Summertime of the Dead (2 page)

Read Summertime of the Dead Online

Authors: Gregory Hughes

BOOK: Summertime of the Dead
4Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

I broke the surface and sat at the side of the pool. I laughed at Hiroshi, who was splashing about in the water. That's all he did. He didn't like swimming and he hated contact sports. And I'm not just talking about judo or karate. He hated football and basketball or any sport where he could be bumped. It's because he was sick when he was a kid and he had to stay in hospital. He's not sick any more, but he still gets upset if he gets knocked over.

Miko climbed out and sat next to me with her hair dripping. I watched her as she pushed it away from her pretty face, and then my eyes roamed. Not too much, but she raised her eyebrows and gave me a look. Hiroshi swam over to us and treaded water. ‘You two will be kissing next.'

He always said that and we always laughed. But now we sort of blushed and looked away.

‘Come on, Miko, finish your laps. I wanna go see the nun.'

‘She's not home yet,' I said.

‘Yes, she is. Grandad saw her.'

I swam lengths with Miko until she'd finished and then we got dressed and went to see Hiroshi's nun. We found her one day on our travels around Tokyo and she invited us to tea, and we've been going to see her ever since. She's a Buddhist nun, but she lives in the grounds of a Shinto shrine. Shinto's our other religion. It has a lot to do with being in harmony with nature. It's even said that there are Shinto spirits called kami who dwell in rivers, mountains, and trees. And people can become kami after they die. I wouldn't mind coming back as a tree, as long as the twins could be trees as well.

The shrine's at the top of a hill, just up from
where we live. It's like a little sanctuary nestled between our neighbourhood and the horrible dual carriageway that's always under construction, and it's really nice. There're exotic plants and stone paths with Shinto gates above them. And the temple is carved from cedar and built on granite, and it has large lion dogs standing guard either side. And no matter how hot it gets, it's always cool here because the tall trees bathe the place in shade.

We rang the bell in front of the temple and we clapped to summon the gods. Then we bowed to show them respect before running to the house where the nun lives. Her name's Natsuko, which means child of summer. And it suits her in a way because warmth comes from her. I'm not kidding. Every time you're with her you feel warm inside. But even if you don't, she's still nice. She has big eyes, and a perfect bald head, and skin the colour of cream. And she always manages to make you feel special. We all liked the nun, but she was Hiroshi's nun because he liked her the most.

When we knocked on the door the old nun answered.

‘We want to see Natsuko,' said Hiroshi.

The nun grimaced a little. You're not supposed
to use their first names. ‘I'll let her know that you're here.'

She closed the door and we sat in the wicker chairs and waited. Hiroshi kept looking at the entrance. He was dying to see the nun. I think he looked at her as a sort of mother. The twins' real mother had run away when they were first born and she hadn't been seen since. And he always talked to Natsuko like a boy talking to his mum, but that wasn't it. There was a bond between them, but I could never work out what it was.

When she appeared in the doorway we stood up and bowed. She smiled as she came towards us and putting a tray on the table she bowed back. And so we bowed lower. You always bow low to a nun, or someone more important. And as we're still kids we bow low to just about everyone.

‘How are you, children?'

‘Very well!' said Hiroshi.

We took a seat and watched her preparing the tea. She even brought a single flower and some cakes to add to the occasion. It was like our own little tea ceremony. In Zen tradition the tea ceremony is to purify the spirit and make you feel peaceful. And we always felt peaceful when we watched her. But as
she offered us the cakes we could see she was ready to cry.

Hiroshi's face clouded over. ‘You didn't like Cambodia? The people were mean to you?'

‘No, the people were kind,' said Natsuko. ‘But the children sleep in the streets and they're hungry and afraid. Some have lost limbs to landmines and many are sick. And there's no medicine to make them better! In the end I became sick myself and I had to come home.'

She covered her mouth to stop herself from crying. Miko turned to me for help but I couldn't think of anything to say, and I felt so bad for her. But Hiroshi stood up and put his hand on her shoulder. You should never touch a Buddhist nun; it's a big insult.

Miko's eyes widened. ‘Hiroshi!'

