Light and dark

[46]

“I’M SO glad you managed to come. I was just saying to Tsugi that today might be difficult for you.”

Appearing to relax for the first time now that the scene had ended, Okamoto’s wife finally began speaking to O-Nobu.

“Didn’t I tell you so? It’s just as I predicted.”

Tsugiko addressed her mother with a look of pride on her face and, turning at once to O-Nobu, explained.

“I made a bet with Mother. Whether you’d come today or not. Mother said you might not come so I assured her you would no matter what.”

“So you consulted the box again?”

Among Tsugiko’s prize possessions was a box, three inches long and less than two inches wide, of fortune tallies. On the black lacquer lid, the words “Fortune Tags” appeared in gold in the spidery characters of the Sung dynasty style; inside were tags fashioned from beautifully planed slivers of ivory inscribed with the numbers 1 to 100.

“Let’s have a look,” Tsugiko would say, shaking one of the thin ivory wafers from the box as if it were a toothpick holder and then unfolding the booklet designed to fit inside. To read the text inscribed in characters the size of a fly’s head, she would remove from its chintz bag lined with habotai silk the magnifying glass that came with the set and bring it close to the tiny page portentously. This gift, which O-Nobu had purchased for four yen, too much to spend on a simple toy, at a shop on the temple grounds on an excursion to Asakusa with Tsuda, had become, for Tsugiko, who would turn twenty-one next year, an accessory that added a dimension of mystery in an innocent and playful way to her young girl’s imagination. Sometimes she even took it with her when she went out, tucking it into her obi just as it lay on her desk in its thick paper case.

“Did you bring it along today?”

O-Nobu had an urge to ask the question half teasingly. Tsugiko shook her head with a strained smile. At her side, her mother spoke as though replying in her stead.

“Today’s prediction didn’t come from a Fortune Tag. We had a far greater oracle today.”

“I see.”

Surveying the faces of mother and daughter, O-Nobu appeared eager to inquire further.

“Tsugi was hoping—,” her mother began, and Tsugiko interrupted, speaking over her.

“That’s enough, Mother. That isn’t something to talk about here.”

Her younger sister, Yuriko, who had been listening to the conversation in silence, giggled.

“I don’t mind telling her.”

“Yuriko-san, you hush. That’s just being mean. You stop or I’m not helping you with piano practice anymore.”

Tsugiko’s mother laughed softly, as if to avoid drawing attention from people seated nearby. O-Nobu was also amused. At the same time, she was even more interested in knowing.

“Tell! What if your sister does get mad — I’ll stand behind you.”

Yuriko looked at her sister with her jaw thrust forward. It was as if, with this however small show of dissatisfaction, she was flaunting in front of her sister the victory of someone who has seized for herself the right to speak or hold her tongue.

“Go ahead and tell, then — do whatever you like.”

Standing as she spoke, Tsugiko opened the door behind their seats and stepped into the corridor.

“Big Sister’s angry, isn’t she?”

“She’s not angry — she’s embarrassed.”

“But there’s nothing embarrassing about saying what she said.”

“Then tell me.”

Yuriko was some six years younger than herself, and her psychology was a child’s; O-Nobu understood her feelings and tried to make clever use of them, but her elder sister’s abrupt exit had already altered the teenager’s mood, and O-Nobu’s attempt at inducement had no effect. Finally, it was the girls’ mother who was obliged to accept responsibility for everything.

“It’s nothing worth making such a fuss about. All Tsugi said was that Yoshio-san would surely come today because he’s so kind and gentle and always does whatever O-Nobu would like him to.”

“Really! Yoshio appears that dependable to Tsugiko-san? How wonderful, I should be grateful; I’ll have to thank her.”

“And Yuriko said in that case it would be nice if Sister could marry a man like Yoshio-san — that’s what Tsugi would have been embarrassed about in front of you, and that’s why she left.”

“Gracious!” There was sadness in O-Nobu’s softly spoken exclamation.