The Maid

by Yasutaka Tsutsui

  He works so hard, that’s why I feel inferior, Teruo thought. He had heard from both his wife and Mrs Ichikawa how Shogo would stay up several nights in a row slaving away on some job that wasn’t particularly profitable.

  And he’s a sort of craftsman who has little interest in social status or money – that, too, must be a source of my sense of inferiority.

  When Naoko came home, Teruo tried hard to act unconcerned. In the back of her mind, Naoko knew what he was feeling, but she was also floating on air thanks to her long conversation with Shogo. She didn’t have a thought for Mrs Ichikawa, who must have been there the whole time. Obviously she had ignored her.

  That night Nanase was disturbed by the couple’s unusually passionate lovemaking. The living room separated Nanase’s small room from their bedroom so she couldn’t hear anything. But the consciousnesses of the couple absorbed in the act took over the entire three-bedroom apartment, and Nanase’s own curiosity made it impossible for her to let down the latch completely.

  While Teruo made love, Naoko fantasized about Shogo. She could only desire her husband when Shogo’s image still burned vividly in her mind. Teruo, aware of this, was trying his best to conjure up Mrs Ichikawa’s image.

  Nanase didn’t have the composure, however, to see the humour in the strange harmony of these rising curves. For the sexually inexperienced Nanase, the Takagis’ self-deception was indecent. And of course, they were deceiving each other as well. Nanase had been subjected to such sexual games in various households, and something more than the mere fastidiousness of a teenager had hardened her superego. For quite a while she had felt that she would never get married.

  The next day, Nanase took her belongings to the Ichikawas. The layout of their apartment was identical to that of the Takagis’, and Nanase was given the same small room.

  However, the Ichikawa living room was in quite a different state from the Takagis’: it had become more of a workroom than a living room. Samples of building materials, catalogues, blueprints and estimates were piled up on the furniture and the floor. One corner was taken up with a big steel desk used for drafting and a side table for materials.

  Shogo had been hired to do the design of a supermarket to be built in the old part of the city. And he had been given only one week to complete the project. His two assistants would take care of the smaller jobs in his tiny office while he spent the week at home, devoting himself day and night to the supermarket contract.

  After helping out the Ichikawas for several days, Nanase realized why Mrs Ichikawa needed a maid. Shogo was far from being a tyrant, but if anything got in the way of his work, he’d invariably blow up. His eating and sleeping habits were irregular. When engrossed in work, he often wouldn’t touch his food. But when he did feel like eating, no matter what time of the day or night, he’d get angry if nothing was ready. So either Takako or Nanase would have to stay up at night. In the daytime, visitors would come calling from the morning on, which meant that both Takako and Nanase had to be awake to receive them. Even if they tried sleeping in shifts, the constant ringing of the telephone in the small three-bedroom apartment made it impossible to do so much as doze.

  The mild-mannered Takako was quite incapable of responding quickly to her husband’s demands, which annoyed Shogo no end.

  “Featherbrain,” he’d shout at his wife abusively.

  Why can’t you be more like Mrs Takagi?

  He wasn’t crass enough to say this out loud, but Takako knew what he was thinking. She had suffered listening to the dizzying, intellectual, quick-fire conversations he would have with Naoko. But she was also well aware that she could never imitate Naoko’s style. Takako, the only daughter in an old-fashioned, loving household, had always obeyed her husband; however, she had begun to find his increasing short-temperedness more than she could handle, and now she was in desperate need of gentle affection. So for her, Dr Takagi was the ideal man. As Takako saw it, her husband’s temperament might strike some as manly, but in fact it was more a display of feminine hysteria. In a sense she was correct. For her, real manliness meant love and concern for a woman. She could feel it in someone like Dr Takagi – good-natured and stable and kind. And here too she was correct in a sense.

  Nanase, whose telepathy had turned her into a people watcher of no mean ability, was well aware that every personality had its good and bad elements. But for two couples to have such clearly opposing viewpoints of each other’s strengths and weaknesses was unusual.

