by Taeko Kono
The beauty had remained silent for some time, and Hideko began to feel obligated to draw her into the conversation. “You weren’t at the opera the other evening,” she said.
No sooner were the words out of her mouth than she realized that she couldn’t have chosen anything worse to say. She had already run through all the possible reasons why the woman had not come to Rigoletto. None, she knew, would be a pleasant topic for the couple. How could she have been so stupid?
But the beauty wasn’t at all perturbed. “We didn’t have enough money for us both to go,” was all she said.
“But what a fine Rigoletto it was!” he exclaimed, and launched into singing some lines from the opera. He had a fine voice, if a little high-pitched for a man.
The part he chose began where Rigoletto enters the Duke’s residence and, acting the fool to disguise his concern, sings, “La-la! La-la! La-la!” — keeping an eye out for his daughter Gilda, who has been abducted by courtiers. The hunchback went as far as the chorus’s lines, “Oh, buon giorno, Rigoletto!” (which he managed with aplomb). One of the climaxes of the opera, this scene is also the point where an actor playing Rigoletto has to display his grotesque deformity to the utmost.
The beauty was silent, her expression as self-absorbed as ever.
Hideko’s desire to see the couple together in front of her that night at the performance of Rigoletto now found itself more than fulfilled. She felt terribly envious of the role the beauty was playing — being forced to watch in silent humiliation while her hunchback of a husband sang the part of Rigoletto to a stranger. And her envy only drew Hideko on to desire the sweetness of outright jealousy. . . .
The hunchback stopped. “Now it’s your turn,” he said to his wife.
“But I’m a terrible singer,” she said with visible distress.
The man took no notice. “What’s the song you’re so good at? Oh yes, it’s ‘Batti, batti, bel Masetto,’ isn’t it?”
“No, no, I can’t. Really.”
“Of course you can. You’re always singing it, aren’t you, when you’re scrubbing out your saucepans!”
“You know how bad it sounds when I do. My voice is terrible.”
“Oh, but that’s exactly what I adore,” the hunchback glowered. “Go on! Do as I say,” he commanded.
Finally the young woman began to sing the “Batti, batti” aria by the peasant girl Zerlina from Don Giovanni. No sooner had she started, however, than Hideko was overcome with embarrassment. The woman was right when she said she was a terrible singer. She sounded like a worn-out scratchy record lurching around on an old windup gramophone. The tune bore some semblance to the original, but her voice swerved, going too sharp on high notes and too flat on low ones. That the singer was such a beautiful woman made it all the more excruciating to listen.
His expression softening, the hunchback looked from one woman to the other. Both of them, singer and listener, were near the limit of their endurance. The singing became slower and even more out of tune, and the hunchback began to shake with laughter. Finally, when he was roaring, the singing broke off abruptly, and the man continued chuckling away.
“Well, what do you think?” he asked. “Isn’t she a treasure? Don’t tell me you’re not going to applaud!” He turned to Hideko. “Come on,” he urged, “Give her a hand! Clap your loudest!”
Blushing, the women exchanged sympathetic glances.
“You surprise me!” he said to Hideko. “You don’t know how to clap? Do you want me to teach you?” Springing up, he tried to grab her wrists — and she recoiled. “There’s no need to run away,” he remarked. Still laughing, he sat down and put on a show of clapping wildly by himself.
What a way to behave in front of a first-time visitor!
But by the time Hideko left them, she was no longer judgmental. On the contrary, she thought of the way the hunchback and the beauty had treated her, and thought that she could not have asked for anything more.
The beauty accompanied Hideko to the main road.
“That was such fun,” she said. “It’s so rare that Ken gets to play. It’s amusing, isn’t it, when he does. You will come as often as you can, won’t you? Please come, whenever you like.”
“Are you home every Sunday?” Hideko asked. She wanted to make absolutely certain.
They were at home nearly every day, the woman told Hideko, since Ken did his work there.
Hideko soon became a frequent visitor at the house of the hunchback and his wife. She devoted herself to becoming their friend. She had never met a real man or woman before, she realized. Compared to them, anyone else was just a generic human being.
The hunchback’s outbursts of temper and the beauty’s cringing subservience that Hideko had witnessed at the theater and on her first visit disappeared completely. Soon they asked, even demanded, that Hideko participate; and they were glad to let her share in the pleasure that accrued. Yes, as far as dispensing pleasure was concerned, this fascinating couple certainly had a rare talent. The beauty was usually the one to direct the performance — either because of some unspoken agreement or a natural inclination on her part — and Hideko complied without a second thought.
Mrs. Yamashita had declared several times that Sugino was a peculiar man — and it was true. But then, Hideko had turned out to be more than his match.
“Ken. Go and take a stroll,” said the beauty one afternoon. “You haven’t been out for four or five days. You should get some exercise.”
The hunchback was at work, designing book advertisements and posters.
“Do I have to?” he asked. “Just when Hide is here?”
“Hide will go with you.” The beauty turned and faced her. “Won’t you, Hide.”
“Will you come, too, Haru?” Hideko asked. “Please come with us.” She would have loved a walk outdoors with both of them.
