“Why are you telling me?”
“Because you’re a stranger. And a meathead. If I complained like this to one of the guys,” he said, pointing up, “this finger would be in the trash.”
“What if I told on you?”
“Who you think is going to believe a word you say? Men in this line of work would trust a beggar or a thief over the Virgin Mary, just because he was another guy.”
Yanagi laughed, cracking himself up. Shindo turned away.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Reality too much for you?”
“I’m not a child. Save your breath. Besides, what makes this line of work of yours so special? Life is tough. It doesn’t matter who you are.”
“That’s deep stuff for a kid like you. But yeah, you’re right. This world’s no good. That’s one thing you can count on.”
Yanagi flicked the filter of his Peace at her feet and walked away, taking his time.
__________
1 道産子 dosanko n. [Japanese] 1. horse breed indigenous to Hokkaido 2. person born and raised in Hokkaido
Hearing the rain through the open windows, Yoshiko stepped into her sandals and hopped off of the back deck into the yard, where she pulled tenugui and underwear off of the laundry line and threw the basket back into the house. The sky went dark. In the distance, you could hear the growl of thunder. It was only May, too early for the rainy season to begin.
Luckily, the laundry didn’t get that wet. They could hang it in the living room. Taking a breath, she stepped inside and closed the doors onto the deck. The gust of air that followed her kicked at her floppy ponytail. All those gray hairs made her appear a little older than she was, but she let it go, no interest in dyeing it or cutting it short. She had almost no wrinkles and her posture was superb. She was used to hearing she could look ten years younger, easily, if she only dyed her hair, but at this point, what was looking any younger going to do for her?
“Masa, come on, help with the laundry. Can’t you hear the rain?”
Masaoka was sitting in the next room at a beat-up tea table, reading the newspaper, chin propped in his palm. His salt-and-pepper hair was cut into a squarish flattop, something you don’t see much anymore. With that tenugui tied around his neck, he struck the figure of a working man from way back when. He had put on a little weight, mostly around the belly. Hunched over like that, he looked almost like a Shiba Inu, sitting like a good boy.
“Sorry. Blame my granny ears.”
Always ready with a comeback. In a soft voice at odds with his appearance, Masa pushed his black-rimmed glasses down onto his nose and looked at Yoshiko.
“You’re a lost cause,” said Yoshiko.
Masa had grown softer all around over the years; his voice and body, but most of all his personality, had gone through an incredible transformation. Barely any trace remained of what had been a prickly demeanor, so high-strung as to make him unapproachable. Things had changed. In the old days he had never joked around, but lately it had gotten to the point where he was making lame puns all the time and even humming to himself. If anyone from their past could see Masa now, their jaw would drop.
Masa wasn’t the only one who’d changed. Yoshiko was like a completely different person. Her eyes fell on the garish cat print apron and the mustard-yellow sweater, things she never would have worn back in the day. For a while, they had made an effort not to wear clothes that stood out, but now that they were older, an understated outfit would be dangerously conspicuous. A matter of changing trends. The last few times she took the bus out to the shopping center in the next town to buy clothes, the section for younger women was all about minimalism, while the racks for the old ladies screamed with color.
Masa’s tastes had gone the other way. He used to have exacting style. Then after they went off together, he started wearing leisurewear exclusively. These days, he saw no issue stepping out dressed in a tracksuit blown out at the elbows and the knees.
We’re old, thought Yoshiko. When did that happen? Her eyes traced the lines of Masa’s back. Who could believe that the night they ran away, hand in hand, running through the driving rain, had slipped so deep into the past? She never had imagined they would make it long enough to see each other’s hair turn gray.
Transferring the laundry onto hangers that she hung over the lintels of the sliding paper doors, Yoshiko realized that she still had to go buy groceries for dinner. She sighed and grabbed a cardigan and slung a tote over her shoulder.
“Be right back. Running to the store.”
“Now? Look, the sky’s about to fall.”
“If you’re fine with having plain white rice and umeboshi for supper, I’ll stay home.”
Masa scratched his chin and folded up the newspaper. Took him a second to get up.
“All right. I guess I’ll join you.”
“What? That’s a first.”
“Let’s make a date of it. It’s been too long.”
“Date? Psssh . . .”
Too late. Masa grabbed his navy zip-up and headed for the door. Yoshiko hurried to catch up with him.
The rain wasn’t so heavy after all. The nearest supermarket was three hundred meters down the street. Good exercise for their achy legs. Besides, they weren’t about to share an umbrella in public. Two cheap plastic ones from the convenience store did just fine.
“Looks like the rainy season’s starting early.”
“Spring skipped us again this year.”
They made small talk, chatting about nothing. This was a good town. Not too built up or spread out. Most people ran their errands in their cars, but the two of them didn’t even have bicycles. They took care of their daily business at the stores within walking distance from the house. For anything they couldn’t live without, they rode one of the ten (or fewer) buses per day to the next town. It was a frugal life, but peaceful. They lived within their means.
The town was in a valley surrounded by low hills that stood between them and the sea. The seafood was as tasty as the produce. They lived in public housing, a development. Since the rent was cheap, they were able to eke out a comfortable existence so long as they made no indulgences. Best of all, the town was full of young people who had jobs at the factory, which meant little of the nosey meddling often found in country towns this size. The last place they lived had way too many gossipy and prying types. As new arrivals, Yoshiko and Masa were a favorite topic of conversation. It was hard to take. This place was great. As much peace and quiet as anyone could ask for.
This was not the future Yoshiko had envisioned for herself, however vaguely, in her younger years. She set her eyes on Masa, on his salt-and-pepper hair, a few steps ahead of her. The fact that she was older by a few years made no difference anymore.