  Nanase had long believed that in spite of all the misunderstandings and illusions one might have concerning another person, there was bound to be a grain of truth. That didn’t mean that if these two couples switched partners they would be able to make a better go of it. They might even end up in a worse state.

  It’s worth making the experiment, thought Nanase. I’ll light their fires and watch what happens.

  Left to themselves, they would do nothing. The four were too sensible to act rashly. But if they were remaining loyal to their respective spouses merely out of a surface morality, then this could easily be destroyed – with a bit of help from Nanase’s power.

  Even if by some chance her scheme ended in disaster for the two couples, Nanase was not about to feel guilty. Obviously, her superego differed from an ordinary person’s. Her morality could not accept such a wide gap between a normal person’s “desires” and “actions”.

  For Nanase, there was nothing immoral about making it easier for people’s fantasies to become reality. She was motivated more by a strict puritanism in regard to human relations and a spirit of enquiry into the workings of the mind. Since Nanase lacked any conception of “God”, she had no qualms about substituting her own actions for the workings of the Almighty. No matter how outrageously she behaved, she would feel neither trepidation nor remorse.

  At the Ichikawas’ she was kept busy with the housework, but occasionally she did have some free time while Shogo was engrossed in his work. In such instances, Takako and Nanase relaxed and made idle chit-chat. Takako would ply Nanase for information about the Takagis. Of course, she’d ask only roundabout questions so Nanase wouldn’t think anything odd, but Nanase could tell from reading Takako’s mind that Takako was really curious about Dr Takagi’s personal life.

  “During his break from one to two, the doctor always goes to the coffee shop on the ground floor of the building. The mistress is almost never home then.”

  Nanase let this out, knowing that Takako was in the habit of going shopping during that time.

  Takako’s heart skipped a beat. She resolved to finish her shopping early the next day, and then go to the coffee shop. Takako was convinced that Teruo would call out to her, and even if they were seen together, no one would think it odd that she was talking to her family doctor.

  I’ll ask him about my insomnia.

  Takako was trying to justify herself.

  It’s not serious enough to go to the trouble of having a check-up. I’m sure that he’d be happy to help me. He wouldn’t think badly of me.

  Nanase had decided that Takako’s heart was the first one she had to set aflame. Naoko’s flame would be the easiest to get going, so Nanase could take her time with her.

  That day, around six in the evening, after making sure Naoko wasn’t home, Nanase went to the Takagis’ to pick up some cosmetics she had deliberately left behind. Teruo, just back from the clinic, was all alone. He wasted no time asking Nanase for a cup of tea.

  The same as ever, thought Nanase.

  He was trying to detain her so he could pump her about the Ichikawas.

  While Nanase was serving the tea, he looked up from his report and asked her how it was going next door, acting as if the question had just popped into his head.

  “Oh, I’m very busy.” Nanase sat down on the sofa, facing Teruo, pretending she was tired.

  “Hmm. Sounds rough.” As if to encourage Nanase to say more, Teruo put his report aside, took up his teacup and peered into its bottom.

 
; “Mrs Ichikawa has insomnia.”

  “That could be a problem. Tell her to come to the clinic when she has some free time.”

  “All right.”

  “Do they get a lot of callers?”

  “Yes, all day long. Oh, sometimes Mrs Takagi drops by to see how I’m doing.” Nanase hoped to stir up Teruo’s jealousy.

  She’s incorrigible.

  Teruo frowned, but he didn’t say anything.

  Obviously she isn’t going over to talk to Mrs Ichikawa. It’s him she wants to see. In that case, why don’t I ask Mrs Ichikawa out for dinner? I’ve had my fill of Naoko’s awful cooking. I’ll tell her to her face that I ate at a restaurant. But I wonder if Mrs Ichikawa has any free time.

  “I feel so sorry for Mrs Ichikawa. She has no time for herself,” Nanase jumped in.

  “Is that so?” Teruo looked disappointed.

  Then I’ll have to make my move when she comes for a check-up. But who knows when that will be.

  Nanase laughed to herself. When Teruo meets Takako tomorrow at the coffee shop, he’ll be sure to make the most of the opportunity.

