Minae Mizumura - A True Novel

“Yes. Do put on that record!” Natsue chimed in, also turning toward her younger sister.

Fuyue, with a quick glance at their guest, replied with slight vexation, “We just got here. Isn’t it a little too soon to listen to it?”

“What’s wrong with playing it now? We have a guest with us today,” said Harue, who turned back to look Yusuke straight in the face with a theatrical smile.

“All right, all right,” Fuyue conceded reluctantly, and disappeared inside.

Soon, from a distance, a barely audible sound traveled through the air. Indeed, it was so faint Yusuke could hardly tell that the music had started. At the same time, he noticed a look of indescribable sadness come over Harue’s face. It seemed oddly out of character on that aged face, making him stare down at his empty plate, feeling he had seen something he shouldn’t have. Soon, through the cool summer breeze, he began to make out the melody more clearly, the stringed instruments overlapping one another.

Back on the porch, Fuyue picked up her crumpled napkin and, turning toward Yusuke, announced that they were listening to Brahms’s Clarinet Quintet.

No one said a word, each lost in their own thoughts.

So this is the sound of a clarinet, Yusuke thought as he heard a mellow, lingering sound mingle with the violin and other strings; it seemed to rise through a long, dark passage to light and then go rolling across an expanse of fields. Now rising higher or ebbing low, it drew other layers of sound along, undulating in waves large and small.

With his daily life filled with noise, Yusuke had learned to shut out sound of all kinds; here, for the first time in a long while, he let music fill his ears.

For a while, no one spoke.

Fuyue finally broke the silence. “It’s the fiftieth anniversary of the end of World War II today.”

“Fifty years today,” echoed Natsue.

“There was a big headline in the newspaper about it,” the eldest, Harue, said distractedly, not quite her usual self yet.

Natsue went on in a sentimental voice, “That means that we have been using this place for more than fifty years. It’s no wonder we are all worn out, just like the house.”

At the words “worn out,” she unconsciously pushed her soft, sagging cheeks up with her fingertips.

“Was this house built before the war?” Yusuke asked her.

“Yes, it was. We renovated the upstairs and added on to the downstairs and the front. Only the parlor and the dining room are original. You see, in the old days, the place was much better cared for because we had staff. At this point, we simply cannot keep up with the repairs.”

“The other house looks even older,” Yusuke commented, glancing toward the one nearby.

“Yes, it is, and not changed a bit.”

The three sisters all turned to face the house next door.

“It looks exactly as it always has. So when we’re sitting here, it feels as though time has stopped …”

“Everything looks just as it did when we were young.”

“If we don’t look at ourselves,” added Fuyue.

Ignoring her younger sister’s remark, Natsue continued, “We’ve lived in the same place in Tokyo since before the war, but the neighborhood is so terribly built up it’s quite unrecognizable. You see, when we come here, we’re coming back to the best time in our lives.”

He watched as a look of nostalgia—one close to pain—passed over their faces.

The cluster of trees between the two houses concealed the lower half of the older one from view. He could see the top half clearly. The shutters on the small windows on the third floor had obviously not been opened or closed for many years.

According to the sisters, most of the old houses had been torn down even in this part of Karuizawa, to be replaced by new ones. Due to onerous real estate taxes and inheritance laws, many people could not afford to hold on to their houses, which meant that owners changed frequently too. Only a handful of residents from before the war remained.

“It’s always sad leaving an old home, but some people have bought new ones over in Minamihara which they actually like better because it’s much quieter. There are no tourists around, for one thing.”

As Natsue’s voice trailed off, her younger sister affirmed quietly, almost to herself, “So it was inevitable that we would eventually have to leave this area too.”

“Unfortunately, yes,” the eldest one agreed.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Natsue said too, “but it still makes me miserable to think that this might be our last time here.” She made no effort to hide her sadness.

Together they let out what seemed like one long breath.

Unexpectedly the sun was obscured by the clouds, and the air grew chillier.

“Oh, it’s clouded over.”

By this time, the old women’s age was cruelly visible. The luster they’d first seemed to have fell away like a veil, and, with the sun gone, Yusuke saw their faces in clear detail. Whatever misgivings he had about the three sisters were now mixed with pity.

Once more the sound of pattering slippers approached and the girl reappeared in the doorway.

“I’m going back to work now,” she said. Fumiko must have told her about Yusuke, for her face now showed candid interest.

Harue gave her a sharp look and said brusquely, “Very good, thank you.”

The girl had turned and was about to walk away when Natsue told her, “I’d like you to open all the windows on the first floor of the house next door. It needs airing.”

“Okay.”

“Also, you’ve seen the ashes on the mantelpiece here? Would you move them over to the other house? Be sure to wipe off the mantelpiece there first.”

Fuyue broke in: “We shouldn’t be asking a young person to do something like that. It’s creepy. I’ll take them over myself later.”

“No, I don’t mind at all,” the girl said, smiling as if all the summer’s sunshine were stored in her. Even the air surrounding her was bright. Then, as though encouraged by her smile, the sun came out and the place was filled with light again.

Before long, Yusuke stood up to take his leave. Rising from her chair with the help of her cane, Harue asked him, “Won’t you join us for high tea the day after tomorrow?”

“ High tea ?” He repeated the English expression.

“Yes, I’m afraid it’s not very fancy. Instead of a proper dinner, we’ll just have a light meal, and some drinks. We’ll be starting about five o’clock.” She spoke with typical authority, fixing him with her eyes, but there was something slightly pleading in them as well, and again a faint pity stirred inside him.

“The guests will be horribly ancient like us, but there might be a couple of young people as well.”

Yusuke could not give an immediate reply. Privately he was thinking that he wouldn’t mind coming if Fumiko would be there again, but then Harue added, “That young girl, Ami, will come to help, so there will be at least one other young person.”

“And Mrs. Tsuchiya?”

“You mean Fumi?”

“Yes.”

“Of course she’ll be here. We can’t do anything without her.”

“Well …” Yusuke was still unable to commit himself. “You see, I’m staying with a friend.”

“Oh, that’s right … Is your friend a woman?”

“No.”

“So it’s another young man, then?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, by all means, most definitely, do bring him with you. In Karuizawa, young men are much sought after. And this summer all of our daughters and grandchildren have gone off to a wedding at a resort in Thailand.” She turned to Fuyue, who was clearing the table. “What was that place called?”

“Phuket.”

“Yes, yes, they’re all in Poo-whatever-you-call-it. With everything else that’s going on, we’re feeling rather lonely.”