The Salaryman's Wife (25 page)

I pulled a parking ticket off the windshield and handed it to Hugh before getting behind the wheel.

“I promise I’ll pay it. Sooner or later.” He stuffed it in his jacket and slid into the passenger seat. Richard was curled up in the back with his feet against the window.

“Where do you want to go?” I was filled with a crazy energy.

“Let’s drop off your roommate first, then decide.” Hugh looked over the seat at Richard. “He’s sleeping like a baby. Now can you tell me why I had to entertain that junior Joan Collins by myself?”

I told him about how Keiko had grabbed me and how I’d turned the tables on her enough to learn something about Mariko’s parentage.

“So she’s the violent type.” Hugh clicked the door locks shut, as if there were some danger in the streets of brightly-lit Kabuki-cho. “She could have easily gone after Mariko and Esmerelda.”

I thought that was unlikely since the young women worked for her and shared a quasi-mother-daughter relationship. I explained my doubts.

“If Keiko attacked Esmerelda while
calling
her by another woman’s name, it would make her seem like an outsider who didn’t know the bar,’ Hugh suggested.

“That’s too convoluted.” Hugh’s comment had triggered a memory of my visit to JaBank, when Mariko had told me a young woman teller had been attacked by an unknown person. Three attacks at the two locales where Mariko worked; it seemed likely someone was looking for her. But why? “Maybe Keiko eliminated Setsuko and is trying to kill Mariko so she can make a claim on the American’s estate,” I said.

“Why would she want to kill them now as opposed to decades earlier? Where does my laptop battery come in?”

“Your battery’s not important. But Keiko—I could tell from the way she was looking at old photographs of Setsuko, she was moved. No matter how many names she calls Setsuko, she still cares about her.”

“Emotion runs high in family situations. Perhaps the sister who had to scrabble for a living envied the one who landed the salaryman and life in the suburbs. One day, it got to be too much.”

“Why did Mr. Nakamura come to her bar twice? I didn’t ask Keiko. I should have.” I was in north Tokyo now, sailing through dark and lonely streets. In no time, I was in front of my apartment building.

Hugh reached back to shake Richard’s shoulder. “Time to get up, laddie.”

“What about Rei?” Richard mumbled.

“She’s driving me home,” Hugh said as if I’d already agreed.

“Do you have your key?” I worried. My roommate waved it at me and ambled sleepily toward the building.

“I’ll only be a minute,” I promised Hugh and jumped out, feeling strangely maternal toward my roommate.

The entry hall was dark. The cheapskate landlord had installed a light rigged on a timer, meaning that when we came in, we had only three minutes of illumination while traveling upstairs.

“Out like a light,” Richard cackled, fumbling at the switch. I reached over him and clicked up and down a few times without success. The bulb must have burned out. There were only two other tenants in the building, and unfortunately neither of them had taken the initiative to replace the bulb. As always, I would do it the next morning.

I knew by heart the steps leading to the apartment and would have bounded upward were it not for the listless roommate I was helping along. It took forever to reach the last flight leading to our landing. Richard was giggling about the fact I was holding his hand.

Only five more steps to go. I resolutely put my foot forward and stepped into air.

I grabbed Richard tightly with one arm, and with the other sought the railing. I had no idea of what had happened to the staircase. I searched again and found that the step I’d been heading for had been
knocked out. There was nothing above it either. I stretched out my hand and touched the rough, splintering edges around where the wooden stairs had been.

“Whassit, Rei? Hurry up, I’ve got to take a leak.”

“Richard, the stairs are gone!”

The light bulb could not have died a natural death, just as the missing steps hadn’t broken with age. The person who had done the damage had selected the stairs leading to where Richard and I lived. It would have been easy to do the job between the time we had left for the club and the other building residents hadn’t yet returned from work.

The trap had been laid for me. I had been meant to fall. Even if I made it past the monstrous gap, I didn’t know what was waiting on the landing. Another hole, or maybe the person who had chopped out the stairs.

“We’re going downstairs,” I whispered to Richard. “Let me lead.”

We made it out faster than we’d gone up. As Richard stumbled to the curb and relieved himself in the moonlight, I told Hugh about the stairs.

