Quicksand (22 page)

Watanuki seemed caught off guard and a bit confused, but my husband quickly wrote down the proviso and handed over the receipt. Again Watanuki hesitated, but in the end he reluctantly put down the papers and left.

My husband told me all this in a rush, and then demanded:

“What about it? Didn't you actually sign such a document? If you have a copy of your own, let me see it.” Then he quietly waited for me to answer.

I got up without a word, opened the locked drawer, brought out the copy I had hidden there, and, still keeping my silence, placed it on the table before him.

“
WELL, YOU DO HAVE
another copy; so this one
isn't
a fake, is it?”

Even then I kept silent and only nodded. My husband couldn't tell what I was thinking and leveled a suspicious glace at me. “So all of this is true?” he asked.

‘Some of it is,” I admitted, “but we were lying to each other too.”

As I was listening to my husband, I had made up my mind that by now there was no use trying to hide anything more; better for me to strike back at Watanuki by telling the whole story, every last detail, good or bad, whether it showed me in a favorable light or not. I'd let matters take their course—maybe it would turn out better than I feared; it might even be to my advantage.

First of all, I told him about Watanuki's secret. Mitsuko had lied about being pregnant, I went on; and I explained that she had stuffed padding over her stomach the time he called on us, that she had never really gone to live in the Kasayamachi inn, and that I'd been frightened into swearing in blood to that agreement. I told him everything, from how I had been deceived by Mitsuko and Watanuki to how I had deceived
him
. For over two hours I talked on and on, spilling out everything I knew, while he only grunted in response and sighed occasionally as he listened.

“So I can believe what you've just told me?” he asked. “You're sure about Watanuki?” And then: “The fact is, I've been looking into it myself.”

The reason why he had pretended ignorance and let the matter lie until now, four or five days after their meeting, was that Watanuki's behavior was so strange that he felt there must be something deeper behind it. He decided to hire a private detective to investigate further before confronting me. But even in Osaka there aren't many in that line of work, and he wound up going to the same one Mitsuko had hired.

“If that's the man you're interested in, I know all about him,” the detective had said immediately. “I investigated him once before.”

As a result, by evening of the very day Watanuki called at his office, my husband had a full report on him. It seemed such a bizarre account that at first he thought it might be a different man with the same name, but the detective knew about the involvement with Mitsuko, so there was no room for doubt. . . . Still, it raised so many questions that were hard to fathom—questions about Mitsuko's pregnancy, about the place in Kasayamachi, and about my relations with Mitsuko—that my husband decided to have him investigate Mitsuko herself. That report had arrived the morning of our talk, but because he felt rather dubious about it and wanted to have a look for himself, he had paid his surprise visit to Kasayamachi.

“You already knew Mitsuko had padded out her stomach, did you?” I asked, trying to sound completely open and frank.

At first my husband didn't answer. Then he said: “I can see that today you're being unusually straightforward. But please tell me clearly if that's because you feel remorse for your past offenses. I know you realize without my saying so how dishonorably you behaved. I'm not interested in digging into such unpleasant matters, so all I ask is for you to sincerely resolve to make amends. Of course we don't have to worry about keeping any promises to Watanuki, but I
did
swear to him that I wouldn't divorce you. I can see I've had my own failings. There's some truth to the argument that I neglected my responsibilities as a husband; in fact, it seems to me that I owe an apology to Mitsuko's family, even more than you do. I feel that both of us are to blame for what happened. Above all, how could I defend myself to your parents if this got into the papers? Even then, if it only amounted to a love affair, an ordinary triangle, there might be some room for understanding, and for sympathy, but anyone who read that agreement would have to conclude it was insane! Maybe I'm just prejudiced, but from what you tell me, that slimy Watanuki caused all the trouble; he's the one that's
really
to blame. If neither you nor Mitsuko had been involved with him, I'm sure it would never have come to this. . . . I wonder how the Tokumitsus
would
feel, if they knew. Up till now I've thought Mitsuko was at fault, that she was a delinquent young girl who was having a bad influence on you, but I imagine her parents would want to tear Watanuki limb from limb! To have such a beautiful daughter, one you could be proud of anywhere, and then see her ruined by a scoundrel like that—they'd have suffered most of all. . . .”

I knew this was a kind of strategy on my husband's part: he was afraid to say anything contrary to my own feelings, which were always so easily aroused, and he was trying to play on my emotions rather than to appeal to reason. Still, the fact that he brought up her parents, and especially that he seemed sympathetic to Mitsuko, couldn't help affecting me, since his words echoed what I myself felt. Tears had welled up in my eyes as I listened.

