A Woman's Nails (28 page)

Tatami leads me o
ut of the station, saying there’
s something she wants me to see.

“We’ve got lucky with the weather,”
I say once we are outside. Not the sunnie
st of days, but at least it isn’
t raining.

“If we're lucky we’
ll be
able to see the stars tonight.”

“Stars?”

“Orihime and Hikoboshi.”

“
Ah, right,
those
stars.”
I have no
idea what she's talking about.

Tatami opens her parasol and we begin walking along Meiji Boulevard toward Ôtemon where the main gate of the former castle stands across the moat at the end of a tree-lined causeway. The moat itself is teeming with lotus plants, huge, floppy leaves the size of
sombreros
sticking a good five feet above the surface of the moss covered water. Here and there, white lotus flo
wers as large as cabbages tower
on long narrow stalks above the leaves
.
Dragonflies rest on the flowers.

We sit down on a bench near the causeway overlooking a small pond bordered on the far side by the Ôtemon Gate, one of the four remaining structures of the ancient castle. Half of the pond is covered with low-lying lily pads and a different kind of lotus flower, deep yellow in color and floating on the water. A family of ducks waddles across a grassy bank towards us when Tatami removes the
bentô
from her basket. She's wrapped the
urushi
lunch boxes in a
furoshiki
cloth
which has a simple design of purple morning glories.

“What did you bring?”
she asks me.

“
O
h, just some drinks and snacks,”
I
reply
, taking the contents of my
7-11
bag and placing them onto the
furoshiki
. “
I didn't know what you liked, so I just boug
ht a little bit of everything.”

Between us on the
furoshiki
are cans of
Asahi
beer and bottles of
Pocari Sweat
, oolong tea and
Calpis
. There's a
Woody
candy bar, sugarless
Titles
breath mints,
Baked Chunk
cheesy puffs,
Men's Pocky
and . . .
[13]

“
Pecker
!”
Tatami says
.

“You like
Pecker
?”

“I love
Pecker
!”

“I bet you do.”

She makes a go at
it, but I grab my
Pecker
first.

“
Tsk, tsk, Tatami. This is
my
Pecker
, and you can't have it.”

“
But, I want your
Pecker
! I want your
Pecker
! I want your
Pecker
!”

“Tatami!”

“
Give me your
Pecker
, Peador!”

So I give it to her. When a woman begs for your
Pecker
as s
hamelessly as Tatami does, what’
re you gonna to do? You gotta give it to her.

“Are you happy now?”

She nods happily as she opens the box and starts nibbling like a rabbit on the pretzel sticks.

Tatami
, exceeding
my expectations
,
has prepared a small, delicate feast packed so neatly into the
urushi
bentô
boxes that it
almost
a shame to disturb it.

She has
prepared
onigiri
rice balls, some wrapped in
nori
others sprinkled with black sesame, another with a big pink
kishû umeboshi
pickled plum in the middle. She has packed the
bentô
with fried chicken, sausages,
edamamé
, cubes of
tôfu
and stewed pumpkin. There are also slices of peach and melon and a small basket of cherries.

“Boy, Tatami, you’ve really gone all out. Thanks!”
I say. She lowers her head and smiles.

After an hour of gorging myself, the
bentô
boxes are empty shells, mos
t of the snacks, too, are gone.

“You want some ‘Baked Chunk’?”
I ask Tatami.

“No thank you.”

“
I don't blame you, Tatami. I don't know what I
was thinking when I bought it.”

“
You want some
mugi cha
?”
she says
,
taking a small thermos of barley tea from her bag.

“Already had some,”
I answer showing her the crushed cans of
Asahi beer, making her laugh.

“
You'll take the Japane
se proficiency exam, won't you?”
she asks.

“Yes, but I don’t expect to do well. I’ve still got so much to learn.”

“
I think you already study very much now. I respect you for that. Shizuko-san says we should all study English
as hard as you study Japanese.”

Shizuko is one of the other students in Tatami’s class.

“Yeah, well, that’
s very nice of Shizuko-sa
n to say, but, really, she hasn’
t got the slightest idea what
my study habits are like . . .”
Not that it really matters. Compliments in Japan are like
verbal abuse
in the US. Everyone says them; few
really
mean it when they do.

