Toshikazu Kawaguchi - Before the Coffee Gets Cold

‘My love?’ she called out to the despondent-looking Fusagi.

She had never seen him looking so depressed. It was heart-wrenching. He suddenly turned his back on her and walked back towards the counter where he had been sitting. He picked up the black portfolio. From it, he pulled a brown envelope and walked back to her. His face showed no signs of wretchedness or desperation; he looked more embarrassed than anything else.

He began to mumble in a throaty voice that was difficult to hear.

‘The “you” living in this time doesn’t know about my illness…’

He might be under that impression. But ‘I’ already know, or will very soon.

‘I just don’t know how to tell you…’

He held up the brown envelope to show her. He was planning to tell her that he had Alzheimer’s in this letter.

But I don’t need to read it… I already know. It would make more sense to give it to me in the past. The ‘me’ that Fusagi can’t bring himself to give it to… I guess if he can’t pass it to that version of me, it’s OK that I take it. That’s just the way things are.

She decided to leave while things were as they were at that moment. She didn’t want the subject of his illness to be broached. The worst-case scenario was him asking about his condition in the present. If he asked how his condition progressed, who knows how he would take the awful news. She should return before he asked. Now was the time to return to the present…

The coffee was now at a temperature that she could down it in one go.

‘I can’t let the coffee go cold,’ she said and brought the cup close to her mouth.

‘So I forget? I forget you?’ he mumbled, looking down.

Hearing this, she was overwhelmed by confusion. She didn’t even know why there was a coffee cup in front of her.

She looked at him in trepidation. Staring at him, she noticed how forlorn his expression was now. She had never imagined that he could look that way. Lost for words, she couldn’t even maintain eye contact and found herself casting her eyes down.

By giving no reply, she had answered his question with a yes.

‘I see. I feared as much,’ he murmured sadly. He bowed his head so deeply his neck looked like it might break.

Her eyes welled with tears. After being diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, he had struggled each day with the dread and anxiety of losing his memory. Yet she, his wife, had not seen how he had borne these thoughts and feelings alone. On learning that she had come from the future, the first thing he had wanted to know was whether he had forgotten her, his wife. This realization filled her with both joy and sorrow.

It gave her the strength to look him in the face, without wiping away her tears. She smiled broadly at him so he might interpret her tears as those of joy.

‘Actually, your illness does get better, you know.’

( As a nurse, now is the time I need to be strong. )

‘In fact, you in the future told me.’

( I can say anything without changing the present. )

‘How you did have anxious moments…’

(What does it hurt if I lie? If I can relieve his anxiety, even if it’s just for a moment, it’s worth it…)

She wanted so much for her lie to be believed, she would do anything. She had a lump in her throat. Tears streamed down her face. But maintaining her beaming smile, she continued.

‘It will be all right.’

( It will be all right! )

‘You recover.’

( You recover! )

‘Don’t worry.’

(You recover… Really!)

Every word she spoke, she delivered with all her strength. In her mind, it wasn’t a lie. Even if he had forgotten who she was… Even if nothing she did changed the present. He looked her straight in the eyes and she looked right back at him, her face streaming with tears.

He looked happy. ‘Oh really?’ he said in a soft whisper.

‘Yes,’ she said.

He looked at her in the gentlest of ways. Looking down at the brown envelope he was holding in his hands, he slowly approached her. The distance between them was now such that a letter might be handed from one to the other.

‘Here,’ he said. Like a shy child, he offered her the brown envelope he was holding.

She tried to push the letter away. ‘But you get better,’ she said.

‘Then you can throw it out,’ he said, handing her the letter more forcefully. His tone was different from his normal gruff self. He spoke with such gentleness that it gave her the odd feeling that she must have missed something.

He once again pressed the brown envelope on her. Her trembling hands reached out and nervously took it. She wasn’t really sure of his intentions.

‘Drink up. Your coffee will go cold,’ he said, acknowledging the rules. The kindness in his smile seemed infinite.

She nodded. It was just a small nod. With no words left, she reached for the coffee.

Once she had her hands firmly on the cup, he turned his back.

It was as if their time as a couple had reached its end. A large tear began to form in her eye.

‘My love,’ she cried out without thinking. He did not turn round. His shoulders appeared to be trembling ever so slightly. While watching his back, she drank the coffee in one go. She drank it in one gulp, not out of a sense of urgency that the coffee was about to go cold, but rather out of respect for Fusagi, whose gentle back was turned to ensure she could quickly and safely return to the present. Such was the depth of his kindness.

‘My darling.’

She felt overcome by a shimmering and rippling sensation. She returned the cup to its saucer. As her hand drew back, it seemed to dissolve into steam. All that was left to do was to return to the present. This fleeting moment, when they had once more been together as husband and wife, had ended.

Suddenly, he turned round – a reaction, perhaps, to the sound of her cup hitting the saucer. She didn’t know how he could make her out, but he seemed to be able to see her there. As her consciousness flickered and dissipated into the steam, she saw his lips move a little.

Unless she was mistaken, he seemed to be saying, ‘Thank you.’

Her consciousness had merged with the steam, and she had begun the transition from past to present. The cafe around her began to fast-forward. She could do nothing to stem the flow of her tears. In a blink, she realized Kazu and Kei had reappeared in her field of vision. She had returned to the present – the day that he had completely forgotten her. One look at her expression was enough to fill Kei’s face with worry.

‘The letter?’ she asked. Letter , not love letter.

She dropped her gaze to the brown envelope she’d been given by Fusagi in the past. She slowly removed the letter from the envelope.

It was written in basic script, all squiggly like crawling worms. It was definitely Fusagi’s handwriting. As Kohtake read the letter, she held her right hand to her mouth to stop the sobbing as her tears fell.

So sudden was her outburst of tears that Kazu was worried. ‘Kohtake… are you OK?’ she asked.

Kohtake’s shoulders began to shudder, and gradually she began wailing, louder and louder. Kazu and Kei stood there looking at her, unsure of what to do. After a while, she handed Kazu the letter.

Kazu took the letter, and, as if looking for permission, she looked at Kei behind the counter. Kei nodded slightly with a grave expression.

Kazu looked back at the tearful Kohtake and then began to read out loud.

You’re a nurse, so I can only assume you have already noticed. I have an illness where I forget things.

I imagine that as I keep on losing my memory, you will be able to put aside your own feelings and care for me with the detachment of a nurse, and that you can do that no matter what strange things I say or do – even if I forget who you are.