The Translation of Love

by Lynne Kutsukake

  The woman put her hands on her hips. “So, you want to work here.”

  “Sure she does,” Hisayo broke in. “We want to be like you.”

  The woman shifted her gaze from Fumi to Hisayo. “You’re too young. You think this is a game, but it isn’t.”

  Fumi wondered if she had been the woman she’d heard knocking on the door earlier. “Were you looking for someone? I’m looking for my sister, Sumiko Tanaka. Do you know her by any chance?”

  “I’m afraid not. There are a lot of us here.” The woman shook her head sadly. She gestured with her thumb to the American waiting for her in the doorway. “I have to go. He’s setting me up in my own place. Says he wants to have me all to himself. Maybe that’s what happened to your sister. Maybe she got lucky and found someone who was sweet on her.”

  The woman quickly pulled a few clothes off the hangers on the wall and rolled them up into a large purple cloth that she knotted at the top. She handed the cloth bundle to the man.

  “That everything?” he said.

  At the entranceway the woman stepped into her high heels and slipped her arm into the crook of the man’s elbow. She didn’t look back. Fumi listened to the sound of their shoes as they walked away, the woman’s heels clicking lightly, his shuffling heavily.

  Hisayo sighed loudly. “Gosh, that’s romantic. I can’t wait to be somebody’s only.”

  Fumi didn’t respond. She lay down, pulled the blanket up to her nose, and squeezed her eyes shut. Was that what had happened to her sister? Was that why she would never come home?

  After the woman and her boyfriend left, Hisayo went right back to sleep. Fumi had never known anyone like her. Nothing bothered her. As she listened to Hisayo’s faint snoring, she wondered how a person could become like that and she almost felt a little envious. She herself was trapped in a whirling cycle of anxiety—first about Sumiko, then about Aya, and finally about her parents. She had never stayed away overnight and knew they would be worried sick. She would really be in trouble when she got home. By morning, she had worked herself into a state.

  “Are you going to sleep forever?” She poked Hisayo’s shoulder.

  “Umm?” Hisayo rolled over onto her other side.

  “I have to leave. I have to go home.”

  “Home? So early?” Hisayo quickly sat up. “Don’t go yet. Have something to eat first. Aren’t you hungry?”

  “Well, I suppose…”

  “There’s always lots of stuff lying around here. The big sisters get so many presents. Candy and cake and…” Hisayo reached into one of the cardboard boxes on the floor next to her and began fishing inside. “Usually I can find something. You know, the first day I came here, I ate some chewing gum by mistake. I didn’t know you’re not supposed to swallow it. I kept putting pieces in my mouth, chewing and swallowing, chewing and swallowing. I ate a whole pack of Chiclets! I’d never tasted anything so sweet. The big sisters found out and I thought I was really going to get it for taking someone’s gum, but instead everyone burst out laughing. Boy, the next day my tummy wasn’t feeling too good, let me tell you!”

  Hisayo laughed and put her hands on her knees. “Gee, there’s nothing here. I guess we’ll have to go out and see what we can find. I know where one of the restaurants nearby keeps its garbage cans.”

  At the doorway, Hisayo again gestured to the pile of shoes. “You’ll need something for your feet. How about these?” She held out a pair of high heels.

  Fumi picked a pair of wooden geta similar to the ones she had been wearing.

  “I hope we can find something,” Hisayo said. “But if we can’t, don’t worry. I’m sure the big sisters will have something to share with us when they get home.”

  They passed the mailboxes and began walking but they hadn’t gone very far before they noticed a figure in a brown coat squatting by the side of the lane.

  Hisayo picked up her pace. “Do you see that woman over there? I bet that’s one of the big sisters coming home. Hello! O-nesan, hello!”

  The figure stood up and as soon as she did, Fumi let out a scream.

  “What’s the matter?” Hisayo said. “Oh, I get it! Is that your sister?”

  But Fumi was already running as fast as she could. When she reached Aya, she didn’t say a word. She simply grabbed her hands and squeezed them with all her might.

  41

  “Mr. Kondo! Mr. Kondo!”

