Kenzo made a growling sound in his throat, but didn’t say anything.
In the dim tearoom, I once again saw Matsu as if for the first time, like someone I didn’t know, light and playful. I imagined they knew each other’s every move. Matsu was always the one who made the water marks, while Kenzo dutifully wiped them up.
I listened while their low, rough voices filled the open room.
“Did you hear our troops have captured Soochow? Muramoto-
san
just came to tell me the news,” said Kenzo. “Shanghai is as good as taken!”
Matsu looked over at me and then answered abruptly, “In times of war, there are always rumors.”
My heart sank with the news. I was grateful when Matsu changed the subject and spoke of the weather, business at the teahouse, his garden. My own thoughts began to take over. I knew deep inside that it was true that Shanghai would soon fall to the Japanese. Then they would continue south, destroying everything that stood in their way. I tried to change my thoughts, thinking how there might be a chance of my running into Keiko and Mika if I went for a walk. I was just about to excuse myself when Kenzo’s questions drew me quickly back into their conversation.
“Have you seen her?” Kenzo asked.
“A few days ago,” Matsu answered. “She’s doing very well.”
“Did you bring her the chicken?”
“Yes.”
“Did she ask about me?”
Matsu drank down the remainder of his beer. “No,” he said quietly. “But she gave me this note to give to you.”
Kenzo’s face lit up. He quickly reached across the table and snatched the note from Matsu’s hand, placing it carefully into his shirt pocket.
“It’s rosewater,” Kenzo whispered to me as we stepped out into the cool air. “Just a drop.”
I laughed and bowed, thanking him for the drink.
“What lies is he telling you?” Matsu asked.
“It’s a secret,” I answered.
Kenzo smiled, then looked toward Matsu. “You’ll tell me if she needs anything?”
“Of course,” Matsu said.
Kenzo bowed and put his hand over his shirt pocket to make sure the note hadn’t slipped out. He stood just a moment at the doorway of his teahouse, then disappeared back inside.
“I need to get the mail,” Matsu said, as I followed him back across the road toward another building.
“Does Kenzo know Sachi?” I quickly asked.
Matsu slowed down and turned to face me. “Tarumi is a small place. We all knew each other when we were young.”
“Then why doesn’t Kenzo go to visit her?”
“When we were young, Sachi cared a great deal for Kenzo, but the disease changed everything. After she left for Yamaguchi, she would no longer see him.”
“Just like she wouldn’t see her family?”
“Yes.”
“But, she allowed you to visit her?” I asked, not knowing if Matsu would give me an answer.
“At the time,” Matsu paused, in thought, “it was easier for Sachi to see someone she didn’t care for.” His face was expressionless, as he turned and walked quickly into the post office.
It never failed to amaze me how much one post office was like another in different places, even if every other custom varied. Tarumi’s post office was identical to ones I’d seen in Hong Kong and Canton. A small, wiry man sat behind a caged window and became the messenger of words. The bare room was crowded with people who waited in line and whispered in low voices. Matsu gestured brusquely for me to wait while he went to collect the mail. I watched him hurry to the back of the room, down a narrow hallway, and stop halfway at what must have been his box.
I hoped I hadn’t offended him by asking too many questions. When he returned, Matsu didn’t say anything, simply handing me an envelope which had my name on it.
The weather had changed drastically this morning. I could tell right away just by the heavy smell in the air. The sky was a dreary gray that hung so low and thick it felt suffocating. Matsu kept looking out the back door and up at the sky with such an intensity, it seemed as if it were night and he was looking for a particular star. He then mumbled something I couldn’t hear and returned to the table saying nothing.
After breakfast, I went out to the garden and read my mother’s letter over again. I had hoped that something overnight might have changed its contents. In it, she asked if I’d known anything about a woman my father was keeping in Kobe. The shock and disbelief I felt yesterday now gave way to a stabbing pain that moved through my body as I faced her words again.
“I have always known that there might be someone else,”
my mother wrote.
“A man can’t be so far from his family without seeking comfort elsewhere. In this I have never found fault in your father. He has always provided us with everything we needed. What he does during his life in Japan has always been his own business. But I have just learned through Mr. Chung at The Royal Hong Kong Bank that your father has been withdrawing large sums of money in the name of a woman residing in Kobe, Japan. Mr. Chung felt the need to tell me when your father asked to borrow against our Hong Kong house. It has been a great shock to me, Stephen. But my first concern must be for you children. Now that you are getting better, perhaps you should just return to Kobe early. You’re old enough to understand these things, and you’ve always been the closest to your father. Maybe you can find out what this is all about.”
There was little more to her letter, other than small formalities. Everyone in Hong Kong was fine, and Pie would write soon.
