Toshikazu Kawaguchi - Before the Coffee Gets Cold

Though he hadn’t answered the question, she smiled with relief. ‘No, it’s OK,’ she said, shaking her head a little.

This short exchange told her everything she needed to know. She had definitely gone back. The Fusagi standing before her was Fusagi from before he had lost his memory. And if the image she pictured had worked, it was the Fusagi of three years ago. Kohtake smiled as she gave her coffee an unnecessary stir.

Fusagi observed Kohtake and her peculiar behaviour. ‘You’re acting a bit strange today,’ he said, looking around the cafe, as if he had just realized no one else was there.

‘Nagare, you here?’ he called to the kitchen.

With no reply, he went behind the counter, flapping his setta sandals as he walked. He peeked into the back room, but no one was there.

‘That’s odd. No one’s here,’ he grumbled. He sat down on the counter seat furthest away from Kohtake.

She coughed on purpose to get his attention. He looked at her, fed up.

‘What is it?’

‘Why are you sitting there?’

‘Why not? What’s stopping me?’

‘Why not come and sit here?’

She rapped on the table to beckon him to sit in the empty seat facing her. But he winced at the idea.

‘No. I’m fine,’ he replied.

‘Oh, come on now… Why not?’

‘A mature married couple, sitting down together like that… nah,’ Fusagi said, a little crossly. The crevice between his brows deepened. He was dismissive of the idea, but when his brow furrowed in that way, it wasn’t that he was displeased. On the contrary, it was a sign that he was in a good mood.

She knew all too well it was meant to conceal his embarrassment.

‘True. We’re a married couple,’ she agreed, smiling. She was so happy to hear the word couple from his lips.

‘Ugh… Don’t be so sentimental…’

Now anything he said brought back waves of nostalgia… and happiness. She absent-mindedly sipped the coffee.

‘Uh-oh,’ she said out loud, as she realized how much the coffee had cooled. It suddenly dawned on her how limited her time there was. She had to do what she had to do before it went completely cold.

‘Look, there’s something I need to ask you.’

‘What? What is it?’

‘Is there anything… anything you want to hand me?’

Kohtake’s heart started racing. Fusagi had written it before the onset of his illness, it may have been a love letter. Totally impossible… she was telling herself. But if it were… Her wish to read it was now running wild, reassured by the fact that no matter what she did, the present would not change.

‘What?’

‘About this by this…’

She drew the size of the envelope in the air using her fingers, just as Kazu had shown her. Her direct approach provoked alarm in his face, as he glared at her, completely motionless. I’ve blown it , she thought on seeing his expression. She remembered that something similar had happened soon after they were married.

Fusagi had a present ready to give her for her birthday. On the day before, by accident, she saw it among his belongings. Never before having received a present from him, she was overjoyed at the prospect of receiving this first gift. On the day of her birthday, when he had returned home from work, she was so excited that she asked him, ‘Don’t you have something special for me today?’ But on hearing this, he went very quiet. ‘No, nothing in particular,’ he said. The next day, she found her present in the bin. It was the lilac handkerchief.

She felt she had repeated the same mistake. He hated being told to do something that he had been meaning to do himself. Now she feared that even if he was carrying the letter, he would never give it to her – especially if it was a love letter. She regretted her carelessness even more so because time was of the essence. He still looked alarmed. She smiled at him.

‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean anything. Please forget it,’ she said in a light-hearted way. Then to emphasize that it didn’t really matter to her either way, she tried to make small talk. ‘Hey, I just thought: why don’t we do sukiyaki tonight?’

It was his favourite dish. He seemed to be in a sulky mood, but this usually lifted his spirits.

She slowly reached for the cup and felt the temperature of the coffee with her palm. It was still OK. She still had time. She could cherish these precious moments with him. She wanted to forget the letter for the time being. Judging by his reaction, he definitely had written her something. If he hadn’t, he would have responded in no uncertain terms, ‘What on earth are you talking about?’ If she allowed the current situation to play out, he would end up throwing the letter away. She decided to change strategy. She would try to alter his mood to prevent a repeat of what happened on her birthday.

She looked at him. His face was still serious. But then again, it was always like that. He never wanted her to think that just by hearing sukiyaki his mood instantly lifted. He wasn’t that straightforward. This was Fusagi before Alzheimer’s. Even his sulky face was precious to her. It was bliss to be with him again now. But she had read the situation wrongly.

‘Oh, I get it. I see what’s happening,’ he said, with a gloomy look. He got up from the counter and walked over to stand in front of her.

‘What do you mean?’ she asked, looking up at him. He was striking an imposing stance as he glared back at her. ‘What’s wrong?’ She hadn’t seen him like this before.

‘You’re from the future… aren’t you?’

‘What?’

What he had just said could be considered crazy. But he was right – she had come from the future.

‘Er. Now, look…’ She was racking her brains trying to remember whether there was a rule that said, When you go back in time, you cannot reveal that you are from the future. But none existed.

‘Look, I can explain—’

‘I thought it was strange that you were sitting in that seat.’

‘Yes… well.’

‘So that means you know about my illness.’

She felt her heart start racing again. She thought she had been transported back to a time before his disease – but she was wrong. The Fusagi standing before her knew he was ill.

Just from looking at his clothes, she could tell it was summertime. She had been transported back to the summer of two years ago – the time when he began losing his way, when she began noticing the telltale signs of his illness. If she had gone back by as little as a year, her conversation with him would have become muddled by now.

Rather than three years ago, she had returned to the day that met with the criteria she had imagined: a day when Fusagi had not forgotten her… a day when he was thinking of passing her the letter… and a day when he brought it with him to the cafe. To have gone back three years would have meant that he had not yet written the letter.

The Fusagi standing before her knew he was ill, and so it was likely that the content of the letter concerned his disease. Also, the way he reacted with such dread when she mentioned the letter seemed further evidence.

‘You know, don’t you?’ he said forcefully, pressing her to give an answer. She couldn’t see how she could lie at this stage. She nodded silently.

‘I see,’ he muttered.

She regained her composure. OK, whatever I do here, it’s not going to change the present. But it might upset him… I never would have returned to the past if I thought that might happen. How embarrassing that I was all caught up in the idea of it being a love letter.

She felt deep, deep regret for coming back. But now was not the time to be wallowing. He had gone silent.