  He woke with a start to the sound of his landlady’s panicked cries. For a moment he thought the house was on fire. Mrs. Kanehara abruptly slid open the door to his room without knocking. She was in a padded house jacket that she had thrown over her nightgown.

  “The principal of your school is here,” she announced breathlessly. “He insists on seeing you. Imagine, at this hour. It’s still dark outside.”

  The principal peered around her and pushed his way into Kondo’s room.

  “Kondo-kun, sorry to bother you so early in the morning but this is an emergency.”

  “What happened?”

  The principal wouldn’t talk until Mrs. Kanehara had left the room and her footsteps could be heard going down the stairs. “Trouble, nothing but trouble,” he muttered. In a more audible voice he said, “Fumi Tanaka didn’t come home last night. Her parents came to see me yesterday evening and they wouldn’t leave until I agreed to go back home with them. We’ve been up all night waiting. I finally persuaded them that the best thing would be if I talked to you.”

  “Me?”

  “I said you might have some idea. The mother was hysterical. She was sobbing so loudly I can’t imagine what my neighbors were thinking. Tell me, you’re Fumi’s homeroom teacher. Do you have any idea where she might be?”

  Kondo shook his head. “Why would I know?”

  “No idea at all? You’re her teacher. Sometimes a teacher observes things in a pupil, changes in behavior, you know, that sort of thing.”

  “No, I’m sorry. I don’t have any idea. Shouldn’t this be a matter for the police?”

  “No police, please. I told the Tanakas that we—the school—could handle this.”

  “Why would you say that? What can we do in a situation like this?”

  “We don’t want any gossip. I have to think about the school’s reputation. This is the sort of thing that is best handled privately.”

  “But this is a serious matter.”

  “Our reputation! I really hope this can be solved without going to the police. And it’s for the girl’s protection, too. I think the Tanakas are worried about any damage that could be done to Fumi’s reputation. Anyway, I told them you could help. What a mess! The school was doing so well, and now this. It could become a scandal. Mrs. Tanaka raised her voice to me, you know. It was most unpleasant. She said her daughter had never done anything like this before. What kind of things was the school teaching her, she said. Wasn’t this the result of too much freedom and democracy.”

  “But democracy is the pillar of our new curriculum.”

  “Yes, yes,” the principal said impatiently. “Democracy, yes, but not freedom. Little girls are not supposed to be taught they can do whatever they want.”

  “Sir, with all due respect, they are not that little.”

  “Precisely! See what I mean? This could turn out very badly. What am I going to do? What am I going to tell Mrs. Tanaka?”

  “Well, maybe I can ask some of the other pupils. Someone might know something. Is it all right if I question one of her friends? I’ll do it discreetly.”

  The principal wrung his hands. “Yes, discreetly. Please, we don’t want any bad rumors circulating.”

  Kondo hoped that when class started he would find Fumi sitting in her seat just as always, but not only was she not in attendance, Aya’s seat was empty, too. Had they run off together? Would Kondo be held responsible for both of their disappearances?

  It would be a long day, and to make matters worse his voice was hoarse and his throat on fire. He told the students to read the assigned lessons on t
heir own and called Akiko over. He took her into the hallway and shut the classroom door behind them.

  “You were seatmates with Fumi Tanaka for a while,” he said in a low voice. “You’re close friends, aren’t you?”

  “Not really, Sensei.”

  “But you girls like to talk about things, don’t you. Did she ever mention any plans? Did she ever talk about going anywhere?”

  Akiko stared at the floor.

  “Can you think of any reason why she might not be in school, why she might not have come home last night?”

  “She didn’t come home last night?” Akiko looked shocked.

  Kondo winced. No, he shouldn’t have said that. That was revealing too much. The principal would be furious. “What I meant was, if she hadn’t come home, do you have any idea where she might go?”

  Akiko shook her head.

  “Please, Akiko, please think hard.”

  Akiko thought for a moment. “Fumi once said that if I ever wanted to go to the black market, she would take me.”

  “The black market? Which one?”

