“Miss Glutton should be home by now; I wonder what’s keeping her?”
O-Nobu’s aunt purposely used the nickname Yuriko had assigned her sister. O-Nobu conjured an image of her greedily ambitious cousin. Self-indulgent to a fault in the little universe she was permitted, one step outside and she came instantly to a standstill, the very model of circumspection; in the cage that was home, bounded by the supervision of her mother and father, she chirped away carelessly like a happy little bird, but once the door was open and she was thrust outside, she had no idea how to sing or whither to fly.
“What lesson did she have today?”
“Take a guess,” said Aunt Okamoto, who proceeded at once to satisfy the curiosity O-Nobu had brought with her from the hillside. When she heard that the subject, “foreign language,” was one of those Tsugiko had recently begun with her usual enthusiasm, O-Nobu was surprised all over again by the quantity of her cousin’s interests. She even found herself wondering whatever in the world she intended by striving for such a variety of accomplishments.
“But foreign language is a bit different; it has a special significance.”
Her aunt explained, defending Tsugiko as she proceeded, that the special significance she had in mind related indirectly to the possible marriage currently being considered, obliging O-Nobu out of deference to nod as though in agreement while looking as intently interested as possible. Anticipating and acquiring before the marriage the skills likely to please her husband, or those that would be professionally convenient for him if she possessed them, was a laudable demonstration of kindness toward a woman’s future spouse. Or it might be considered worthwhile simply as a means of winning his affection. In Tsugiko’s case, however, there remained any number of skills to be acquired that would be important to her as a human being and a wife. As O-Nobu pictured them in her mind, such accomplishments unfortunately were not likely to make a better woman. They would, however, sharpen her wits. They would almost certainly chafe. But they would whet her cleverness. She herself had begun these lessons with her aunt. And with her uncle’s help, they had ripened to maturity in her. In this sense her two teachers had raised her, and it appeared that they observed the results of their mentoring with satisfaction.
How can those same eyes be satisfied by what they see in Tsugiko?
Her aunt and uncle had never betrayed signs of discontent with anything having to do with Tsugiko, an attitude O-Nobu failed to understand. Pressed for an explanation, she would have had to say that they beheld their niece and their daughter through different eyes. The thought chagrined her; from time to time it seized her like a convulsion. But in each case, before it had a chance to blaze up, it was extinguished by her uncle’s liberality in all things and by the kindness of her aunt, whose treatment of her had never once lacked fairness. Hiding the flush inside her with an invisible sleeve pressed against her face, O-Nobu observed her uncle and aunt with what would have to be called perplexity, their attitudes and intentions an eternal riddle.
“Tsugiko-san is so fortunate — not to be a worry-wart like me.”
“That child worries much more than you do. It’s just that when she’s here at home she can’t find anything to worry about no matter how she tries, and that’s why she seems so carefree.”
“But I think I was more of a worrier even in the days when you and Uncle were looking after me.”
“But there’s a difference—”
Her aunt interrupted herself, and O-Nobu was uncertain how she intended to finish. She might have been referring to different personalities, different social standing, different circumstances, but before she had a chance to pursue this, something stopped her. Her pulse had skipped a beat, as though she had been jolted by something she had been unaware of until now.
Could they have dragged me to the miai yesterday because I’m plainer than Tsugiko and could serve as a foil to her good looks?
The suspicion flickered in O-Nobu’s brain like a spark from a flint stone, and in that instant she reached frantically for her will power and drew it about her. Finally she regained command of herself. Her face revealed nothing.
“Tsugiko-san has an advantage — everyone likes her.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. But there’s no accounting for taste. Even a foolish girl like her.”
Uncle Okamoto stepped up to the engawa just as her aunt was speaking. “What about Tsugiko?” he asked in a loud voice, entering the room again.
[68]
AS HE settled himself on the tatami, a feeling O-Nobu had managed to suppress until now came surging back. Just then, for a brief instant, her uncle’s infinitely good-natured face, infinitely robust, infinitely optimistic in its plump rotundity, touched a nerve.
“You’re a very bad person, Uncle!”
O-Nobu couldn’t help striking like a snake. The words themselves were blunted by frequent use between them, but today O-Nobu’s voice was different, and there was something out of the ordinary about her expression as well. But her uncle had been oblivious of the tide rising and ebbing in her breast for some time, and, uncharacteristically for someone normally attentive and sensitive, he was in the dark.
“I’m that bad?”
Feigning ignorance in his usual manner, he packed unperturbedly the small bowl of his long-stem pipe with loose tobacco.
“You must have heard something from your aunt while I was outside.”
O-Nobu fell silent again. Her aunt responded at once.
“She appears to know all about your villainy by now without hearing anything from me.”
“Undoubtedly. She’s so intuitive. And maybe she’s right. After all, she can tell with a single glance at a man how much money he has in his wallet, and whether he carries it in his knickers or in a belly-band atop his navel — she’s that kind of lass so you can’t be too careful.”
Her uncle’s joke did not produce the effect he had anticipated. O-Nobu cast her eyes down, and her eyelids quivered. Unnoticed, tears had accumulated at the ends of her eyelashes. Her uncle’s taunting had seemed out of character, and now abruptly it ceased. An odd oppressiveness enveloped all three of them.
“What’s the matter, O-Nobu?”
To fill the emptiness of silence, her uncle struck his pipe against the hollowed bamboo on his smoking tray. Her aunt also felt impelled to lighten the moment somehow.
“Who cries about such a thing! It’s so childish — and it’s the same old joke.”
Her aunt’s scolding sounded like more than an obliging gesture in her uncle’s direction. From where she stood, understanding as well as she did the relationship between her husband and her niece, the comment was fair. O-Nobu knew this. But the more reasonable her aunt’s reproval seemed, the more she felt like crying. Her lips trembled. She was unable to hold back a flow of tears. And now the dam that until now had stopped her mouth crumbled. Bursting into tears, she spoke.
“Why must you go out of your way to humiliate me!”
Her uncle appeared bemused.
“Humiliate? I’m praising you. You remember, before you married Yoshio-san, you had some perceptions about him. And we all appreciated what you had to say, so I thought—”
“I don’t want to hear this; I’m already fed up. I shouldn’t have gone to the theater.”
Briefly, they were silent.
“This has turned into a mess somehow. Is it your uncle’s fault for teasing you?”
“No — it’s all my fault. Everything.”