Women On the Other Shore (24 page)

The piles of empty food containers and the bags of trash in the corner were gone from the kitchen, as was the refrigerator, and the other two rooms had been stripped even of the tatami mats on the floor. The only thing left from before was the view of the building next door, visible through the windows of the now tatami-less rooms. Aoi stood frozen with her hand still on the doorknob, gazing in shock at the emptiness before her.

But what had changed really, she asked herself. When she was here before, the rooms already had no air of human habitation, offered no smells of daily life. They'd felt no different than they did now. Was it possible, perhaps, that Nanako still lived in these utterly empty rooms?

Aoi removed her sneakers and stepped inside. It was a clear, sunny day outside, but the apartment was dim and gloomy. The linoleum floor, decorated here and there with food stains and cigarette burns, creaked under her feet. She wandered about the rooms taking deep breaths, hoping she might capture some faint whiff of Nanako's presence. But she could make out no smells at all. Nor could she pick up the slightest hint of that mysterious void she had found within her friend. The frigid floor felt like blades cutting into the bottom of her feet as she walked, reminding her that she'd rushed away without putting on any socks. When she stood still on the painfully cold floor, all she could hear was her own labored breathing.

She decided to try going to the place Nanako called her secret 184

hideout. Even if Nanako wasn't there either, it seemed possible that she might have left some kind of message in the spot where they used to spend endless hours together after school.

To her disappointment, she found nothing of the sort either on the riverbank or under the bridge—only colorless clumps of withered grass drooping limply in the winter air. She searched in the grass for quite some time to see if she could at least find an ice cream wrapper or something that one of them had discarded before they went to Izu. All she turned up was an empty liquor bottle and a yellowed newspaper, neither of which she'd ever laid eyes on before.

Mrs. Narahashi stood blocking the hallway when Aoi arrived home. She hadn't been scheduled to return until much later, so obviously Grandma had noticed that Aoi was missing and called. Aoi mutely pushed past her and started up the stairs.

"What in heaven's name is your problem?" her mother screeched from behind. Aoi slowly turned around. She saw tears streaming down her face. "I've had it up to here with you! What is your problem? Can't you see how hard we're all trying? For you! Thinking only of you! We're doing the best we can! What else are we supposed to do? What more do you want from us? Just tell me!"

Grandma came scurrying out of the living room and threw her arms around her daughter. "I'm sorry, dear. It was my fault," she said in a quiet voice. "I was too wrapped up in my show." She turned to fix Aoi with a stern look. "You need to apologize, young lady," she huffed. "Don't you know your mother was worried sick?"

"It's too much!" Aoi's mother shrieked, unassuaged by Grandma taking the blame. Her streaming tears and running nose formed large drops at her chin and dripped onto her blouse. Aoi stared blankly. "It's just too much! What have I done to make you hate me so? Can't you see how hard I'm trying? What more do you expect me to do? What more do you want from me? Tell me! Don't just stand there! Say something!"

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Aoi slowly parted her lips. A burning lump had formed at the back of her throat. She moved her mouth to form a question, but no sound came.

"What? I can't hear you! Speak up!" her mother screamed.

After several more attempts, a dry, husky sound finally issued from deep in Aoi's throat. "Where did Nanako disappear to, Mom?"

With a lump still lodged in the back of her throat, Aoi was sure she must be crying, but her eyes remained as dry as her voice.

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The four-year-olds from the Peach Room were jumping rope to a bouncy tune. Some of them managed to skip on and on without tripping once, while others got their legs so tangled they gave up and plopped down on the ground. A cloudless sky stretched high overhead.

Kneeling on her plastic picnic blanket, Sayoko turned from the camcorder she'd been fiddling with to the program flier at her knee. She'd looked over the schedule countless times already, but she reviewed the order of events once more. After the four-year-olds finished jumping rope, next would come the parent-child event for the under-twos, followed by the parent-child dance for Akari's class, the five-year-olds' dash around the track, and then Akari's other dance.

