Taking her eyes off the orchestra, O-Nobu began to inspect the seats across the pit on the far side of the house. Just then, Yuriko turned around and spoke unexpectedly.
“Mrs. Yoshikawa is sitting over there — do you see her?”
Directing a somewhat surprised glance in the direction Yuriko was indicating, O-Nobu easily identified a figure that seemed to be Madam Yoshikawa.
“Yuriko-san, you have eyes like a hawk — when did you notice her?”
“I didn’t have to notice — I knew she was here.”
“Did Auntie and Tsugiko-san know too?”
“We all did.”
As she continued to stare from behind Tsugiko in Mrs. Yoshikawa’s direction, realizing that only she hadn’t known, the binoculars in the matron’s hand were abruptly turned on her, accidentally or on purpose, she couldn’t say.
“I hate being looked at that way.”
O-Nobu shrank into herself as if to hide. Even so, the binoculars across the theater remained trained on her.
“Fine. I’ll just run away.”
As if in pursuit of Tsugiko, O-Nobu stepped into the corridor.
[48]
THE SCENE outside surveyed from the corridor was, as to be expected at a venue like this, bustling. Unfamiliar faces paraded back and forth unceasingly across the slatted flooring held in place by braces so that it could be removed. O-Nobu stopped at the far end of the corridor and, half leaning against a pillar, searched for Tsugiko. When she finally located her in front of the shops lining the far side of the lobby, she descended at once and moved toward her with quick, light steps across the slatted wooden flooring.
“What are you buying?”
As O-Nobu spoke, leaning forward from behind as if to peer over Tsugiko’s shoulder, her cousin wheeled in surprise so that their faces nearly rubbed as they smiled at each other.
“I’m having a terrible time. Hajime-san asked me to buy him something so I’ve been looking, but I can’t find anything likely to please him.”
Under the mistaken impression she would find a toy for a small boy, Tsugiko had gone from one item to the next, finding nothing and unable to stop until by now she was in some distress. Pausing in front of hairpins decorated with plastic flowers and bearing the crests of famous actors, wallets, hand towels, on and on, she kept glancing at O-Nobu with eyes that appealed for help. O-Nobu responded at once.
“You’re wasting your time. If it’s not a murder weapon he won’t like it, a pistol or a wooden sword, and you won’t find any such thing in these stylish shops.”
The man behind the counter laughed; O-Nobu took the opportunity to grasp Tsugiko’s hand.
“Anyway, you should ask your mother first — sorry to trouble you, another time.”
With these words to the shopkeeper, O-Nobu led a disconsolate-looking Tsugiko briskly away, half dragging her back to the corridor. There they stopped and chatted for a while, leaning against a pillar supporting the roof.
“What happened to Uncle? Why isn’t he here?”
“He’s coming. Any minute now.”
O-Nobu was surprised. Okamoto wedging his bulk into a space already cramped with the four of them would definitely be an incident.
“I’m already so skinny, if Uncle squeezes in on top of me I’ll be squashed flat.”
“He’ll take Yuriko’s place.”
“Why?”
“No special reason. It just makes more sense. It doesn’t matter if Yuriko isn’t here.”
“Really! I wonder what would have happened if Yoshio weren’t sick and he had come along with me.”
“We’d have managed — bought more space I guess, or maybe joined Yoshikawa-san.”
“Was Yoshikawa-san invited too?”
“Yes.”
Tsugiko said no more. O-Nobu had never thought of the Okamoto and Yoshikawa families as being so close, and for just a moment she was suspicious, wondering if there might be some significance in this, but as there was abundant room to view it simply as an afternoon’s entertainment people with leisure time were likely to arrange, she didn’t pursue it further. They did touch briefly on Madam Yoshikawa’s binoculars. O-Nobu went so far as to demonstrate with a gesture.
“She pointed them at me openly like this. I couldn’t believe it.”
“How rude! But that’s apparently how foreigners behave — that’s what Father says.”
“So in the West it’s not bad manners? Does that mean I’m allowed to stare at her in the same way? I should return her kind attention.”
“Give it a try. I bet she’ll be pleased. She’s always saying, ‘Nobukosan is classy.’”
As they laughed aloud, a young man came out of nowhere and halted briefly alongside them. He was wearing a plain kimono jacket embroidered with a crest in slightly darker colored thread and stylish, serge “lantern” hakama, and their eyes had no sooner met than, conveying without words an attitude of polite respect as he passed, he descended to the wooden floor and moved away. Tsugiko blushed.
“Let’s go back in.”
Prompting O-Nobu, she stepped inside.
[49]
THE SCENE inside was just as before. The figures of the men and women moving about in the parterre directly beneath them were a tangled, dizzying spectacle, as if they were underfoot. Activity designed to attract as much attention as possible was in evidence everywhere. As one gesture completed itself, it vanished as if to cede a place to the next ostentatious burst of color. The small world compassed in their field of vision was all a wavering blur, complex and disordered and always resplendent.
From the rear of the relatively quiet stage, the sounds of the property master’s hammer from time to time ringing out across the theater awakened a sense of anticipation. And the wooden clappers striking behind the curtain at intervals rang in the ears like night alarms attempting to focus scattered attention on a single point.
What was odd was the audience. Without a word of complaint about this long intermission with nothing to do, appearing ever so content, people supped with equanimity on the scattered excitement as they were swept along unprotestingly by the passage of time. They were tranquil. They appeared happy. They seemed drunk on the breath they inhaled from one another, and when they began to sober up a little they had only to shift their eyes to another’s face. There they would immediately discover something lulled and mellow. And they were able to assimilate at once their neighbor’s mood.
Returning to their seats, the girls glanced around them with what appeared to be pleasure. As if by prearranged signal, they turned in the direction of the Madam Yoshikawa. The binoculars were no longer trained on them. But neither was their owner anywhere in sight.
“She’s disappeared.”
“It seems so.”
“Shall I try to find her?”
Yuriko lifted her own opera glasses to her eyes.
“She’s not there — she’s gone off somewhere. She’s fat enough for two people so there’s no way I could miss her if she was there.”
Yuriko lowered the ivory glasses. Coming from a girl who still wore her obi so high that it obscured the beautiful pattern of beasts and flowers on her back, the remark was hardly appropriate for use in public: her elder sister, projecting grown-up authority even as she tightened her mouth to conceal her amusement, spoke admonitorily.
“Yuriko-san!”
The younger sister offered no reply. Looking slightly disgruntled as before, an expression that seemed to be exclaiming “What’s the problem?” she turned pointedly to her sister.
“I want to go home now. I wish Father would hurry and get here.”
“If you want to leave, you may. It doesn’t matter if Father isn’t here.”