South of the Border, West of the Sun

11

Four days after Shimamoto and I returned from Ishikawa, I got an unexpected call from my father-in-law. He said he had a favor to ask and invited me to lunch the next day. I agreed, frankly surprised. Usually his busy schedule allowed only for business lunches.

Six months before, his company had moved from Yoyogi to a new seven-story building in Yotsuya. His offices occupied the top two floors, and he rented out the lower five to other companies, restaurants, and shops. It was the first time I’d been there. Everything glittered, brand spanking new. The lobby had a marble floor, a cathedral ceiling, flowers piled high in a huge ceramic vase. When I got off the elevator at the sixth floor, I was met by a young receptionist with hair so gorgeous she looked like she belonged in a shampoo commercial. She called my father-in-law to tell him I had arrived. Her phone was this dark-gray high-tech number that reminded me of a spatula with a calculator attached. She beamed at me and said, “Please go on in. The president is expecting you.” A gorgeous smile, though not in the same class as Shimamoto’s.

The presidential office was on the top floor, and a large picture window gave a view of the city. Not the most heartwarming scene, but the room was bright and spacious. An impressionist painting hung on the wall. A picture of a lighthouse and a boat. Looked like a Seurat, very possibly an original.

“Business is booming, I take it?” I said.

“It’s not bad,” he replied. He walked to the window and pointed outside. “Not bad at all. And it’s going to get even better. This is the time to make some money. For people in my line of work, a chance like this doesn’t come along but once every twenty or thirty years. If you don’t make money now, you never will. Do you know why?”

“I have no idea. The construction business isn’t exactly my field.”

“Look out at Tokyo here. See all the empty lots around? Like a mouth full of missing teeth. If you look down from above like this, there it is for all the world to see, but walk around town at ground level and you’ll miss it. There used to be old houses and buildings on those lots, but they’ve been torn down. The price of land has shot up so much old buildings aren’t profitable anymore. You can’t charge high rent, and it’s hard to find tenants. That’s why they need newer, bigger buildings. And private homes in the city—well, people can’t afford their property taxes or inheritance taxes. So they sell out and move to the suburbs. And professional real estate developers buy up the old houses, put ‘em to the wrecking ball, and construct brand-new, more functional buildings. So before long all those empty lots will have new buildings on them. In a couple of years you won’t recognize Tokyo. There’s no shortage of capital. The Japanese economy’s booming, stocks are up. And banks are bursting at the seams with cash. If you have land as collateral, the banks’ll lend you as much as you possibly could want. That’s why all these buildings are going up one after another. And guess who builds them? Guys like me.”

“I see,” I said. “But if all those buildings are built, what will happen to Tokyo?”

“What will happen? Well, it’ll get more lively, more beautiful, more functional. Cities reflect the way the economy’s going, after all.”

“That’s all well and good, but Tokyo’s already choked with cars. Any more skyscrapers, and the roads will turn into one huge parking lot. And how’s the water supply going to keep up if there’s a dry spell? In the summer, when people all have their air conditioners on, they won’t be able to keep up with the demand for electricity. The power plants are run by fuel from the Middle East right? What happens if there’s another oil crisis? Then what?”

“Let the government figure that out. That’s what we’re paying high taxes for, right? Let all those Tokyo University grads rack their brains. They’re always running around with their snooty noses in the air—like they’re the ones who really run the country. Let them put their pointy heads to work for a change. I don’t have the answer. I’m a simple builder. Orders for buildings come in, and I build ‘em. That’s what you call market forces, am I right?”

I said nothing. I hadn’t come all the way here to debate the Japanese economy.

“Anyhow,” he said, “let’s drop all this complicated stuff and go grab a bite. I’m starving.”

Getting in his huge black Mercedes, we drove to his favorite grilled-eel restaurant, in Akasaka. We were shown to a private room in the back, where we settled in for a meal. It was the middle of the day, so I only sipped a bit of the sake, but my father-in-law threw back one cup after another.

“You said you had something you wanted to talk about?” I asked. If it was bad news, I’d rather get it out of the way first.

“I have a favor to ask,” he said. “Nothing really big. I just need to use your name for something.”

“My name?”

“I’m starting a new company, and I need to use somebody else’s name as the founder. You don’t need any special qualifications. Just your name. I promise it won’t cause you any trouble, and I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Don’t worry about that,” I said. “If it will help you, you can use my name as many times as you want. But what kind of company are you talking about? If my name’s going to be listed as the founder, I might as well know that much.”

“Well, to tell you the truth, it’s not an actual company,” my father-in-law answered. “It’s a company in name only, I should say. It doesn’t really exist.”

“A fake company, in other words. A dummy company.”

“Guess you could say that.”

“What’s the point? Is it a tax dodge?”

