“Did we? I’m afraid I don’t remember.”
“Kōichi and I came to your shop once.”
On her phone, she showed him her husband’s photo. The face he hadn’t wanted to see stared up at him. It was a handsome face, if somewhat blocky like a boxer’s, and a bit aged and worn. He had to be nearly Nozomi’s age, since they’d been in high school at the same time—that much Sedge knew about him. But it was the very opposite sort of face he would have expected her to fall for.
“In his public photos,” she said, “he looks younger. Most people don’t recognize him in person. He preferred it that way. Do you remember him?”
Takahashi had apologized once for his role in Nozomi’s affair. He had introduced her to Kōichi. Because Kōichi was a well-known ceramicist, and the husband of one of his workers, Takahashi thought Nozomi and Sedge might sell his work at their shop. They had agreed to, but Kōichi never followed through with the arrangement.
“Yes, I remember.” He had entered their shop two-and-a-half years ago. He was highly esteemed by Kutani-ware artists and dealers. Though neither loud nor brash, he acted remarkably confident, and Sedge had failed in his attempts to engage him. He tried to recall Kōichi’s interaction that day with Nozomi, but nothing came to mind. Only that Kōichi had gravitated to her, talking to her for longer than their customers ever did. Because he was an artist, this wasn’t strange. “I don’t recall you coming in with him.”
“His presence usually overshadowed mine.”
Wanting to know who she was and hoping she might shine a light on why Nozomi was gone—and what he might yet do about it—he let her continue.
“He left me with his son, you know. His real mother doesn’t want him, and he doesn’t want to go back to her anyway. She lives in Osaka with another man. Her son’s no longer welcome in their flat or in the ramen shop they run. After Kōichi left us, I sent him to Fukui to live with his grandparents. I just couldn’t deal with what had happened and with him, too. But now he’s back with me.”
“You mean you’ve recovered enough by now?”
She smiled faintly. “I don’t know about that. But it’s not the first time this has happened. I’ve built up a sort of endurance for it, I suppose.”
Takahashi had told Sedge about these previous times. “It must be traumatic for your stepson.”
“I’m sure it is. Like I said, it’s not the first time his father has run off. But this time it’s different. This time we know he doesn’t mean to come back.”
Sedge couldn’t tell who she blamed for the affair. Perhaps intentionally, she hadn’t said anything about Nozomi.
“Have you had any news about your husband?”
She shook her head. “I wasn’t expecting to. Have you heard anything about your wife?”
“Nothing. I thought one of us would have by now.” He set his coffee down on the bench between them. “Why did you want to meet me?”
“How can I say this politely?”
Sedge attempted a smile. “You can be impolite with me.”
“I wanted to see if there was something wrong with you. Something that explained why your wife left you for a man like Kōichi. But all of it makes even less sense now. Why would she throw away someone like you?”
He could have told her about the arguments he and Nozomi had, the distance between them over their last few months together, and the problems they faced with their shop, but he didn’t see how it would help. He had a feeling Mariko wanted to know about the intimacies they shared, that she guessed this had been the driving force behind Nozomi leaving, but he wouldn’t volunteer it. His answer would have disappointed her, anyway.
“Maybe she left because there’s nothing wrong with you. There was so much wrong with Kōichi that she must have found that quality more attractive.” She looked at Sedge questioningly. “Maybe she had a lot wrong with her, too.”
“Sometimes I thought so. She became despondent about things in the end.”
“Despondent how?”
“I’m not sure how to explain. I think she was suffering from a kind of depression. But she also didn’t want to get better and seemed satisfied being that way. I never understood it.” That he could state this so plainly surprised him.
“And that’s how it was in the end? With your wife, I mean.”
“It was like it always was between us, I suppose. Maybe a little strained at times, but isn’t that normal? I never guessed she had a lover.”
Mariko looked down as if contemplating her coffee, which, like Sedge, she hadn’t touched. “What would you do if she came back to you? Would you give her another chance?”
Sedge shook his head.
“I don’t feel sorry for her,” Mariko said. When he didn’t reply she smiled half-apologetically. She looked at her watch and slowly stood up, giving him the impression that she didn’t want to leave. “What will you do with your shop?”
Sedge stood, too, and shrugged. “It’s closed now. I couldn’t keep it going.”
“You don’t make ceramics yourself?”
“No.”
She nodded a long time, a far-off look on her face. “I have to go. I’m sorry I had so little time today.”
They bowed to each other.
“I’ll be moving to the ryokan soon,” Sedge reminded her.
“Then I suppose we’ll see each other there sometimes. By the way, what will you do in Yamanaka Onsen? Can’t you find work here in the city?”
“I can’t afford to stay.” To cover up his embarrassment he added quickly, “Takahashi promised to introduce me to some ceramics shops near the ryokan. Hopefully one or two will take me on.”
Not wanting to make her late for the exhibition meeting he said, “Maybe we can talk again soon. I’m sure one of us will hear something.”
“Please let me know if you do.” She bowed again and walked away.
