“The haiku makes me want to call the kura ‘The Monkey Hut,’” Riku said.
“Isn’t that story too sad to name the kura after?”
Riku held out his hand until he caught the water dripping between them. After collecting a palmful, he rubbed his face with it. “Not to me,” he said.
Sedge couldn’t rid his mind of the story about the three-year-old left to die alone on the roadside. How could something like that happen to a child, and why did Bashō not do more to help? Was his journey so important that he couldn’t delay moving on? Surprised by his strong reaction to the story, he was grateful when Riku changed the subject.
“Did my stepmom tell you that a woodturning apprentice across the street gave me a block of wood this morning? He was planning to throw it away because the grain was warped. He didn’t want to give it to me, but when she explained why I wanted it, he agreed. I’m going to make it into a kuhi and carve a haiku on it. Then pound it into the ground in front of the kura.”
Sedge smiled. “What haiku did you choose?” He hoped it wouldn’t be the one Bashō wrote about the monkey.
“I’m going to write my own. I’ll need time to make a good one.”
“I’d like to read it when you’re done.”
They looked toward the village again, their eyes veering to Mariko’s home. The roofs of the house and kura were only just visible through the rain.
“Are you going to marry my stepmom?”
Sedge let out a deep breath. “We haven’t known each other very long. And how can I? She’s still married to your dad.”
“But he’s in jail. There’s no way they’ll stay married now.”
Sedge didn’t reply. He watched Riku catch the rain falling from the eaves again.
“I heard you met him.”
Sedge nodded. “He came to our shop once with Mariko. He refused to talk to me.”
“Why did he come to your shop if he wouldn’t talk to you?”
“My wife was there. He came to talk to her.”
Riku poured the water in his hands onto the step between his knees. “Why did my dad run off with your wife?”
“How should I know?”
Riku frowned. “People say I look like him. I hate hearing that, especially after what he did. Do you think I do, too?”
“Yes.”
“A lot?”
“Yes. Especially when I first met you. But I don’t see your father in you the way I used to.”
“I don’t want to look like my parents. I hate them.”
“Maybe so,” Sedge said. “But that’s no reason to hate yourself.”
A long silence followed. The rain bounced off the path at their feet.
“You’ve been nice to me today,” Riku said. “Why?”
The directness of the question surprised Sedge. He didn’t know how to answer.
After another long silence, Riku stretched out his legs, letting his shoes and the bottom of his pants get wet. After the rain had darkened them he pulled them back. Sedge laughed to himself.
Riku’s mood had soured and he wouldn’t look at Sedge now, not even when he spoke to him. “Don’t you think my stepmom’s pretty?”
“Yes,” Sedge replied.
Riku turned to him but still didn’t meet his eyes. “I’m going back before the weather gets worse. We’ll never see birds in a storm like this.”
He tore down the steps in the rain. The bottom of the shrine path had become a pond. He splashed through it, bowing again to the shrine at the top of the steps before turning and hurrying home.
24
Several days later, the bird reserve’s veterinarian contacted Sedge. The heron he’d brought in eight weeks ago had suffered a setback midway through its recovery. He had worried it would prove fatal, but a specialist in Hokkaido helped him adjust his treatment and the heron’s condition had markedly improved. Perhaps sensing Sedge’s confusion about why he was sharing this, he got to the point of his call. “The heron’s injuries have healed and we intend to release it this weekend. I’m calling to invite you to watch.”
“Of course I’ll go,” he said happily.
“Please come to the reserve early on Sunday morning. There’s a resident population of herons already here. It can try to join their group, or maybe it will return to where you found it since it’s not far away. Herons don’t always welcome unfamiliar birds into their group, but we’ve seen it happen before, so we’re hopeful.”
Mariko was excited by the news and agreed to go with Sedge. Riku was scheduled to work from Sunday morning until late in the afternoon. He struggled to contain his disappointment when Mariko told him that night at dinner about their plans.
“Why couldn’t they do it when I don’t have work?”
Mariko brushed away some sawdust she was always finding on his work uniform. He pulled away when she touched him.