“Hmm … not exactly,” he said reluctantly.

“Bribes?” I ventured.

“Sort of,” he said. “I’ll be the first to admit this isn’t the greatest thing in the world to be involved in. But in my line of work you have to.”

“Well, what if some problem develops?”

“There’s nothing illegal about forming a company.”

“I’m talking about what that company does.”

He took a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it with a match. And exhaled smoke into the air above him.

“There won’t be any problems. Even if there were, anybody with half a brain could see that you just lent your name to it. Your wife’s father asked you to let him use your name, and you did. No one’s going to hold you responsible.”

I didn’t say anything for a while. “Where are all these bribes going to end up?”

“You’re better off not knowing.”

“Tell me more about these so-called market forces,” I said. “Is it going to end up in some politician’s pocket?”

“A little,” he said.

“Bureaucrats’?”

My father-in-law stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. “That would be graft, wouldn’t it. They’d arrest me.”

“But everybody in your business does it, right?”

“I suppose,” he said. And he made a pained face. “But not to the point where they’re arrested.”

“What about the yakuza? They’re pretty helpful when it comes to buying up land, aren’t they?”

“I’ve never gotten along with them. Anyhow, I’m not trying to corner the market. It’s lucrative, but I don’t do it. As I said, I’m just a simple builder.”

I sighed deeply.

“I knew you wouldn’t like this,” he said.

“It doesn’t matter if I like it or not, since you’ve already included me in the equation and gone ahead, right? On the assumption that I’d agree.”

“I’m afraid you’re right.” He laughed weakly.

I sighed again. “Dad, to tell you the truth, I don’t like this kind of thing. I don’t mean because it’s illegal or anything. But I’m just an ordinary guy, living an ordinary life. And I’d rather not get involved in backroom deals.”

“I’m well aware of that,” he said. “So leave it all to me. I won’t leave you hanging out to dry. If I did, then Yukiko and the children would be involved too. And I’m not about to have that happen. You know how much my daughter and grandchildren mean to me.”

I nodded. I couldn’t very well refuse his request. It depressed me. Little by little, I would get snared by the world out there. This was the first step; first I say yes to this, then later on it’ll be something else.

We ate some more. I drank tea, while my father-in-law put away the sake at an even faster clip.

“How old are you now?” he suddenly asked.

“Thirty-seven,” I replied.

He looked at me fixedly.

“Thirty-seven’s the age when you play around the most,” he said. “Work’s going well, your confidence is up. So women come to you, right?”

“In my case, not that many, I’m afraid.” I laughed, studying his expression. For a second I panicked, positive that he’d found out about me and Shimamoto, and that’s why he asked me here today. But he was just making small talk.

“When I was your age I played around quite a bit. So I won’t tell you not to have affairs. It’s kind of strange for me to be saying this to my daughter’s husband, but actually I think a fling or two on the side isn’t all bad. It refreshes you. Get it out of your system every once in a while, and your home life will improve; you’ll be able to concentrate on work too. So if you were to sleep around with other women, I for one wouldn’t say a word. Playing around’s okay by me, but be very careful in choosing your partners. Get involved with the wrong person, and your life goes down the toilet. I’ve seen it happen a million times.”

I nodded. And suddenly recalled hearing from Yukiko about how her brother and his wife weren’t getting along. Her brother, a year younger than me, had a girlfriend and didn’t come home much anymore. I imagined my father-in-law was worried about his oldest son and that’s why he brought all this up.

“Anyhow, don’t get involved with some worthless bit of tail. Do that and you’ll soon be worthless yourself. Play around with a stupid woman, and you’ll turn stupid too. Which isn’t to say you should get involved with some high-class woman. That’d make it tough to go back to what’s waiting for you at home. Do you get what I’m telling you?”

“I think so,” I replied.

“As long as you keep a few things in mind, you’ll do okay. First, don’t set the woman up with her own place. That’s a definite mistake. Second, no matter what, come back home by two a.m. Two a.m. is the point of no return. Finally, don’t use your friends as excuses to cover up your affairs. You may be found out. If that happens, well, there’s not much you can do about it. But there’s no need to lose a friend in the process.”

“It sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

“You got it. Man learns from experience alone,” he said. “There are some people who don’t; I know you’re not one of them. You have a very discriminating eye, something only experience can teach you. I’ve been to your bars just a couple of times, but it’s plain to see. You know how to hire good people and how to treat them right.”

I was silent, waiting for him to go on.

“You also have a good eye for choosing a wife. Yukiko’s very happy living with you. And your children are wonderful kids. I’m grateful to you.”

He’s pretty drunk, I thought. But I didn’t say anything.

