Flowers bursting into bloom one after another, each their own distinct, burning color. It’s as if they’re all trying to cry out over the top of one another that they’re the most beautiful. And these people who live around Nezu Shrine, they probably go there, to the Azalea Festival, hoping that they’ll be able to meet someone or another, whether friends or members of the opposite sex. Everyone goes there to have fun, to socialize in the middle of that explosion of color, surrounded by flowers all vying for their attention. Hello! How are you doing? It’s already that time of year. Thank goodness the weather’s fine. They’ll start by exchanging pleasantries, but maybe what they really want to say is something more. What are you doing after this? Do you mind if I tag along? The thing is, I think I’ve fallen in love with you.
And then they part ways. Let’s catch up again sometime. Maybe that’s what they say. But what’s that supposed to mean? It isn’t like they’re never going to see each other again. They live in the same neighborhood, after all.
And the same thing went for my sisters. Let’s catch up again sometime, they said to S as we parted ways. Of course they were thinking about seeing him again. They were probably all thinking the exact same thing. That next time, maybe they would find him somewhere around the Mad Hat. But there’s one thing that they can’t have been thinking. That someone else would end up getting their hands on him, this guy, this mysterious S. That one of their own sisters might make him her own boyfriend first. No, that thought couldn’t have occurred to them at all.
One day, I happened to catch sight of S at the bus stop near our house. Well, technically it isn’t really a bus stop. The place had something to do with the Bluestocking Society, the feminist literary group that used to be active around here a century ago. He was staring intently at the sign that described their connection to the local area. And then, completely out of nowhere, he went and kissed it. I was so surprised that I spun around to see whether anyone else had noticed. But it was still early in the morning, and there was no one else around. I was probably the only one who had seen it. After that, he headed off toward Hakusan, while I kept going toward the convenience store in the opposite direction. I went straight to the magazine shelves, looking through the latest editions of all my favorites. One of them was doing a special issue on the Printemps Ginza department store. I had wanted to take a look at the new selection of summer clothes, but as I flipped through the pages, I just couldn’t relax. I couldn’t get that picture of S kissing the sign out of my head.
In the end, I went home with only a carton of milk.
“You took your time,” Meiko remarked. “Does it really take that long to buy some milk?”
“Uh, well…” I replied, flustered, probably just making myself look like I had done something wrong.
“You’re a strange one,” Moeko laughed.
She was probably right about that. And all the while, Yōko kept staring at me. I couldn’t help but worry that she might somehow manage to see through my discomfort, so I ran upstairs to hide in my room. I couldn’t tell any of them about what I had seen, about S kissing that sign. They would probably just end up getting jealous, I thought. They would no doubt just end up arguing among themselves over why he had done it.
My mind started wandering. Why had he kissed it? Did he feel some kind of reverence toward Hiratsuka Raichō? I could picture it so vividly. S, kissing my sisters against their will. My bookish sisters, who had so eagerly devoured the works of Uno Chiyo and Okamoto Kanoko back when they were kids. How would these sisters of mine feel if a pretentious guy, some outsider, came and pressed his lips up against their own? And what if he kissed me? I would slap him dead in the face. Don’t treat me like an idiot! Maybe it’s true, that kissing someone, even without checking to see how they feel about you, maybe that’s how things are done where the streets are ruled by the young. But this town isn’t like that. The young aren’t in charge here. So don’t you get it? When in Rome, you’re supposed to do as the Romans do. Yep. If it were me, that’s what I would say to him.
My sisters. My poor sisters. They haven’t realized what exactly it is that draws them to him. If you ask me, it’s simply because he’s a stranger. They think that they’re all so mature and sophisticated. They think that they’ve picked up every bit of worldly wisdom that a woman needs to know from their books. I’m not going to marry a local, some childhood friend, Moeko once said. I’m not going to be like everyone else in this town. They’re all the same. They’re born here, they fall in love with a member of the opposite sex, someone they’ve known since elementary school, they get married, and then, eventually, they die. Then their childhood friends all come to the funeral, like it’s some kind of class reunion. No, I couldn’t bring myself to fall in love with someone like that. It’s practically incest. That’s the kind of thing that Moeko would always say. Which was why, as soon as a stranger popped up, she and the others all underwent a sudden awakening, almost as if it were their first time ever seeing a member of the opposite sex. There’s no limit to my love for them, but as I watched this strange mood fall over them all, I felt as if I had suddenly understood just what miserable creatures women really are. But at the same time, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking that they’re just so beautiful, these sisters of mine.
So, if he tried to kiss me, I might not be able to stop myself just with slapping him. No, I would kiss him back, I would give my whole body to him over and over again, I would give him more than he could possibly bear, and then I would cast him aside, just like that. I mean, wouldn’t that be so fitting? And then I would say: Sex? I’d do that with any man. I never once thought you were special. Yes, if only my sisters would do that. But they’re different. The three of them have really fallen for him, from the deepest depths of their hearts. Just thinking about it makes me so frustrated. It was like these New Women, born and raised in this neighborhood of mine, were about to end up getting stained by some outsider. Like they would cease to be my sisters who had hauled the mikoshi through the streets rather than riding docilely on top.
“Hey, Mom, what was it like having sex with Dad, before you broke up with him?” Moeko asked between sips of her Denki Bran.
Mom was drinking a glass of Denki Bran as well. She turned red and let out a laugh.
That night, my sisters and I all went with Mom to this cinema-themed jazz café, a place called Eigakan. Us sisters are all pretty big on the atmosphere here, the walls all covered with posters for films like Hiroshima mon amour and Last Year at Marienbad. Mom has always been a big fan of Alain Resnais, and when we were young, we would all watch videos of his films together. And so the five of us were practically regulars, and had been ever since I was a kid. Sitting in this jazz café, drinking Denki Bran.
“Well, your father, you know, he wrote about it, the first time we did it, in his diary, and then, one day, I stumbled across it, and he’d written all this stuff about finding the delta zone, it was so funny!”
We were all drunk, and immediately burst into laughter. Mom always talks about sex when she’s drunk. And we all keep giving her one glass after another, all the while showering her with questions to get her to keep on talking.