“
You had better no
t forget to apply for the test,”
Tatami says seriously.

“Oh, do I have to so soon?”

“By the end of September.”

“
The
end
of Sep
tember?”

“Yes, September.”

“
Why are you tell
ing me this now? In July? There’s oodles of time.”

“Noodles?”

“Not ‘noodles’, Tatami, ‘oodles’. It means ‘plenty’.”

“
Yes,
but you had better not forget.”

“
You know,
I have a funny feeling that you’
ll be reminding me agai
n,” I say. “So, when’s the test?”

“
I'm not sure, but I can call
Kinokuniya
and ask. They will know.”

“No, no, no. That’
s quite unnecessary. I just wanted to know if had you got a
rough
idea when it was held?”

“
I think, but . . . now, I cannot be too sure . . . um, I think, maybe, it will be hel
d at the beginning of December.”

“And that’s a Saturday? Or a Sunday?”

“Sunday,” she answered. “
The e
xam is always held on a Sunday.”

“
S
unday. Early December. Perfect.”

“Why?”

“Oh, nothing, really.” I say. “
I'm just thinking of
going to Thailand in December.”

“You're going to Thailand?”

“
No, Tatami
,
I said I was
thinking
of going. I haven’t made any plans yet”

“When did you decide this?”

Ugh!
I tell her I haven’t decided.

“
But yo
u said you were going to . . .”

“No, Tatami.
I
said, ‘
I
was
thinking
of going.’”

“
So, when did you start
thinking
of going?”
she says, suppressin
g a giggle with her right hand.

“
You
like irritating me, don't you?”

Nodding, she says, “
You deserve i
t for teasing me all the time.”

“
So, I do. So, I do. Las
t year,” I admit. “
Last ye
ar, some friends of mine . . .”

“Oh? What friends?”

“
It's not important. They went but I was too busy
looking for a job, so I couldn’t join them. If I’
d had the money, I would
have gone during
Golden Week
.”

“
I didn't know you went during
Golden Week
.”

“Huh?”

“I didn’
t know you went during
Golden Week
.”

“I didn’t.”

“But you just said you did.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Did not.”

“Did to.”

“Tatami! I said ‘
If I'd had
. . .’”

“I see. I see.”

“Do you really?”
I e
ye her doubtfully. “
Anyways, I've wanted to go for a
long time, so I’
m t
hinking of going this December.”

“When?”

“During the winter break.”

“After the test?”

“
I suppose s
o, yes. During winter vacation.”

“How long?”

“Two weeks.”

“Two weeks?”

“
Yes, only two
weeks.”

“
Only
? I
think two weeks is quite long.”
This is coming, mind you, from a girl who hasn't worked more than two days her entire life.

“
No, Tatami, two weeks is
not long, but it's long enough.”

“Who are you going with?”

“I don't know. Maybe a . . .”

Before the word “friend”
has time to settle, I know what her next question will be. Every time I introduce a new character into our silly little conversations, Tatami subjects me to a string of intrusive questions. For all her gentle sweetness, she would make a hell of an interrogator, breaking the will of even the most determinedly reticent suspect by virtue of her annoying persistence.
A girl?

“A girl?”
she asks.

“No,” I correct. “A man.”

“What's his name?”

“Does it really matter?”

“
Um, no I suppose it do
esn't, but I want to know.”

“
Alex
. His name’s
Alex
.”

“
Alex
?”

“Yes,
Alex
.”

“And is he an English teacher?”

“No, he isn't.”

“Oh? What does Alex
-san do?”

“He's a student.”

“Where?”

“Hell if I know.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t know.”
I don't know! I want my lawyer!

“
And Alex
-san lives i
n Hakata? So, you met him here?”

“No. Tokyo.”

“You met him in Tokyo?”

“
No, he
lives
in Tokyo,”
I say.

“
An
d you met him in Tokyo, right?”

“
No, I've never been to Tokyo. I met him
here
. He
used
to live . . . "

“
And you became a g
ood fri
end when he lived here.”

I place my fing
er on her lips to shut her up. “
Tatami, let me finish.
Alex
used to
live here in Hakata . . . a while ago. Don't ask, I don't know. And now, he sometimes comes to Fukuoka to visit friends. I only met him for the first time a
t a party about two months ago.”