ESP ability. But even if he had been told the results of the experiment, her practical-minded father would probably have laughed it off without a second thought. At the time Nanase was already in junior high school and obsessed with her own power, so she would have remembered if her father had mentioned the test.
“This is probably difficult for you to understand, but these are ESP cards,” said Shinzo, taking up the cards he had laid out on his desk and showing them to Nanase.
“This is probably difficult for you to understand” seemed to be one of Shinzo’s stock phrases. But Nanase, of course, was well aware of what ESP cards were. They resembled playing cards, with five cards each of five symbols – a cross, a star, a circle, a square and a wave – making a total of twenty-five cards in a set.
“Professor Rhine from Duke University made these cards for his experiments. Now this is how we conduct the test. The tester and testee sit facing each other with a screen between them. Each time the tester turns up a card, the testee guesses the pattern. In other words, this experiment measures what’s known as clairvoyance, one kind of extrasensory perception. Your father did extraordinarily well on this test. If he had guessed correctly only by coincidence, the probability would have been less than one out of ten to the tenth power, an amazing result. In other words, we can safely say that his rate of success was absolutely beyond coincidence. Are you following me?”
The Maid Page 8