The Woman in the Purple Skirt

by Natsuko Imamura

  “Oh! Careful!” The director’s wife just managed to stop her husband from folding and crumpling to the ground.

  “Oh, thank goodness!!” Supervisor Tsukada took the director’s hand, and pumped it up and down vigorously. “I was so worried about you!”

  “Ow! Ow! Please, that hurts! Er . . . What are you all doing here?”

  “What a question! We’ve come to see you, of course!” Supervisor Tsukada announced, sticking her chest out proudly.

  “That’s very kind of you. We appreciate it, very much.” The director’s wife bowed her head.

  “You might have called beforehand . . . ,” the director said.

  “We did. They must not have given you the message,” Supervisor Tsukada said, and then turned to the director’s wife. “He’s looking so much better than I thought he would. It’s such a relief.”

  “Yes. Thank you for your concern.” The director’s wife smiled graciously.

  Had the talk about her ruling the roost been wrong? She didn’t have a trace of makeup on her face, and she seemed meek and retiring. From the moment she entered, she’d kept her hands hovering about her husband, to see to his every need.

  “Yes, you look quite well! At this rate, you could be back at work tomorrow!” Supervisor Hamamoto said.

  “Don’t be absurd,” the director said, handing his crutch to his wife, and dropping onto the bed with a pained smile.

  “When will you be able to leave the hospital?” Supervisor Tachibana inquired.

  “The week after next. On Thursday,” the director replied.

  “Oh, that’s wonderful! Such good news!”

  “But I’ll have to use crutches for quite a while, and report to the hospital for regular checkups. Who knows when I’ll be fully recovered. . . .”

  “Oh, I’m sure you’ll be able to do desk work. Don’t worry—no one would think of asking someone with their leg in a cast to do physical labor,” said Supervisor Tsukada.

  “Well, yes, but I—”

  “Everyone’s saying how much they miss you. With you away, the hotel manager comes to the morning meetings every day. It’s unbearable—such a depressing way to start the day. Isn’t that right, team?” She looked around at the others.

  Everyone nodded, their faces beaming.

  “Did the, um, hotel manager say anything?” the director asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “About . . . you know . . .”

  “You mean . . . about what happened with that woman?”

  The director nodded.

  “He said it’s now in the hands of the police. That’s all.”

  “The police . . .” A furrow appeared in the director’s brow.

  “That’s what he told us, at the first meeting after the incident. It’s all up to the police now, where it goes from here. All we have to do, as members of the staff, he said, is to wait, and trust that you’ll make as swift a recovery as possible.”

  “I see.”

  “But isn’t that good news!” Supervisor Tachibana exclaimed. “To know that you’ll be able to leave the hospital so soon!” Then she added: “I really thought you were going to die when I heard you were hospitalized after falling from the second floor!”

  “Supervisor Tachibana!” Supervisor Hamamoto elbowed Supervisor Tachibana. “Don’t say that! It’s not the time and place!”

  “Ha ha ha. Just kidding!”

  “Well, I actually thought I had died,” said the director. “When I came to in the hospital, everything around me was white. For a second, I thought, Hang on a minute, I’m in heaven.”

  “Thank goodness you got away with just a concussion and a few broken bones.”

  “We’re so sorry for all the worry and inconvenience. . . .” The director’s wife again bowed her head.

  “Inconvenience? Nonsense!!” Supervisor Tsukada dismissed this with a curt wave of her hand. “After all, the director is the one who’s the victim in all of this!”

  “That’s right! He’s the one who had that stalker following him around for weeks!”

  “None of us had the slightest idea, you know. Well, we often used to catch sight of the two of you together, but we just thought, Wow, they really seem to enjoy each other’s company—wonder if they’re in a relationship? Oops! Sorry! That just slipped out. I shouldn’t have said that. Not in front of your wife.”

  “It’s all right.” The director’s wife shook her head. “My husband seems to have been unable to tell her clearly enough that her attentions were unwelcome.”

  “How could I? When she was threatening me? She told me that if I didn’t go out with her, she was going to hurt you and our daughter!”

  “What a despicable woman!” said Supervisor Tsukada.

  “Were you all right?” Supervisor Hamamoto inquired of the director’s wife apprehensively. “Did anything happen to you?”

