“I can’t answer for Mariko. But I’m looking for ways to divorce Nozomi. It won’t be easy, but I’ve been told it can be done.”
“I see. I guess that becomes inevitable at some point. Even so, I can’t say I’m pleased by your involvement with Mariko. Nor is Yuki. In fact, she’s been dismayed by your relationship with Mariko for longer than I’ve been.”
“There’s nothing to be dismayed about.” He thought Takahashi was only voicing his jealousy over his involvement with Mariko.
“Of course there is. From the outside, what the four of you have done looks like an exchange of spouses. With a child involved, no less. And also our ryokan. Do neither of you see how potentially damaging it is?”
Sedge wasn’t sure what to say.
“It was bad judgment to get involved with Mariko while you’re still legally married to my sister. And it’s bad judgment on Mariko’s part, too. By the way, will you help her raise her stepson?”
“She’s letting me use a room in her house. The boy has nothing to do with me.”
Takahashi stepped forward to check the small change he’d made in the Kutani-ware display. “You realize, I suppose, that whenever Kōichi comes back she’ll choose him over you. He’s still husband and father in their home, after all, no matter what problems they have together. You could easily find yourself with nothing again. And what will you do then?”
It was true Sedge was unsure how Mariko would react if her husband returned. He wanted to ask Takahashi what Yuki would do if she found out about his infidelities, but he held his tongue. Takahashi’s concern sounded genuine.
“I’m sorry we’ve had this so close to your room the whole time,” Takahashi went on. “But we agreed to exhibit it before you arrived.”
Sedge looked at him, not understanding his apology. “What are you talking about?”
“I thought you knew these pieces were made by Mariko’s husband. That’s his photo and biography on the wall. Unfortunately, it came undone and has been lying face-down behind the glass for some time . . .”
Sedge turned toward the display. He tried to remember the photo Mariko had shown him on her phone at Kenrokuen back in March, which was clearer in his mind than her husband’s face when he’d come to their shop. This photo was obviously from a long time ago. Now that he knew it was him, he saw Riku emerge in the features.
Sedge had stopped to admire the Kutani-ware before; because he didn’t like being reminded of the ceramics store he’d been forced to close in Kanazawa, and felt bitter that no such stores in Yamanaka Onsen would offer him work, he hadn’t paid much attention to it. Knowing now that it had been just outside his room for all the weeks he’d stayed here nauseated him, as did the memory of having drunk from Koichi’s sake cups. Had Mariko wanted to spare him, and thus never mentioned the display? He couldn’t imagine how having to see it every day affected her.
“What did I do to make your family push me aside?” Sedge said, his voice brittle.
He had nearly said “Nozomi” instead of “your family,” and he felt himself redden. Had the way she’d left him made him lash out at her family? Or were his feelings about them justified? At the moment, all he knew was an all-encompassing resentment.
He was disgusted with Takahashi and wondered if it had pleased him all along to keep the secret of the Kutani-ware from him. “My arguments with you and Yuki only happened because I respected your family and was hurt when I saw I was being scapegoated for what Nozomi did.” When Takahashi didn’t answer, Sedge added: “And what did I do wrong in my classes? All the students I’ve spoken with contradict the story you told me.”
“I’m sorry you heard something different, but everything I told you was true.” Takahashi glanced at his watch. “If you don’t mind, I need to get back to the lobby.”
Sedge imagined he was no busier now than when he had approached him a few minutes ago. “Look, I don’t want to end on a bad note with you or Yuki. I’ll be staying in Yamanaka Onsen, at least for the time being, so if you want to get in touch or have a drink together, you can reach me at the number you have. Thank you both, again, for everything. I’ll always feel indebted to you for the kindness you showed me these last two months.”
“And we hope you’ll find your way to something better soon. Thank you for coming to talk to me before you left.”
Takahashi bowed formally to Sedge before disappearing down the corridor.
Sedge turned toward his room, but the Kutani-ware display caught his eye again. He stepped closer to it, determined to read the small, lengthy text beside it, which with effort he managed to do. It was a typical artist’s bio, detailing years of education and training, followed by exhibitions and local and regional awards he’d received. The bio praised the artist’s tones and color schemes, comparing his porcelain to snow and cream, and singling him out for his mastery of tradition as well as for pioneering new forms and styles. Although his Kutani-ware had been designated an Intangible Cultural Property, he had quietly rejected it, saying that such prestigious honors and awards would suffocate his drive. His bio ended with a quote from the famous twentieth-century artist Rosanjin Kitaoji, who had spent time in Yamashiro Onsen:
Born alone, die alone.
Arrive alone, depart alone.
Learn alone, proceed alone.
The quote resonated with Sedge in a way that had nothing to do with the man in the photo, who looked so much like Riku, but with himself. He had felt hopelessly alone after Nozomi left, even after Takahashi and Yuki had opened their ryokan to him. Mariko, however, had extended all of herself to him, pulled him into her life, and saved him. Was it love that had made her do this?
Feeling a deeper gratitude toward her, he returned to his room.
Fifteen minutes later someone knocked on his door. A newly hired staff member—someone he’d never had the chance to teach, and therefore whose name he’d never learned—handed him a thick envelope and said it was from Ms. Yuki. When the young man left, Sedge emptied out the envelope’s contents.
A thin stack of ten-thousand-yen notes wrapped in traditional Japanese paper fell onto the table. A short message was written in Yuki’s hand: “Despite our original agreement, we always intended to pay you for your teaching. We hope this comes in handy.”
Was this their way of apologizing? Or, at the least, of trying to make amends? Or were they still trying to ensure that he wouldn’t turn on them if given the chance? Whatever the case, it was clearly a final gesture.
There were fifteen bills in all. The amount would have covered one month’s rent at the apartment he and Nozomi shared in Kanazawa. In Yamanaka Onsen it might cover five. At Mariko’s house, where he would stay for free, it would cover whatever she asked him to pay for the expenses he incurred by living there.
“This is so unexpected,” Mariko said, covering her mouth with a hand. She was staring at the pendant Sedge had bought after leaving the ryokan that afternoon. “What did you do this for? And when you don’t have a steady income. Please, I don’t want you spending even one yen on me.”
He appreciated her carefulness over his money, but he enjoyed much more her reaction to his gift. She couldn’t hide from him that she liked it.
“The ryokan paid me for my teaching when I left. I’ve always wanted to get you something, but it wasn’t until today that I could.”
The white wings of the hand-crafted ibis, raised in flight, were set off beautifully by the color of her skin at the base of her neck.
“I told the neighbors today that we were taking in a renter. Most of them had seen you and were pleased to know you speak Japanese. They assumed you only spoke English. Riku went with me and told them about the heron you brought home and the cage he built for it. They were impressed you’d done such a thing.”
“I hope you told them not to look for me if they find an injured heron in the road.”
“They appreciate that sort of kindness. You’ll see that many villagers refuse to kill bees, even though there are aggressive species here that can seriously injure you.”
Sedge knew this already. Some of the craftsmen in town protected the bees’ nests, even when the bees built them under the rooftops of their homes. In wintertime, when the bees returned to the forests, the craftsmen would have large, perfectly round hives they could lacquer and make last several hundred years. People protected barn swallows, too, because they believed they brought good luck. Some villagers even opened the windows of their houses for the birds to fly inside and build nests out of harm’s way. More common were nests at the entrances to homes, beneath which the owners placed boxes they filled with newspapers and regularly changed. The only creatures the villagers killed were centipedes. Even stinkbugs, which were ubiquitous for half the year, they widely tolerated.
