I Hear Them Cry (4 page)

“Thank you! God bless you, sir,” Nina said, standing up and putting her arm around him to express her gratitude. “I can tell you that your money won’t go to waste.”

I interpreted, and Shigeki appeared satisfied, nodding at me and saying, “That’s just wonderful.”

I wondered whether I might have just thrown his dough into a black hole, since donations like this often went unrewarded.

“Where’s Jean?” I asked.

“At the hospital, giving his weekly lecture.”

SHIGEKI: TWO

Next, I took Shigeki to the hospital where Simone was being treated for her drug addiction.

“Your donation could be used to help support Pierre’s family,” I said.

“I’d be honored.”

A beautiful and lush tree-lined garden surrounded the hospital, and many patients were outside with their therapists enjoying the day, either strolling or sitting on benches. At a glance, you couldn’t tell the patients from the therapists.

We headed toward the main building, walking leisurely across the gently sprawling lawn.

“This place also admits people who show signs of mental illness,” I explained.

“So you’re saying this is a mental hospital?”

“Right.”

“It’s just like some kind of a vacation spot if you ask me,” Shigeki said. “Nothing like the ones back home.”

This hospital treated many people who suffered from drug-induced hallucinations, like Simone. Having succumbed to alcohol and drugs, she was essentially hollowed out, lacking the drive to carry on with the demands of day-to-day living. Jean
was unable to remain indifferent and had lent a helping hand to Pierre’s family. It was one of his acts meant to help prevent the rise of future would-be criminals.

Once inside the main building, I asked the receptionist when Jean would be finished, and then we went outside to sit on the lawn and relax while we waited.

“Don’t you ever feel like returning to Japan?” Shigeki asked.

“Not yet,” I replied. “Right now I’m in the middle of trying to figure out a way of life that’s good for me. I’ve changed after getting to know Jean. I want to see what I’m capable of accomplishing on my own.”

Shigeki just gazed at me for a while before muttering, “I envy you. You’re young. I sure would like to live my life as I please, all footloose and fancy-free.”

Now that was Shigeki the businessman talking, a man in charge of a company, a strong man burdened with responsibilities.

Jean came out of the building, having finished his lecture. I put on my interpreter’s cap again.

“I’ve caused you some trouble, haven’t I?” Jean said, intimately shaking hands with Shigeki. “Thanks to the fact that you didn’t press charges, Pierre has returned to work. Oh, and Mayu’s slap certainly helped as well. But the really good news is that Simone will be discharged soon.”

“How wonderful! Pierre will be relieved,” I said before turning to Shigeki to offer him a quick rehash.

“Yes, I suppose so,” Jean went on. “But heaps of problems remain, I’m afraid. Still, let’s have a drink anyway. I owe you one, Shigeki.”

The three of us entered a nearby pub. Jean became intense, talking about how poverty was behind the birth of crime. He then remarked, “Look at you, Shigeki. The president of a company, at your age. That’s pretty impressive!”

“Yes, well, I lost my father to an accident five years ago, so I had to take over his company. It was out of necessity. I’m still learning from the people around me.”

“Accident?” Jean asked point-blank. He was always like that, smoothly slipping into people’s minds and hitting them with whatever thoughts he had on his own mind at that moment.

“He left for a cruise one day and was later reported missing, lost at sea,” Shigeki said.

“Is that right? How sad,” Jean said.

“They never found his body. That is to say, they never found him inside the ship he had supposedly boarded. So I assume he went overboard. But what’s strange is that, to this day, I hear my dad bossing me around.” Shigeki fidgeted, moving his forefinger around the back of his ear. “I suppose it’s because I have yet to see his remains, so I’m not entirely convinced that guy’s dead.”

As I interpreted for Jean, it didn’t escape me that Shigeki referred to his dad as “that guy.” I hesitated for an instant—mulling over the phrase’s nuance—before deciding to translate it literally.

“Did you love your father?” Jean asked without hesitation.

That was an embarrassing question, one I would not have asked. But Jean could get away with such probing questions. I’m glad he could because I was curious too.

“That bastard?” Shigeki spat out. “No way!” But he added in a hurry, “Look, he was a strict father for sure, but I have respect for his achievements, for what he’s done for the company.”

(The son who rejects his domineering father. Classic.)

SHIGEKI: THREE

After parting with Jean, Shigeki said he wanted to look at my paintings. “I really want to see the kinds of pictures you draw.”

I opened my apartment door, revealing a living room the size of ten tatami mats, graced with a small table and a large hemp-colored sofa I had found at a thrift store. An easel stood by the window amid my oil painting tools and the place’s overall mess. My church paintings were propped against the walls, a second door led to my bedroom, which was about six tatami mats wide.

But Shigeki didn’t seem to notice any of it. As soon as he walked in, he hugged me from behind and began planting hesitant kisses on the nape of my neck. A thin current—as gossamer as a strand of raw silk—zapped through me. My back, like candy dissolving in lukewarm water, gently leaned back, welcoming his embrace.

His lips snuck around my throat; his right hand seized my chin, and my lips became sealed with his. The flame of desire lit up inside me, igniting a heat wave that blazed red through my core. His left hand glided down my back and his right hand began to fondle my breasts. Effortlessly, he carried me into the bedroom, where he deftly removed my blue blouse. As an act of
defiance, I grasped his wrist and stopped his roving hand dead in its tracks. His piercing eyes locked with mine, rendering me helpless. His hand, free to wander again, pulled down my cotton panties in one stroke as he caressed my body, handling it as if it were a piece of fragile pottery.

