Night Market
Rina browsed beneath the heat of the lamps. It was warm for spring and muggy. The stench of stagnant water from the pavement rose into the air along with the bittersweet scents of chargrilled squid and corn on the cob. She paused beside a toy stall selling multicoloured trolls with their bright puffs of hair and bought two, a purple one and a green one, for Sumiko’s collection. Yoshi had taken Sumi out for dinner so that Rina could have a break, but once she was alone she hadn’t known what to do with herself, so she’d come here, to the market. It appeared in Ebisu each year when the cherry blossoms began to flower, selling fast food and toys but also fruits and vegetables. That day there was a stall with special produce flown in from Gifu. Rina stopped in front of the display of nashi pears, their golden skins shining bright beneath the lamps. They were enormous and beautifully wrapped, each one placed in its own pouch of webbed Styrofoam. She was reaching into her purse, counting out the notes, when he approached her.
‘Excuse me. Do you know where I could find a good cheesecake?’
‘Cheesecake?’ Rina looked up. He was tall. Taller than the usual salaryman and slender, and there were crinkles around his eyes, perhaps from laughter. Rina smiled a little, fumbling with her purse.
‘I’m addicted,’ he replied.
Rina gestured to a stall behind her. ‘There are some over there,’ she said.
‘Are they any good?’
Rina considered this. ‘I’m not sure.’ She was aware that she was frowning as though this were a grave matter. ‘The slices don’t look right. I think the cream is too light.’
‘Oh no!’
‘Hmm,’ Rina nodded, biting back a smile.
‘Can I buy you a coffee?’ he asked, smiling with her.
‘I’m married.’
‘I know,’ he said.
‘You do?’
‘Your wedding ring.’
‘Oh.’ Startled, Rina felt a flush of embarrassment creeping into her face. It must be clear that no one has approached her this way in quite some time.
‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘but I am happily married.’ When he didn’t turn away she added, ‘And I have a daughter.’
‘Well,’ he reached into his pocket for his card, ‘if you change your mind and ever want a coffee or a slice of cheesecake.’
She took it from him, nodding politely, but as her eyes glanced over his name, she felt the corners of her mouth curve up. ‘Son of the sea,’ she murmured.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Your name,’ she said, looking up at him. ‘Isn’t that what it means?’ She shook her head, embarrassed again; he must think her quite strange. ‘Sorry, I—’
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘that’s what it means.’ His eyes were warm and intent on her face as he considered her. ‘Not many people notice.’
‘Does it say a lot about you?’ Rina asked, emboldened in spite of herself. ‘What do you do, Kaitarō Nakamura?’ she asked.
‘Have coffee with me and I’ll tell you.’ He smiled again. ‘Go safely home.’
Rina watched him walk away through the crowds. He moved with grace, stepping around people. A cool breeze blew through the market. Rina looked at the cherry trees surrounding the square, their blossoms opening, turning from pale pink to white. There were blue plastic mats beneath the trees set out by avid blossom viewers. All around her, people were smiling, enjoying the picnics and celebrations of spring. Rina could feel the joy, the expectation in the air; she watched him turn towards the fast-food stalls and made her decision.
He was walking fast, perhaps a little embarrassed by her rejection. He had seemed nice, Rina thought, genuine and not at all pushy. She watched him pause by an onigiri stand and buy a rice snack from the vendor. He walked on as he ate, careful of the people around him, courteous. He wove through the women choosing vegetables, their arms laden with brightly coloured plastic bags, and around the teenagers eating deep-fried curry buns or chocolate bananas covered in sprinkles. He was stepping around a group of hawkers, nearing the edge of the market, when she quickened her pace.
‘Wait!’ she called. To her surprise, Kaitarō stopped and turned, almost as though he had been expecting her to come after him. But when his eyes met hers, she could see that he was shocked.
Rina felt her courage waver. ‘Hi,’ she said. ‘I do have time for a quick coffee, if you’d like?’ She smiled and stood in the wake of his silence. ‘I’m Rina,’ she said. ‘Rina Satō.’
She watched for a moment as the surprised expression on his face turned into something like distaste. He stepped away from her. ‘I think you should go home, Mrs Satō. Your first instincts were right.’
Rina frowned as he turned and swiftly walked away. She waited until he had reached the edge of the market and crossed the street, but he did not look back.
Sumiko
Evidence
My mother died at the end of my first year of school. It was March, on the last day of term before spring break. During my parents’ divorce, I had gone to live with Grandpa in Meguro. Mama came too initially, but after a time she left to find us a new apartment of our own. She was getting it ready for me, she said, and soon I could move in. We were only meant to be apart for a little while. She was very busy in those last weeks, I know, but she still made sure to see me every day. As I walked home from school with the other kids, beribboned badges on our hats signifying our routes so locals could help us if we got lost, I would think of her. I imagined her opening our gate with one hand and holding a plastic bag of steamed pork buns or some other treat for me in the other. Once at home, I looked out the window for her, staring down the driveway to the small white gate at its end, every day, until the day she died.
I scarcely remember the weeks that followed; they are hollow with a pain I have never known how to express. I know that I left Tokyo, that Hannae took me away to see some of her family in the south, but I do not recall much of it, as though after the loss of my mother my brain shut down and was unable to take in anything else. I know that Grandpa handled everything, that he didn’t want me exposed to the full horror of her death, but in a way this only made it more surreal and incomprehensible. For years I would ask him to tell me again how she died, why she had not come to meet me in Meguro as she had promised, and he would always say the same thing: a car accident on a busy road. When I was older, I asked him to show me the spot where it happened and he took me to Shinagawa. I had been told that my mother was the driver at fault, and as I stood staring at the curved stretch of motorway, I asked if anyone else had been hurt in the accident, but he said no, only her.