by John Freeman
Yumi opened the menu and ordered a second cup of tea, then noticed the sweater I was wearing.
“Hey, Nana, that sweater . . . is it human hair?”
“Oh, can you tell?” I beamed at her, nodding. “Yes, one hundred percent.”
“Fantastic! It must have been expensive.”
“Yeah, a bit . . . I took out a loan. But it’ll last me for life,” I answered rather bashfully, lightly running my fingertips over the garment. The jet-black hair was closely knitted into rows of braids, with an intricate weave at the cuffs and neck, and glistened alluringly in the rays of light shining in through the lobby windows. Even though it was mine, it was so beautiful I gazed at it enraptured.
Aya was eyeing it enviously too. “A hundred percent human hair is just the thing for winter! Warm, durable, and luxurious. My sweater contains some too, but it’s so expensive I could only afford it mixed with wool. But human hair really does feel completely different, doesn’t it?”
“Thanks. It’s too good to wear every day and normally I keep it safely stored away, but today I really wanted to dress up—it’s the first time we’ve seen each other for ages, and coming to a hotel, too.”
“Really? But now that you’ve bought it, it’s such a waste not to wear it more,” Yumi said.
Aya agreed. “Expensive clothes are not meant to just decorate your closet, you know. You have to put them to good use! Nana, you’re engaged to be married now, aren’t you? Human hair is just the thing to wear for formal occasions like meeting your future in-laws.”
I toyed with my teacup. “Well, yes, but . . .” I said in a small voice, “you see, my fiancé doesn’t really like clothes made from human hair.”
“Whaaat?” Aya’s eyes widened in bewilderment. “Why on earth not? I can’t understand that!”
“I can’t either, but it’s not just human hair—he doesn’t really like any fashion accessories or furnishings made from human materials,” I said, forcing a smile.
“You’re kidding!” Shocked, Yumi put the macaroon she’d been about to put in her mouth back on her plate and looked at me dubiously. “So, what about bone rings? Tooth earrings?”
“He can’t stand them. We’re talking about making our wedding rings platinum, too.”
Aya and Yumi looked at each other.
“Really? But wedding rings made from front teeth are the best!”
“Nana, your fiancé’s a banker, isn’t he? He must be well off, so isn’t he just being stingy?”
“No, I don’t think it’s that . . .” I answered vaguely and smiled. I couldn’t explain it very well myself.
Aya nodded triumphantly. “Yes, there are people like that who are loaded but just don’t understand fashion . . . but Naoki’s always so well dressed I’d never have expected it of him. When it comes to your wedding rings, though, I’d discuss them with him a bit more. After all, they’re what you’ll be using to pledge your eternal love for each other,” she said, raising her teacup to her mouth. On her left hand she was wearing a ring made from pure white bone. It was her wedding ring, made from a fibula for her marriage last year, and looked really good on her slender finger. I could still clearly remember how envious I’d felt when she’d happily shown it off to me, even while explaining that it was considerably cheaper than tooth.
I surreptitiously stroked my ring finger. The truth was that I did really want a ring made from either tooth or bone. I’d talked about this any number of times with Naoki, and knew better than anyone how futile it was.
“Look, go once more to the shop together. If he can just see what it looks like on his finger, he’ll change his mind, you know.”
I gave a little nod and looked down to avoid their eyes, and reached for the now cold scone on my plate.
I’d just said goodbye to Aya and Yumi when I felt my cell phone vibrate. I took it from my bag and saw that an email had arrived from Naoki, who’d had to go in to work even though it was a holiday.
Got away earlier than I thought. How about coming over?
Okay, I replied, and got on a subway headed for his place.
He lived in a neighborhood close to where he worked, with office blocks alongside conveniently located residential condos. Once we were married, we planned to move to a new house in the suburbs, where there was a more natural environment better suited to kids. I was looking forward to living there, but felt a little sad at the thought that I wouldn’t be returning to this neighborhood where I’d spent so much time over the five years we’d been dating.
I rang the bell, and Naoki’s amiable voice came through the inter-phone telling me to come in, so I opened the door with my key.
He must have only just arrived home since he was still in his shirt and tie with a cardigan over his shoulders, and was turning on the underfloor heating.
“I bought dinner on the way. It’s cold, so I thought hot pot would be good.”
“Sounds great, thanks. How were the girls?”
“They’re both fine. They gave us an engagement present.”
I passed him the bag containing the pair of wineglasses from Aya and Yumi, put down my purse and the bag of groceries, and took off my duffel coat. His smile instantly vanished, replaced by a scowl.
Seeing the undisguised revulsion on his face, I remembered I was still wearing the sweater.
“Didn’t I tell you not to wear human hair?” he said in a low voice, avoiding my eyes, his face turned away from me so forcefully I thought his neck might snap as he plonked himself onto the couch.
“Um, well, I hadn’t seen my friends for ages and I wanted to impress them. I haven’t worn it at all lately, and thought it wouldn’t do any harm to wear it just this once.”
“You should throw it away. You promised me you wouldn’t wear it. Have you gone back on your word?”
