Light and dark

[61]

O-NOBU HAD been under her uncle’s care since she was a little girl, and she knew better than others the idiosyncrasies that emerged and receded in him from a variety of angles.

Oversensitive to a degree incongruent with his corpulent body, there were times when he would seclude himself in his room for half a day without speaking, while at other times the mere sight of another person would trigger what appeared to be an uncontrollable garrulousness. It wasn’t so much that he needed an outlet for his robust energy; he was either attempting out of consideration for others to put them at their ease as best he could or, as was more frequently the case, anxious to avoid the awkward silence generated by his own boredom in the presence of a guest, with the result that his conversation, when it wasn’t about practical matters, tended to center around subjects from his daily life of personal interest to him. His gift for talk, which he employed in social situations to great effect and which, it appeared, had contributed in no small way to his success, was frequently enhanced by a scintillating sense of humor. O-Nobu, who had grown up at her uncle’s side, had somewhere along the way inherited this gift. Trading digs with him when he was in the right mood had become second nature to her, requiring no effort. However, since her marriage to Tsuda she had reformed. As a consequence, two months passed, then three, and the wisecracking she had at first suppressed out of respect no longer came easily to her. In the end, she found herself relating to her husband in this regard as a different person than the self she had experienced when she was at the Okamotos. This left her unsatisfied. At the same time, she couldn’t help feeling that she was deceiving her husband. In her uncle’s unchanged behavior, observed on occasional visits, there was something that led her to recall a former freedom. As he sat cross-legged on the tatami in front of his raw tofu, she observed his waggish face nostalgically, as though it were a memento from the past.

“But it was you who taught me how to be insulting. I certainly haven’t learned anything of the kind from Tsuda.”

“Mebbe not, I reckon.”

Intentionally rolling the words on his tongue in old Tokyo dialect, Okamoto glanced at his wife, who loathed this verbal affectation and would have forbidden its use in her house if she hadn’t known that any criticism from her would only incite him to persist. She said nothing, pretending not to have noticed. Like someone whose expectations have been disappointed, her uncle turned to O-Nobu.

“Is Yoshio-san so severe?”

O-Nobu merely grinned, saying nothing.

“I see by your smile that pleases you.”

“What does?”

“You needn’t play dumb with the likes of me. I ask you in earnest, is Yoshio-san so serious?”

“I really couldn’t say. But why do you ask so seriously?”

“I have thoughts of me own about this — depending on your answer.”

“Goodness gracious! Then I’ll tell you. Just as you suspect, he is rather severe. What about it?”

“You swear?”

“What a fuss you’re making.”

“I’ll get right to my point. Assuming what you say is true, that he’s a severe person, if it is, he’ll never be right for someone as good at insults as you. Now Auntie here, she ought be a perfect fit.” As he spoke he nodded at his wife with his chin as she sat beside him in silence.

O-Nobu felt brushed by a sense of loneliness like a wind out of the distance. Observing herself, abruptly gripped by sadness, she was surprised.

“How lucky you are, Uncle, not a care in the world.”

O-Nobu would have liked to laugh off her uncle’s remark as a casual jest on the spur of the moment that proceeded from his assumption that she and Tsuda were, if anything, an excessively intimate couple, but her heart was too undefended to allow this. Even so, her determination to conceal her wounds, presenting herself to others as the wife of a man with no deficiencies, prevented her from revealing any of the things she was feeling deeply. She blinked rapidly to camouflage the tears she could feel would shortly be welling in her eyes.

“Even if I am a perfect fit, it wouldn’t make any difference at my age. Right, O-Nobu?”

Seen as younger than she was wherever she went, her aunt turned her pure, lustrous eyes to O-Nobu, who said nothing. Neither did she neglect to avail herself of the first opportunity to conceal her feelings. As if amused, she laughed aloud.