Villain a Novel (2010) (38 page)

“Grandma, you at home?” he called out.

She nearly collapsed from relief and hurried to the front door.

“Have you heard Yuichi mention a friend by the name of Mitsuyo Magome? A girl who works at a clothing shop in Saga?” The policeman asked this as soon as she opened the door, without even saying hello. The cold wind rushed in. The patrolman rubbed his hands as he spoke and Fusae could only weakly shake her head.

“I see. So you haven’t heard of her. It looks like Yuichi took this girl with him when he ran away.”

“Took the girl with him?”

“Yeah, we don’t know if he forced her to go, or whether she went voluntarily.”

Fusae sat down heavily on the step up from the entrance. Knowing, perhaps, that asking any more questions was pointless, the patrolman patted her on the shoulder. “They found Yuichi’s car in Arita,” he added, and then left.

All Fusae could manage to do was stare at his retreating back.

Yuichi abandoned his car. He gave up on his car.…

She could see him, walking far away from his car.
Where are you going!
she shouted to him, but he kept on walking, disappearing into a dark forest she’d never seen before.

Just then the phone in the kitchen rang. She was about to call after the patrolman, but she knew that he’d come about her grandson, the murderer, and wouldn’t listen to some complaint about threatening phone calls.

If she didn’t answer the phone, those men would definitely pay her a visit. If she did answer the phone, maybe they could find some sort of solution. All she could do was cling to this hope. She walked back to the kitchen and, hands shaking, lifted the receiver.

“Hello? Mom? It’s me, Yoriko. What is going on? They’re saying Yuichi is a murderer! That can’t be true, can it? Tell me what’s going on!

“Hello? Talk to me, Mom!”

Yoriko was hysterical. She didn’t let Fusae get a word in edgewise. “Honey …” was all Fusae was able to say.

“The police came to my workplace! Like they thought I was harboring him or something. And they even went through the company dorm.…”

“How are you? Okay?”

As her daughter spoke, Fusae remembered how strong-willed she was, even as a child. When Yoriko entered junior high, she started going out at night. On weekends their tiny fishing village was shaken by the roar of motorcycles as a gang pulled up. Katsuji would grab her by the hair to try to stop her, but Yoriko would kick free and run off. More than once, Yoriko was taken into custody in the city and they had to pick her up at the police station. Once she graduated from high school, she started working at a bar, but this didn’t turn out so badly. Working full-time helped her to grow up, and Fusae remembered how, on one of her rare visits home, she politely poured sake for her father and said, “Dad, you should drop by our bar sometime for a drink,” handing him her business card.

But then she went and married a worthless man who ran out on her. Yuichi had been born by this time, and she gave him up to her parents to raise. Ever since then the only contact they had was a phone call every couple of years, an afterthought on her part. She’d say things like “I’m really sorry about what I did to you, Mom,” or “Next time let’s go on a trip to a spa together,” but in all that time she never once came home.

“Yuichi a murderer? It’s got to be a mistake.”

Fusae had no idea how to respond.

Yoriko sighed deeply. “You’ve been with him all this time.… How could you have raised him to become someone like that!” she shouted. “Anyway, I told the police he wasn’t going to come here. The only time I see him is when he comes to pester me for money.
He knows how poor I am, but he’ll come and wheedle a thousand yen, two thousand, out of me and leave.”

“You two see each other?” Fusae said, shocked.

Yoriko stopped. “Anyhow, that’s what I told the police,” she said, and without waiting for a reply, she hung up.

Fusae was dumbfounded. She was surprised that Yuichi had been secretly meeting Yoriko, but even more shocked that he was trying to get money from her. It was easier to believe that he murdered someone than to believe he wanted money from his mother.

With the sunlight streaming in the glass window, the air in the shack grew a little warmer. Inside the sleeping bag, Mitsuyo kissed Yuichi on the neck.

Sleeping on the hard plywood board, despite the padding of the sleeping bag, made her back and sides ache, and she’d woken up often during the night. When she did, she could see her breath, and though her ears and nose ached in the cold, the snug sleeping bag let her feel Yuichi’s warmth all the more.

Next to the plywood board were some plastic bags full of the remains of the
bento
, bread, and drinks they’d consumed over the last few days. Lying here, it felt as if they were on a magic carpet flying through the sky.

Feeling Mitsuyo stirring, Yuichi woke up, murmured “Good morning” into the hair at the back of her neck, and pulled her close.

“I’ll go to the convenience store later on,” Mitsuyo said. The warm air in the sleeping bag spilled out around their shoulders.

“You’ll be okay by yourself?” Yuichi asked, yawning.

“I’ll be fine. I think it’s better if I go alone.”

“I’ll go with you down to the road, and hide in the bushes and wait for you.”

“I told you, I’ll be fine.” In the tight sleeping bag Mitsuyo gave his chest a couple of playful taps.

The previous day they’d gone together to the convenience store. They’d been there several times, and when they were at the checkout stand the woman at the cash register asked, “You’re not from around here, are you?”

Mitsuyo immediately replied, “Uh, yeah. We’re spending New Year’s with some relatives who live in the area.”

“Is that right”? the woman asked. “And where are you from?”

Without thinking, Mitsuyo said, “Saga.”

“Where in Saga?” the woman asked.

“From, uh, from Yobuko.”

The woman seemed about to say something more, so as soon as she got their change Mitsuyo pulled Yuichi by the hand and hurried out of the store.

