Rising, she went into the sitting room and opened the bottom drawer of the tansu with shiny brass hinges installed just inside the door. Removing the overcoat in question from the bottom of the drawer, she placed it in front of Kobayashi.
“You mean this?”
“Yes indeed.” Kobayashi reached for the coat at once and flipped it over, examining it with the eye of a dealer in second-hand clothing.
“I didn’t expect it to be so worn—”
“It’s plenty good enough for you!” O-Nobu wanted to say, peering at the coat in silence. As Kobayashi had observed, it was somewhat faded. This was conspicuously evident when the collar was folded back and the cloth beneath it was compared with the rest.
“I suppose I can’t expect too much since I’m getting it for nothing.”
“If it doesn’t suit you feel free to—”
“Are you suggesting I should leave it?”
“Yes.”
As expected, Kobayashi retained his hold on the coat. O-Nobu was thrilled.
“Mrs. T — would it be all right if I just tried it on?”
“Go right ahead.”
O-Nobu’s reply was intentionally the opposite of what she was thinking. Sitting where she was, she watched cynically as Kobayashi struggled to force his arms through sleeves that appeared too tight.
“How does it look?” Kobayashi turned his back to O-Nobu. The multiple creases where the garment had been folded were unsightly. Once again, instead of suggesting, as she should have, that the coat needed ironing, O-Nobu moved in the opposite direction.
“It seems perfect.”
As there was no one else in the room, O-Nobu felt deprived of the chance to exchange eye-to-eye with someone a smile at the ludicrous figure of a back that had been offered her as an opportunity for ridicule.
Just then Kobayashi turned smartly around and, still wearing the coat, sat himself heavily down facing O-Nobu with his legs crossed.
“Mrs. T! People may make fun of me because I’m wearing something odd, but it’s still good to be alive.”
“Is that so?”
O-Nobu fell stubbornly silent.
“That’s maybe hard to understand for someone like yourself who’s never known hardship.”
“Is that so? Personally I’d prefer to be dead than have people laughing at me while I’m alive.”
Kobayashi did not reply. Then suddenly he spoke.
“I thank you. Thanks to you I’ll manage to stay alive this winter.”
He stood up. O-Nobu also rose.
But as they were about to follow each other out to the engawa, Kobayashi wheeled around.
“Mrs. T! If that’s how you feel, you’d better take care never to be laughed at!”
[88]
THEIR FACES were less than a foot apart. Since Kobayashi had turned back just as O-Nobu was stepping forward, they were obliged to halt in their tracks. They stood there, frozen, face to face. Or, more precisely, peering into each other’s eyes.
At that moment, Kobayashi’s thick eyebrows filled invasively O-Nobu’s field of vision. The black pupils beneath them were trained on her unwaveringly. If O-Nobu wished to understand what they were saying, her only choice was deflecting them with force applied from her side. She spoke.
“That’s not your concern. I don’t require that sort of warning from you.”
“On the contrary, you require it urgently. I suppose you mean to say you can’t remember ever having received a warning before. And I suppose it’s true that you’re essentially a splendid young gentlewoman. Still—”
“That’s enough. Please leave!”
Kobayashi did not comply. As they spoke their faces were mere inches apart.
“But I was talking about Tsuda-kun.”
“What about him? Are you saying that I’m a gentlewoman but Tsuda is not a gentleman?”
“I have no idea of what a gentleman is. First of all, I don’t acknowledge the existence of classes in society.”
“What you choose to acknowledge or not to acknowledge is up to you. But what are you saying about Tsuda?”
“Would you care to hear?”
A blinding stroke of lightning flashed from O-Nobu’s small eyes.
“Tsuda is my husband.”
“I know — so you must want to hear.”
O-Nobu gnashed her teeth.
“Please leave now!”
“I’ll leave — I’m on my way.”
As he spoke, Kobayashi turned and moved, heading for the entrance, just two steps away from O-Nobu along the engawa. Watching in dismay as his back receded, O-Nobu stopped him again.
“Wait!”
“Yes?”
Kobayashi slowed to a halt. Extending in front of him both arms clad in the overcoat that was too long for him, he examined himself from head to toe, as though admiring the figure he cut, a cartoon character in Punch magazine, then turned to O-Nobu and grinned. O-Nobu’s voice was taut.
“Why are you leaving without saying anything?”
“I believe I’ve already thanked you.”
“Not about the coat.”
Kobayashi feigned ignorance. He went so far as to appear puzzled. O-Nobu pursued him.
“You owe me an explanation.”
“For what?”
“For what you said about Tsuda. Tsuda is my husband. If you say things that cast doubt on a husband’s character in front of his wife, even if you insinuate things, you have an obligation to explain clearly what you mean.”
“Or at least to retract what I said; I suppose that would do? Since I’m a person with a limited sense of obligation, as you call it, or responsibility, it might be hard for me to give you the explanation you require, but at the same time, as a man who has no fear of shame, it means nothing to me to retract something I’ve already said. Fair enough. I retract my misspoken remarks about Tsuda-kun. And I apologize. Will that do?”
O-Nobu glowered in silence.
“I hereby declare Tsuda to be a man of impeccable character. A gentleman (assuming that sort of privileged class exists in society).”
O-Nobu, her eyes still lowered, said nothing. Kobayashi continued.
“A minute ago I cautioned you to take good care not to be laughed at. You replied there was no need to heed warnings from the likes of me. That made me feel I should refrain from saying more. Now that I think about it, even that was speaking out of turn. So I retract that, too. I’m sorry if I’ve said anything to offend you. My mistake in every case.”
When he had finished, Kobayashi took his shoes from where they had been neatly aligned on the concrete and put them on. Then he slid back the lattice and, as he was stepping outside, turned and said “Sayonara, Mrs. T.”
Murmuring her own good-bye, O-Nobu stood vacantly where she was for a long while. Finally, she hurried upstairs, sat down at Tsuda’s desk and, all at once, slumping forward, burst into tears.
[89]
O-TOKI FORTUNATELY remained downstairs, enabling O-Nobu to cry unobserved. When she had cried to her heart’s content, her tears naturally abated.
Stuffing her wet handkerchief back into her sleeve, she abruptly opened the desk drawers. There were two of them. But a methodical examination of their contents turned up nothing new of any interest. That was to be expected: she had already rummaged through the same drawers two or three days earlier, when Tsuda had gone to the clinic, looking for the things he had wanted to take along. Removing what was left, envelopes, a ruler, receipts for lectures he had paid to attend, she carefully replaced them one by one. A small pamphlet advertising Panamas and other sorts of straw hats with lithographs of each recalled an early summer evening when they had gone shopping on the Ginza. Tsuda had brought the booklet of samples home from a store where they had gone to buy a summer hat; distant associations seemed to cling to the pages like the fragrance of past days, the fiery red azalea blossoms in Hibiya Park, the tall, luxuriant willow trees and the pale shadows they cast on one side of the boulevard leading to Kasumigaseki visible in the distance. O-Nobu sat for a while with the booklet open in front of her, deep in thought. Then, as though suddenly resigned, she slammed the drawers shut.