  “The big one in Ueno, Ameyoko. Fumi said you can get anything you want in American Alley. I thought she was just bragging.”

  Kondo groaned inwardly. The market was huge, and young girls would be easy prey for the yakuza there.

  “Akiko, do you think she might have gone to American Alley?”

  She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. I’m scared, Sensei. Is Fumi lost?”

  Kondo forced himself to smile. “Everything’s absolutely fine, Akiko. There’s no need to worry. You can go back to your desk now, but please don’t mention this to anyone.”

  He hurried to report to the principal. For sure he would now have to agree that the police should be called in. But the principal wasn’t in the teachers’ room and as Kondo rushed out, he nearly collided with an old man who was standing in the doorway.

  “Excuse me,” Kondo said.

  “Sensei?”

  “Yes. Can I help you?”

  “You’re not Kondo Sensei by any chance, are you?”

  “Yes.”

  The man rolled the brim of a worn cloth hat round and round in his hands. “I’m Shimamura. I’m looking for my daughter.”

  So this was Aya’s father, Kondo thought. Now that he realized who the man was, he could see the resemblance. Most telling was the way he carried himself, slightly stooped with his shoulders hunched forward. That was exactly like Aya. Kondo had often been struck by her habit of rolling the top half of her body forward as if she were trying to make herself shrink or even disappear.

  “My daughter,” Shimamura repeated. “Do you know where she is?”

  “Shouldn’t you be the one to tell us? Don’t you have any idea?”

  The man hung his head. “She…she’s never done this before. She’s a good girl, always obedient. She’s a good girl in class, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, she’s a good student.”

  Shimamura looked relieved. “I told her she has to study hard. Maybe I shouldn’t have left her on her own so much. But I thought she was old enough.”

  “Another classmate, Fumi Tanaka, is also missing.”

  Shimamura looked startled. “Who’s that?”

  “Fumi Tanaka.”

  “I don’t know her.”

  “She and Aya sit together in class.”

  “Aya never told me what she does at school. I’m away at work and I don’t get home until late.”

  “Times are difficult. Many people work long hours.”

  “She leaves for school before I get up. Sometimes I don’t get back from work until she’s asleep.”

  “Many of us have to work long hours,” Kondo repeated dully.

  “So she’s…So you don’t know where…” Shimamura seemed to be mumbling to himself. “So she’s gone…”

  Kondo wanted to scold the man for not taking better care of his daughter, but he held his tongue. The self-justification he thought he’d seen in Shimamura a second ago had vanished, replaced by something else. Something more commonplace and careworn: an attitude of defeat.

  “Are there any clues that Aya planned to run away? Are her clothes missing, for instance?”

  Shimamura grunted. “I don’t know anything about my daughter’s clothes. Ever since her mother died, Aya takes care of those things by herself.”

  They stood in silence for a moment.

  “Obviously we all hope that Aya and Fumi will come ho—” Before Kondo could finish his sentence, Shimamura had dropped to his knees and flattened himself on the floor. His forehead was only inches from Kondo’s feet.

  “Tanomu. Please help me. I shouldn’t have left her alone so much. I am to blame.”

  “Please get up, Mr. Shimamura. That’s not necessary. Please, you’re getting dirty.”

  But Shimamura refused to budge. His shoulders began shaking, and Kondo realized that the poor man was crying.

  Kondo bent down and patted Shimamura gently on the back. “Please don’t be upset. Maybe we could search for your daughter together. And for Fumi, too.”

  “Yes,” Shimamura said, quickly rising to his feet and wiping his face with his hands. “That’s a good idea. We should start now. She could be kidnapped or lost or hurt. What if she’s hurt?” He looked into Kondo’s eyes searchingly. “What if it’s already too late?”

  “I’m sure we’ll find her. Please give me a minute to get ready. I’ll meet you outside in the school yard.”

  Miss Ikeda was walking down the hall and Kondo hastened to catch up with her. He explained the situation, asking her to look after his class for the rest of the day and to let the principal know. Outside, Shimamura was pacing back and forth in front of the school gate.

  “Where should we begin?” Shimamura asked as soon as Kondo approached.

  Kondo recalled what Akiko had said about the black market in Ueno. “One of my students thinks there’s a good chance they might have gone to American Alley.”

  “Impossible!” Shimamura exploded. “The black market! I strictly forbade Aya to go there. She wouldn’t dare disobey me.” A thick vein on his forehead began to throb visibly. “That place is full of scum.”

  Kondo was taken aback by the sudden force of Shimamura’s reply, but he pressed his point. “This is the only clue we have. And unless we hurry…” He left the thought dangling.

  Shimamura closed his eyes. Kondo studied the throbbing vein, the man’s clenched fists, the tightness in his jaw. Then, as if a storm had passed, Shimamura opened his eyes and nodded.

  “You’re right,” he said. “We’d better hurry.”

  42

  “I was so worried. Where were you all night?” Fumi demanded. She refused to let go of Aya’s hands, clutching them as if her life, both their lives, depended on this connection.

  Aya squeezed back, surprised at how relieved she was to have found Fumi and how quickly her fury seemed to have vanished. Surprised, too, that this simple act of touching brought such a deep sense of comfort. Of all the people she had come to know in Japan, it was Fumi whose friendship she craved; it was Fumi she needed the most. This bossy, irritating slip of a girl was the only friend she had. Yet last night she had been so angry and hurt, her only thought had been to get as far away from Fumi as she could. Her heart had been pounding with such violence she thought her chest might crack open. You don’t even have a mother. Walk away, walk away. You’re nothing but a stupid repat. Don’t turn back. One foot after the other. Just keep going. As long as she didn’t stop, she would be all right. She would run away from school, from the children who made fun of her, from the terrible apartment where she lived, from Japan. She would run away to the docks and find a ship—an American ship, any kind of ship—and stow away.

  “Where were you?” Fumi repeated. “Where did you spend the night?”

  Aya pointed to the shed in front of them. “I hid in here.”

  When Aya had walked away from Fumi, she’d had no idea where she was or which way t
o go. She got to the end of the lane, turned the corner, and continued walking in what she hoped was the direction of the main boulevard running through the Ginza. If only she could find Nancy, she’d thought. Nancy would help her. They would run away together, take the American ship and sail away home. If only she could spot Nancy’s bright red blouse, if only she could hear Nancy’s loud American laugh. Then, as if in response to her wishes, she began hearing English. Up ahead she could see clusters of GIs surrounded by groups of Japanese women, and immediately she regretted her decision to leave Fumi. Some formed couples, and with arms linked, staggered together drunkenly. Others were in groups of four or five, the colorful costumes of the women catching the bright moonlight and making them appear like twisting wraiths.

  “You skivvy honcho!” A woman’s shrill voice rang out in the night air, followed by a man’s coarse guffaw. There was more male laughter as the woman’s shrieks rose to a hysterical pitch.

  Aya turned around and retraced her steps, moving as quickly as she could. She returned to the place where she had turned the corner and then walked down the lane where she had left Fumi. She went up and down the lane but Fumi was nowhere in sight and every single building she passed was dark, not a flicker of light coming from inside. Then to her left she saw a pale gray shimmer like a fluttering of wings. It seemed like a miracle. When she got up close, she realized it was a small shed whose door was slightly ajar. Moonlight shone in through a hole in the roof, and the wind was causing the door to move back and forth ever so slightly, just enough to create the sensation of something shimmering. She slipped inside.

  It was dim but she could make out tools of some sort and stacks of ceramic jugs and pots. In the middle was a tall wooden screen, and behind it, a large plump sack. She leaned down to touch it. It was soft, as if it were filled with cloth, and it smelled clean. She took off her dark brown coat to use as a blanket and lay down to go to sleep, resting her head on the soft sack. But after a few minutes she shifted her position. Instead of using the sack as a pillow, she pulled it next to her, hugging it close to her body the way she used to hug her mother when she was small and slept in the same bed. She swore to herself that if she survived the night, she would never again do anything so foolish. If she could only manage not to be attacked or assaulted, she would be grateful to be alive and in one piece.