It was Field Day at the nursery school, with colorful banners and flags and paper decorations adorning the front gate and playground, lively music blaring from specially erected loudspeakers, and the entire student body turned out in one place. Overwhelmed by all the unusual hoopla, Akari clung to Sayoko's blouse with one hand, refusing to let go. Even when a girl from her own class came by to say hi, she ducked uncertainly behind her mother.

The four-year-olds completed their rope jumping, and the loudspeakers announced the start of the next event. Mothers carrying toddlers in their arms began to gather in the middle of the field looking distinctly self-conscious. It being Saturday, quite a few fathers had turned out as well, making it a family affair. Some were dressed 187

in suits. Perhaps they had to go straight from here to the office afterwards, Sayoko speculated as she squinted through the blinding sunlight at the unfamiliar faces assembling on the field.

Shuji, too, had been looking forward to Akari's first Field Day.

He dug out their long-neglected digital camcorder and shot some footage to make sure it was still working, and he even horsed around practicing the parent-child dance with Akari. But then he'd come home late last night saying he had to work today after all.

"Oh, what a shame!" Sayoko had said, and she'd meant it sincerely.

It truly was a shame that his work had to intrude on this particular Saturday; it truly was a shame that he had to miss the Field Day he'd been looking forward to with such anticipation.

But Shuji thought she was being sarcastic and responded with the hurt look of a child who's been given a tongue-lashing.

"My work isn't like yours, you know," he said. "I can't just ask someone else to fill in for me like you can. If I don't go, everything grinds to a halt."

Sayoko reminded herself that she'd heard this line from Shuji before, so she ought to be used to it by now. But somehow the sting of his words refused to go away.

Platinum Cleaning Service had finally received its first request for a quote the week before. In fact, they'd gotten two requests, one after the other. They were from addresses where Sayoko had made the rounds stuffing mailboxes, and she went out herself to write up the estimates. Both clients lived in condominiums and had small children under school age. The first woman, in Kyodo, had a boy about Akari's age and mentioned that she left for work at ten. In Sasazuka, a woman quite a bit younger than Sayoko greeted her at the door with an infant strapped to her back. She said she worked as a freelance illustrator.

In each case, as Sayoko went over the estimate with her prospective client, explaining the time and cost factors and answering any 188

questions, she found herself drifting into the illusion that she and the woman sitting across from her were old friends. Friends who'd dumped on their husbands, shared insecurities about child rearing, and laughed over in-law troubles together. Friends who'd made sol-emn schoolgirl pledges to always be there for each other if they were ever in need.

Surveying these clients' grease-encrusted kitchens, mold-infested baths, and living rooms strewn with toys and laundry and dust bun-nies, Sayoko no longer experienced the disgust or bewilderment such sights had provoked in her before. Her only thought was of how desperately she wanted the clients to pick her for the job instead of someone else. And if they did, she wanted to do all the cleaning herself without help from Misao or Mao, polishing the rooms to a fine sheen with her own two hands. She wanted to give someone she felt close to a moment of respite, even if only for the brief time each job would take.

She could not get either of the women to sign on the spot. Both said they'd get back to her after interviewing some other operators.

Even so, she made her way back to the office with a deep sense of satisfaction.

She knew perfectly well that she hadn't accomplished anything particularly momentous. But it was something. The woman once stuck in a depressing cycle of park hopping had decided she wanted a change, got off her duff, and, starting from nothing, made herself part of something bigger than herself—jumping right into the fray to thrash things out with the other women, learning from her mistakes by trial and error, and slowly but surely giving shape to a new housekeeping business. And to Sayoko, that in itself was far more important than the questions Shuji kept bringing up—of whether her work was worthwhile, or she was easily replaceable.

Ren and Chiemi from Akari's class were nearby, clowning around as they practiced some of their dance moves together. Noticing the 189

sidelong glances Akari was casting their way, Ren's mother invited her to come play, and she finally got to her feet and toddled over to join them.

Chiemi's mother turned to Sayoko. "It was kind of funny. My little missy here wanted to know, 'Do we have practice again today?'

I said, 'No, honey, today's the real thing,' and you should have seen how big her eyes got."

