Light and dark

[69]

JUST THEN an unsuspecting Tsugiko, back from her language lesson, appeared in the doorway.

“I’m home.”

The others, lacking the impetus for a reconciliation, seized on her sudden return eagerly, responding to her greeting all at once.

“Welcome back.”

“You’re late — we’ve been waiting for a while.”

“Waiting impatiently. Everybody’s wondering why you’re so late.”

Hoping to recover lost ground from his earlier misstep, Uncle Okamoto, always restless, was even more animated than usual.

“At any rate, it seems there’s something your cousin here wants to discuss with you.”

Converting with this unnecessary remark his real objective into its exact opposite and casting its inverted shadow on O-Nobu, he appeared, if anything, altogether pleased with himself.

However, when the maid appeared, dropping to her hands and knees just outside the room to announce that the bath was ready, he rose as though suddenly remembering something.

“I haven’t time for a bath yet, there’s still work to do in the garden — feel free to go ahead if you like.”

Intending to spend the rest of the autumn day with his feet on the ground in the company of his favorite gardener, he descended to the garden again. On his way out he turned back to the others.

“O-Nobu, have a bath and stay for dinner.”

Two or three steps more into the garden and he was back again. O-Nobu observed with admiration this incessant mental activity so characteristic of her uncle.

“Since O-Nobu is here should we invite Fujii to dinner as well?”

Though they were in different professions, Fujii and her uncle had graduated from the same school and were old acquaintances; recently, the result of the connection to Tsuda, Fujii had had more to do with her uncle than ever before. While O-Nobu interpreted the invitation as issuing from her uncle’s good will toward her, it didn’t please her particularly. If the Fujii household and Tsuda were separate entities, the distance separating her from the Fujiis was even greater.

“I wonder if he’ll come.” The expression on her uncle’s face reflected accurately what O-Nobu was thinking.

“Recently everybody says I’m cloistered, relishing my retirement, but I’m no match for him when it comes to dropping out of the world; he’s been doing it forever. What do you think, O-Nobu, if we ask old man Fujii over for a bowl of rice will he come?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“I don’t think it’s likely he’d come—”

O-Nobu’s aunt sounded tentative.

“You might be right — he probably doesn’t accept last-minute invitations. Bad idea? But let’s give him a call anyway, just to see.”

O-Nobu laughed.

“You say ‘Let’s give him a call’ as if there were a telephone in that house.”

“Shall we send somebody over then?”

Not wanting to go to the trouble of writing a letter, or because he thought it a waste of time, O-Nobu’s uncle moved briskly toward the entrance to the garden without another word.

“I think I’ll just excuse myself and have a bath,” said O-Nobu’s aunt, rising.

Everyone knew about her uncle’s fastidiousness where bathing was concerned, but only her aunt was able at a time like this to act decisively on his invitation to precede him into the tub, and O-Nobu envied her unapologetic boldness. She was also repelled. Unfeminine and unpleasant, her attitude was at the same time manly and admirable. How wonderful if only that were possible, O-Nobu felt, and, at the same time, intertwined with that feeling was as always another, that she hoped never to behave in such a way no matter how old she became. As she gazed vacantly at her aunt’s receding back, Tsugiko, the only other person remaining, issued an invitation.

“Shall we go to my room?”

Leaving the clutter of tea things and the brazier as they were, they left the room.