If that same woman was working the register today, she might very well ask Mitsuyo where their relatives lived. If it came to that, they couldn’t use that store anymore. To find another store, they’d have to walk the road all the way to the next town.

Yuichi got out of the sleeping bag, slipped on his sneakers, and headed to the toilet. The lighthouse hadn’t been in operation for years, but luckily the water was still on. The toilet wasn’t exactly clean, but Mitsuyo felt like giving a prayer of thanks for the running water, as if it had been left by some secret ally.

“The place looks so much cleaner now,” Yuichi murmured admiringly as he stepped into the toilet.

“Well, I spent two hours cleaning up.”

Yuichi looked over at Mitsuyo, still in the sleeping bag, and said, “While you’re at the convenience store, I’ll try to cover over this broken window.” He pointed to the window facing the sea. He’d used some plastic tape he’d bought to temporarily cover the broken glass, but the wind still blew between the cracks.

After Yuichi had used the toilet and was heading outside with a plastic bottle of water, Mitsuyo asked, “Besides food, what else would you like me to buy?”

“Besides food? … Well, how about a deck of cards?”

“A deck of cards?”

As soon as she said this, she realized he’d been joking. Yuichi’s eyes narrowed in the winter morning light. He howled, laughing at her.

Mitsuyo finally got up and folded the sleeping bag, still warm from their bodies, neatly on top of the plywood board. She followed the sound of Yuichi gargling and when she stepped outside, she saw the sea laid out before her, glittering in the sun, seagulls drifting low in the sky.

“It’s so beautiful,” Mitsuyo said, lost for a moment. Yuichi spit out the water near his feet and said, shyly, “You know what? I had a dream last night.”

“What kind of dream?” Mitsuyo took the plastic bottle from him.

“You and I were living together. Remember how we were talking about that before we went to sleep? What kind of house we’d like to live in? In my dream, we were living there.”

“Which one was it? The house? Or the condo?”

“The condo … But in this dream you kicked me out of bed.” Yuichi gave a short laugh. Mitsuyo took a drink of water and said, “But I really did kick you from inside the sleeping bag.”

Yuichi faced the sea and stretched lazily. His fingertips seemed to be almost grazing the sky.

“Later on, maybe we can gather some weeds and lay them on top of the plywood.”

“I wonder if that would make it softer.”

Mitsuyo took another swig of water. It hadn’t been in a refrigerator, but the water was freezing cold.

Everybody blames me, saying Yuichi did what he did because I abandoned him, but it was my mother who really raised him. I’m not blaming her or anything. It’s just that on TV and in magazines they’re treating me like the villain in all this. There was this
announcer on TV, who looks like she couldn’t care less about other people’s lives, and she gave a neat summary of everything that happened in my life. Then some big-shot commentator added his take on it. They discussed the murder from all different angles, but the conclusion was always the same: the mother who abandoned her kid is the real culprit.

After I left Yuichi at the ferryboat pier at Shimabara, I thought about killing myself many times. But in the end I couldn’t do it.

When I went to see my parents, they said they’d raise Yuichi, and they even took away my parental rights. It was like they were telling me to get lost.

But I was still his mother. I might have lived apart from Yuichi, but I was always thinking of him. And I never once hid his existence from the men I was seeing.

I didn’t stay in touch because I knew my mom would say something like “If you’re not going to raise him, then don’t call us.” And I also thought it would hurt Yuichi to be reminded of his mother, now that he had gotten used to living with my mom. But I never forgot him. I waited until he entered high school, and then I secretly got in touch. I figured when he was in high school, he’d be old enough to understand the dynamics between men and women.

It was kind of awkward seeing him again, at first. But we’re mother and child, and there should be something we have in common. I can still remember what the noodles tasted like the first time we met. I was surprised to see how much pepper he put on his noodles, and when I asked him about it he said, “Grandma’s food is always kind of bland, so I use tons of pepper, hot mustard, mayonnaise, and ketchup.” Somehow when I heard this, I knew my parents were taking good care of him, and I was relieved.

After that, we met about once every six months. When school was in session we met during his summer or winter breaks, and we’d have a meal together. He was always very quiet, but still he came whenever I asked.

One day I was feeling really depressed. After we ate in Shimabara,
Yuichi gave me a ride back to my apartment, and in the car I suddenly burst into tears. I had so many problems. I wasn’t getting along well with the man I was living with, at work I’d been transferred to a section I hated, and I was starting to feel emotionally unstable. Plus I was feeling like an awful woman for having left Yuichi. I knew I was pretty young when I left him, but if I had had my life together a bit more, I might have spared him those sad and painful memories.

I bawled my eyes out then, right in his car.

Please forgive me, I sobbed, for being such an awful mother. I’ve been so awful, yet you still come to see me when I ask you to, and you never act angry. And you call me Mom, despite what I did to you. It’s so hard on me to meet you like this. I’m the only one at fault here, so I wouldn’t blame you if you hate me. I realize this is the cross I have to bear.

I kept on crying and crying. I didn’t even notice we’d pulled up in front of my building. It’s just that …

I finally stopped crying in the car and was about to get out when Yuichi suddenly said, “Mom, can you lend me some money?” For a moment I couldn’t believe my ears. This was a boy who’d always refused to accept any allowance I gave him, even a thousand yen. I was startled, but I opened my wallet right away and handed him five thousand or ten thousand, whatever I had. Through my tears, I asked him what he was going to use it for and he said, “What does it matter?” and shot me this scary look.