I sat, stunned by her words each time I read them over again. I swallowed hard and let my eyes wander away from her straight, neatly written characters. I knew my mother’s even tone masked the embarrassment she must have felt, and part of me wished I could be in Hong Kong to comfort her. I tried to imagine my mother after she first heard the news. She might have been standing on the front balcony of our house, overlooking the Hong Kong harbor, her fan moving the heavy air from side to side, her other hand raised to block out the sun’s glare. From the courtyard, the high, whiny voices of our servants could be heard, while Pie might be running in and out asking her question after question. All the while, I knew my mother could only have one thing on her mind: Who was this woman who had stolen my father’s love?
I put the thin sheets of paper back into the blue envelope and closed my eyes. The wind had begun to blow, stirring the heavy air. I wanted to cry. My mother was wrong, I didn’t feel old enough to understand any of it. My father never told me of another woman in his life. He was simply the man who wore immaculate dark suits, worried about my health, and sat on the beach waiting for me to listen to his calm voice. I never saw him give money to other women. I only knew one thing for sure, I wasn’t ready to leave Tarumi yet.
The wind started to blow harder by late afternoon. I sat at my grandfather’s desk trying to write a letter back to my mother when I heard the angry wind whistling through the house. It rattled the
shoji
walls and shook the floor beneath me. Matsu had disappeared after lunch without saying a word about where he was going. At the time I was happy to be left by myself, but as I stood up, I felt the floor vibrate and I began to worry.
All of a sudden I heard Matsu calling from the garden. I went to the front door and saw him hurrying through the garden to the house.
“A big storm is coming,” Matsu yelled. He came into the
genken
and told me to follow him.
In a small storage space next to the kitchen, Matsu began pulling out several large wooden boards. “These slide into place in
front of the
shoji
panels,” he said, pushing one toward me.
We placed the wooden panels over the front
shoji
windows first. It began raining and the wind had increased so we could barely walk straight. I couldn’t imagine Matsu having to do this by himself. We moved as quickly as we could around the house, until all the
shoji
panels were covered and the house appeared entombed. We were soaking wet, running around securing everything we thought might be washed away. When I stopped to catch my breath, I could hear the ocean rise up and crash against the road in front of the house.
Matsu stood at the open gate, watching the waves thunder up and over the dunes onto the road. “Do you think it’ll come any closer?” I shouted.
“It has before,” he answered.
“What should we do?”
“We’ll wait and see. Sometimes the storm just dies down,” Matsu said, turning back to watch the road.
It seemed like the storm would last forever, as it steadily grew in strength. The wind and rain continued, and the noise of the violent sea was deafening. With a wire net, Matsu carefully scooped up his fish from the overflowing pond into a wooden barrel. I watched as the waves crept closer and closer to the house, sliding under the bamboo gate and into the garden. Each time a wave receded, it left a foamy white line marking each advancing step.
“The waves are getting stronger,” I yelled over to Matsu.
He nodded his head in acknowledgment. “You better go into the house,” he yelled back, working frantically. I started toward the house, then stopped and turned quickly back to help Matsu catch the last of his fish. Just then the first wave crashed over the fence, drenching us. I saw several of his fish washed out of the barrel, squirming on the dirt. The next wave was even more powerful, and the one after that roared over the bamboo gate so fast and strong that neither of us had the chance to hang on. The wall of water swept us both off our feet, knocking us solidly against the house. I hit the house so hard the air was knocked out of me. I tried to get up, but the next wave slammed me back down before I knew what was happening. I grabbed onto a post by the
genken
and tried to stand up again. I could hear Matsu yelling to me, but he sounded strangely far away, like we were already lost, deep under the water.
I woke up lying naked in my own bed. I opened my eyes to the dim light of a flickering oil lamp. My wet clothes were on the floor next to me. As my head cleared, I remembered the last thing I felt was the strong punch of the rushing water and then nothing; blackness. It was just a miracle that the house still stood, somehow having survived the crashing waves.
When I tried to raise my head, I felt an intense pounding that forced me down again. I closed my eyes until the throbbing quieted, then opened them cautiously, hopeful that the gradual light wouldn’t hurt my head.
The boarded
shoji
windows gave no hint as to whether it was day or night. The house was completely still. There were no sounds of Matsu anywhere. Outside I could hear rain falling, but the fierce winds seemed to have died down. The strong, sweet and sour odor of the dank
tatami
mats filled the room. All I wanted was to steady myself enough so that I could get up and see what was going on.
Very slowly, I moved my feet from the futon to the
tatami
mats, and with all the strength I could muster in my arms, gradually pushed my upper body into a sitting position. My head began to pound again. I gently rubbed my temples, still sticky with salt from the ocean. Behind my right ear I could feel a good-size bump.
It was the sound of voices that reached me first, followed by footsteps that entered the
genken.
I recognized Matsu’s voice immediately, but the other was barely audible. From the ease of Matsu’s words, I could tell it was someone he knew well. The sound of footsteps continued down the hall until the shadowy figures stopped in front of my door.
“What are you doing?” Matsu’s voice boomed across to me as he slid open my door.
I smiled weakly up at him as he stood in the doorway. Across his left cheek was a long, white bandage.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“That’s what I was wondering about you,” he laughed. He touched his bandaged cheek.