“I’m going back in with a torch,” he said immediately, pulling a flashlight out of the glove compartment.

“You’re too weak! I practically had to carry you upstairs earlier this evening. And it’s very dangerous.”

“What’s the alternative, then? The police?”

“I don’t want them.” The police would ask about our day’s activities, and if they entered the apartment to look around, they’d notice Setsuko Nakamura’s photo album lying prominently on the
kotatsu
table.

“What can we do with him?” Hugh gestured toward Richard, who had zipped himself up and was weaving toward us singing “It’s a Shame About Ray.”

“He can sleep at Simone’s,” I said, thinking fast. Two of her roommates were still on vacation in France, so there would be space for him on a futon. I called Simone on the car phone and she agreed, urging me to join them. I declined; I had other plans for myself.

As we drove south, Hugh tuned the radio to a night jazz program. Akiko Yano sang in her high, sweet voice about memories the color of the wind. Keiko’s memories were much darker. Black enough, perhaps, to send me a swift, dangerous message.

I had laid the groundwork for my accident. On my first visit to Club Marimba, I’d given Mariko my card, which had my business and home addresses in both English and Japanese. She’d slipped it in her purse, which lay open on the dressing table when Keiko had walked in on us. Either the Mama-san had taken the card, or Mariko had given it to her.

We dropped off Richard at Simone’s cramped but safe apartment in Ebisu and continued on to Roppongi, where I stared out the window at cross-cultural couples. Peroxide-blond hostesses were slipping into the flash cars of old, wealthy Japanese men; more natural-looking Japanese O.L.s walked hand-in-hand with ruddy-faced foreigners they’d probably met at work. I
thought about what Keiko had said about warped relationships between foreigners and Japanese.

“I have a question for you.” I kept my voice light. “Do you think of me as Japanese or American?”

“I don’t know why you’re worrying about things like this after the night we’ve had—you could have lost your life on those stairs—”

“You pointed out once that I had a problem defining myself. I wanted to hear what you thought. I’m curious,” I added, feeling his eyes on me.

“Both,” he said at last. “Turn here. I want to avoid Roppongi Crossing.”

“It’s impossible to be both!” I was irritated at his cop-out.

“What do you want me to say? That you have the face and figure of the woman in the Japanese art book, but a meaner streak than Tonya Harding? That despite your tea ceremony manners, you’re absolutely undaunted by power? I heard about how you treated Piers Clancy.” Hugh sighed, making me think they’d had an argument.

“He deserved it.” I recognized where we were and proceeded slowly into the Roppongi Hills driveway, looking out for photographers. No one was visible except for a good-looking blond woman pulling shopping bags from the trunk of a Volvo. She hastened her step so we all reached the elevator at the same time. I was glad there was no staircase; I couldn’t have handled one tonight, even with the lights on.

“Halo, Hugh! I suppose you know those television people were waiting outside all afternoon and
evening? I was thinking of making them all a cup of tea.” To me, she said in an overly slow and loud voice, “
Konnichiwa
.”

“
Konbanwa
,” I replied, the teacher in me unable to resist correcting her
good day
to
evening
.

“Yes, yes. Four years here and I still can’t keep it straight.” Her throaty laugh matched her lean, tall figure and the black mink that stretched to her slim ankles. Faint lines around her hard blue eyes told me she was either a fanatic sun-worshipper or a few years older than Hugh.

“Rei, this is Winnie Clancy.” Hugh was yawning twice as much as he had in the car. “You know her husband Piers.”

‘
Ah so desu ka?” Is that so?
I asked. But Winnie didn’t seem interested in anyone but Hugh.

“Now that you’re out of that tiresome prison, you can come to the black-and-white party benefiting the International School’s swimming pool next weekend.” Winnie placed her massive shopping bags on the elevator floor, cordoning me off into a corner. “If you buy a table of ten, that would cover the cost of the diving board. I’ve got a dinner partner for you already, a lovely girl from Wiltshire who’s working with the cultural attaché…”

I smiled. It was interesting what people would say if they thought you didn’t understand their language.

“Winnie, please.” Hugh looked mortified.

