Maki Kashimada - Touring the Land of the Dead - Two Novellas

Taichi, however, looked happy.

The nurse pushed the wheelchair down the road. Judging by the conversation, Taichi seemed to have already met him several times before. And of course, he showed not the slightest hint of humility or embarrassment.

The three of them boarded the streetcar. Taichi kept on asking all kinds of questions. From what he and the nurse were saying, it sounded like it would be a practical test. When Natsuko asked what would happen if her husband failed, the nurse responded only by saying that it shouldn’t be too difficult, that so long as Taichi didn’t bump the wheelchair into anyone, he would pass.

Taichi and the nurse were still talking when they arrived at the Disability Welfare Center. The three of them sat through all the formal procedures, followed by an interview with a doctor, before finally moving on to the test. Natsuko watched over her husband from behind as the wheelchair began to move.

The test was more difficult than she had expected. As he made his way up the hill and across the road at the pedestrian lights, Taichi seemed about to bump into the myriad passersby more times than Natsuko could count.

They didn’t have to wait long for the results. Why don’t we practice a little more? the examiner said. In other words, Taichi had failed. However, he would still be able to use the electric wheelchair so long as he had someone accompanying him, and from the sound of it, they would still be able to buy one. Taichi didn’t seem particularly disappointed, but the nurse insisted on trying to comfort him, telling him over and over again that it wasn’t a disastrous outcome.

One month later, the electric wheelchair finally arrived. They set it up in the bicycle lot next to their apartment building. Shall we leave it here? You’re a big guy, so we had to have it custom-made, the clerk from the nursing care equipment shop told Taichi. The seat was fitted with a large, soft cushion, an optional add-on that Taichi seemed to have ordered without consulting his wife. That was just like him. There was no mistaking, however, that it looked comfortable to sit in.

“Have a go,” Natsuko urged him.

Taichi lowered himself into the seat, before quickly taking off and driving in circles around her.

“With this, I’ll be able to go and buy sweets in no time at all!” Taichi exclaimed, brimming with excitement.

“You’ll just go and buy more of those dirty magazines, won’t you? You can’t fool me.”

Taichi let out a joyous laugh. “But what about you, Natchan? Do you want anything?”

“Anything that I want?” Natsuko fell silent. She had no idea what she wanted. She had never stopped to ask herself that question.

“I can go shopping now, so let me know, and I’ll buy it for you,” Taichi said proudly. The words sounded to Natsuko as if he had come up with the most splendid plan. She could get whatever she wanted. She could do whatever she wanted.

“I…” Natsuko began, “I want to watch TV with you.”

“TV? Hmm…” Taichi paused for a moment, pondering. “That’s it! I’ll buy a TV guide! It’s almost March, so there’ll be a special edition with all the new shows! Speaking of which, Natchan, your mind’s always somewhere else, huh?”

“That sounds good. Yes, please buy one.”

It looked like he had seen through her.

“I picked up a lot of these. Can you hold onto them?”

He was holding out several packets of pocket tissues labelled with advertisements, the kind that were handed out in front of the station. She put them into the pocket of her apron.

Natsuko still didn’t really know whether she could say what she wanted, or go out and buy it. That was why she had given him such a timid answer. But she could see now that that was the cause of everything. She tried to put into words, even if only in a whisper, the miserableness of her past. And those words seemed to bring a strange sense of healing. Her apron pocket had begun to swell, but there was still plenty of room for more tissues.

“I’ll be back soon,” Taichi said. And with that, he took off out of the bicycle lot. He was supposed to be accompanied by someone, but he didn’t let that worry him.

As she saw her husband off, her mobile began to ring with a call from her mother.

“You haven’t called in so long. Did something happen? I was really lonely, you know.”

“Oh. I came down a cold.”

“I found some more new clothes. They looked so wonderful, so lovely. I sent them to you.”

They’re so soft and fluffy, reaching all the way down to the hem, and fluttering around so mesmerizingly.

Natsuko thanked her before hanging up. She had finally realized that she didn’t have to wear them, that she had that option too.

When she looked up again, Taichi was making his way down the street, cutting a clean path through the stream of people, straighter and faster than anyone else.

Iopened my eyes with rapture. What a wonderful dream! Meiko, Moeko, Yōko, and me. All four of us, joining hands in a circle. Our palms getting all hot and sweaty and clingy. Our bodies melting into a thick syrup, becoming one. We were one. Meiko’s pain was Moeko’s suffering. When some burning, fluorescent light pierced my sister’s hearts, my body too shuddered with pain. This was what I had always yearned for. I don’t know why I’ve always wanted to become one with them. It’s instinctive. It’s desire, that’s all, pure and simple. Flowery words can’t justify it. I’m just completely enamored with them.

Meiko, Moeko, Yōko, I thought, chanting their names like some kind of love spell. Words have power, even by themselves. That’s why I don’t say them very much. Words like love , or death . Whenever I recite the names of my three sisters, I find myself drifting off into a deep fog. Even at college the other day, during a lecture about Marcel Pagnol, I wasn’t really paying attention to whatever my French professor, Monsieur Kimura, was saying. I just sat in my seat, repeating the names of my beloved sisters to myself over and over, writing them down again and again in my notebook.

“Sounds like a sister complex to me,” my classmate Tamura said when we went to Hanake to get a bite to eat.

“A complex? That’s rich. You say that like it’s some kind of sickness, loving your sisters. And what with your mother complex.”

“That’s completely different. All I do is put up with that old bag’s nagging. But you, you’ve pretty much gone and offered up your own guts to your sisters in sacrifice.”

Tamura may well have been right about that. “That’s a good one, coming from you.” I smiled. “But I guess there might be times when I do want to offer up my heart to them, or my shit-stained guts, even if they don’t want them. Anyway, how long do you think those jumbo gyōza are going to take?”

“You sure eat a lot, don’t you? At this rate, you really will be able to offer them some shit-stained guts. Your breath already reeks of garlic.”

Tamura and I often go out to eat garlic dishes like this. He’s the kind of guy who always acts calm and indifferent, no matter what’s going on, who goes around wearing worn-out T-shirts, his hair covered in dandruff. Basically, he’s the kind of guy that girls call gross. On top of that, he’s always coming out with these macho comments, like that there’s no helping women who can’t play the piano. But Tamura himself knows that he’s like this, and the fact that he doesn’t really think of me as a woman actually puts me at ease. That’s why I had decided to hang out with him.

“So? Haven’t you ever thought about shutting that bitch up?” I asked. “You could finish her off, you know?”