“Me? I want to tidy up his desk while you two are out. That’s what you want, too, isn’t it, Ken?”
“I guess so — let’s go, Hide,” he beckoned.
“Will you wear shoes? Or geta?”
“Oh, geta, I think,” he said, sitting down on the ledge of the hallway. Today, with his usual jacket, he was wearing traditional split-toed socks. The beauty squatted down in the entranceway on the cement floor, lined up his wooden clogs, and, one at a time, slipped them onto his feet. Once she’d finished, she gave him a little look, and then, with one geta-clad foot, he kicked the side of her face. Falling back, the woman caught herself with a hand on the ground.
Hideko stood rooted to the spot. The beauty got up and brushed the dirt off her hand: “Oh, we didn’t tell you, did we? That’s a little habit with my husband, before he leaves the house. His way of saying goodbye.”
“Yes. Shoes do just as well,” the hunchback said. “Come on, Hide, hurry up.”
When they were outside, the hunchback slipped a hand in his trouser pocket and looked up at the sky.
“What a lovely day,” he remarked. “Shall we take a walk to the shrine?”
His whole torso seemed concentrated in his hump; and his feet in their geta were astonishingly light skimming past each other at his trouser cuffs. Struggling to keep up with him, her eyes riveted on his feet, Hideko recalled the spectacle she had witnessed a moment before: the agility, the accuracy of the man’s kick landing on the beauty’s face. The mud on her cheek; the two welts raised by the ridges on the underside of the clog, just like two thick parallel lines of crimson paint; that sudden sparkle in her eyes. . . . And it had all happened before her as she stood, swooning, on the porch step.
After a while they reached a quiet shrine. Before the main hall, an old woman was watching children playing in a pool of sunlight—the usual, predictable sort of scene.
“You wouldn’t think we were in a city, would you?” the hunchback remarked.
“No, that’s
true.”
“What’s the matter? You haven’t opened your mouth since we left the house. Are you thinking about Germany?”
“No, not at all.”
“You know, Haru’s quite worried about you. She wonders what your plans are. Next time, why don’t you bring us some of his letters? We’ll help you decide what to do.”
“No, please.” Germany was the last thing on her mind — she couldn’t have cared less about that. “Don’t talk about him.”
She appreciated that the hunchback had brought her to the shrine, just the two of them, and that he’d expressed a kindly concern for her. And yet, ever since they’d left the house, she had felt a mounting frustration. Obviously, the beauty had sent the two of them out for a walk to encourage greater intimacy, and Hideko took pleasure in the feeling of obligation this incurred. But for any real effect, she was thinking, she needed the woman there, too, before her eyes.
And rather than this deserted spot, Hideko wanted a busy marketplace teeming with people — she wanted to be running after the hunchback and the beautiful woman, basket in hand, as they moved ahead, arms linked, ordering her around, scolding and shouting at her as she did their shopping. She would love it if the three of them could try that. . . .
“Welcome back.” The beauty came out to greet them when they returned. There was an extra pair of women’s shoes in the entrance. “Toshiko is here,” she told the hunchback.
“Really?” he replied, stepping into the hallway.
“Hello!” a loud voice called out from the inner room.
Hideko went inside, and beheld a cheerful, healthy-looking woman in her midtwenties.
“Oh, you have a guest!” the woman said when she saw Hideko.
“She’s a friend of ours,” said the beauty. “A very good friend.” Then, in a way that was very deferential to the woman, the beauty introduced her to Hideko.
“Hey!” said the hunchback, glancing over the table. “Can’t you even bring out some cakes for our visitor?”
“We don’t have any at the moment, unfortunately. And since you were out, I couldn’t go myself. I’ll do that now.” The beauty took the man’s cup out of the tea cabinet.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I was going to pour you some tea.”
“Leave it. Just go, will you?”
“Very well.” The beauty stood up and then she added hesitantly, “Do you have any money?”
The hunchback produced a single hundred-yen coin from a jacket pocket, and handed it over. “You can buy some cigarettes too,” he said as the beauty was leaving the room.
She looked back. “Will that be enough?”
“How much more should I give you?”
The beauty stared silently at the hundred-yen coin in her palm.
“I said, how much more do you want?”
“Thirty yen should be enough.”
The hunchback gave her that exact amount.
“High and mighty as ever, aren’t you?” said the hunchback’s sister after his wife had left. She turned to Hideko. “Don’t you think so? He’s a real tyrant.”
The hunchback ignored this. “You’ve been well?” he asked his sister, with genuine interest.
“Yes. I’ve put on weight, though.”
“Hubby and kids okay?”
“Fine. But I want to ask you a favor. I’ll tell you about it in a minute.”
“I’m not sure I want to know.”
“Oh, come now. I’ve already had a word with Haru.”
The beauty soon returned. She served some little cakes and began preparing the tea. These were tasks that Hideko had become used to doing in her place. Hideko had been agonizing over the hunchback’s empty cup on the table, and over the tea cabinet, its drawer left pulled out, while the beauty was away. But she had hesitated to lend a hand. The beauty had given no sign of wanting her to do anything, as she usually did; and no encouragement had come from the hunchback.