Before I knew it, his ferocious manhood was no longer concealed and I writhed and convulsed beneath it before it entered me. As though we were both on fire, he pounded me with a force strong enough to reawaken an ancient ecstasy, a sensation that had been embedded deep within women during a time before time.

Harder, harder, harder. With each movement, my body thrust upward and clung to him. I was adrift in a primordial ocean until I became dizzy and eventually faded away into unconsciousness.

(I was born to meet this man.)

I do not know how much time had passed, but I stirred awake after catching a whiff of cigarette smoke. He was looking at his watch.

(I wondered where he had to be. Was there another woman waiting for him?)

It was that same old anxiety and doubt that always arrived in the wake of bliss. I quietly rested my head on his left shoulder.

“Wide awake now, are we?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Then, as if he had sensed my jealousy, he whispered, “The French Minister of Finance is hosting a party. Would you like to come?”

And just like that my anxiety vanished and I was embarking on a journey of exploration, where I would discover such things as the ulterior truths behind the words uttered by men. I would also realize that lessons from the past were pretty pointless.

“Are you sure?” I said. “Would it really be all right if I accompanied you?” I was already daydreaming about the Chanel suit the old couple had bought for me.

“Various bigwigs from the corporate world and from the Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs will be showing up. I’m sure you’ll have a good time. It’s going to be a laid-back affair.”

For that special day I bought a pair of shoes and a handbag. Starting then, I began to wear dresses. Little by little my heart was turning away from Joan of Arc and moving closer to Marie Antoinette.

(But let me tell you, I was no condescending, let-them-eat-cake kind of queen. I knew poverty. There was no way in hell that I was going to the guillotines!)

Shigeki’s hired car took us to the party, and when we arrived the place was already teeming with people. Most of them were businessmen decked out in suits, but dispersed among them—like stitching in embroidery—were stylish ladies, well-appointed businesswomen, and trendy mademoiselles chatting pleasantly. The hall was like a trade fair, showcasing lines of French products. People swarmed around Shigeki as soon as he entered.

“Would you excuse me for a moment? I need to talk a little shop with these people. Feel free to look around and mingle. I’ll be right back.”

He went off with some people, and I stood there taking in the scene.

“Hey, aren’t you the interpreter from the police station?” When I turned around, there was Shigeki’s friend from that night. She introduced herself as Noriko and said she was a flight attendant.

“Interpreting today?”

“Um, yes, I suppose.”

Since I had no idea what kind of relationship Shigeki and Noriko had, it seemed wise to answer vaguely. I could tell she was also wondering about me, casually looking me over as if to make an appraisal.

“This may be none of my business, but it’s probably best that you don’t get too deeply involved with him,” she warned me. “He’s a onetime divorcé with a child, you know.”

I wondered if she had noticed the carnal scent wafting off me. She stared deep into my eyes as if she could observe my passing thoughts.

“Despite his child,” she continued, “there’s no end to the stream of women going after him. They all want a wealthy man for a boyfriend, after all.”

I was feigning indifference, but my ears were as large as Dumbo’s.

“Anyway, what I’m saying is this, my dear: he’s made many women cry, if you know what I mean.”

“Does the child live with his ex-wife?” I asked before realizing it was a dumb question. It laid bare my interest in Shigeki. But I couldn’t control myself. I was burning with curiosity.

“The mother has passed away,” Noriko said condescendingly. “Rumor has it that her death was either accidental or a suicide.”

My unease must have been visible because Noriko took pleasure in my agitated demeanor.

“She was a foreigner working in the red-light district. You know what I mean? A woman like that, the Tachibana family would never approve. I really don’t know what happened, exactly, but it’s been said that she died on board a cruise ship.”

“On a cruise ship? His father also died on a cruise ship.”

“The Tachibana family’s cruiser must be cursed,” she said through a smirk.

“Who’s taking care of the child?”

(What an idiot I was! Prying again.)

“He hasn’t said a word to you, has he?” Noriko said, grinning mischievously. She slowly lifted her wineglass, as if to flaunt that Shigeki had entirely opened up to her, that she was on intimate terms with him.

“Apparently,” she continued in a vexing tone, “his mother is taking care of the child—with the help of a maid, that is.”

I scanned the crowd and found Shigeki having a friendly chat with a woman whose hair was straight, long, and raven black.

“She’s the daughter of the undersecretary of the Japanese embassy,” Noriko said. “She’s the closest person to him in his life now. You know what I mean?”

Noriko’s taunting tone was a cruel blow to my heart. I could tell she was trying to tell me, “To Shigeki, a young minx like you is no more than a slightly amusing diversion.”

Noriko spotted an acquaintance and abruptly walked off, apparently satisfied that she had fulfilled her mission.

So it was just a temporary love affair in France, I thought to myself as I turned away from Shigeki and stared at the garden outside the window. The immaculately kept green shrubs were graced with a profusion of roses in bloom, a model garden with not a single blade of grass out of place; certainly no place for this free-spirited wildflower. I wondered why Shigeki had brought me here.