“Oh, how impolite of me. You have a
guest
this evening.” The door opened at her floor but Winnie leaned in the doorway, unwilling to depart. “After your little friend leaves, come by for a sherry.”

“I’m exhausted. Better not.” Hugh waved and pressed the CLOSE button.

“I don’t know, Hugh. You seem to have a bizarre connection with older, married women.” I lifted the back of my skirt to rub my thigh still sore from Keiko’s blow.

“If it weren’t for Winnie, I’m sure Piers would have left me to rot in Shiroyama.” Hugh’s eyes were focused straight ahead. I followed his gaze and realized he was watching my actions in the mirror. I took a while dropping the hem of my skirt and stepped off the elevator in front of him.

“Don’t go before I take a look at your leg,” he offered while turning the key in his door.

“Did I miss seeing the M.D. on your card?” I kicked off my shoes and descended on the sofa.

“I’m the king of sports injuries! My medicine chest has everything. Sticking plasters, hot packs, cold packs, anti-inflammatory tablets…”

“Good.” I reached under my skirt and began tugging down my pantyhose.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Hugh demanded.

“Wouldn’t someone descended from the Pagans know? Help me here, I can’t quite reach.” I laid my legs across his, leaving him to pull the stockings down the rest of the way. He shook them out and folded them into a small square.

“You’re so tidy you could get a job folding underwear at Mitsutan,” I teased, savoring the feeling of his hands gliding up the back of my thighs. The horror of the staircase seem very far away.

“I forgot which leg it was.” He appeared more flustered than I’d ever seen him, I realized with a rush of happiness.

“Should I turn over for you to look?”

“This game of yours, Rei, I can’t be held responsible.”

“It’s not a game. You owe me.” I leaned over and, very slowly, touched my lips against his. He held back for a second and then groaned, crushing me against him. By the time we broke, both our jackets were on the floor and he was regarding the safety pins cinching the waist (of my skirt with a tender expression.

“I thought you would never let me near you again,” he said.

“That’s not what you said to me in the English Pub.” It still hurt, remembering.

“I was trying to make it easier for you, more graceful.” He kissed his way down my neck.

“And you say I’m the one with tea ceremony manners! Tell me, are we staying on this slippery leather sofa all night?”

“I don’t expect you to come to my bedroom. There’s no rush.” Hugh sat back and looked at me.

“Why not? I was in there earlier today and it looks fine. You could move the rowing machine to a better place, but I liked the sumo wrestlers and your closet full of cashmere.” I was already unbuttoning his shirt.

“Even if that’s a back-handed compliment, I’ll take it.” His eyes locked with mine. “I’ll take you.”

True to his word, Hugh took a long time with me. It was after one o’clock when the last layers of
clothing came off and we rolled across the sleigh bed. The next set of explorations seemed to last a century.

When Hugh finally entered me, he stopped midway and ran his finger across the wetness on my cheek. “Am I hurting you?” he whispered.

It wasn’t pain I felt, just a startling rush of emotion. I pulled him closer, whispering that if he didn’t start moving, I’d die. Had I known it would be like this?
Yes
, I thought as we began. There was no space between us anymore. With each stroke, I felt myself changing into something else, someone different.

“You’re my obsession.” The words choked out of Hugh as my body seemed to splinter off in a hundred different directions. I rode out the rest of his passion, soaring as his breath caught and he made a final great push.

Hugh curled his arms around me after he’d taken care of the condom. Both of us were breathing like we’d run for an hour.

“Was that the way you like it?” he murmured.

“I’d probably like it every way with you.” Just thinking about what had happened made me press my legs together.

“Why is it you can be so honest about sex and dishonest about your other feelings, so brutal to me?” The voice was warm and teasing, but I stiffened.

“You’re the brutal one, starting an argument when I’m lost in the most delicious afterglow.”

“Afterglow?” His tongue lapped at the back of my neck. “Who says it’s time for afters?”

“I thought men couldn’t, so soon…” I reached down to find evidence to the contrary.

“Let’s see what happens,” he suggested, and we did.

We must have slept briefly toward morning. In the next minute, it seemed, J-WAVE’s morning man was bellowing “London, eleven
P.M
.…Moscow, one
A.M
.…Tokyo, seven
A.M
. It’s Tokyo today!”