  “Well, I did notice that we started getting prank phone calls. Thank goodness she didn’t go any further than that! It’s not so much myself I was worried about, but when I think of what she might have done to our daughter . . .”

  “Yes, it’s not worth thinking about. I know it would have been different if I’d actually died, but I can honestly say: Thank goodness it was me who was pushed off a building, and not you, or Arisa. Really, I thank my lucky stars.”

  “Oh, you mustn’t say that. . . .”

  “Definitely not. Whoever heard of being grateful for being pushed off a building? And why should you take the blame for what happened? The only person who bears responsibility is that woman. And she wasn’t just a stalker. She was also a thief.”

  “No, but there are things I should have done better. I shouldn’t have gone to her apartment that evening. Not without someone else.”

  “You’re too kind, aren’t you, Director. You went over to her apartment thinking you could persuade her—that there might still be time to help her.”

  “Yes. I told her, If you’re too afraid to come clean by yourself, I’ll go with you. I’ll explain everything to the hotel manager, and apologize on your behalf.”

  “And what did she say?”

  “She just lost it, went ballistic, and . . .”

  “And then pushed you from the second floor.”

  “What a monster!”

  Everyone suddenly fell silent. The old man lying in the other bed appeared to have fallen asleep watching TV. The sounds from his headphones were now mixed with the sawing noise of his snores.

  The director’s wife was the first to break the silence.

  “Oh! I completely forgot to bring chairs in for all of you! How thoughtless. I’ll just go to the nurses’ station and see if they have any.”

  “Oh, please don’t worry. It’s all right. Really. We’ll be leaving soon anyway,” said Supervisor Tsukada.

  “We brought some flowers.” Supervisor Hamamoto held out a bunch of orchids purchased on the way to the hospital.

  “And I brought some purin.” Supervisor Tachibana held out a paper bag.

  “Oh, that’s so kind of you. Thank you for going to all that trouble. If you’re not in a hurry to leave, please, all of you, do stay a while. I’ll just go make some tea.”

  “Oh, but really, we ought to be—”

  “Please, it gets boring for my husband to have no one but me to talk to.”

  “Exactly,” the director said. “Come on, all of you, stay a little longer.”

  “Well, in that case, how about if I help you. Let me get the chairs from the nurses’ station.”

  “I will too.”

  “And me.”

  “Let me help make some tea.”

  “Would it be all right if I use this vase for the flowers I brought?”

  “Please do. Come, the kitchenette is this way.”

  The superv
isors all followed the director’s wife out into the corridor, half running, and raising a little stir of flip-flap sounds with their hospital slippers.

  The room was now silent once again. The automatic door slowly slid shut, and the director breathed a long sigh of relief.

  “Director.” I suddenly spoke up.

  He gasped. “Oh! You scared me. How long have you been there, Gondo-san?”

  “I’ve been here all along.”

  “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t notice you. You startled me. Well, take a seat.”

  The director pointed to the one folding chair, which had been propped against the wall. I unfolded it and sat down.

  “Director, I have something to ask you.”

  “Wh-what? What’s going on? You’ve got a stern look on your face.” The director drew back slightly.

  “Director, I would like to raise a rather private matter.”

  The director swallowed audibly. “And what is that?”

  “There is something I would like to sincerely request of you.”

  “Well, tell me then. What is it?”

  I bowed my head to him. “Please! I beg you!”

  “Wh-what’s the matter? This is weird.”

  “I would like you to raise my pay!”

  “Excuse me?” the director said.

  “Please! And please allow me to take out advances on my salary! I beg you! Director!”

  “Well, now, hold on a minute. It’s not so easy, you know. You’re putting me in an awkward position, just asking me out of the blue. This is not really the time or place, is it, for something like this. . . .”

  “Please! Director!”

  “I said hold on! Look at me—don’t hunch down into your collar. I’m very sorry, but I don’t decide financial matters by myself. I have to consult with the head office. And there’s also the matter that if I raise your wages, Gondo-san, I’ll have to raise the wages of all the other supervisors as well!”

  “Well, can’t you convince the board to agree to your request? I’m sure it’s within your powers! You of all people should be able to do that!”

