Light and dark

[12]

JUST THEN the electric light hanging above their heads came on. The student who had greeted Tsuda on his arrival padded into the room, carefully lowered the blinds, and left again without a word. Tsuda, who had been watching carefully as the color of the gas heater gradually deepened, tracked in silence with his eyes the youth’s departure. He had the feeling it was time to terminate the conversation and be on his way. He sipped the tea that remained in the teacup in front of him, avoiding the slice of lemon floating coldly at the bottom. Replacing the cup, he revealed the nature of the errand he had come on. It was a straightforward matter. It was not, however, the sort of thing that could be approved on the spot at Madam Yoshikawa’s discretion. Certainly she had no idea where in the month he should take the week or so he said he would require for personal reasons.

“I doubt it matters when. As long as you’ve made arrangements.”

Her expression of good will toward Tsuda was ever so effortless.

“I’ve made sure everything is in order.”

“Then it shouldn’t be a problem — why not take off beginning tomorrow?”

“I’d better check first.”

“I’ll speak to Yoshikawa when he gets home. You needn’t worry about a thing.”

Madam Yoshikawa volunteered her services cheerfully. She appeared pleased to have stumbled on yet another excuse to act on someone else’s behalf. It made Tsuda happy to see before him this spirited and sympathetic lady. It was additionally pleasing to realize that her generosity had its source in his own attitude and behavior.

Tsuda enjoyed being treated like a child by Madam for the particular reason that he was able to experience a certain intimacy created between them as a result. When he dissected this, it turned out to be that special variety of intimacy possible only between a man and a woman. It was if anything akin to the pleasurable feeling a man enjoys when, for example, he receives a clap on the back from a young hostess at a teahouse.

At the same time, he held in reserve an abundant portion of himself that neither Yoshikawa’s wife nor any one else could treat as a child. He was careful to prepare for coming into her presence by hiding this place away. And even as he allowed himself a superficial sense of amusement at being taunted, he was leaning against the thick wall he had constructed inside himself.

Having completed his errand, he was rising from his chair when his hostess spoke up.

“I hope you won’t cry and moan like a baby again, a big brute like you.”

Tsuda involuntarily recalled his agony the previous year.

“Last time it was more than I could bear. Every time the door slid open or shut I felt it in the incision and my whole body went into spasm. This time I’ll be fine.”

“Truly? You have a guarantee? It sounds iffy to me. When you sound so confident it makes me feel I’d better look in on you.”

“It’s not the sort of place I could allow you to visit. It’s cramped and not that clean — it’s a nasty room.”

“I couldn’t care less.”

It wasn’t clear from her tone whether the matron was serious or teasing again. About to explain that his doctor’s specialty was in an area somewhat tangential to his particular illness and that as such his offices were not the sort of place that ladies would find inviting, Tsuda, at a loss how to begin, faltered. Mrs. Yoshikawa seized the opportunity his hesitation afforded to bear down.

“I’ll definitely look in on you. I have something I’d like to discuss that’s hard to talk about in front of O-Nobu.”

“Then why don’t I drop over again.”

Tsuda rose as if to flee, and Madam Yoshikawa, laughing, saw him out of the room.