“So, like, was it good, having sex with him?” Meiko asked.
“Well, you know, he wasn’t exactly well-endowed, but his technique wasn’t half bad.”
She was laughing along with the rest of us, but Yōko still hadn’t asked anything, so I thought that I would take a turn.
“Mom, how old would he have to be, a guy you’d want to have sex with? Younger than you?”
“Ah, a young guy would be wonderful. I wouldn’t even mind if he were young enough to be my son. Yeah. A guy around your age would be nice.”
At that moment, a deafening clang rang out.
“The same age as Nanako? You mean, someone like Tamura?” Moeko asked.
Right, I realized. If it were a classmate or someone like that, he would be around Tamura’s age.
“Who’s Tamura?” Meiko asked.
“One of Nanako’s college friends,” Yōko answered. “I’ve seen them walking around town together every now and then.”
“What kind of friend?” Mom asked.
“He’s just a friend,” I said. “We aren’t dating or anything.”
“You know, girls, I’m fine with you all having boyfriends, but you shouldn’t hang out with guys who want to take you to bed straight away, you know.”
“I know,” I responded flatly.
“But Mom, that kind of thinking is really old-fashioned, you know?” Meiko said. “If two people really love each other, they should be able to have sex whenever they feel like it. That’s what I think.”
“That’s how all young people think. Believe me, I know. But you mustn’t give yourselves away like that.”
Moeko turned toward Meiko. “Oh? Do you have someone in mind?” She was clearly thinking about S, but Meiko said nothing in reply.
I was starting to feel embarrassed that someone might overhear us, and glanced furtively around the room. The barkeeper was standing in silence behind the counter, cooking up a Spanish omelet.
“What do you think, Yōko?” Moeko asked.
“I don’t know,” was all she said.
“By the way, they were showing Hiroshima mon amour at the Mad Hat,” I said, trying to change the subject.
“Why?” Mom demanded. “I thought all they had was a TV? But I guess they do play videos of the Beatles every now and then…”
“One of the regulars really wanted to see it, so they had a screening party.”
“So did they all watch it?” Meiko asked, sipping at her Denki Bran.
“Well, apart from that one guy, no one else was really bothering to pay attention. But you know that bathroom scene? Just before it started, one of the other regulars shouted out: ‘They’re getting it on!’”
We all broke out into laughter.
“I’ll bet you whoever said that doesn’t even know what it’s about,” Meiko chuckled.
“Obviously,” I answered.
“We’re probably the only people who would watch that movie together, as a family, don’t you think?” Moeko asked as she cut a piece from her omelet.
“That’s right, you’re pretty weird, Mom,” Meiko said.
“Do you think so?” Mom asked.
We were all getting pretty excited by our dirty conversation. I felt vaguely relieved that no one had mentioned S. The dirtier the conversation, the more excited us women would all get. Which is why the next time we come here, the four of us will no doubt shower Mom with yet more Denki Bran.
I was watching TV with Moeko, idling away some free time, when we decided to go to the local bathhouse. We messed around like a couple of puppies as we changed out of our clothes, playing with each other’s breasts. Out of all my sisters, I like Moeko’s breasts the most. Meiko is too skinny, and her breasts are meager and swarthy. Yōko’s are plump and nicely pale, but their areolas are too big. Moeko, though, is slim and fair-skinned, and her breasts are close to perfect circles, like steamed meat buns.
Moeko had stripped stark naked, standing there unabashed without even covering herself with a towel.
“Nakedness is nothing to be ashamed of,” Moeko said to me. “I mean, we’ve been coming to this bathhouse ever since we were kids, you know? We’ve all already seen everything there is to see.”
When I thought about it, I couldn’t help but agree. The counter had been occupied by a woman whom we had nicknamed Mitchan for as long as any of us could remember. She knew. Even when our bodies started changing during puberty. I can remember it so clearly. That day, my nipples had gone really hard—they had hurt so much, like someone had gone and hit them with a hammer. “It means your breasts are going to get bigger from now on,” Moeko said to me. “When your nipples go hard like that, it means that your breasts are starting to swell.”
“I know,” I answered.
“You might end up big-chested before long, like Yōko,” Moeko said, laughing.
I was overjoyed when she said that to me. I was so happy that I had brought it up with her. I wonder why I chose her to confide in, not Meiko, not Yōko, not Mom? The more I thought back on it, the more mysterious it now seemed.
That was what was going through my head, when all of a sudden Moeko called out to a young boy who had come wandering into the women’s dressing room. On instinct, I covered myself with my towel. He looked like he was about ten years old and had come into the dressing room with his mother. I had instantly assumed that he had snuck inside hoping to catch a glimpse of our naked bodies, that he was old enough to be thinking about the opposite sex. And then, to my surprise, Moeko walked right up to him, without even trying to cover herself in the slightest.
“Hey. You didn’t want to go into the men’s bath alone, did you?” she asked confidently.
The boy didn’t respond. He looked instead as if he were completely overwhelmed by Moeko’s presence.
“Can’t you talk?” she laughed.
The boy remained silent, averting his gaze.
“What a dull child,” she said, laughing again.
How wonderful it would be if all women could be like Moeko! I wish that I could be like her. This sister of mine, who even as a kid had never seen anything wrong with people from around the neighborhood looking at her body. This sister of mine, who was so proud of her physical beauty, without ever letting herself feel even the slightest hint of shame. Me though, I can’t stand this bathhouse. No sooner would I take off my clothes than my piano teacher might walk in, or a distant relative. Everyone can see me naked here, everyone can monitor my growth. And not just my body. Because when they see me, they always ask about my plans for the future. Moeko though, she’s unmoved, no matter what people ask her. She might not have graduated from a prestigious university or anything, she might have already passed the usual age of marriage, but still she doesn’t shy away, or try to hide anything, no matter whom she happens to bump into.
When my breasts started to swell, I felt like I was filled with sin. But Moeko wiped that stain away for me. Just because your breasts have started getting bigger doesn’t mean you’ve become a woman. Those were the words that she used to wipe away my feelings of self-disgust. Maybe Moeko’s different. Maybe she’s never felt this way about womanhood. She’s probably the only person in this whole neighborhood who can act so freely. Even though everyone here is watching on with abject curiosity, all wondering to themselves when this girl or that girl, girls who aren’t their own daughters or family, will grow into women.
Moeko soon lost interest in the boy, and we went into the bath.
“Your nipples are such a beautiful color, you know,” I said.
“People who have dark nipples, it’s because they touch them too much, don’t you think? It’s all that heat from the friction,” Moeko said.