  To arouse Teruo’s sympathy, Nanase mentioned that Shogo sometimes yelled at Takako hysterically. Nanase realized that she might be speaking out of line, but she also knew that Teruo wasn’t likely to repeat any of this to Naoko.

  When Takako came home the next day, shortly after two, her pale cheeks were flushed. She had agreed to have lunch with Teruo the following day at a fancy restaurant in a nearby hotel. Takako was excitedly going over her conversation with Teruo, without seeming to feel the least hint of guilt. Feelings of superiority to Naoko were even budding inside her. It occurred to Nanase that this might be a big step for the quiet Takako. Inside the ego of someone used to being called an “idiot” and a “featherbrain” by her husband, narcissism and self-respect had suddenly reasserted themselves. She had never considered herself in the same class as Naoko, who was intellectual, tall and so much more beautiful, but now she began to see Naoko as inferior to her. And on recalling the haughty way Naoko ignored her – which had not particularly bothered her up until now – she was even brimming over with a lust for revenge. Although this had been appeased to some degree by Teruo’s indirect complaints of his wife, and indirect praises of her, she felt the need for something more substantial.

  But these emotions had yet to appear on the surface of Takako’s consciousness. She was still busy justifying her own actions.

  It’s nothing. We’re just having lunch so he can give me the medication. The only time I can see him is during his lunch break. “I heard from the maid that you have insomnia.” I wonder if Nana volunteered the information or if he specifically asked her about me. “We can’t have that. Let me give you some medication.” “That’s so kind of you, but since I have to be able to get up at any time, I can’t take anything that will put me into a deep sleep.” That was a stupid reply. And he was being so considerate. “Yes, I also heard from the maid how busy you are. Don’t worry. I won’t give you sleeping pills – just something to calm your nerves.” “Thank you so much. It’s nice of you to be concerned.” I wonder if he thought I was being sarcastic. “You’re so reserved. Just the opposite of my wife.” He smiled. Smiled gently. Like an idiot, I could only muster up a half-smile. “Can you usually get away at this time?” “Uh, yes, well, after shopping, for a bit.” That wasn’t much of an answer. Oh, I feel so embarrassed. “I take my break now. I really should examine you, but…” “No, that’s all right. I just need some medication.” Oh, what a curt reply. I’m sure he thought I was being unfriendly. “Then why don’t I give you the medication around this time tomorrow? Oh, I have an idea. I always have my lunch now, so why don’t we eat together? Good food is important for sound sleep.” He seemed so calm, and I was so keyed up.

  Takako, thinking about the conversation and what to wear the next day, was in a constant fog. Nanase observed this with deep interest. Naturally, Shogo’s rantings became even louder. But Shogo didn’t notice that Takako had a different, dreamy look in her eyes, or find it suspicious that her mind seemed to be occupied with something else. He was busy with the interior design, his weak point, and so he was in a particularly intolerant mood. Several weeks had passed since they had had marital relations.

  When Takako returned home the next day, her face was even more flushed and she was in even more of a state than the day before. She no longer had a thought for the trivial household matters that usually filled her head. Her mind was taken up with her conversation with Dr Takagi. Teruo Takagi’s fat face had got even bigger, now occupying her entire plane of consciousness.

  Her heart aflame, Takako recalled how on leaving the hotel restaurant they had both lost their composure when the cashier asked them for their room number, assuming that they were a married couple staying at the hotel.

  If Dr Takagi and I were married… If we were and he had taken me to our hotel room…

  When Takako thought this far, she felt her body temperature rise. Her fantasy had so excited her that she stood up in confusion, bumped her knees against the coffee table and knocked over a teacup. Then, abruptly awoken from her reverie, she looked about her nervously.

  It’s finally turned into the real thing, thought Nanase, who was finding Takako both a bit amusing and a bit pathetic. Takako, acting as if she had never been in love before, seemed bewildered by her own mental state.

  He invited me out for lunch again tomorrow. I hope it continues… If it continues, what will happen, I wonder.

