Read Online Hardboiled & Hard Luck by Banana Yoshimoto - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Banana Yoshimoto
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being just as cowardly as I’d expect—he changes so little that it’s actually kind of touching,” he replied. “The thing I’m worried about is whether or not he’ll actually be able to make it as a dentist and take over the family business. I guess he’ll be OK—he’s a nice person, after all, and he’s good with his hands, and he’s pretty sturdily built. I’d be against it if he were going into surgery or something, of course, knowing what a crybaby he is.”
A lovely swath of bare branches was visible behind him. It was only November, yet already the branches these trees stretched toward the sky were as bare as bones. I felt safe when I looked into Sakai’s eyes. I saw a light there so deep and forceful that I felt as if he would forgive anything.
“I always thought he seemed pretty weak myself.”
“He is. And since he’s so honest, he just ran away from it all. I’m sure he’s been crying constantly, without even stopping to eat. He’ll put his emotions back in order before long, though, and I’m positive he’ll be there when your sister dies.” Sakai paused. “I know he hasn’t come to the hospital, and he did agree to break off the engagement, but I can’t really blame him for doing either of those things.”
“Neither can I. I doubt Kuni does, either.”
“Everyone comes to terms with things in his own way, right?”
“It’s true. I mean, if you think about it, even I’m starting to make preparations for the future. The way the two of us are acting, your brother and I, isn’t all that different, really. I do hope he’ll come to the funeral and stuff, though.”
“I’m sure he will. He’s very reliable when it comes to things like that.”
“Do you think he might not have left Kuni if her injury had been minor enough that he still could have married her?”
“It’s impossible to say for sure, but I doubt he would have. There’s something fundamentally different between the hypothetical situation you’re describing and what actually happened. The truth is, I think, that Kuni is already saying goodbye to the world—she’s going steadily through that process—and in the meantime we’re all caught in this odd space, the oddly empty block of time that’s left before her death, going through the motions of making a decision. That’s how I see it, anyway.”
I knew what he meant. The moment I started doing the paperwork for my trip to Italy, the moment I opened my now dusty textbook of conversational Italian and threw myself back into my studies, time, which had ground to a halt, started moving, and I began to feel things again.
It wasn’t death that saddened me, it was this mood.
It was the shock of it all.
That stunned feeling remained in the core of my mind, as hard and tight as ever. No matter how hard I tried to make it go away, it never did. Even when I thought I had finally gotten a grip on myself, all I had to do was call up an image of Kuni and all that confidence would disappear.
One morning, Kuni walked into the kitchen clasping her head in her hands.
I just happened to be back visiting my family—I had arrived the night before. I was sitting in the living room, having a cup of coffee.
“Would you like some coffee?”I asked.
“No thanks,” she said, her tone strangely gentle. “My head is killing me.”
I thought about how Kuni would be getting married soon, and then eventually, when her fiancé was ready to go home and take over the family business, moving to a place much further away. I started feeling a little sentimental.
It occurred to me that we would never talk about the skylight we used to dream of having, and that our dream would never come true.
Memories of childhood rose up inside me, so vivid that I was dazzled. The air, the different smells, the magazines piled beside our pillows—it all came back to me. Every minute had been fun, I realized, so much fun it made my heart ache.
I went and poked through the cabinet until I
A lovely swath of bare branches was visible behind him. It was only November, yet already the branches these trees stretched toward the sky were as bare as bones. I felt safe when I looked into Sakai’s eyes. I saw a light there so deep and forceful that I felt as if he would forgive anything.
“I always thought he seemed pretty weak myself.”
“He is. And since he’s so honest, he just ran away from it all. I’m sure he’s been crying constantly, without even stopping to eat. He’ll put his emotions back in order before long, though, and I’m positive he’ll be there when your sister dies.” Sakai paused. “I know he hasn’t come to the hospital, and he did agree to break off the engagement, but I can’t really blame him for doing either of those things.”
“Neither can I. I doubt Kuni does, either.”
“Everyone comes to terms with things in his own way, right?”
“It’s true. I mean, if you think about it, even I’m starting to make preparations for the future. The way the two of us are acting, your brother and I, isn’t all that different, really. I do hope he’ll come to the funeral and stuff, though.”
“I’m sure he will. He’s very reliable when it comes to things like that.”
“Do you think he might not have left Kuni if her injury had been minor enough that he still could have married her?”
“It’s impossible to say for sure, but I doubt he would have. There’s something fundamentally different between the hypothetical situation you’re describing and what actually happened. The truth is, I think, that Kuni is already saying goodbye to the world—she’s going steadily through that process—and in the meantime we’re all caught in this odd space, the oddly empty block of time that’s left before her death, going through the motions of making a decision. That’s how I see it, anyway.”
I knew what he meant. The moment I started doing the paperwork for my trip to Italy, the moment I opened my now dusty textbook of conversational Italian and threw myself back into my studies, time, which had ground to a halt, started moving, and I began to feel things again.
It wasn’t death that saddened me, it was this mood.
It was the shock of it all.
That stunned feeling remained in the core of my mind, as hard and tight as ever. No matter how hard I tried to make it go away, it never did. Even when I thought I had finally gotten a grip on myself, all I had to do was call up an image of Kuni and all that confidence would disappear.
One morning, Kuni walked into the kitchen clasping her head in her hands.
I just happened to be back visiting my family—I had arrived the night before. I was sitting in the living room, having a cup of coffee.
“Would you like some coffee?”I asked.
“No thanks,” she said, her tone strangely gentle. “My head is killing me.”
I thought about how Kuni would be getting married soon, and then eventually, when her fiancé was ready to go home and take over the family business, moving to a place much further away. I started feeling a little sentimental.
It occurred to me that we would never talk about the skylight we used to dream of having, and that our dream would never come true.
Memories of childhood rose up inside me, so vivid that I was dazzled. The air, the different smells, the magazines piled beside our pillows—it all came back to me. Every minute had been fun, I realized, so much fun it made my heart ache.
I went and poked through the cabinet until I
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