The beauty poured tea into Hideko’s covered cup, and placed it in front of her. Meanwhile, the hunchback’s sister chatted on energetically about soaring prices, bargains she had found at department store sales, and her plans for getting a part-time job. What a proper little housewife she was. But to what absurd lengths the beauty was going in an effort to treat her sister-in-law with respect. And how kind and calm the hunchback was being—the classic older brother. The couple, every so often, would remember themselves and put on a little of their scolding act.
Hideko was completely thrown off balance. She could not say a word. For some time now she had been the couple’s partner, but they had never before appeared as a threesome in front of somebody else. She hadn’t received directions yet as to how she should behave.
But surely a “very good friend” would never sit there without offering to pour a single cup of tea. She was acting ridiculously formal — she must try to behave a little more naturally. But all she could do was grab the teacup she had been staring at ever since it had been placed before her, again losing the chance to join in the conversation.
Hideko couldn’t help feeling that the healthy young housewife must have seen through their whole ménage. Cheerfully talking on, laughing away, the young woman looked at her brother, and at her sister-in-law, and every now and then she glanced quickly in Hideko’s direction. Any minute now, Hideko felt, she would turn on her and ask them: “By the way, you two, what is she doing here?”
But their meeting finally ended with Toshiko having done nothing of the sort.
“Toshiko,” the beauty said. “Have you spoken yet with Ken about that matter?”
“Not yet. Ken, can I have a word with you?”
“Shall I leave?” Hideko asked, relieved.
“No, that’s all right. We’ll go upstairs,” said the hunchback. He left the room with his sister.
“Did you enjoy the walk?” the beauty asked Hideko.
On the way to her next visit to the hunchback’s house, Hideko dropped by a department store to buy some specialty foods for a parcel she was sending to Sugino. She had been balking at this task, and putting it off from one day to the next, and now less than a week remained till sea-mail packages had to be dispatched to reach their destinations by Christmas.
She began at the counter that sold foods for export: choosing dried seaweed, packets of festive rice and red beans, pickled radish, various ingredients for fish-ball stew, and New Year’s rice cakes. With each tin she dropped into her cardboard box, she felt her conscience, so heavy for the last two weeks, grow a little lighter.
“Would you like us to ship these for you?” asked the clerk, totaling up her bill at the register.
That would have taken an even greater load off her mind, but Hideko remembered the large padded kimono at home. She had made it for her husband and wanted to include it in the package.
Hideko slid open the door of the couple’s house.
“Who is it?” the beauty called down from the second floor.
“Me.”
“Hide! I’m so happy you’re here. Ken’s out on an errand. Will you come up? We can listen to records.”
When Hideko went upstairs, the beauty looked at the parcel in her hands. “What’s all that?” she asked.
“Food — a care package.”
“I see,” said the beauty. “The room is a lot tidier than usual today,” she added, glancing around.
The entire second floor consisted of this single six-tatami-mat room. The only two mats free of furniture, however, were littered with papers and design tools. A sofa bed took up one wall; and the next had a large desk with another smaller one beside it. This was where the beauty sat to help the hunchback at his work. The beauty was tidying up her own desk as she spoke to Hideko. Both desks were buried under papers, brushes, rulers, and pots of poster colors. Next to
the desks were rolls of paper, a bookshelf packed with small mechanical tools, an old gramophone, and some records.
“This is as neat as it gets,” the beauty said, sitting down next to Hideko on the sofa. She pointed at the book shelves. “Ken won’t let me touch those. That’s his task — when he can be bothered. If you could see what a sight he is, with a workman’s towel tied around his head. I’m the one who really does the work, though,” she added.
The two of them competed for a while in their praises of the hunchback’s beautiful hair.
“Was it always so thick?” the beauty mused aloud. “It’s strange, but somehow I don’t remember. I don’t think his hair was like it is now. His health has improved lately, you know. When he was ill all the time maybe I didn’t realize how thick it was. Until about three or four years ago, he was very delicate. He’d had pneumonia so many times, and suffered from insomnia, and he was always breaking out in a fever. His sister—the one you met the other day — helped me take care of him. Even now, he tires easily. He works for a while, and has to lie down, here.” The beauty patted the sofa. “If we could get rid of this thing, we’d have some room, but it’s convenient, so Ken wants to keep it. He sleeps on it at night, of course.” Then she added, “That’s where I sleep,” tracing a long line along the floor with her foot.
“Don’t you push the table back?” Hideko asked, eyeing the narrow two-tatami strip.
“No, it stays put. I’m quite happy with that. Ken stretches a leg out and kicks me, and then I’m allowed up beside him.” The beauty stroked the sofa bed again. Her words brought bitterly to mind Hideko’s own marital relations.
Sugino preferred the more predictable positions, but Hideko would always balk at complying immediately. First, she would turn away from him onto her side, then slide up higher and higher in the bed. Finally coming back down, she would swing a leg over and thrust her thigh against his mouth, begging him, despite his lack of interest, to try even a little in that way to arouse her.
“Hey, that’s enough,” he would say, finally, after several attempts. “Let’s go to sleep.”