Laura Rowland - The Perfumed Sleeve

The palanquin that carried Makino’s widow and concubine stopped at Yanagiya, a shop in the Nihonbashi merchant district. Lanterns painted with a willow-tree crest decorated the eaves of the shop. Women inspected goods displayed on stands outside its open storefront. Their gaily colored cloaks brightened the drab, gray morning. Male clerks proclaimed the virtues of their wares and urged the women to buy.

“How wonderful it is to get outside and see people!” Okitsu exclaimed as the bearers set down the palanquin. “This is such a nice change from staying home!”

“You’ve said that at least a hundred times,” Agemaki said. “Do curb your tendency to repeat yourself. A little variety would improve your conversation.”

As usual, Agemaki hid her dislike of Okitsu behind a false, affectionate smile. Okitsu, easily deceived as always, took no offense at the rebuke. “Thank you for your kind advice,” she said with sincere affection. “And thank you for inviting me to go shopping with you.”

While they climbed out of the palanquin, Agemaki resisted the urge to remind Okitsu that she hadn’t been invited. Agemaki had meant this trip as an escape from the gloom of her dead husband’s estate, as well as a distraction from the worrisome events that had followed the murder. She’d also wanted to escape the other inhabitants of the private chambers, who were a daily, sore vexation to her. But Okitsu had spotted her on her way out.

“Where are you going?” Okitsu had said. When told, she’d run after Agemaki. “I’m going with you.”

Agemaki had let Okitsu come because she had to pretend she liked the stupid little hussy. She’d been pretending ever since Senior Elder Makino had bought Okitsu. And she must pretend awhile longer, for her own good.

They entered the Yanagiya. Their maids followed them into a large room crowded with chattering customers. Shelves on the walls held pretty ceramic jars of the face powder, rouge, and scented oil that had made the Yanagiya a favorite among the women of Edo. Clerks rushed about, serving their customers and calculating prices on the beads of their soroban. Jasmine, orange blossom, and ginger perfumed the air. The proprietor, a sleek man with a fawning smile, greeted and bowed to Agemaki.

“I want to see whatever you have that’s new,” Agemaki said.

“Of course, Honorable Lady Makino.”

The proprietor whisked her and Okitsu into a small private room reserved for important customers and seated them at a dressing table and mirror. A curtain secluded them from the bustle in the shop. He and a clerk began wiping the makeup off Agemaki’s and Okitsu’s faces, preparing to demonstrate the new cosmetics. Agemaki watched in the mirror as their naked features emerged. Her skin was sallow and dry, faintly sunken beneath the cheekbones. But Okitsu’s youthful complexion was fair, smooth, and perfect. Okitsu smiled at their reflections while Agemaki seethed with jealousy.

Throughout her marriage to Senior Elder Makino, she’d lived in fear that he would tire of her, for he’d been a man who needed novelty to satisfy his pride and keep him aroused. And he’d preferred his women young. Agemaki had never loved Makino, but she’d loved the status that marriage to him conferred upon her, and she’d loved the things his money bought. She’d labored to preserve the youth and beauty that had attracted her husband, but Makino had begun seeking amusement in the pleasure quarters instead of her bedchamber. Her attempts to entice him back all failed. On the day Okitsu became his concubine, Agemaki knew her days as his wife were numbered; she had no family or political connections to bind Makino to her. But she’d refused to give up her husband without a fight.

Now the proprietor daubed fresh makeup onto her face. “This is the finest, whitest rice powder, mixed with the best-quality camellia wax,” he said.

Okitsu, receiving the same treatment from the clerk, said, “Look, Agemaki-san, it almost hides those terrible wrinkles around your eyes and mouth.”

Offense at the careless insult stoked the jealous rage in Agemaki. She could almost see flames leaping in the eyes of her reflection. Not for the first time she wanted to smack Okitsu. But instead Agemaki smiled. “It’s too bad that makeup can’t hide rudeness or stupidity,” she said in the sweetest voice she could manage.

Okitsu laughed in delight as if Agemaki had made a joke, unaware of the barb directed at her. Agemaki never permitted herself to vent her emotions toward Okitsu in any other way. Because she’d known that making ugly scenes would only disgust her husband, she’d graciously welcomed Okitsu into their home. She’d befriended the girl and suffered silently as she listened to her husband play sexual games with Okitsu and that despicable actor. Most important, she’d never given the slightest hint that she hated Makino for shunning her in favor of his new woman and feared he would cast her off. She’d bided her time, scheming how to take her revenge on him. Now her self-control was benefiting her in a way she’d not foreseen.

The shogun’s sōsakan-sama had questioned her after the murder because he obviously thought she might have killed her husband. Yet she needn’t fear him, even though she’d been in the private chambers that night and she was the wife supplanted by a younger rival. Her behavior testified that she didn’t mind about Okitsu. Nobody could tell the sōsakan-sama otherwise. All she need do to prevent his suspicion was continue acting the demure, grieving widow.

The proprietor and clerk painted Agemaki’s and Okitsu’s cheeks and lips with rouge. “What do you think?” said the proprietor.

Okitsu viewed her reflection and gasped with delight. “I look beautiful!” Glancing at Agemaki, she said with an unflattering lack of enthusiasm, “You look better than usual.”

Agemaki managed a grim smile.

“We have new potions for softening calluses,” said the proprietor. “Would you like to try them?” When the women agreed, he immersed their hands and feet in basins of fragrant oil. Then he and the clerk left to attend other customers.

“I’m so worried about Koheiji and me,” Okitsu said.

Agemaki prepared to endure another tiresome discussion about Okitsu’s romantic affairs. She always marveled that the girl would talk about them to anyone willing to listen. She wasn’t as discreet as Agemaki, who knew that she must not say anything that would put her in a bad light.

“I love Koheiji so much,” Okitsu said. “Sometimes I think he loves me, and other times I’m not so sure.” Her anxious gaze met Agemaki’s eyes in the mirror. “Do you think he loves me?”

“I think he loves you as much as it’s possible for him to love anyone.” Besides himself, the conceited oaf, thought Agemaki. “You give him such pleasure.” And that’s the only reason he wants a whining, clinging nuisance like you. “Accept what he’s capable of giving. Don’t expect more.” Because if you nag him, you’ll lose him, and you’ll cry while I laugh.

A breathy sigh issued from Okitsu. “I guess you’re right,” she said doubtfully. “But do you think he’ll marry me?

“If you make a special pilgrimage to Kannei Temple, maybe he will.” And maybe monkeys will fly.

Reassured, Okitsu smiled. “I’m so glad I have you to talk to. You’re so wise, even though it must be hard for you to understand what it’s like to be young and in love.”

Agemaki gritted her teeth while her hands curled into claws in the basin of oil. She envisioned bloody red scratches on Okitsu’s face. “Someday you’ll understand that you don’t know as much as you thought you did when you were young. If you live long enough.”

Blind to Agemaki’s implicit threat, Okitsu said, “Oh, I forgot-you have experienced love. You were in love with Senior Elder Makino. But I can’t imagine how you could love that mean, ugly old man.” Okitsu gave an exaggerated shudder of revulsion.