"Akari was the first one out of bed this morning at our house,"

Sayoko said. "I found her standing there dancing all by herself.

I could hardly believe it!" she laughed.

The music started up, and the parents on the field began dancing to the beat while holding their toddlers in their arms. Akari and her playmates stopped what they were doing and watched with open mouths.

Sayoko thought she heard someone call "Chief" and instinctively glanced in that direction. She was smiling wryly to herself that no one here would ever think to call her that, when she caught sight of Aoi waving at her from the other side of the closed gate. She leaped to her feet and ran toward the gate.

"What are you doing here?" she cried. "How on earth did you know where to find me?"

It made no sense. Why would her boss show up at Akari's school?

"I tried to call," Aoi said, pausing to catch her breath. Her eyes were a little puffy, as if she hadn't had much sleep. "I couldn't get through to your cell, but I had business in Kichijoji—which is practically next door, right?"

"My cell? I guess I didn't have it turned on."

"Right. Anyway, I was in the neighborhood, and I knew the address, so I decided to just come."

"For my daughter's Field Day?"

"Actually, no. Not that. It's about those jobs you quoted last week."

Aoi paused again and took a deep breath. "We got them! They called 190

this morning to say they want to go ahead. They want us to do the job! Both of them!" she exclaimed.

Sayoko's eyes bulged wide. Her mystification over Aoi's appearance at her daughter's nursery school was gone.

"We did it!" she shouted, jumping with excitement.

"Yippee!" Aoi jumped up and down, too.

Sayoko clasped her hands through the bars of the gate. "We did it!

Wow! We really did it!" she repeated.

"So anyway, I had some business in Kichijoji this morning, and Kichijoji's almost next door, right? Well, I remembered you saying today was your daughter's Field Day, so I thought maybe I could find you here to tell you t h e news personally, and I rushed right over!"

Sayoko nodded as she listened, still holding Aoi's hands. A bead of sweat rolled down Aoi's temple.

"I wasn't sure," Sayoko heard herself saying, "that what I'm doing was really worthwhile, you know? But it is, isn't it? I mean, even if I have no experience and my social skills leave a lot to be desired, I still have something to offer, right?"

"Oh, shut up already! You learned the business from scratch and now you've won your first contracts. None of it could have happened without you."

When Aoi hesitated midsentence, then abruptly shifted to a more soothing tone, Sayoko realized she was crying. The music for the under-twos ended, and the crowd applauded. Another up-tempo tune began pouring from the speakers into the clear blue sky.
Silly,
thought Sayoko.
What am I crying for? I may have won two contracts,
but it's the results that count. I haven't even started yet.

"I'm so-o-o happy!" she said. She was crying and sniffling and smiling all at the same time.

"Hey! Could you make up your mind whether it's gonna be tears or smiles?" Aoi joked. "But before you do that, how about you open this gate and let me in?"

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"Oh dear, I'm so sorry. Actually, I'm supposed to dance with Akari any minute now. If you have time, I'd love for you to stay and watch."

Wiping her eyes and nose with the back of her hand like a child, Sayoko rolled the gate open.

Aoi stayed to the end of the program. She even offered to operate the camcorder, first shooting Sayoko and Akari in the parent-child dance, then elbowing other moms and dads for the best angles when Akari and her classmates danced by themselves. Despite her last-minute rehearsal this morning, Akari stood frozen like a doll when the music started; only her eyes darted back and forth, following the movements of the other kids around her.

"Dance, Akari! You can do it!"

Sayoko and Aoi tried to cheer her on at first, but she looked so funny standing there, they were soon doubled over with laughter.

"You know what?" Sayoko said as Aoi prepared to shoot again.

"When I'm with you, I feel like I can do anything."

Aoi turned and fixed her eyes on Sayoko for a moment. Sayoko's heart skipped a beat as the eyes seemed to drill into her with questions.
You say you feel like you can do anything, but what exactly do
you hope to do? What exactly did you have in mind?
The questions flashed through her head, but before she could contemplate any answers, Aoi broke into a broad smile and nudged Sayoko with her elbow.