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

Up until now, she had really just been bumbling her way through things, I thought. Even when her feelings were as benevolent as the Holy Mother’s, she expressed them as if they belonged instead to Eros. But I knew it now, I could feel it. There was no woman more pure or virtuous than her.

Moeko, you should say all that to Yōko. You should tell her what you just told me. It would make her so happy. Your emotions spilling over as you let her know just how strongly you feel. She’ll understand your expression of love. But no, Moeko would be too afraid, afraid that her love might be rejected. Because she wasn’t like me. Until now, I’ve only known one way to express my feelings. If I were a man, I would want to violate you. That’s what I would have said. But Moeko is different, so delicate, so pure.

One day, she’ll no doubt return to her usual self. To that sister of mine who rubs her erogenous zones against us. But I won’t forget. I could never forget just how immaculate her feelings are.

Moeko herself hadn’t realized it. She had no idea just how pure she was. And I had no way of conveying it to her.

I went with Mom to the Queen’s Isetan department store to buy something for dinner, the same as always. Why don’t we make a paella tonight? Mom asked. So we walked through the aisles, picking out saffron, paprika, mussels, and the rest, putting them into the shopping basket one after the other.

Mom turned toward me after we finished up at the checkout. We always end up buying so much whenever we make paella, don’t we? Why don’t we take a break? she asked, and so we went to a café.

We ordered some coffee. Mom didn’t say anything. There was a recording of a Brahms symphony playing in the background. The heavy sound, like a deep underground rumbling, shook my heart, but strangely it didn’t leave me feeling tense or uneasy. The passions that it called to mind were healthy ones, everyday desires set to music, things like wanting to rise up in the world, or to build a successful romance.

Our drinks finally arrived. The coffee here is famously hot, and it made Mom’s eyelids twitch as she took a sip.

“Hey, Nanako, about Yōko…” Mom, unable to stand the heat any longer, took a mouthful of water. “It sounds like she’s broken up with that boy.”

I sipped at my own coffee in silence. I had expected that this would happen.

“Now that she’s learned things the hard way, I hope she won’t get caught up with another weird guy like that.”

That’s not likely, I whispered in my heart. It’s the weird guys who have all those weird charms. Most women end up falling for them. And Yōko is just like most women. She won’t be able to stop herself from up getting caught up in the wake of another weird guy. I could already imagine it. She has just grown up a little faster than the rest of us sisters. Sooner or later, Meiko and Moeko will surely go the same way. But I wanted to ask Mom something. Even if you wind up with a weird guy, does that really leave you stained? I wanted to tell her that I had never thought of her that way. It seemed to me that no matter how it was abused, the human body wasn’t the kind of thing that could ever be permanently tainted.

I could see them, as if right before my eyes. My sisters, each of them having found partners of their own. Even after getting married, even after having children, still fighting among themselves like children. Still frolicking about like angels. Even if the passage of time left them old and frail, even if they met with such contempt that it left not only their bodies defiled, but their spirits too, one day there they would all be, washed up against the shore, recalling the past—my three sisters, all so beautiful.

The Brahms symphony flowed over me. It sounded almost like a popular ballad, the kind of melody that always brought me to tears. I had hated this kind of song when I was a kid. But now, I felt like I could finally understand why I needed it.

Mom and us four sisters went back to sitting in the living room together, just like we used to. No one said anything about S.

Earlier that day, we had received a sample of several lipsticks in the mail. Small circles of paste on a piece of cardboard, like paints on a palette. Meiko had brought it inside and put it on the table.

She didn’t wait even a moment before picking up a lip brush. Moeko was just playing around, smearing the lipstick on her lips with her finger. Yōko had her head tilted to one side, reading the text on the pasteboard under the title Six New Shades of Autumn . I sat watching my sisters fondly.

Mom had begun to sing “Fly Me to the Moon.” It was the kind of melody that hits you like a cold, wintry wind. And then I started thinking: What was she doing? Isn’t that the kind of song that a prostitute would sing? But I stopped myself. That couldn’t be right. If it were a prostitute’s song, she wouldn’t be able to sing it in front of her four daughters. And no sooner had I realized this than my memories all began to blur together.

Six years ago, Mom had come out with an announcement. “Listen carefully, you four. Your father and I have decided to get a divorce.”

Meiko immediately burst into tears. Moeko immediately went to hug her. Yōko wore a detached expression. I looked at my three sisters, completely exhausted, thinking that everything was going to descend into pandemonium all over again.

“That’s fine, I guess, if it’s what you’ve both decided. But you need to tell us why,” Moeko said, her voice filled with frustration. But why on earth was she so disgruntled? It probably wasn’t the fact that they were getting divorced that had upset her, but rather that news of it had made Meiko cry.

“There’s no one reason,” Mom said. “Is there ever really a single reason why you would break up with someone?”

Moeko was silent.

“All kinds of things happen between men and women, piling on top of one other, and people end up growing apart, you know? That’s just how they are.”

Hearing this, Moeko burst into tears too. Because what Mom had said was so true.

Mom had never treated us like kids. Most parents only start thinking about the budding sexuality of their children when it’s already too late. But Mom was different. She had treated us like women from the very beginning. So she was breaking up with Dad the same way that any of us might break up with a boyfriend, because things had just piled up until they had become unbearable. That’s what she had meant.

“Hey, Mom,” Moeko said. “Did Dad give you a hard time? Did he do anything to you? If he did, tell me. I’ll sue him. I’ll take him to court.”

“A hard time…?” Mom wiped away her tears. “Of course there have been hard times. But there’s been so many, I can’t even remember them anymore.”

A while after that, when I went into Yōko’s room one day, she said to me: “Dad’s got another woman. You know, apart from Mom.”

I was taken aback.

“But I can’t work out who’s in the wrong.” She was playing around with one of her desk drawers. “I’m going to see his new wife this weekend. I’ve already met her a few times, actually.”

“How can you put up with her?”

“She’s a good person. Dad said that he loved her, but that he loved Mom too. So it isn’t like Mom did anything wrong. That’s what he said to me.” She opened the window and lit up a cigarette. “You don’t like it when I smoke, do you?”

“I’m okay.”

I didn’t like it, but now wasn’t the time to admit that.

“Yōko, when did you start smoking?”

“The guy I’m going out with is a smoker. I didn’t like it at first either, but before I knew it, I’d picked up the habit myself.” She took one more long drag from the cigarette, before crushing it out. “Hey, Nanako. You don’t think very much of me, do you?”