Light and dark

[14]

HE ARRIVED home in the same mood. He reached for the lattice in his front gate, and before it opened the shoji slid quietly back and he became aware that the figure of O-Nobu had appeared before him. He gazed at her profile, lightly made up, as though in surprise.

Since his marriage he had often been surprised by his wife in this way. Her actions were capable of making him feel preempted, but there were times when her swiftness proved extremely useful. Sometimes as she went about the business of daily life, he observed her movements, which manifested this special agility of hers, as if he were watching the glinting of a knife as it passed before his eyes. The feeling was of something small but acute that was at the same time somehow repellant.

At this particular moment it occurred to Tsuda that some power of O-Nobu’s had enabled her to foreknow his return. But he couldn’t bring himself to ask how this could be. To request an explanation and be turned aside with a laugh would feel like a defeat for the husband.

He went inside as if he hadn’t noticed and changed out of his kimono at once. In front of the brazier in the sitting room, a black lacquer tray with feet attached had been covered with a cloth as though awaiting his arrival.

“You stopped off somewhere again today?”

It was a question O-Nobu could be counted on to ask if Tsuda failed to return at the expected hour. He was obliged accordingly to offer something in reply. Since it wasn’t necessarily the case that he had been delayed by an errand, there were times when his response was oddly vague. At such times he avoided looking at O-Nobu, who would have put on makeup for him.

“Shall I guess?”

“Go ahead.”

This time, Tsuda had nothing to worry about.

“The Yoshikawas.”

“How did you know?”

“I can usually tell by how you seem.”

“Is that so? Not that it was hard to figure out today — I said last night that I intended to set the date for surgery after speaking with Yoshikawa-san.”

“I would have guessed even if you hadn’t said anything.”

“Really? You’re so clever.”

Tsuda related to O-Nobu only the gist of his conversation with Yoshikawa’s wife.

“And when are you planning to go in?”

“It seems I can go anytime.”

Tsuda didn’t mention the oppressive urgency he was feeling to do something about money before he had his surgery. It wasn’t by any means a large sum. But for precisely that reason a simple solution to raising it was evading him and causing additional aggravation. Briefly his thoughts turned to his younger sister in Kanda, but he had no heart for presenting himself at her door. In consideration of swollen household expenses since his marriage, his father had been helping make ends meet by sending money from Kyoto every month with the understanding that Tsuda would repay a portion of the loan out of his year-end and summer bonuses. This summer, circumstances had prevented him from keeping his end of the bargain, and as a consequence his father was already in a disagreeable mood. His sister, who knew all about this, tended to sympathize with their father. From the beginning, in consideration of her husband, he had felt that broaching money matters to his sister was somehow unseemly; now he was more than ever put off by the thought. It appeared, assuming it couldn’t be avoided, that the only thing to do, as O-Nobu had urged, was to write again to his father with an appeal. It occurred to him that including a somewhat exaggerated description of his illness would be a good tactic. Embellishing the reality to a degree that wouldn’t worry his parents excessively was a manipulation that ought to be manageable without suffering the pangs of conscience.

“I think I’ll take your suggestion last night and write my father again.”

“I see. But don’t—”

O-Nobu stopped and looked at her husband. Paying no heed, Tsuda went upstairs and sat down at his desk.