The movers spread protective mats over the stairs and down the hallways. Tomiko brought out a pair of slippers. “Asa, why don’t you put these on? I did some cleaning before you got here, but still . . . By the way, I had professional cleaners come in, too. You’re all set now. Mildewproof and miteproof.” Maybe that was why it smelled like chlorine. “We appreciate it.” “The Katos did a great job of keeping the place clean, so it was easy . . . They had a little boy, but his mother kept a real close eye on him. You know how kids are always putting stickers on everything? Well, I was worried we’d end up with cartoon stickers on every surface, but look around. Spick-and-span, right?” “Where’s Grandpa today?” “Pretty sure he’s sleeping. He was watching TV a little while ago. He’s in front of the TV all day, nodding off . . .” “What about Dad? Is he home?” “No, he’s on another overnight golf trip. You didn’t see the Atenza out front, did you? Talk about bad timing, with this rain and all . . .” My husband’s parents had two cars: a dark-blue compact and a larger silver midsize. I guess the bigger one belonged to my father-in-law. I’d never spent much time with him. He came to our engagement party and wedding. I’d see him when we visited over the holidays, but Tomiko did most of the talking. He’d never left much of an impression on me. He was past retirement age, but was still working in some capacity, although the details were never clear to me. One of the movers sprinted toward us. “Sorry, excuse me, Matsuura-san . . .” “Yes?” my husband’s mother answered before I could respond. “Where do you want the microwave? Should we plug it in next to the fridge? What about the rice cooker?” “Well, let’s take a look.” Before I could say anything, my husband’s mother had run into the kitchen with the movers. My husband was laughing even harder upstairs. “I’m telling you, it’s really coming down. But that’s my luck for you. I mean, how many times in your life do you make a big move like this? Of course, I had to move on the one day we get flood warnings. Hey, welcome to my life, right? Heh.” I was alone, standing by the open front door. The rain didn’t reach me, but I could feel the moist air. The smell of chlorine mixed with the acidic smell from outside. I looked at the doorstop the movers had put down, then looked at my feet. The slippers had a dog face stitched over the toes with a pink tongue sticking out. They were really comfy. They had to be brand new. Did she buy them for me? Was she going to take them back after the move? “Hey, Asa, can you come here a second?” As I walked toward the kitchen, the dog’s ears flopped with every step. I hurried through the living room, over the smooth floor, and into a kitchen that was much bigger than the one I was used to. Looking out the big window, I saw a garden that couldn’t have been more than ten feet wide. I didn’t see any plants, only some puddles and a few holes that appeared to be man-made. Maybe the Katos took their plants with them when they left — or maybe the boy ripped everything up before they moved out. Through the rain, I could see the outline of Tomiko’s garden next door. For a second, I thought I saw a person standing in the trees, but when I tried to get a better look, nothing was there. “Is there something . . .” “No, it’s fine. We just figured it out. So we’ll have the fridge over here and the kitchen cabinet will go over here, okay?” The movers gave me blank looks, waiting for an answer. I put on a big smile and said, “Sounds good!”
The rain was still coming down as we went to sleep that night. When I woke up in the morning, I went over to the upstairs window and took down the brand-new bath towels that Tomiko had used to cover the windows the night before. I could see the dry, white sky. I had woken up earlier than usual, but it was already bright out. For a second, I felt as though we’d moved someplace far away, a place where the days and seasons follow an entirely different rhythm. The Scandinavian midnight sun came to mind, but we hadn’t left Japan. We hadn’t even left the prefecture. We were only slightly closer to the mountains. I guess we’d moved to a new town — but this place was barely big enough to call a town. What was the postcode here? It really was bright outside. Judging from the sun, it looked like it could have been noon, but when I checked the clock, it wasn’t even six yet. I looked back at my husband. Still asleep. I cracked the window open, and the buzz of brown cicadas filled the room. Cicadas. The first I’d heard this year. And with that, the rainy season was brought to an unceremonious end. Summer had arrived.
There was a river a short walk from the house. It was miles from the ocean, but still fairly wide and muddy in places. I don’t know why, but I thought if we were this close to the river we would have cooler summers. I was wrong. Even when the river was out of sight, the pungent smell of grass and stagnant water was overwhelming. On the other side of the river was a mountain, half of which was covered with gray houses. It looked like a new development. I bet some of the homes were still for sale. I’d seen their banners around town: MISONO GARDENS: YOUR NEW LIFE IS WAITING FOR YOU. My husband took the car to work every morning, so the only way for me to get around was to walk or take the bus. Except during rush hour, the bus came only once every sixty minutes, and it was a forty-minute ride to the train. And I wasn’t desperate to meet up with old friends or go shopping, so I ended up staying home most of the time.
If I did go out, I’d usually just walk to the supermarket and back. It was the peak of summer, and I tried to avoid walking around in the middle of the day. The supermarket opened early in the morning — maybe because it was summer, or maybe because most of the people in the area were old. After seeing my husband off and eating breakfast, I’d go shopping for groceries. It was clear from the size of the parking lot that they were expecting most shoppers to drive. But early in the morning the store was deserted. At around nine or ten, it got really crowded. Even the parking lot was a zoo. The middle-aged couples evidently hated pushing their shopping carts, weighed down with giant bags, all the way to their cars, so usually the husband would pull the car around front. It was far worse on weekends, when they had their weekly sales. The lot would fill up, with cars spilling out into the street. Shopping first thing in the morning sometimes meant going without certain items like meat or fish, but that was a small price to pay for avoiding big crowds and the walk home under the intense heat of the summer sun. Once I was finished at the supermarket, I’d spend the rest of the day at home. There were no libraries or malls or bookstores within walking distance. Once we’d finished moving in, I felt like a kid on summer vacation: no homework, no plans. I started looking for a job, but I was having trouble getting around. All I could do was check the bulletin boards at the grocery store and the other small businesses in the area. Under these circumstances, I couldn’t imagine finding anything very soon. I’d wake up a little before six, pack my husband’s lunch, make his breakfast, see him off, go shopping, clean the house, or maybe run the laundry — but, after that, I didn’t have anything to do. Living the dream? Really? It was weird to think about how, until now, I’d been working from morning till night. That life didn’t seem real anymore. We were two different people: the me who had to work all day to make ends meet, and the me who had nothing to do after lunch except waste time until making dinner in the evening. I was pretty sure I’d get sick of my new routine within a week — but it only took a day. Every day after that was as mind-numbing as the one before, ad infinitum. In theory, I could watch TV, use the computer, read a book, bake like I used to when I was single — but it seemed like everything cost money. I had to spend money to pass the time. People say housewives get free room and board and even time to nap, but the truth is napping was the most economical way to make it through the day. The hours moved slowly, but the days passed with staggering speed. Soon I lost all sense of time. I didn’t have any appointments or deadlines. The days were slipping through my fingers.