I rise just as normal. Rain beats against the roof. I get Makoto-chan ready, breakfast and lunch. Go to get Isuzu-chan. Scurrying under the umbrella, the two girls and I. Trying to keep Makoto-chan from exploring every puddle. Waving goodbye at the gates of the school.
That I can walk outside without fear now is thanks to Hajime, but… I could never quite figure out how to bring that up with him.
Back to the onsen. Sugiyama-san greets me just as normal. Normal. Wasn’t that what he said?
Asks about Hajime.
I reply something. I don’t know the words that come out of my mouth but it’s the sort of appropriate answer I can give automatically. I look down at the books. Ah, they’re a mess. After all, last Thursday I didn’t have time… so they’ve been a mess for almost a week now.
Over the span of a few days… from despair to joy to uncertainty… How strange life is.
I can balance these books so easily, no matter how badly Sugiyama-san messes them up. Why can’t I do that with my life?
Yes… back to normal. This past month, the happiness I tasted, the feeling of hope, of promises and future… was an aberration. It’s now back to where I was, who I was. Who I am now. The woman in the picture he carries in his wallet… that was a dream of a life that is never to be, that confident smile, those eyes that were so clear and assured…
It’s good that he saw that before we deluded ourselves much more.
The work absorbs me but my mind wanders. I’m restless, just so… I feel like I should be moving when I’m stuck in space, tied to this place. It’s the same impulse, to run. Give into fear and weakness. I barely listen to Sugiyama-san as she tells me about various matters. Just enough to nod. Yes, I understand, I’ll stay in the office from now on.
I stay as late as I can today and still bring books home with me (with Sugiyama-san’s permission, after she inspects my numbers) to finish my work. At no extra pay, but, as Sugiyama-san reminds me, I must make up for the time when I was “ill”. Yes. That’s the story that was told, and what is believed. The story about Keade-san, who is now out in the country with relatives, is also one of “illness”. However, now the girls go in twos to collect the balances from guests. This offers some vindication… even though not much is said between Sugiyama-san and I.
A normal life. It unfolds… I pick up my daughter, and give her the small notebook she requested, which makes her happy. On a rainy afternoon I’m glad she can be interested in schoolwork. We work side by side, her on her English and I on bookkeeping until dinner.
Monday, May 4th, 1885 – A Normal Life
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I sit back on the engawa after getting Makoto-chan to bed… thinking of another night like this, a month ago. But my mind reaches further back…
“Do you know why they’re called samurai orchids?” My mother asks… it is the summer I am eight years old and my father is busy, as news of the Black Ships swirls around and he is often absent, but Okaasan said that it was less on official duties and more of talking with the other men.
I shake my head in answer to her question. I’m learning gardening at the side of Okaasan, cooking with my grandmother. That’s how it is at my house… years later I would wonder if this was an agreement made so that the two strong-willed women wouldn’t clash too much. Okaasan and I sit out in the garden, and not only does she show me care of the plants, but also stories… lore… and how to love the things that grow from the earth. The smell of dirt, the glimmer of dew in the morning, the calm formality of a traditional garden but also the delight of a wild clump of colorful blooms.
“They’re small… samurai aren’t small.” I giggle.
Okaasan nods. “They go back… you know they’re also called ‘fu-ran’ the Wind Orchid or ‘Fuki-ran’ which is Rich and Noble Orchid. A long time ago, they were only found on islands, across rough seas or high mountains. Samurai would journey there and select a perfect plant and bring it back, to much acclaim – and for centuries they were honored as rare and special plants, and the man would be considered brave. The orchid would travel with him as he went between home and court.”
I listen intently. “Oh, they’re pretty, I like them most!” I touch the edge of a bloom, carefully, gently.
Okaasan shakes her head. “Yes, pretty, Hide-chan, but also remember what they mean.”
I’m shaken from my memories by the sound of thunder. Rain… rain is good for the garden, after all. Like my orchids. I go to stand closer, the smell of vanilla muted on this damp night. Of everything I had in the garden back in Tokyo, I only brought these with me. In the year after I left and I despised plants and gardens I still cared for these as they survived in little pots by the window.
They survived, just as I have. And now they’re just as rooted as I am to this place. I should just accept it, just as these plants accept the wind and rain… accept that something changed and he’s rejecting me. At least he still loves our child. At least that. And like these plants I will sit here and watch as he comes for her, as our lives grow further about, bound only by her.
Am I that resigned to my own weakness? The only time I’ve ever gone on action was when I ran away.
Or… I try to remember but can’t. It’s like a wall in my mind.
I go inside and take out paper. I start to write… no, no… stupid words. I lay my head on the table in frustration.
After work I go to pick up Makoto. The girls are playing on the engawa, out of the rain, some elaborate game involving the little stones and some of Isuzu-chan’s dolls. “In just a minute, dear, I need to talk to Isuzu-chan’s mother. You keep playing.”
I step inside to see Hiroku-san working on a kimono. Fine silk is laid out on the floor, catching what light is coming in from the window on this overcast day.
And I tell her on my plan… and how I need her help.
She frowns, “I think it sounds rather foolish, and that you’re just chasing ghosts,” and my heart sinks. Yes… probably, but I needed her help to accomplish it. She’s quiet, jabbing pins into the fabric. “Oh, but I -will- help you… but you’re going to have to take both of mine for a long weekend next weekend so Isamu and I can get away. It’s our anniversary.” Her eyes twinkle a bit as she lowers them back to the cloth, trying to be demure. “And…” She gets up and rummages through a trunk, “if you find any of these, I’d like a few.” I take a note of what she requests, even if I have no idea…
“Thank you… so much.” I tell her. One day… I’ll tell her the whole story. Soon. No matter what I find.