“Isn't that so?” he asked, looking at my tear-stained cheeks. “It won't do any good to go on crying. Please make up your mind to be honest with me, and this time, for once, just tell me the truth. If you're determined to leave me, I know I can't stop you. But actually, the only one I hate is that man—I think both you and Mitsuko are to be pitied. Even if we finally have to part, and you go your way with Mitsuko, I'll always feel pity for you. I'll suffer a lot myself, but you will too, you know. After all, you can never marry her, can you? You may be free from the bonds of marriage to me, but you can't expect others to forgive you. So it's up to you whether to wait till you're forced to give in to society, after worrying so many people and covering yourself with shame, or to come to your senses before that happens. It's your choice.”

“Yes . . . but it was my fate that caused things to turn out this way. . . . I'll have to die to make amends!”

My husband was so shocked he all but leapt out of his chair, and I burst into tears again, dropping my head down on the table.

“What can I do now? Everybody will abandon me; I'll never dare show my face in public. . . . Please, just let me die. You needn't grieve over losing such a depraved woman. . . .”

“Who ever said I'd abandon you? If that's what I meant to do, would I be talking like this?”

“I'm grateful to you. But if I turn over a new leaf, what will become of Mitsuko? . . . You yourself said it wasn't her fault, didn't you?”

“Yes, I did, and that's why I want to save you both. . . . Now listen to me: you're making a terrible mistake. Your kind of love won't save Mitsuko. It's not only you I'm worried about. I think it's my duty to explain this whole state of affairs to the Tokumitsu family and warn them to keep a tight rein on her, so that she'll never go near that man again—and won't keep on seeing you either. That would be for Mitsuko's benefit, wouldn't it?”

“If you do, she'll kill herself. . . .”

“Oh? Why would she?”

“She just would. . . . She's been threatening suicide all along. I've barely been able to stop her. . . . So then I'll die too. I'll apologize to everyone by dying.”

“Don't be absurd! What sort of apology would that be, causing nothing but heartache for your parents and me?”

I PAID NO ATTENTION
to my husband. Head down on the table, I sobbed like a spoiled child, and I kept repeating: “I want to die! Just let me die!”

By that point, saying I wanted to die was the best tactic. What else could I do? . . . All I thought of was how I could go on seeing Mitsuko the same as before—really, what I feared most was being divorced. Anyway, now that he knew all this, surely our married life would be harmonious. I'd be very considerate of him, if only he would understand my attachment to her and accept it. Watanuki might try to interfere, but now we had both copies of that incriminating document, and no one would believe anything a man like that said. Even if Mitsuko married into another family, who could criticize two such model housewives, however friendly they were? Not only would we be as close as ever, but our relationship would be much smoother. That would be far better than stirring up more trouble. I knew very well that my husband was the kind of man who longed for a peaceful solution. His worst fear was that I might do something rash, and so, deep in his heart, he was more afraid of a divorce than I was. “If you try to tie me down, I really
will
run away!” I would tell him, and then I'd present my demands, little by little. . . . That was more or less what I had in mind, feeling confident that after a few days he would do whatever I asked. So I tried not to antagonize him. No matter what he said that night, I only went on weeping quietly, as if I'd already made a firm decision and was doing my best to hide it. That bothered my husband so much that he stayed by my side until dawn, without a wink of sleep. He even went along with me to the bathroom.

The next day he stayed home from the office and had all our meals brought upstairs, as we sat there watching each other. Sometimes he would look searchingly at me and say: “If you go on like this you'll wear yourself out—get a little sleep and then think things over when your mind is clear.” Or: “At least, promise me you'll give up the idea of dying or running away!” But I would only shake my head and refuse to answer. I thought that at this rate I would soon have him where I wanted him.

On the following day, though, my husband announced in the morning that he had to begin going in to the office on business for a few hours, and he insisted that I swear I wouldn't leave the house or make a phone call during his absence. Otherwise he would take me along with him to Osaka.

“I'll go with you,” I said. “I'd be worried to have you go out alone.”

“Why should that worry you?” he asked.

“If you secretly went to tell the Tokumitsus what you know, I couldn't keep on living.”

“I'd never do that behind your back,” he declared. “I wouldn't go there without your permission. I'll swear to it—will you swear to me too?”

Then I told him: “If you'll just promise not to do anything mean, I'll wait here patiently for you while you're gone. Please go ahead and take care of your work; don't worry about me. I think I'll rest a little while you're away.”