  When Takako imagined having sexual intercourse with Teruo, her eyes took on a gleam.

  Every time the word “unfaithful” appeared in her mind, Takako would quickly drive it away. She had always believed that infidelity depended on the feelings of the person in question, regardless of whether sex was involved. As the old-fashioned Takako saw it, just having lunch with another man without telling your husband could be considered being unfaithful. Be that as it may, she felt her relationship with the kind Dr Takagi was of quite a different nature. Even when she imagined having sex with Dr Takagi, she was able to think of it as otherworldly, an aesthetic experience unrelated to such filthy concepts as infidelity and adultery. What never occurred to Takako was that this way of thinking in itself might very well be the first sign of infidelity.

  Shogo wrapped up his work at home in a week, and Nanase returned to the Takagis.

  “You poor dear. You must be so tired,” said Naoko. She had never considered the nineteen-year-old girl worthy of her attention, but now she was treating her with a sickening familiarity. “You can take it easy.” Her intentions were only too obvious. Nanase came out with what Naoko wanted to know without waiting to be asked the indirect questions.

  “Mr Ichikawa will be working at the construction site starting tomorrow.”

  “Oh, he won’t be in his office?” Naoko, who had been thinking of visiting him there, looked a little disappointed. “But aren’t they just laying the foundations for the supermarket?”

  “No, I meant the big foreign-goods store that’s going up in the neighbourhood. I hear that the work is nearly finished.” Nanase had passed by the site once, where work was already progressing on the interior design.

  “I had no idea Mr Ichikawa had done the design there too.”

  Naoko mentally licked her lips. She would just happen to pass by and invite Shogo out. Nanase experienced no small thrill in discovering that Naoko was fantasizing about taking Shogo to the same restaurant in the same hotel where her husband would be enjoying lunch with Mrs Ichikawa. It was entirely conceivable that the two couples would run into each other; if that happened, then so be it, thought Nanase. The incident might spur them into acting more decisively, or, conversely, might dissolve into a big argument that would put a quick end to everything. In either case, Nanase would not be personally affected, and however the situation might develop, it was bound to be interesting.

  Teruo no longer tried to question Nanase about Mrs Ichikawa, who
had already made it quite clear that she liked him. By thinking about her, he was preening himself inwardly, luxuriating in a happy self-satisfaction. Again and again he would imagine undressing Mrs Ichikawa and having intercourse with her. It was an obscenely graphic fantasy. Even Nanase, who was used to such male fantasies, couldn’t help grimacing at the string of lewd images.

  Sometimes Teruo would break out grinning, but Naoko never noticed. Since seeing Mrs Ichikawa, he had been paying more attention to his clothes, but the haughty Naoko was oblivious to this too.

  The next day – that is, just before noon on the day Teruo had arranged to have lunch with Takako – Naoko rushed off to Shogo’s construction site. Provided that Shogo didn’t suggest going to some other restaurant he liked, the two couples were bound to meet each other in the hotel.

  At precisely two in the afternoon, when Nanase was alone in the living room, a telephone call came from Naoko.

  “Hello, Nana. It’s me. Is my husband there?” She was trying hard to maintain her usual calm tone, but she was undoubtedly upset. Although Nanase couldn’t read her mind over the telephone, it was obvious that Naoko and Shogo had run into Teruo and Takako at the restaurant. Nanase almost burst out laughing as she imagined the spectacle of the four reduced to a state of shock.

  “No, he isn’t back yet,” she answered, stifling her laughter. “He should be at the clinic now.”

  “I know that much,” Naoko snapped and slammed down the receiver.

  Judging by her mood, I doubt things went very well with Shogo either, thought Nanase. Probably the shock of seeing the husband she had scorned together with the woman she had scorned was so great that it had driven Shogo out of her thoughts. That such an encounter could have brought Naoko and Shogo closer together was inconceivable.

  Several minutes later there was another phone call, this time from Teruo.

  “Hello. Oh, it’s me.” His voice was shaking. “Is Naoko there?”

  “No, she isn’t back yet.”