by Mori Ogai
When they turned at the liquor store and walked in the direction of the lake, the maid suddenly turned and spoke.
“She wasn’t very pretty, was she,Ma’am? Her face is all flat, and she’s far too tall.”
“Don’t say such things,” snapped Otsune, stalking off. The maid followed her, frowning.
Otsune was filled with a writhing inside that made it impossible for her to think clearly. She could not think of what to say to her husband, though she was filled with the need to slap him and tell him off. She arrived at the following. “When you brought home that parasol, just how happy do you think I was? You never bring me anything, much less something I haven’t even asked for. Why, only that time, had you chosen to bring me a present? I’d thought it was weird, but what was weird about it? You were suddenly being so nice, that’s what. Thinking on it now I realize she probably asked you to buy her one, so, just on the side, you’d picked one up for me too. That must have been it. But I didn’t know that then. I was happy. I was grateful. But it’s not just the parasol. Her kimono, her hair clips, you bought them all for her, didn’t you? Look at what she has and compare it to mine. This is not just about me. What of the children? I’ve wanted to get them a kimono but no—you won’t allow that. You think a boy only needs one jacket? You think it’s a waste to make a kimono for a girl when she’s young? What other wives and children with rich husbands, pockets overflowing, what other wives and children live the way we do? Now I realize you’ve probably been holding off on us so that you could spend your money on her. You say she was Yoshida’s. I don’t know if that’s true or not. You might have been with her since Shichikyoku. Right, that must be how it is. You say you need to wear nice cloths and have nice things to protect your business reputation, but really it’s because you’re with her, isn’t it? You won’t take me anywhere, but you’ll take her, won’t you? Oh, I cannot stand the thought of it!”
She was thinking this over when the maid shouted. “Ma’am! Where are you going?”
Otsune jumped and stopped in her tracks. Walking with her eyes on the ground, she’d passed right by the gate to her own house.
The girl made no effort to conceal her laughter.
Chapter Fourteen
After breakfast, when Otsune had left to go shopping, Suezo had been smoking and reading the paper, but by the time she returned he was gone. Had he been there, Otsune had wanted to tell him off, slap him, explode and make him listen, but upon seeing the empty house the wind left her sails. She had to prepare lunch. She had to sew, and prepare the uniform her child would soon need. Throughout Otsune’s automated actions, the desire to slap her husband slowly diminished. There had been a few times in the past that she had swooped at him with the intention of dashing his head against the stone walls. He’d always swept out of the way. Who’d have known he was so limber?
But when he made that rational sounding wordplay, and when she listened to it, rather than attempt to fight it, she felt herself worn away by it. And already, she felt as though the force behind her first attack was broken. She ate lunch with her children. She arbitrated their arguments. She fixed their clothes. She prepared for dinner. She gave the children a bath. She took one herself. She ate dinner and batted at buzzing mosquitoes. The children went to play after dinner and came back exhausted. The maid went out, laid out beds and hung the mosquito nets. She washed the children’s hands and put them to bed. She put a fly screen over her husband’s dinner, put the brazier in an iron pot and moved it to the next room. Such were her normal actions when Suezo was not home for dinner.
Otsune carried out all the chores with mechanistic efficiency. She then took a hand fan, crawled under the mosquito net, and sat there. She imagined her husband, at that very moment, sitting with the woman from the street. She suddenly could not stay seated and relaxed. She grew restless and bothered. She suddenly wanted to walk down to Muenzaka herself. Once she ’d gone to Fujimura and bought the manju her children loved so much, and she was fairly sure that the house was the one that stood next to the manju-makers. She’d passed by, and she knew the latticed door. She wanted to go see it again. Was there candle light on the windows? Could their conversation be heard from the street? That was all she wanted to know. But no—she couldn’t go. She couldn’t. She would have to pass by the maid’s room on her way out. The door would be open. The girl would still be awake, sewing. If she was asked where she was going, she’d have nothing to say. If she said she had shopping, the girl would insist on going for her. She realized that despite wanting to go, there was no way to make it happen. What was she to do? She’d rushed home to see him that morning, but had he been there, what would she have said? I would have said something foolish, no doubting that. And he would have picked up on it and said something smooth and tricked me again. No—I can’t beat him in a fight. I’ll just stay silent and never speak to him again. But what would come of that? If he has her, what does he care if we don’t speak? What to do. What to do?
Running these thoughts through her mind, they eventually arrived where they ’d begun, twisting into loops that exhausted her until she lost track of what she was thinking. In the end though, she realized that nothing good would come of hitting him with all her might. At the very least, she wouldn’t do that.
Then Suezo returned. Otsune purposefully fiddled with the handle of her fan and remained silent.
“Oh, you’re acting strange again. What is it this time?” He did not care that she had not greeted him. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t angry because he was in a good mood.
Otsune remained silent. She ’d wanted to avoid a dramatic collision, but at the sight of him she was filled with so much anger that she suddenly lost all her ability to remain still.
“You’re thinking about something ridiculous. Come on, out with it,” he said, patting her shoulder two or three times before going to sit on his bed.
