Minae Mizumura - A True Novel

“Oh, the place where I’m staying isn’t mine. It belongs to a friend—actually to his parents. I’m just a guest.”

“I see. At your friend’s house.”

Her voice had a ring of condescension to it. Then the middle sister took over the cross-examination, holding her glass with her little finger daintily lifted, swirling the ice cubes around so they clinked against the sides.

“Is their house nearby?”

“No, it’s in Middle Karuizawa.”

“Oh.”

Her voice had the same ring of condescension.

“In the old days,” added the eldest sister, “that area was known as Kutsukake; they changed it to Middle Karuizawa, thinking it would sound better. Fools.” She made it seem as if Yusuke had had something to do with it.

Reaching out to rest her glass on the coffee table, the middle sister asked, “Would you be in the Sengataki area, then?”

Yusuke bent his head to one side. “I’m not sure what the area is called, but I think it’s something like Mitsui Woods.”

The middle sister flashed a beguiling smile, the dimple appearing in her soft cheek. “So it’s one of the new developments. How lucky you are! That means the house is new too, doesn’t it? Not like our place, which is so very old. There is always something that needs to be fixed, no matter how much we do.”

Yusuke, who lacked the worldliness to handle this sort of snobbery, mumbled a noncommittal reply.

The middle sister continued, “You must be a college student, then?”

“No, I graduated four years ago.”

“From a university in Tokyo?”

“No, Kyoto.”

The eldest sister wedged herself in, saying, “Oh, so Kyoto University?” She sounded as if no other university existed in Kyoto, a city known for its many universities. He replied with a brief, honest yes, wondering where the conversation might have gone had he answered otherwise.

The eldest one looked at him, her appraising eyes wider than ever, evidently a bit startled by his affirmative reply. At that moment, the youngest emerged from the kitchen and peered in from the archway, a large platter in her hands. “Well, well,” she said in an amused tone. “It’s a rare treat nowadays to meet a young person who’s gone to a respectable university.” The two sitting down smiled wryly.

The youngest said, “Oops, sorry,” as she moved toward the porch, and continued in the same tone, “I suppose you’d rather forget about those wretched grandchildren for a while, now that they are away.”

The eldest, a sour smile still showing on her face, watched her walk away, then turned back to Yusuke.

“In the old days,” she began, her asperity giving way to a more composed expression, “we were surrounded by people who had graduated from schools that everyone knew—the Imperial University, or Keio, or Waseda—only the finest universities. But now, my dear, in our grandchildren’s generation, not one of them goes to a decent school. I just don’t know why.”

Dismissing them with this comment, she pressed on. “Where do you work?”

When he named the major publisher that employed him, it had the same effect as when he had admitted attending Kyoto University. Her eyes wide, she murmured words of approval. He was witnessing his own transformation into a person they found acceptable.

Again, she gave Yusuke a thorough once-over, examining his face, his shoulders, and his chest as he sat before her. Apparently satisfied, she asked, “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

“I thought I might go shopping.”

“My dear, you can shop some other time. We are about to have brunch , and I would be delighted if you would join us. We will set a place for you.”

Without waiting for his answer, she called out, “Fumi, Fumi!”

Fumiko came into the dining room, wiping her hands on her apron, looking through the archway.

“Did you call, ma’am?”

“This young man—I’m sorry. What was his name?”

“Mr. Kato.”

“Yes. Please set a place for Mr. Kato.”

“Well, of course. I was just doing that in here.”

“What do you mean, ‘in here’?”

“In the kitchen.”

“No, no, no. Fumi, you mustn’t try to keep this boy all to yourself. You’re such a flirt! The young man will eat with us, out on the porch.”

“Then the porch it will be.”

Smiling, Fumiko stepped into the middle of the archway and told Yusuke on her own that he should accept the invitation.

“Why aren’t you planning to eat on the porch?” the eldest asked.

“Ami’s here today.”

“Ami can join us too.”

“No, no. There are no other young people here this year, and she feels rather uncomfortable when she’s alone with you ladies.”

“Uncomfortable? Around us?”

“That’s right, ma’am.”

The eldest sister shrugged her shoulders.

“She doesn’t like being around us old hags, eh? It’s not as if we’re going to eat her.”

Fumiko only answered with a grin and was heading back toward the kitchen when something outside caught her eye.

“Oh, the delivery van is here with the boxes.”

Yusuke caught a glimpse through gaps in the hedge of a green-and-beige truck approaching the house.

“Oh, the cigarettes! The cigarettes for the driver!” cried the eldest sister from her chair, grasping the head of her cane.

“Oh, what shall we do?” said the middle sister, in a girlish fluster.

“We talked about buying some this year but we forgot again.”

“Fumi, do we have any sweets or something that we can wrap up and give to him? Or should we just put some money in an envelope?”

“We don’t need to give him anything,” Fumiko called out to calm them down on her way into the kitchen. “He might not even be from this area. Lots of people these days don’t smoke anyway. Besides, delivery people don’t expect little gifts like that anymore.”

Fumiko must have given the deliveryman instructions at the service entrance, for a man in a cap came up to the front pushing a handcart and started unloading boxes onto the porch. Yusuke went out to help carry them inside the house. Before long, the eldest sister emerged, cane in hand, and positioned herself near Yusuke, watching him work.

“It’s so kind of you. We would be most obliged if you would stay for brunch .”

The words were polite, but the manner was commanding. The old lady was naturally quite a bit shorter than Yusuke, yet he felt she was somehow looking down on him.

“Well …”

“Besides, we would be grateful if you could help us open up the boxes.”

It only took him five minutes, using a box cutter, to open everything and arrange the boxes against a wall of the dining room, where they wouldn’t block the way. The trio thanked him in unison. He followed the youngest into the kitchen to wash his hands. By then, everyone seemed to assume that he would be staying for brunch .

When he returned to the parlor, the eldest sister had reinstalled herself in her armchair. The middle sister now stood before the mirror over the fireplace and, peering up at her reflection, was retouching her coiffure with her fingertips while turning her face now to the right, now to the left, as if trying to ascertain the exact curvature of her own nose. Yusuke also paused in front of the fireplace, though not too close to her, and studied the color photograph on the mantelpiece.

With a black ribbon tied to its black frame, it was a funeral portrait of an uncommonly good-looking man. At first he thought it might be the son of one of them, but there was something about the expression on the face that was quite unlike any of theirs. Moreover, none of the women seemed to be consumed with grief. Instead all he could sense from them was a certain strain. No, “strain” was the wrong word—it was something more in the way of defiance, as though they refused to mourn.