Have a seat over there. We’ll open in about half an hour, Satoru said, placing a beer and glass in front of me along with a bottle opener and a little dish of miso paste. You can open it yourself, right? Satoru said as he diligently maneuvered his knife on the chopping block.
“Sometimes waiting is a good thing.”
“You think so?”
The beer entered my system. After a little while, I could feel a warmth along the path it coursed through. I took a lick of the miso paste. It was barley miso.
I excused myself in advance, and took my mobile phone out of my bag and dialed Sensei’s number. I debated whether to call his home number or his mobile phone number, but decided on his mobile.
Sensei picked up after six rings. He picked up, but there was only silence. Sensei didn’t say anything for the first ten seconds or more. Sensei hated mobile phones, citing the subtle lag after your voice went through as his reason.
“I DON’T HAVE any particular complaints about mobile phones, per se. I find it intriguing to see people who appear to be having a loud conversation with themselves.”
“I see.”
“But so then, if we’re talking about me agreeing to use one, that’s difficult.”
This was the conversation we had when I suggested that Sensei get a mobile phone.
Whereas once, he would have flatly refused to carry a mobile phone, because I had insisted on the idea, he couldn’t reject it out of hand. I remember a boy I dated a long time ago who, when we would disagree, would go straight to outright denial, but Sensei wasn’t like that. Is that what you called benevolence? With Sensei, his benevolent nature seemed to originate from his sense of fair-mindedness. It wasn’t about being kind to me; rather, it was born from a teacherly attitude of being willing to listen to my opinion without prejudice. I found this considerably more wonderful than just being nice to me.
That was quite a discovery for me, the fact that arbitrary kindness makes me uncomfortable, but that being treated fairly feels good.
“So there’s nothing to worry about if something happens,” I reasoned.
To which Sensei widened his eyes and asked, “Something like what?”
“Anything.”
“So then, what?”
“Um, for instance, you could be carrying something with both hands full when suddenly it starts raining, and there aren’t any public phones nearby, and now it’s crowded with people under the shop awnings, and you have to get home quickly—something like that.”
“Tsukiko, in that situation I would just get wet going home.”
“But what if the thing you’re carrying couldn’t get wet? Like some kind of bomb that would ignite if it got wet.”
“I would never buy anything like that.”
“What if there were a dangerous character lurking in the shadows?”
“It’s just as likely that there would be a dangerous character lurking somewhere when I’m walking down the street with you, Tsukiko.”
“What if you slipped on the wet sidewalk on your way?”
“Tsukiko, you’re the one who falls, aren’t you? I train in the mountains.”
Everything Sensei said was right. I fell silent and cast my eyes downward.
“Tsukiko,” Sensei said softly after a moment. “I understand. I will get a mobile phone.”
What? I asked.
Sensei patted the top of my head and replied, “You never know when something might happen to us geezers.”
“You’re not a geezer, Sensei!” I contradicted him.
“In return…”
“What?”
In return, Tsukiko, I ask you not to call it a cell. Please refer to it as a mobile phone. I insist. I can’t stand to hear people call it a cell.
And that’s how Sensei came to have a mobile phone. Every so often I call it, just for practice. Sensei has only ever called me from it once.
“Sensei?”
“Yes?”
“Um, I’m at Satoru’s place.”
“Yes.”
“Yes” is all Sensei ever says. This might not be so unusual, but on a mobile phone, it becomes remarkable.
“Will you join me?”
“Yes.”
“I’m so pleased.”
“Likewise.”
At last, an utterance other than “Yes.” Satoru grinned. He came out from behind the counter and went to hang the curtain outside, still grinning. I scooped some more miso paste with my finger and licked it. The aroma of oden cooking filled the bar.
THERE WAS ONE thing I was concerned about.
Sensei and I had not yet slept together.
I was concerned about it in the same way that I might be about the looming shadow of menopause that I already felt or about worrisome gamma-GTP levels in my liver function when I went for a checkup. When it comes to the workings of the human body, the brain, the internal organs, and the genitals were all part of the same whole. I became aware of this because of Sensei’s age.
I may have been concerned, but that’s not to say that I was frustrated by it. And if we never slept together, well, that was how it would be. But as for Sensei himself, he seemed to have quite a different attitude.
“Tsukiko, I’m a bit anxious,” Sensei said to me one day.
We were at Sensei’s house, eating yudofu. Since it was the middle of the day, Sensei had prepared yudofu in an aluminum pot for us to eat while we drank some beer. He made it with cod and chrysanthemum greens. When I made yudofu, tofu was the only ingredient. As I sat there, my head a little fuzzy from drinking in the daytime, it had occurred to me that this was how people who didn’t know each other developed a familiarity.
“Anxious?”
“Er, well, it’s been a long time since I was with my wife.”
Oh, I exclaimed, my mouth half-open. I was careful not to let Sensei stick in his finger, though. Ever since that time, Sensei would quickly poke his finger into my half-open mouth if I let my guard down. He was much more playful than I had realized.
“It’s fine, if we don’t do that,” I said hurriedly.
“By ‘that,’ do you mean what I think you mean?” Sensei’s expression was serious.
“Not ‘that,’ per se,” I replied as I readjusted myself, sitting on my heels.
Sensei nodded gravely. “Tsukiko, physical intimacy is essential. No matter how old you are, it’s extremely important.” He had assumed a firm tone, like back in the day when he would read aloud from The Tale of the Heike at his teacher’s podium.
“However, I don’t have any confidence that I’m capable of it. If I were to try when I was feeling insecure, and then if I couldn’t do it, my confidence would be even more diminished. And that is such a formidable outcome that it prevents me from even trying.” The Tale of the Heike continued.
“I sincerely apologize.” Sensei bowed deeply, concluding The Tale of the Heike. Still seated on my heels, I bowed too.
Uh, why don’t I help you? I wanted to say. We could give it a try soon. But, feeling the pressure of Sensei’s solemnity, I didn’t feel like I could say this to him. Nor could I tell him I didn’t give a damn about that. Or that I would rather he just go on kissing and holding me like always.
Since I couldn’t say any of these things, I poured some beer into Sensei’s glass. Sensei opened wide and drank it down, and I ladled some cod out of the pot. Chrysanthemum greens clung to the fish, creating a lovely contrast of green and white. Isn’t that pretty, Sensei? I said, and Sensei smiled. Then he patted the top of my head, as always, over and over.
We went to all kinds of places on our dates. Sensei preferred to call them “dates,” using the English word.