Women On the Other Shore (34 page)

A few days ago Sayoko had received a phone call from Noriko Nakazato. In the crisp, no-nonsense style Sayoko remembered so well, Noriko explained that she was creating a registry of homemakers who would provide housekeeping services through her agency.

Would Sayoko like to have her name listed? Not immediately sure what to say, Sayoko changed the subject by asking how Noriko knew she'd gone back to being a full-time housewife.

"Well, you know, I heard about what happened at Platinum Planet.

To be honest, I pretty much figured the place was on the skids. But I understand that, thanks to you, things were actually starting to get back on track. Aoi was really sick about that, kicking herself for letting it all go to waste. I would be, too. I mean, I remember from the first day I started training you, I could see right away you were a find. Not very many come along who apply themselves the way you do. I even thought about maybe trying to lure you away."

"Are you saying Miss Narahashi asked you to give me a job? Is that why you called?"

"No, no, no. All she could talk about was how sorry she was for blithely telling you to forget about the cleaning business. She said she was just too desperate for help keeping Platinum Planet afloat after everybody else left, you know. Well, she
should
be sorry. She makes you go through all that training and then, just when you finally get down to business, she lets everything fall apart. Anyway, you might say I called to steal a march on her. Since I know it'll be a while before she can even think about the cleaning business
261

again, I figured I'd better snap you up while I have the chance."

Sayoko listened with her ear pressed hard to the handset. She remembered Aoi telling her she was putting the cleaning operation on hold, her face pale without makeup as she stared down at the contents of the coffee mug in her hand. She wondered why she'd been so incensed with her for not knowing all she'd been going through—butting heads with Shuji, holding her self-doubts at bay, and chanting
Damn it all! Damn it all!
as she pedaled her bicycle along.

Sayoko asked Noriko what had happened to Platinum Planet after she'd gone out the door that day.

Aoi had been left with just one employee, Yuki Yamaguchi—and at the end of the year she quit as well, to prepare for her move overseas in March. The company premises were owned, not rented, so Aoi sold the property to scrape together enough money for everybody's severance, and moved the business to her own apartment in Shimokitazawa. She now ran a much-reduced operation from there, all by herself.

"People quit on you all the time," Noriko went on. "The trick is to replace them quickly and get back up to speed. But instead, Aoi dawdles around, giving up the office and stuff and going practically into retreat to carry on quietly by herself. Anyway, what do you say?

Can I put you on my list?"

Sayoko thought of Aoi's apartment, which she'd visited just that one time.

"I need some time to think about it," she said, and put down the phone.

Now, taking another deep breath, she pressed the button on the intercom. The sound of the chime inside rang out through the door:
ding-dong.
There was no answer. She pressed the button again.

"Darn, she must be out."

Sayoko felt all the strength drain from her body. What should she 262

do now? If she simply went on home, she doubted she would ever come again. One day she'd have to wash a blanket, the next she'd have to embroider Akari's name on a towel. She'd probably find one excuse or another to put off coming from day to day, until in the end she decided she didn't care anymore and pushed the whole idea from her mind. But there was one thing she knew: walking around the house with a cleaning rag in her hand wasn't going to turn up any more dirt she'd overlooked.

"Maybe I'll wait downstairs," she mumbled, returning along the dim walkway to the elevator and jabbing at the call button.

She listened to the irritating creak of the elevator as it came up to the fifth floor and opened its doors. There stood Aoi.

"Oh!" cried Sayoko in surprise.

"My goodness!" Aoi exclaimed at the same time, staring wide-eyed.

As they both stood frozen to the spot, the doors started to slide shut between them. Sayoko hastily raised her arms to stop them, while Aoi thrust out her foot. They both burst out laughing at the other's awkward posture.

"Wow. You gave me a real start," Aoi said, stepping out of the elevator. In her hand was a grocery bag from the convenience store. She seemed to have lost a lot of weight. Behind her the elevator creaked for a while again as it made its way back down to the first floor, then fell silent.

"Sorry to drop in out of the blue like this," Sayoko said. Their brief burst of laughter had momentarily loosened her taut nerves, but now they were nearly choking her again.