“You probably don’t know this, but Yukiko tried to commit suicide once. Took an overdose of sleeping pills. We rushed her to the hospital, and she didn’t regain consciousness for two days. I was sure she wouldn’t make it. Her body was cold, and she was hardly breathing. She’s a goner, I figured. I felt like the world had collapsed.”

I looked up at him. “When did this happen?”

“When she was twenty-two. Right after she graduated from college. It was over a man. A real jerk she’d gotten herself engaged to. Yukiko looks real quiet, but underneath she’s a tough cookie. And smart. That’s why I can’t figure out why she’d ever get herself involved with a guy like that.” He leaned against the pillar in the traditional-style room we were in, put a cigarette between his lips, and lit it. “Well, that was her very first man. The very first time, everyone makes mistakes. With Yukiko, though, it was a huge shock. That’s why she tried to kill herself. For a long while afterward she wouldn’t have anything to do with men. She’d always been pretty outgoing, but she stopped talking to people and stayed holed up in the house. Once she met you, though, she began to cheer up. She did a complete turnaround. I remember you met each other on a trip?”

“That’s right. At Yatsugatake.”

“I nearly had to shove her out the door to get her to go. I thought travel might do her good.”

I nodded. “I knew nothing about the suicide,” I said.

“I thought it was better you didn’t know, so I never mentioned it But it’s high time you knew. The two of you are going to be together for a long time, so you’d better know everything—the good and the bad. Besides, it happened a long time ago.” He closed his eyes and blew a puff of smoke into the air. “It’s funny for me as her parent to say this, but she’s a good woman. I’ve played around a lot and have an eye for the ladies. Whether she’s my daughter or not, I’m able to judge women pretty well. My younger daughter’s much prettier, but Yukiko’s the better person. You’re a good judge of people.”

I was silent.

“You don’t have any brothers and sisters, do you?”

“No, I don’t,” I said.

“Do you think I love all three of my children equally?”

“I have no idea.”

“How about you? Do you love both of your daughters the same?”

“Sure.”

“That’s ‘cause they’re both still little,” he said. “Wait till they grow up. First you’ll like this one, but then you’ll start leaning toward the other. Someday you’ll see what I mean.”

“Really?” I said.

“I’d never say this to them, but of my three kids, I like Yukiko best. I feel bad for the others when I say this, but there you have it. Yukiko and I get along well, and I can trust her.”

I nodded.

“You have a good eye for people, and that’s a wonderful talent you’ve got to cherish. I’m a hopeless case myself, but at least I’ve helped raise something not quite so hopeless.”

I assisted my now thoroughly drunk father-in-law into his Mercedes. He sank back into the rear seat, spread his legs apart, and closed his eyes. I hailed a cab and went home. As soon as I arrived, Yukiko wanted to hear the upshot of our luncheon meeting.

“Nothing really important,” I said. “Your father just wanted to have someone to drink with. He ended up pretty drunk. I wonder that he can go back to work in that condition.”

“He’s always like that” Yukiko laughed. “He has some drinks at lunch, then takes an hour’s nap on the sofa in his office. The company hasn’t gone belly-up yet. Don’t you worry about him.”

“He doesn’t seem to hold his liquor like he used to.”

“No, he doesn’t. Before Mom died, he could drink like a fish and never show it. He was tough. But it can’t be helped. Everybody gets old.”

She brewed a pot of coffee, and we sat at the dining table, drinking it. I decided not to say anything about the dummy company and her father’s request. She’d only think he was bothering me, and she wouldn’t like it. It’s true you borrowed money from Father, but that has nothing to do with this, Yukiko would no doubt say. You’re paying it back, with interest right? But the situation wasn’t quite that simple.

My younger daughter was fast asleep in her room. When I finished my coffee, I enticed Yukiko into bed. We stripped naked and held each other tight there in the glare of the sun. I took my time warming her body up, then entered her. But all the time I was inside her, it was Shimamoto I saw. I closed my eyes and felt I was holding Shimamoto. And I came violently.

I took a shower, then went back to bed, to sleep for a while. Yukiko was already dressed, but after I slipped into bed, she got under the covers and put her lips against my back. I lay silent, with eyes closed. I’d had sex with her, all the while thinking of another woman, and the guilt was getting to me. I lay there, silent eyes closed.

“You know, I really do love you,” Yukiko said.

“We’ve been married seven years, we have two kids,” I said. “‘Bout time for you to get tired of me, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps. But I still love you.”

I held her close. And began to undress her. I pulled off her sweater and skirt, her underwear.

“Whoa! You’re not planning what I think you’re planning, are you?” she asked in surprise.

“Of course,” I said.

“Special-entry time for my diary today,” she said.

This time I tried hard not to think of Shimamoto. I held Yukiko’s body, looking at her face and concentrating only on her. I kissed her lips, her neck, her breasts. And I came inside of her. Afterward, I held her for a long time.