“I just don’t know what to do. I think about leaving, but I don’t have anywhere to go. I have children too.”
“What are you talking about? What to do? You don’t have to do anything. Everything is fine. The world is at peace.”
“Everything is fine with you, everything is great for you. Because you don’t care what happens to me.”
“That’s crazy. What would happen to you? Nothing needs to happen to you. Just stay as you are.”
“Just run and make the tea, it doesn’t matter if I’m here or not. We can’t have a conversation anyway, can we? No, that’s it. It’s not that you don’t care if I’m here. You’d prefer that I wasn’t!”
“You sure are acting crazy tonight. What do you mean I don’t want you here? That’s all wrong. I’d hate it if you weren’t here. Even just looking after the kids is a huge job.”
“You’ll just bring in a new, pretty woman to take care of them. She’ll be a stepmother though.
“I don’t get it. We’re both their parents. There are no stepparents here.”
“Sure, sure, of course. Well that’s all fine then, isn’t it? Keep everything as it is now, right?”
“Naturally.”
“Right, with the beauty and the beast both in hand? With their matching parasols?”
“What? Are we talking hobbies over tea now?”
“Yes. Because all I can say is nonsense.”
“Well, enough nonsense. What are you saying? What’s this about parasols?
“You already know, don’t you.”
“Obviously not. I have no idea.”
“Fine then. I’ll explain the obvious. You bought me a parasol when you were in Yokohama, remember?”
“What about it?”
“You didn’t buy only one, did you? It wasn’t a present for only me.”
“Who else would I buy one for if not for only you?”
“Liar. That’s not true. You bought one for the woman at Muenzaka and just decided to buy another one for me on a whim.” Even having already brought the parasol into conversation, Otsune felt, upon giving her concrete t
houghts voice, a new and powerful wave of emotion swell up within her.
Suezo was taken aback, but he quickly put on an annoyed face. “That’s a tough one to swallow. So what, you’re trying to say that Yoshida’s girl has the same parasol as the one I bought you?”
“Well, you bought her the same one, so of course she does.” Her voice was sharp and barbed.
“What are you on about? That’s ridiculous. Get a hold of yourself. When I got it in Yokohama it was still just being imported. It was just a sample, but by now they are probably selling them all over Ginza. They use them in plays and things. What a foolish accusation. Besides, what are you saying? You met Yoshida’s girl somewhere? You must have sharp eyes or something.”
“I do. Of course I do, and I know everything. She’s a real beauty,” she said, gruff and angry. Suezo had grown accustomed to feigning i gnorance, though at this pronouncement he felt as though the game was up. But then he had a hunch, a powerful one that he simply refused to ignore. Suezo wanted to know how they met and what they’d discussed, but upon thinking it over he realized it would be unwise to poke around for such information, and he left the topic alone. “A beauty? Is that what a woman would think? You don’t think her face is kind of flat?”
Otsune said nothing. But her husband ’s criticism of the woman’s face soothed many of her burning emotions.
That night as well, after a sudden and explosive fight, the two of them reconciled as husband and wife. But Otsune still felt a lingering pain in her heart.
Chapter Fifteen
Suezo ’s house took on a sunken and heavy air. Otsune would occasionally fall into a reverie, thinking of nothing and performing no tasks around the house. At such times she was unable to do anything for the children, and if they said they wanted something she would scold them. She’d scold them and suddenly realize what she was doing, after which she would cry and apologize to them. When the maid asked what she should prepare for dinner she would either not answer or tell her to make whatever she felt like. Suezo’s children, while occasionally teased at school for their father’s occupation, were maintained in the past by Suezo’s wife, as he liked things to be proper. Now they came and went in dirtied clothes. The servant girl worried for her master. The house fell into neglect, its pantry filled with rotten fish, the vegetables shriveled to desiccated lumps.
Suezo, who preferred things prim and proper, could not stand to see his house fall into such disarray. But he knew the source of it lay with his own deeds, and, thinking himself at fault, was unable to say anything. When he did attempt to say the smallest things he treated them lightly, as if joking, in an attempt to make his wife reflect. But his lightness seemed to bother her even more.
Suezo began to observe his wife in silence. Upon doing so he discovered something unexpected. When she was in his house she behaved as if in a daze, though when she left it was as though she awakened and moved about in full awareness. When he first heard of this from the maid and his children he found it strange. He began to dwell on it. Her sickness came from seeing his face, the face she ’d grown to despise. All the time he spent on different strategies to convince her of his rightness, to fill this sudden void, was precisely the problem—he was there. It was like administering medicine only to worsen the disease. If that was the case then he was better off trying something else.
He began to leave the house earlier and return later, though the effect was as bad as one could expect. When he left early his wife was surprised into a stunned silence. When he returned later she responded differently from her usual petulant negativity. She responded as if she had finally snapped. She ran to him and hissed, “Where were you just now?” before exploding into tears. The next time he tried to leave early she barked, “Where are you going at this hour?” and tried to stop him. When he answered, he lied. When he made to leave as though there was no big deal she begged him to listen, to wait and speak with her. She’d grab his kimono and not let go, she’d fall to her knees at the door, caring not if she was seen by the maid, and tried to keep him from leaving. Suezo was the type to laugh off what he did not like, though there were times when, throwing off his clinging wife, he’d be seen by the maid, his wife collapsed at his feet. At such times he would return to the house and sit with her. “What is it?” he would ask. “What are you going to do for me?” she’d say. Or, “If this keeps up, what will become of me?” Always she would ask unsolvable questions. In the end, Suezo’s early departure and late return strategy miserably failed to combat his wife’s growing depression.