“My head hurts,” I said, holding myself steady.
“You were knocked out when you were thrown against the house by a wave. It felt stronger than a
tsunami,”
Matsu said, stroking his cheek again.
I lifted my weak legs back onto the futon and quickly covered my nakedness.
“Someone’s here to visit you,” Matsu smiled.
Only then did I remember that there were two voices that had entered the house. I looked up just as Sachi stepped out from behind Matsu.
“Sachi-
san!
” I said, surprised. In the flickering light, I caught a slight smile from behind her scarf. I tried to sit up again as the throbbing in my head became stronger.
Sachi bowed. “I decided to come down when the storm finally passed,” she said. “We were hardly touched in the mountains. But I remember from my childhood how violent the waves can become.”
“Thank you.” I swallowed hard and felt dizzy and feverish.
“I was worried about you and Matsu-
san
,” Sachi continued. She turned around and glanced shyly at Matsu.
“I’m very honored by your visit,” I managed to say, lowering myself gently back down. I strained to keep sight of Sachi. I breathed in the pleasure of having her so close by, knowing it was the first time she had left Yamaguchi in forty years. I mumbled something about how long she was going to stay, hoping she would never leave, but my head began to pound so hard I could barely keep my eyes open.
“Do you think we should send for the
isha?”
I heard Sachi whisper.
I suddenly wondered if Tarumi even had a doctor. I wanted to say something more, but it took too much energy to tell them I just needed to close my eyes for a little while.
“He needs to rest,” was the last thing I heard Matsu say.
When I woke up again, a white light came through the
shoji
windows and filled my room. My eyes strained against the brightness. The house was quiet. I looked around slowly until all the past events filled my mind. My vivid recollection of the storm quickly gave way to the letter from my mother, my father’s infidelity, and finally, Sachi’s visit. I suddenly wondered if Sachi’s presence had been a hallucination. If it wasn’t a dream, had she already returned to Yamaguchi? Or was it possible that she was still here? With a sudden burst of energy, I sat up.
A tray with cold tea and crackers sat by my bed. I was so thirsty I reached for the cup and drank down the tea, wanting more. I still felt a bit dizzy and my face was hot and flushed, but the pounding in my head had stopped.
Slowly, I stood up and stretched. My back felt sore from lying so long on the futon. I pulled on a pair of pants and a shirt and walked slowly to the kitchen, but no one was there. I wondered if Matsu was in the garden, or if he had gone to town. Maybe he had taken Sachi back to Yamaguchi. I only hoped she had really come.
The bright sunlight hurt my eyes as I stood in the
genken
and looked out. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I was shocked to see that Matsu’s beautiful garden was now only a memory. Seaweed and sand covered everything, while debris and branches lay everywhere. The wooden bridge that stood over the pond was nowhere to be seen, and most of his best pines were torn from the ground, lying lifeless in the muddy mess. A thick, pungent smell of salty fish and earth filled the air.
While I surveyed the garden in disbelief, I heard a movement and looked up to see Matsu carrying two wooden buckets from around the back. The once-clean bandage on his left cheek was now soiled a dingy brown.
“Ah, you’re finally up,” Matsu said. “I thought you might sleep another day away.”
“How long have I been out?” I asked, rubbing my head and feeling the throb of the bump.
“It’s almost the end of the second day. You came around once or twice, but most of the time you’ve been unconscious. Sachi wanted me to get the
isha,
but he has been tending to other injuries
farther down the coast.” Matsu put down his buckets and said seriously, “You had us very worried.”
“It’s just a bump,” I said, reassuringly. “Is Sachi still here? I thought maybe she was just a figment of my imagination.”
Matsu laughed. “Sachi-
san
,” he yelled, “look who has finally risen from the dead!”
In the next moment, Sachi appeared from around the back of the house. She pulled her dark scarf tighter around her face and happily bowed several times upon seeing me.
“Stephen-
san
, I am very happy to see you are feeling better,” she said.
“I thought you were just an illusion,” I said.
Sachi smiled. “As you can see, I’m really here. I came again this morning, hoping you would be better.”
“Thank you, I’m very honored.” I bowed my head, but stood straight up again when I felt the throbbing return.
Sachi looked away, embarrassed. “Matsu has also needed help with his garden.”
“The storm has destroyed it,” Matsu said. He pointed to his favorite silk tree which lay uprooted.
“I’m sorry,” I said hoarsely.
“It’s nothing that can’t be replaced,” Sachi said quietly.
“Can I help?” I asked. I took a step down and leaned weakly against the
genken
.
“Don’t worry about the garden,” Matsu answered. “The first thing you need to do is get your strength back.”
“What better way to get my health back than to work in the fresh air,” I argued.
Then Sachi turned to Matsu and softly said, “I remember a time when you told me working in the garden would give me back my life.”
Matsu glanced over at Sachi, scratched his head in thought and said, “Only light work then, until you’re better.”