  “What are you talking about? I can’t do that. That’s far too simplistic. For someone to get a raise, they first have to be reviewed by the board. And for them to even be considered, they have to be deemed extraordinarily good at their job, and enthusiastic about it. Even if you did manage to get reviewed, do you really think, Gondo-san, that someone like you would stand a chance? It’s a wonder to me that you haven’t been fired yet. Arriving late, leaving early, taking days off without notice. Do you have any idea how many complaints have been made about you by the other staff, saying that even when you do come to work, you often just take off somewhere and disappear? No way are you ever going to get a raise. Absolutely not.”

  “In that case, give me a loan.”

  “Come again?”

  “Please! I’m completely broke!”

  “Why on earth do you think I should lend you money?”

  “Why not? You are my boss!”

  “That’s irrelevant!”

  “I don’t even have my commuter pass now. . . .”

  “What’s that got to do with me, for God’s sake!”

  “I have to walk to work every day. From a manga café!”

  “What? What happened to your home?”

  “I couldn’t pay my rent. I was evicted.”

  “Well, I mean, that’s—”

  “Please! I’m begging you, Director!”

  “Well, come now. That’s terrible, but a loan is something else. I understand you’re struggling, but there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  “Please see if you can change your mind . . . Director!”

  “I’m telling you. I can’t do it! Don’t you get it? It’s impossible! I don’t understand you. Usually, there you are, quiet as a mouse, and now, the first time you open your mouth, it’s to pester me for a loan? What’s the matter with you? Do you have no shame? Someone at your stage in life. Don’t you think you should be a little more restrained in the requests you make of others? Ah, here’s a thought: Have you tried asking your family, or relatives, for a loan? Remind me, where are you from? Where does your family live?”

  “Director.”

  “I can’t do it. I told you.”

  “I know you stole Reina Igarashi’s panties. But I won’t tell anyone.”

  “Wh-what?”

  “I promise. I won’t tell anyone, I swear.”

  “. . .”

  After quite a long silence, the director muttered, “Well, I’ll think about it.” His voice was very subdued.

  “Thank you! I appreciate your kindness!”

  Meanwhile, in the kitchenette, two women were preparing the tea tray, and an excited conversation on another topic was taking place. Really? Oh, my goodness, you must be thrilled! Congratulations! Supervisor Tsukada’s happy cries reached our ears from the room down the corridor. What could the excitement be about? I wondered. When I inquired, I was told that the director was going to become a father all over again. The director’s wife was expecting, and the baby was due next year.

  Today i spent the whole day exactly as I wanted.

  In the morning I hung my washing out on the line, I did a little dusting, I watched television while I had my breakfast, and then, after a brief nap, I headed out to the shopping district.

  Once there, I went to the pharmacy, the sake shop, and then the bakery. On my way back to my apartment, I decided to drop by the park, and sat down on one of the three benches on the south side, the one farthest from the entrance.

  This is the Woman in the Purple Skirt’s Exclusively Reserved Seat.

  I’ve got to keep a good lookout. I don’t want just anyone to sit here.

  Which is why I have decided I should have this seat. I am well aware of the exhortation written on the notice board: “Don’t hog the bench. Share and share alike.” So far, though, no one has complained. If, by some chance, some special person—perhaps even the rightful owner—were to give me a tap on the shoulder and say, “Hey, that’s my seat!” then . . . I would be only too happy to concede it.

  After placing my shopping bag right beside me, I take out the little paper bag with the cream bun. I can feel a glimmer of warmth coming from the bread. Gently, I tear the bun in two, and lay one half on my lap. Just as I am about to take a bite from the other half, I feel—what perfect timing—a light tap on my shoulder.

  I look up to see a child cackling with laughter and running away.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Natsuko Imamura is one of Japan's most exciting writers. Nominated three times for the Akutagawa Prize, the most prestigious literary award in Japan, she won it in 2019, for The Woman in the Purple Skirt. A self-professed fan of Yoko Ogawa's, she has been called "a second Sayaka Murata" (the author of Convenience Store Woman) for her use of acerbic humor and satire. Born in Hiroshima, she now lives in Osaka, with her husband and their daughter. Like the main character in The Woman in the Purple Skirt, she has worked in a hotel as a housekeeper.

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