He considered the matter again, thinking: “My wife is in a horrible mood whenever I am home, but she tries to force me to stay there. Isn’t she then forcing these horrible moods on herself?” While thinking on such things, he remembered something. Back at Izumibashi, he’d lent money to a student named Ikai. Ikai behaved as though he cared little for his appearance, and he’d wear tall geta without socks. Ikai never settled his balance, or met to discuss it, until one day they ran into one another on Aoishiyokochou. Suezo asked where he was going and he said, “To my jujitsu teacher’s place. As for our business, that’ll get sorted eventually.” He ran away again. Suezo pretended to walk away, but came back shortly afterward and stood at the corner. Ikai had ducked into a restaurant. Suezo left it at that, finished his errands around Hirokoji, then came back and ran into the restaurant himself.
Suezo thought, “Ikai was really surprised then, but he was sitting there with a geisha on either arm, making noise like a fool. He pulled me over to their seat and said, ‘Don’t be so rough, have a drink with me.’ He filled my glass. That was the first time I’d ever seen a geisha, and one of them had an amazing air about her. I think her name was Oshun. She’d gotten really drunk and came before Ikai to start aggressively lecturing him. He could not forget what she’d said. ‘Listen up Mister! You act all loose and carefree. Don’t have a care in the world, do you? But you know what? Women need a good slap sometimes, you hear? They won’t love you without a good slap. Don’t forget it now.’”
“It was not just geishas. Any woman would say the same thing. Otsune, the bitch, was just pawing at me, flashing her face, begging for me to do something to her. She wanted to be hit. That’s it. She wanted to be hit. That has to be it. She thinks I eat nice things and don’t share them with her, that I’ve worked her like an ox, that she’s become a beast and lost her womanly charms. But then we moved to this new house and got a maid, and she gets called ma'am and lives like a real person now. That’s the reason. It’s just like Oshun said. That’s why she wants me to smack her good and hard.”
“And what about me? Until I had my money, did I care what people thought of me? Did I care what they said? They could call me a loser and kick me and stomp on me and whatever they pleased—so long as the numbers added up, I didn’t care! Every damn day, no matter where I went or who I saw, did I crawl to them? Wasn’t I like a spider? And what did I see? The powerful men, the strong ones, they are always looking down on you, always taking what they can from the weak. They get drunk and hit their wives and kids. For me there is no class, no above or below. Just show me where the money comes from. Those who don’t will bow down to anything, whether they need to or not. Not even worth speaking to. Hit a woman. It doesn’t take much work. If I had the time to waste on that I’d rather work the numbers. That’s how I’ve treated my wife.”
“That’s why Otsune wants me to hit her. Unfortunately for her, that’s just not going to happen. I can wring the fat from the indebted like juicing an orange. But I can’t hit someone.”
So thought Suezo.
Chapter Sixteen
Pedestrians came to ply Muenzaka. It was September, and classes were starting at the university. All the students who had left for the summer came back to their boarding houses in Hongo.
There are days with cool evenings but hot afternoons. The bamboo blinds that Otama had installed upon moving to Muenzaka had yet to fade, but they hung behind the latticed window from top to bot
tom, shutting it off completely. Otama suffered from a terrible boredom. A number of painted fans hung from a loop on a pillar. Otama leaned against it and disinterestedly watched the people in the street through the slats in the blinds. After three o’ clock the students came through in little clumps of three or four. At their passing, the groups of girls at the neighboring seamstress school would break into explosions of chitter. Perhaps due to involuntary interest in their interest, Otama also began to watch the students pass.
The large majority of them were handsome, gentlemanly types, preparing for graduation. Some of them were very handsome and pale with sharp, refined noses and an air of frivolousness about them. Whether they were talented with their studies, she could not know, but they did not particularly please her. And yet, she found herself at the window each day, watching them pass. Then came a day that brought with it the discovery of emotions budding within her. Beneath the threshold of her consciousness, she felt something quiver. Much as a fetus, conceived and dormant, suddenly begins to kick and squirm, Otama was immediately aware of this twisting being within herself.
Otama had no desire other than to bring joy to her father, so she convinced him, against his stubbornness, to send her off as a mistress. If there was a fall from grace involved with that then it was one she could accept, but she still searched out a type of stability among it all. But when she discovered that Suezo was a loan shark, she felt herself at a loss once again, and she was so filled with confusion and could not seem to clear herself of it. So she decided to discuss it with her father and ask him to share in her burden. But when she went to visit him at his new house, and saw the peaceful life he was living, she found herself unable to put even a drop of her poison into it. She decided to keep her loneliness and pain to herself, and in doing so she discovered a new independence, one she had never known in her life with her father.