When I opened the windows, I could hear the cicadas. Maybe it was the weather, or maybe it was all the trees in the area, but I’d never heard so many cicadas in my life. Their cries were so close that I wondered if they were coming from inside me — if maybe I’d swallowed one. After only a second, I would get used to the noise, but when something changed and I could feel their cries on my skin again, it made me feel like I was going to suffocate. It wasn’t very loud when the windows were shut, but I needed to keep the windows open to get some fresh air. I wasn’t bringing in any money, so it didn’t feel right to blast the AC when I was the only one at home. How could I allow myself to nap in air-conditioned bliss when my husband was sweating at his desk?
I was half-asleep on the couch when I got a call from an unknown number. I sat up, stared at the numbers for a second or two, then pressed ACCEPT. “Hey, Asa, do you have a minute?” It was Tomiko, but her voice was different from the way it sounded at home. It was lower, drier. “I’m really, really sorry about this. There’s something I had to take care of this morning, but I didn’t get around to it. Well, it’s not that I didn’t get around to it. I guess I forgot.” “Forgot about what?” “There’s some money I need to deposit today, but I left it in an envelope at home. It’s ready to go. The deposit slip is in there, too, filled out and everything. The problem is, if I do it when I get home, it’ll be too late. It has to be in by five, six at the latest. I really need it to be in on time, so I was thinking about leaving work early . . . But I thought I’d ask you first. Could I ask you to take care of it? Are you busy today?” She sounded weirdly polite. Maybe she had coworkers nearby. But was there anyone else around? It was abnormally quiet on the other end of the line — nothing but the sound of her voice. I bet her work was nice and air-conditioned. I’d been on the verge of falling asleep, but I had to get up and open the curtains to get a breeze going, then close them again because it was too bright outside. A headache was starting to spread around my temples, humming with the cicadas. I heard something that sounded like a child screaming. It was early July — too early for summer vacation — so the child had to be too young for school. It was an oddly full scream for a child that age. I tried to focus on the phone. “I’ll take care of it,” I said. The day before, I’d taken the bus to the train, then went all the way to the dentist to deal with a cavity, but that was over now. I didn’t have any plans today. Not today — or any other day for the foreseeable future. Morning, noon, and night, weekdays and weekends, I had nothing but time. Tomiko took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. “What a relief. Thanks. So — the envelope’s somewhere in the house. I’m not sure where I left it, but there aren’t too many places it could be. It’s either on the shelf by the door, on the kitchen table, or on the low table in the altar room. Like I said, the slip’s in there with the money. Do you think you could take it down to the convenience store?” “The convenience store?” “That’d be easiest. It’s a whole lot closer than the bank. You know where it is, don’t you? The tiny 7-Eleven by the river . . .” “I know where it is.” “Okay. You sure? Sorry to ask you to do this. I guess I had a lot of things on my mind this morning and didn’t realize I’d forgotten it back at the house. I can’t really ask Grandpa to take care of this, you know? It involves money and it’s hot out. You have no idea how much this helps. It’s really hot out there, Asa. Be careful, okay? Why don’t you take the change and buy yourself some ice cream for the trip back? Actually, you’d better finish the ice cream first, then walk home, okay? Otherwise, it’ll melt.” By the end of the call, it almost seemed like she thought she was giving directions to a small child.
When we got off the phone, I looked at my screen. “SAVE NUMBER?” It had to be Tomiko’s work number. Of course I didn’t have it. I didn’t even have her cell number. How did she get mine? Did she ask my husband? Why didn’t she just call the home phone? She knew I’d be here. After thinking about it for a few seconds, I decided I’d better keep her number. It couldn’t hurt to have a way to reach her. I typed in TOMIKO (WORK), then pressed SAVE. As I typed, it occurred to me that I had no idea where she worked. I didn’t even know what kind of job she had.
I put my phone away and headed next door. The heat was brutal. Everything was perfectly still, no wind at all. Grandpa was out front, watering the plants. He was wearing a big straw hat and gripping a glistening green hose. He noticed me by the gate and raised a friendly hand in my direction. Grandpa’s the only person at home during the day. He had to be close to ninety — maybe older — but he seemed to be in good health. “How are you doing today, Grandpa?” He didn’t answer, but raised his hand higher in the air. He was smiling, showing his teeth. At the corners of his mouth, his metallic canines glinted in the sun. “It’s hot out, isn’t it?” What’s he doing outside anyway? Tomiko said he spent his days in the house, napping in front of the TV — but what if that was only on weekends, when she was around? What if he spent the weekdays gardening when no one was home? They had a pine tree by the gate, a crape myrtle closer to the house, and a few other trees I couldn’t name. The garden was full of all sorts of plants — some flowering, others that looked dead. Something deep green was growing in a planter, probably basil. It didn’t look like anything you’d want to eat, like it might stain your teeth green if you bit into it. “Tomiko asked me to grab something for her. I’m going in, okay?” He kept smiling with all his teeth, but didn’t say a word. He was definitely healthy for his age, but his ears weren’t what they used to be. I smiled back at him as I rattled the door open and stepped inside.
Uncluttered by shoes, the entryway looked wider than usual. Coming in from the sun, the hallway was dark, even with the lights on. Once my eyes adjusted, I could see there was no envelope on the shelf. I stepped out of my shoes and headed for the kitchen. No envelope on the table, either. Everything was in its place: there was only a chopstick rest, thick-sliced bread with cheese, a couple of things wrapped in plastic, an apple sliced in quarters inside a Tupperware, and a thermos. That had to be Grandpa’s lunch. On the wall by the sink were all kinds of implements arranged by height, and on the stove were a couple of pots and a frying pan that had been washed and dried. Down to one final option, I slid open the door to the altar room. Sunlight was shining through the shoji. Inside, a brown paper rectangle was waiting on the low table. I looked inside. Everything was there — the money and the slip. Once I was in the room, it didn’t feel right to leave without paying my respects. As I put my hands together and faced the altar, I caught the smell of peaches. As I took a better look, I noticed the altar door was open, and there were three well-ripened peaches inside.
Photos of family members who had passed away lined the lintel. Only one was in color: Grandma’s. The rest were black-and-white images of people who had made it to old age. When I came here to meet the family before getting married — or maybe right after — I looked up at that color photo and said to Tomiko, “I can really see the resemblance.” “Between..?” Unsure of what to call the woman in front of me, I gestured at her with my right hand. “Between her and me?” When I nodded, Tomiko opened her eyes wide, then laughed with her whole body. “Asa, you’re joking, right? I can’t tell. You know that’s my husband’s mother . . .” “Oh, I,” I stuttered, then covered my mouth. “I don’t know what I was thinking . . . I’m sorry.” But the more I studied that photograph, the clearer it was — the two women definitely resembled each other. The lines around their mouths were identical. Maybe it wasn’t about any specific feature. I just couldn’t shake the feeling that they were related by blood. Tomiko finally stopped laughing, wiped the tears from her eyes, then sighed. “You’re a funny one, aren’t you?” “Really, I’m sorry . . .” “Why? I’m honored. Grandma was a beautiful woman in her day. Even when she was in her casket, her skin glowed like she was alive. You know she was named ‘Miss Prefecture,’ right? That was before the war . . .” Tomiko started laughing again. I took another look at the oddly angled photo — Grandma was looking down at me in her black kimono. The image was grainy, as if they’d taken a much smaller photo and had it enlarged. Still, the resemblance between them was undeniable. I nodded at the photo, then walked out of the room, envelope in hand.