“But I haven’t even paid the loan off yet. I promised I wouldn’t wear it in front of you, but I never said I wouldn’t ever wear it again. Why am I being told off for wearing something I bought with my own money?”
I choked up in spite of myself, and Naoki avoided looking at me as he drummed his fingers irritably on the floor.
“It gives me the creeps.”
“But why? It’s no different from your hair, or mine. It’s more natural for us than hair from any other animal—it’s a material really close to us.”
“Yeah, that’s exactly why it creeps me out,” he spat, and picked up a packet of cigarettes and a small ashtray from the side table.
Naoki hardly ever smoked, and only ever reached for his cigarettes when he was really stressed and irritable, and needed to calm himself down. I always did my best to comfort him whenever he lit up after work, complaining about being tired, but this time it was my fault he was feeling like this, just because of what I was wearing, I thought miserably.
“You’re going to Miho’s shop to look at new furniture tomorrow, aren’t you?” he said, puffing out smoke. “I can’t go along so I’ll leave it up to you, but let’s just get one thing straight—if you choose even just one item made from human products, I won’t marry you. Teeth, bones, and skin are all out. Otherwise I’ll break off the engagement.”
“Talk about a unilateral decision. What could be more normal than making people into clothes or furniture after they die? How come you’ve got such an aversion to it?”
“It’s sacrilege! I can’t believe you’re so unfazed by using items hacked from dead bodies.”
“Is using other animals any better? It’s a precious and noble aspect of the workings of our advanced life-form—not wasting the bodies of people when they die, or at least having one’s own body carrying on being used. Isn’t it wonderful? There are so many parts that can be reused as furniture and it’s a waste to throw them away . . . isn’t that more sacrilegious?”
“No, it isn’t,” Naoki retorted. “What’s wrong with everyone? It’s crazy. Look at this!” he said, ripping out his necktie pin and throwing it to the floor. “It’s made from fingernails pull
ed from someone’s body. A dead body! It’s grotesque. Horrifying!”
“Stop, don’t break it! If you hate it so much, why do you wear it?”
“It’s an engagement gift from my boss. It’s revolting—even just touching it makes my skin crawl.”
I held back my tears and yelled, “It’s not like using human material is uncivilized. It’s far more heartless to just burn it all!”
“That’s enough!”
We always ended up fighting over this issue. I couldn’t for the life of me understand why Naoki was so averse to wearing or using anything human.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ll throw it away.” I took the sleek black sweater off and, stifling my sobs, scrunched it up and stuffed it into the kitchen garbage can. As I stood there in my silk undershirt feeling miserable, I felt Naoki put his arms around me from behind.
“I’m sorry I got so emotional. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make you understand, but somehow I just find human hair sweaters and bone cutlery and furniture terrifying.”
Naoki’s slim arms rubbed gently against my body. His body was enveloped in a soft cashmere cardigan. I just couldn’t understand why he thought human hair was so wrong when goat hair was fine. But I noticed his hands were trembling slightly and said in a small voice, “I’m sorry, I was wrong—especially since I knew you didn’t like it.”
“No, I’m wrong for making you put up with me,” he murmured weakly, burying his face in my shoulder. “I just can’t understand why everyone is okay with something so barbaric. Cats or dogs or rabbits would never do anything like that. Normal animals don’t make sweaters or lamps out of the dead bodies of their fellows. I just want to be like other animals and do what’s right . . .”
I couldn’t think of anything to say to that, and gently stroked the cashmere-enveloped arms that clung to me. Turning to face him, I hugged his hunched-over body to me, and rubbed his back. He relaxed a little and sighed, his cold lips touching my neck. With his face buried in my neck, I kept on stroking his backbone for the longest time.
When I told Miho that I wouldn’t consider any furnishings made from human material, her eyes widened.
“No way! You’re telling me that, even with your budget you’re not going to buy the shinbone chair, or the rib-cage table, or the finger bone clock, or the dried stomach lamp shade?”
“Nope.”
“Nor the display cabinet of teeth strung together? The warm rug made with human hair?”
“No. I don’t want Naoki to suffer. Our house should be somewhere we can both feel comfortable.”
Miho closed the catalogues she’d spread out in front of me and frowned. “I wish I didn’t have to say this,” she said in a low voice, “but don’t you think Naoki’s sick? How come he’s so neurotic about human materials?”
“I don’t know. It’s probably got something to do with having had a bad relationship with his father when he was little.”
“He ought to get some counseling. It’s abnormal. In any case, one day we’ll all be turned into sweaters or clocks or lamps when we die. We humans are also materials—and that’s wonderful!”
Miho was right, but I shook my head. “I agree with you, but . . . anyway, for now I intend to furnish our house in a way that won’t cause any distress for Naoki.”
Miho finally seemed to understand I wasn’t going to budge, and sighed. “Okay, okay. But it’s such a waste when you could get some fabulous furniture with your budget. Oh well, I guess we’ll go with this dining table and chairs that don’t have any human bone in them, then.”
“Thanks.”
“I really recommend that chandelier with scales made from human nails for your living room, but I suppose we’re going to have to settle for this glass one.”