"Out of the blue is right. What is it? You're not here to hit me up for severance, are you?" Slipping past Sayoko, Aoi strode to her front door and inserted the key.

"I do have a request," Sayoko forced out as she followed along the walkway. Aoi looked at her with her hand on the doorknob. "I'd like 263

to work for you. I'll do anything. Answer the phone, enter data, stuff envelopes, clean—really, anything. Training wages will be fine. In fact, no, I'll work for nothing until I've learned the business."

"Maybe you should keep it down a bit, Chief," Aoi cut her off in a low voice. "Talk any louder and the neighbors'll wonder what in the world's going on." She stepped inside and beckoned to Sayoko, who slipped through the door behind her.

"It's a terrible mess, but come on in."

Sayoko stepped out of her shoes and followed her inside. The private apartment now doubling as an office was in such chaotic disarray that Sayoko could not remember what it had been like before.

The walls of the main living-dining room were almost completely hidden behind teetering stacks of cardboard boxes; the floor was littered with collapsing piles of pamphlets, page proofs, photocopies, magazines flagged with sticky notes, and sundry other items. Even the window with the view Aoi so loved was blocked two-thirds of the way up with boxes; a narrow strip at the top offered only a glimpse of the clear winter sky.

In the kitchen off the dining area, a mountain of empty noodle cups and box-lunch containers filled the sink, with flies buzzing about even in the middle of winter. T h e sliding doors to the tatami room had been removed, and Aoi's low round table from the old office, the massive fax and copy machine, and bookshelves crammed untidily with reference materials left little space to maneuver around the twin-size bed. Cardboard boxes covered at least half the window in there, too, leaving the room quite dim.

"Like I said, it's a mess." Aoi quickly moved mounds of clothing and laundry from the sofa to the floor and motioned to Sayoko.

"Have a seat. I haven't had lunch yet, so you'll have to excuse me."

She plopped down on the floor, took a sandwich and rice ball from the grocery bag, and started eating without another word.

Sayoko stole furtive glances at her as she chewed, trying to read her expression and guess what she might be thinking. But Aoi's face offered no clues. I've
got to say something,
she thought. I've got
to
make my case.
She searched for the right words.

"I've been feeling terrible about the way I quit. After everything you did for me, and also just when I was finally getting into the swing of things."

No, she thought,
that's all hogwash; nothing but handy cliches.
She looked at the piles of clothes on the floor, glanced at Aoi peeling the wrapper from her rice ball, then gazed up at the narrow strip of blue sky visible through the window.

"Remember that Family Support Center you mentioned?" she finally resumed. "The truth is, I never bothered to look into it seriously because I always hate having to deal with people I don't know.

But I went to sign up the other day, and they introduced me right away to a family in my neighborhood. Just like that. I couldn't believe how easy it was. Really, I can't imagine anymore what I could have been so afraid of, it was so simple, so routine. So I'm all set now.

I can even work late when I need to."

Aoi broke off a bite-size piece of the rice ball and shoved it into her mouth. She sat gazing at the floor as she chewed.

Sayoko had decided to go to the center and see about a caregiver in her neighborhood as soon as she got off the phone with Noriko.

They referred her to a couple in their fifties whose two grown children had moved out of the house. They said they'd only recently registered with the center.

"It'll be such a joy to have a child to take care of again," the woman beamed when they met to get acquainted.

"No more empty nest syndrome for you," the husband teased with a laugh. "She got hit pretty bad after the kids left," he explained.

"She'd spend whole days sitting blankly at the kitchen table."

"Maybe this isn't really the sort of thing you should admit to someone you've only just met, but I felt like I must have failed my 265

children somehow. I was sure that was why they never came around.

Then my husband heard about the center and how it worked. I hesitated a long time. If I thought I'd failed my own children, what business did I have taking in somebody else's? But I'm so glad to meet you. I only wish we'd signed up sooner." She smiled gently at Akari. "I could have gotten to know a darling little girl like you a long time ago."

"She reminds me of Eiko when she was little," the husband added.

Eiko was apparently their daughter's name.

"You know, I was thinking," the wife said, turning to her husband.

"How about if we have them to dinner this weekend? We can invite Eiko and Masashi, too. I bet they'll come. How would that be, Mrs.