“Are you all right?” she asked, her eyes on me. “Did something happen today with you and Father?”

“Nothing happened,” I replied. “Not a thing. I just feel like staying like this for a while.”

“Be my guest,” she said. And she held me tight, with me still inside her. I closed my eyes and pulled her hard against my body, as though, if I didn’t, I would fly off into the void.

As I held her, I remembered the attempted suicide her father had told me about. I was sure she wouldn’t make it. She’s a goner, I figured. If things had taken even the slightest of wrong turns, I wouldn’t be holding her body like this. Gently I touched her shoulder, her hair and breasts. They were real—warm and soft. Beneath my palm I could feel her life. No one could say how long that life would last. Whatever has form can disappear in an instant. Yukiko. This room. These walls, this ceiling, this window. They might all be gone before we knew it. Suddenly Izumi came to mind. That man had hurt Yukiko deeply, and I had done the same to Izumi. Yukiko happened to meet me after that, but Izumi was all alone.

I kissed Yukiko’s soft neck.

“I’m going to sleep for a while,” I said. “And then I’ll go to the nursery school to pick her up.”

“Sleep well,” she told me.

I slept for just a short time. When I opened my eyes, it was past three p.m. From the bedroom window I could see the Aoyama Cemetery. I sat down in a chair by the window and stared at it for a long time. So many things looked different now, now that Shimamoto had shown up in my life again. I could hear Yukiko preparing dinner in the kitchen. The sounds rang hollowly in my ears, like those transmitted down a pipe from a world terribly far away.

I got the BMW out of the underground garage and headed for the nursery school to pick up my daughter. They had some special program at the school that day, so it was almost four when she appeared at the school gate. You could always count on a line of shiny, expensive cars there—Saabs, Jaguars, even the occasional Alfa Romeo. Young mothers in expensive-looking coats got out of the cars, collected their children, deposited them in the cars, and took off. My daughter was the only child whose father came to pick her up. When I saw her, I called out her name and waved. She waved her tiny hand and came toward me. Then she saw a little girl sitting in a blue Mercedes 260E and ran over to her, yelling out something. The girl had on a red woolen cap and was leaning out the window of the parked car. The girl’s mother wore a red cashmere coat and a large pair of sunglasses. When I went over there and took my daughter’s hand, the woman turned to me and smiled broadly. I returned the smile. The red coat and the sunglasses made me think of Shimamoto. The Shimamoto I followed from Shibuya to Aoyama.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi,” she said.

The woman was stunning. She couldn’t have been much more than twenty-five. Her car stereo was playing the Talking Heads’ “Burning Down the House.” In the back seat were two paper shopping bags from Kinokuniya. She had a beautiful smile. My daughter whispered for a while to her little friend, then said goodbye. Bye, said the girl. Then she pushed the button and closed the window of the car. I took my daughter’s hand and walked her over to where the BMW was parked.

“How was your day? Anything fun happen?” I asked.

She shook her head emphatically. “Nothing fun at all. It was terrible,” she said.

“Tough time for both of us,” I said. I leaned over and kissed her forehead, and she made the same sour face owners of snobby French restaurants produce when you hand them your American Express card. “I’m sure tomorrow will be much better,” I told her.

I wanted to believe that too. When I opened my eyes tomorrow, the world would be new, and every problem would be solved. But I couldn’t swallow that scenario. For I had a wife and two daughters. And I was in love with someone else.

“Daddy?” my daughter said. “I wanna ride a horse. Buy me a horse someday?”

“Sure. Someday,” I said.

“When’s someday?”

“When Daddy’s saved up some money. Then he’ll buy you a horse.”

“Do you have a piggy bank, Daddy?”

“Yes, a very big one. As big as this car. If I don’t save up that much money, I won’t be able to buy you a horse.”

“If we ask Grandpa, do you think he’ll buy me a horse? Grandpa’s rich.”

“That’s right,” I said. “Grandpa has a piggy bank as big as that building over there. With lots of money inside. But it’s so big it’s hard to get the money out.”

My daughter thought about it for a while.

“But can I ask Grandpa sometime? To buy me a horse?”

“Sure, you can ask him. Who knows, he might even buy one for you.”

We talked about horses all the way home. What color horse she liked. What name she’d give it. Where she would like to ride to. Where the horse would sleep. I put her on the apartment elevator and headed for work. What would tomorrow bring? I wondered. Both hands on the wheel, I closed my eyes. I didn’t feel like I was in my own body; my body was just a lonely, temporary container I happened to be borrowing. What would become of me tomorrow I did not know. Buying my daughter a horse—the idea took on an unexpected urgency. I had to buy it for her before things disappeared. Before the world fell to pieces.