But he ignored her and putting his small hand on her face he smoothed away her tears. Miko looked down at the ground, while I sat there feeling embarrassed. But suddenly Natsuko seemed calm. She even smiled. Then I saw what it was between them – they were both sensitive. They felt each other's pain and they got upset by things like landmines and poverty and kids without limbs.

‘You have to meditate to make yourself better,' said Hiroshi.

‘I will,' said Natsuko.

‘Yukio meditates. Don't you, Yukio?'

‘Sometimes,' I said, wishing he'd sit down.

‘Anyway, I've made you a picture,' said Hiroshi, and taking a roll from his rucksack he showed it to her.

Natsuko looked amazed. ‘Oh, Hiroshi!'

‘He's been working on it for weeks,' said Miko.

Natsuko showed it to us. It was a portrait of her looking as beautiful as she could. You see, Hiroshi, while he was just a kid, was as talented as an artist twenty years older. He could put a flower arrangement together and paint it to perfection. It was like someone had taken a photograph. And lately he'd taken to drawing the girls at school. They were lining up to be his models.

All the sadness left Natsuko's face then and she was happy again. And that being the case she and Hiroshi talked excitedly about art and things, and me and Miko were left out. It was always like that. But we didn't mind and it was fun to watch them. Besides, we held hands as they talked and they didn't even notice.

After tea we said goodbye to the nun and headed off to Harajuku.

‘Come again soon, children,' she said.

‘We will,' said Hiroshi. ‘We're off school.'

We walked back down the hill, and crossing the train tracks we passed the small park where we used to play as kids. Then we crossed the road and ran up the concrete ramp that led into Yoyogi Park. There're nicer parks in Tokyo, but Yoyogi is our park. It's close to where we live and we've been coming here since I can remember.

As we made our way through the trees Miko put her hand on Hiroshi's shoulder. ‘I don't think you're supposed to touch the nuns, Hiroshi.'

‘I know, but she was upset. I think it's OK if they're upset. Isn't that right, Yukio?'

‘Maybe,' I said, but I didn't think it was. But I knew that Hiroshi would never offend Natsuko, or anyone else for that matter, so I suppose it wasn't too bad. Besides, I couldn't have been happier. I was with Miko and the sun was shining and we had the whole of the summer holidays ahead of us!

We headed across the wide common, passing the courting couple and the families picnicking on the grass. And everywhere we went there was music.
We passed Brazilians beating drums, a guy playing a guitar and a girl blasting away on a trombone. And as we neared the exit we saw some of the Harajuku Girls. They were the costume-play crowd who dressed up as Gothic Lolita. They had strange clothes, mad make-up and wacky hairstyles, but they were fun to look at. And so were the rockabillies who dressed in black and danced as cool as they could.

We came out of the park and headed down the beautiful Omotesando Boulevard, where the tall trees act like a canopy to keep off the sun. Grandmother said that artists and painters lived here at one time. But today it's lined with designer stores as far as you can see. It's all Armani and Gucci, and girls shopping for the latest fashion, or just parading up and down in it. The whole street's like a catwalk.

We lost Hiroshi in the crowd, and turning we saw him with a salesgirl outside Omotesando Hills, a designer building built to hold high fashion. Hiroshi likes girls and he's not shy about talking to them. He talks to shop assistants, and the girls at school, and their mothers if they come to collect them. He even talks to the cleaning women. And whenever we
lose sight of him he's always talking to some girl or another. I talk to girls as well, besides Miko, but it doesn't come so naturally.

When he'd finished we walked all the way down to the Prada Building, which is a glass structure with sticky-out windows. It looks like an apartment block wrapped in bubble wrap.

‘Let's look inside,' said Hiroshi. ‘We've never been inside.'

‘I don't know,' said Miko, intimidated by the posh look of the place.

‘We can look inside if we want. Can't we, Yukio?'

‘Sure,' I said. And so that's what we did.

It smelled nice inside and it looked nice, and the clothes were nice as well. I looked at the shoes while Miko went to where the bags were. I don't know what it is with Tokyo girls and Prada bags, but they go wild for them. But Miko doesn't, not usually, but then she looked at one bag like she was in love.

‘You'll turn into a Harajuku Girl if you're not careful,' said Hiroshi, and wandered off to talk to the saleswomen.

Miko smiled at the bag, but she cringed when she saw the price. A smartly dressed salesman appeared, and seeing she couldn't afford it he very
politely took it away. She looked embarrassed and so I pretended not to have noticed.