“Yes, if I may.”
Sighing, Miho went sticking Post-it notes in the catalogue as we decided on each item.
“I wonder why other animals don’t reuse the bodies of their own dead,” I said.
“Beats me. But the female praying mantis eats the male, doesn’t she? It totally makes sense. I think there are some animals that know to make good use of their dead.”
“Really? I guess . . .”
“Nana, aren’t you being poisoned by Naoki?”
“Of course not. But I don’t really understand what he means by ‘barbaric.’ That’s what he says about using human products. But I think it’s more barbaric to burn everything without reusing the materials. We use the same word to condemn each other’s values. I wonder if we can really carry on like this . . .”
“Well, I really couldn’t say. But Nana, you’re doing your best to understand him, aren’t you? If you’re willing to make mutual concessions, you’ll definitely be able to work it out together,” she said warmly, and I gave a sigh of relief.
“Okay then, I’ll draw up the invoice on these items, and place the orders. It’ll take a while, so feel free to look around the store.”
“Thanks.”
Miho picked up the catalogues with the Post-it notes and went to the back of the store. I gazed absently around. Time flowed by at a leisurely pace here, maybe because it was afternoon, with happy-looking young couples and genteel elderly ladies all browsing around the furniture. The first floor was full of cheap plastic and glass furnishings, but the second floor had quality furniture on display. Even the armrests of the couch I was now sitting on were of white bone.
There were some bowls made from inverted craniums on a row of dining tables at the other side of the store. Hanging from the ceiling was one of the chandeliers with human nail scales that Miho had recommended. Warm light, somewhere between pink and yellow, filtered out through the nails. How happy I would be sitting down to a special dinner with Naoki beneath such a chandelier, with soup in those skull dishes on the table!
I glanced down at my own nails. They looked identical to the ones on the chandelier. After I died, how lovely it would be to have them made into such a beautiful chandelier for someone to enjoy. However much I made a show of going along with Naoki, I would never stop caring for my body, knowing it would someday be converted into furnishings. I would always feel that I too was also a material, that I would continue to be put to practical use after I died. The thought that this was a marvelous and noble process was deeply rooted within me.
I stood up and went over to a nearby bookcase. The dividers were made of bone, probably shoulder blades given their size. There were several real books placed on the shelves to model what it would look like in the home. Naoki liked books, and I thought how perfect his study would be with such a splendid bookcase in it holding his books. I picked up a small dictionary that was leaning against the divider and looked up the word “barbaric,” which had been niggling at me for a while.
Ruthless, merciless, savage, heinous.
But I could only think that this applied more to Naoki’s idea of burning people’s bodies when they died. He was such a gentle person and I still couldn’t believe he could be so harsh and cruel as to say we should discard the entire body even though so much could be reused.
But I loved him. For his sake, I was resolved to spend the rest of my life without wearing or using human material, without touching the people who, after their deaths, continued to surround us with their warmth as material and furnishings.
The following Sunday, Naoki and I went to visit his family in Yokohama.
We had already completed the formalities for our engagement and now there were all kinds of matters to discuss, like what time to hold the ceremony, whom to invite, and so forth. Naoki’s little sister was going to be in charge of receiving guests on the groom’s side, so we had to talk about that, too.
Naoki’s father had died five years previously. Naoki’s mother and sister welcomed us cheerfully.
“Come on in! Sorry to take up your time when you’re so busy.”
“Not at all! Lovely to see you.”
Naoki’s sister Mami was a graduate student some years younger than him,
and had treated me affectionately ever since he and I had started dating.
“I’m so happy you’re going to be my elder sister, Nana,” she said delightedly as she served us homemade brownies.
Their mother poured tea to go with Mami’s treats, and we chatted while enjoying them.
“Naoki, why don’t you play the trumpet at the wedding? Wouldn’t it be a great way to show your love for Nana?”
“No way! It’s years since I played any music and I’d be far too self-conscious now. Out of the question.”
Naoki looked really cute with his embarrassed smile, and I snuggled up to him happily, feeling it had been ages since I’d seen him looking so calm and relaxed.
After we’d been talking for a while, Naoki’s mother stood up, saying, “I’ve got something for the two of you.”
She went into another room and came back with a long, thin wooden box. She put it on the table and gently opened the lid. Wondering what it was, I peered inside to see what looked like some thin washi paper.
“What is it?” We both looked at her questioningly.
“It’s a veil made from your father,” she informed us in hushed voice, gazing at it.
She took the diaphanous fabric out of the box. It was indeed a billowy, floaty veil made from human skin.
“Five years ago, when your father got cancer, it was his dying wish to be made into a veil. It must have been just around the time you started dating Nana, Naoki. He always was too strict with you, so it was hardly surprising you rebelled against him. You never did make up after that quarrel ended in fisticuffs when he tried to force you into medical college. He used to say he’d as good as disowned you, and refused to talk about you. But then, right at the end, he said, ‘The boy’s a fool, but he’s got taste in women,’ and that he wanted to be made into a veil for the wedding ceremony.”
“Ah . . .”