Tamura? If this week doesn't work for you, we can make it next. Or if that's no good either, it could even be next month. Oh, it'll be so much fun!"

Watching this happy woman already starting to plan her menu, Sayoko felt like she'd finally found the answer. What were the gathering years for? Not for escaping into your own tiny existence and closing the door behind you, but for going out to meet the world.

They were for seeking out new encounters, and for striding toward your objectives on your own two feet.

"Didn't Noriko Nakazato call you?" Aoi said. "I'm sure you'll get much better terms working for her than for me."

"No, I have to work for you," Sayoko said emphatically.

Aoi's eyes remained fixed on the sandwich in her hand.

"You know how Mrs. Nakazato forbade us to wear rubber gloves,"

Sayoko went on, a faint smile on her lips. Her voice was barely above a whisper, almost as if she were talking only to herself. "You'd start with a layer of grease so thick it grabbed at your scouring pad, but if you kept scrubbing and scrubbing until your mind went n u m b it would gradually give way, and then finally the moment would come when you could slide your bare fingers smoothly across the surface without feeling the slightest resistance. You'd go at the caked-on grease with a pad and cleanser and your two bare hands, and it'd vanish without a trace. Except somehow, ever since I quit, I've had this sour taste in my mouth, as if I came back from a job without getting rid of all the grease. And I'm pretty sure signing on with Mrs.

Nakazato to clean houses again isn't going to make that go away."

When Aoi failed to respond, Sayoko grew uneasy. Perhaps she was asking too much. Or perhaps Aoi simply didn't need anybody to work for her anymore.

Aoi looked up. In an instant reflex, Sayoko lowered her eyes and began studying her fingers. Thanks to all the scouring she'd been doing at home, her skin was chapped and her nails were splitting.

"Of course it isn't," said Aoi, popping the last of her sandwich into her mouth. "Unlike me, Noriko's a woman who knows how to keep things neat." She looked up and fixed her eyes sharply on Sayoko.

"So you're saying you're ready to take anything I throw at you?

Think you're up to making this disaster area spick-and-span in just one day?"

That's not what I meant,
Sayoko almost blurted out, but she bit back the words and rose to her feet. She realized that Aoi had indeed understood exactly what she meant.

"Just one day?" she said, surveying the room.

"We'll call it your employment test," Aoi said. "Finish in a day and you're hired. We may have come down a notch, but this is still Platinum Planet, and I'm still the president."

"One day for all this clutter is a pretty tall order. But I accept the challenge. I shall do my best," Sayoko said, bowing deeply.

Aoi returned the bow. "I'll be very much obliged," she said with a note of mock formality.

Sayoko let out a snicker, and Aoi burst into a laugh.

"The first thing is to do something about this window. We need to get some light in here—it's way too gloomy. You just go on about 267

your business. I'll ask if I have a question about throwing something away or how you want things sorted."

Sayoko moved to the large window and started lowering boxes onto the floor, briefly glancing inside each one as she went. Aoi headed into the tatami room, where she sat on the floor in front of the small round table and switched on her laptop. T h e fax machine clicked and whirred as it automatically picked up an incoming call and began printing.

One box contained stacks of folders and magazines carrying Platinum Planet ads, along with some snack tins and computer disks.

Another held travel guides and transportation maps and timetables for various countries, as well as a jumble of office supplies like scissors and glue. Sayoko rolled up her sleeves and concentrated first on getting everything out of the boxes and onto the floor. What little open space remained quickly disappeared, and when she turned to look, piles of magazines and boxes filled the entire room. It was a daunting sight.

Relax. You can do this. Just take it one step at a time
, she told herself and set to flattening the boxes she'd emptied. T h e next box she opened contained a large number of books and a snakes' nest of cables and cords. She sorted the books into stacks, then worked at untangling the cables. One of the stacks at her feet started to topple. With a click of her tongue, she managed to sweep the teetering books into her arms before the whole thing fell, but one pocket paperback tumbled to the floor. When she reached to pick it up, a yellowed piece of paper fluttered from between its pages onto the tangle of cables. She instinctively looked to see what it was.