‘What shall we do now?' I asked.

‘Let's have a picnic at the Imperial Palace,' she said.

‘Yes,' said Hiroshi. ‘And we'll pay because it's Yukio's birthday.'

I didn't like the twins spending their money on me because they didn't have much. Their grandad was too old to work and so they had to get by on his pension. My mother's always sending me cheques and Grandmother gives me more than I need. But I didn't say anything because I didn't want to hurt their feelings.

We bought packed lunches from the Anniversary Café and then we took the subway to Tokyo station. When we came up to street level we cut through the skyscrapers and headed down to the Imperial Palace.

We like to hang out there because it's free to get into and it looks like a castle. It has huge walls and wide moats, and ramparts with towers above them. And we like the bridge, which we call Spectacles Bridge, because of the arches that look like eyes. As a small boy I'd often imagine armies battling
on that bridge, but I don't think it had ever seen action.

We passed through the powerful East Gate and wandered around until we found a bench where we could have our picnic. Then we ate and drank while looking at the gardens, and the short trees, and the perfectly groomed lawns. Not far in the distance was another wall, with tall trees at the top, and beyond that was the Imperial Palace and the emperor. Hiroshi drank some Coke from the bottle and then he turned to us. ‘You think Emperor Akihito's at home?'

‘I don't know,' I said.

‘Sing for him, Miko, and he might come out.'

‘I can't.'

‘Come on, Miko, it's my birthday. You have to sing.'

She looked around to make sure that no one was watching and then she sang a song called ‘Summertime'. Her voice rebounded off the stone walls, twirled around the towers and echoed under the bridge. She had such a soothing voice that it made me lie back. But what was more amazing was that she didn't seem to make much effort. There wasn't the slightest strain on her face, even for the
high notes, and yet her voice carried so far. I was sure that if the emperor was home he could hear Miko. I imagined him having tea on his balcony and wondering where the singing was coming from. I felt proud then that she was my friend. And for the first time I thought about asking her to be my girlfriend.

We stayed there until the sun started to set and then we took the subway back to Yoyogi Park. The Harajuku Girls had gone by then and so had the Rockabillies. But there were still plenty of joggers and cyclists and people walking dogs. And it was nicer now because it was cool and the grounds were bathed in a pink tint. We went to our usual spot, on the common, and Hiroshi pulled the orange frisbee from his rucksack. It was the first present I ever bought the twins and we still got a real kick out of throwing it. It's strange how the little things can make you happy. And it had been such a great day I found myself wishing we could throw it in the park for the rest of our lives. But then the wind picked up and the sun set and the sky turned as red as blood. I'd never seen it so red. And there was something frightening about it. I had the strangest
feeling that something bad was going to happen to us. The frisbee flew past me.

‘You're not concentrating, Yukio,' said Hiroshi.

‘What's wrong?' asked Miko.

As soon as I saw her face the bad feeling faded away. ‘Nothing. I was just …' But I couldn't explain what had come over me. I threw her the frisbee and she laughed as she ran to catch it.

‘It's just a red sky,' I said. ‘There's nothing to be scared of. Nothing at all.'

2

I ran up the subway steps and down Omotesando Boulevard. It was already eight and I had to pick up the twins by nine. Their grandad had taken them to Tokyo's Disneyland for the day, but tonight I was taking them to a nightclub, a real club as well. I'm not kidding. I'd seen the advertisement in Shibuya and bought the tickets. One of the clubs – Paradise, it was called – was opening its doors to kids aged fourteen to seventeen. It closed at midnight and there was no alcohol, of course, but I knew that Hiroshi would love it.

But now I was late! I'd been at kendo practice all morning and in the afternoon I decided to go for a run. Then I'd taken a nap. Now I was running for real because I'd overslept. What's more I had to
go to the Meiji Shrine to have a prayer said for my father. He died four years ago today, or close to, and I knew that Grandmother would ask me if I had done it. I didn't mind doing it. In fact I wanted to. But I had to get home and get ready to go out.

Other books

The Golden Season by Brockway, Connie
Get More by Nia Stephens
Pórtico by Frederik Pohl
Crucible of Gold by Naomi Novik
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte