Light and dark

[9]

THE NEXT day he went to work as usual. Mid-morning he ran into Yoshikawa on the stairs. But since he was starting down as his employer was on his way up, he merely bowed politely and said nothing. Shortly before it was time for lunch, he knocked softly at Yoshikawa’s door and peeked into the room hesitantly. Yoshikawa, smoking a cigarette, was conversing with a visitor. The visitor was of course unknown to Tsuda. As he opened the door halfway their conversation, which seemed to be in full swing, abruptly ceased, and both host and visitor turned in his direction.

“What is it?”

Addressed before he had a chance to speak, Tsuda halted in the doorway.

“Just a word—”

“Personal?”

Tsuda wasn’t someone who came in and out of this office in the course of normal business. The awkwardness he was feeling showed in his face as he replied.

“Just briefly—”

“I’m in the middle of something. This isn’t the time.”

“Of course — please forgive the interruption.”

Closing the door as quietly as he could, Tsuda went back to his desk. In the afternoon he returned twice to stand in front of the same door. There was no sign of Yoshikawa either time.

“Has he gone out?”

The question was addressed to the office boy he encountered at the bottom of the stairs on his way out. The youth had perfect eyes and mouth; he was attempting to summon a brown, long-haired dog from where it reclined beneath a stone step by whistling at it as though magically, extending his arm in the animal’s direction.

“He left a while ago with a visitor — he might not be back today.”

Since all day long his sole concern was attending to the comings and goings of the people in the office, the boy’s predictions were apt to be more reliable than Tsuda’s. Leaving behind the brown dog, whose owner was undetermined, and the office boy at pains to make friends with the animal, Tsuda returned yet again to his desk, where he continued working as usual until the end of the day.

When it was time to leave he lagged slightly behind the others as they exited the large building. On the way to his usual trolley stop, as though abruptly recalling something, he took his watch from his vest pocket and glanced at it. It was less the precise time he wanted than a determination of which direction to take. It was very much as if he were conferring meaningfully with the watch whether to stop at Yoshikawa’s house on the way home or abandon the idea.

In the end, he jumped aboard a streetcar that ran in the opposite direction to his own house. He well knew that Yoshikawa was often not at home and didn’t expect that dropping in would guarantee a meeting. He also understood that even if his employer chanced to be there, he might be turned away if his timing happened to be inconvenient. Nevertheless, he felt it was necessary from time to time to pass through Yoshikawa’s gate. This was out of courtesy. It was also an obligation. It was furthermore in his best interest. Finally, it was simple vanity.

Tsuda’s acquaintance with Yoshikawa is privileged.

There were times when he felt like bearing this truth on his back. When he wished to shoulder his burden in plain view of everyone. But without in the least compromising his habitual self-respect. The psychology that had brought him to the entrance to Yoshikawa’s house was akin to that of a man who, even as he secludes things as deeply inside himself as possible, wants to reveal his hiding place to others. His interpretation to himself was that he had come all this way on an errand and for no other reason.