sense at first. The lightest shade Tokida made was far darker than the darkest shadow on the statue, and yet his drawing looked real and three-dimensional. I saw that he was creating an illusion. It was a big discovery for me.
***
Mother came to Tokyo one weekend a month. She always came with gifts and Grandmother fussed over her like a housemaidâas if to make up for all the years she'd punished Mother with silence and neglect. There was always a lot to say after a month's separation, but our conversations were mostly gossip and small talk. I'd been waiting for an opportunity to tell Mother about Sensei, but Grandmother was always hovering in the background, not giving us a chance to be alone.
In the end I decided to visit Mother at her shop, which was in a fashionable shopping area in Yokohama. It was a small place with three glass counters and mirrored walls, with a storage room and a tiny windowless office in the back. Walking in there was like walking into a cloud of smells, fragrances of the things women useâface powder and perfume, cold cream and nail polish. The two girl clerks who worked for Mother gave me a friendly smile. One of them was pretty and it embarrassed me to look her in the eye. I didn't know why.
"Is she expecting you?" she asked me in a whisper. I shook my head. It gave me a strange feeling to realize that she was my mother's employee. Clumsily I waved to her not to bother and knocked on the office door.
"Come in," I heard Mother's voice say.
She was leaning over her neat desk, with an open ledger in front of her. An abacus lay across the ledger. As she looked up her face broke into a smile.
"Koichi, what a surprise," she said and leaned back on the
swivel chair, and nodded at the empty chair in front of her. I went and sat in the chair, feeling like someone on a job interview.
"What a nice surprise," she said again.
"I meant to write to you first...." I started to apologize.
"Is there something the matter?"
"No, I thought I'd come and see you."
"How delightful. I like surprise visits. Have you had lunch?" I shook my head. "Let me finish this column and we'll go somewhere. Would you like a cup of coffee? Mari-san can run across the street and get you a cup."
"No, thank you." I shook my head. Mariko was the pretty clerk. We always drank tea at Grandmother's house, but Mother was fond of strong coffee.
She had on a finely knit lavender sweater with a brightly patterned silk scarf around her neck, held in place by a single pearl pin. Her lips glistened with deep rouge. Even her nails were painted. Grandmother didn't approve of cosmetics and in Tokyo mother dressed in somber colors and never wore makeup. On the wall behind her hung a framed picture of me taken a long time ago in Kyushu. Father had a copy of it in his album, but seeing it on Mother's wall always pleased me. Mother's fingers worked rapidly on the abacus, clicking the beads, and she entered the figures in the ledger with a dip pen. In about ten minutes she was finished.
"Let me treat you to your favorite dish." She looked up and smiled.
"Sweet and sour pork?"
"You were always such a fussy eater, but that's one dish you never refused. Is Grandmother well?"
"She's fine."
I noticed her tweed skirt when she went over to the corner to take some money out of the old safe. I'd never seen her in it before and thought it looked elegant on her.
Mother told Mariko we'd be out for about an hour and we walked out into the busy noontime street. I stood almost a full head taller than she, and I smelled her perfume as we walked
along the covered sidewalk. Mother was a familiar figure in the neighborhood, and from time to time someone would stop and greet us with a bow. One time she told me that a store owner on the same block had seen us together and thought I was her brother, and she laughed about it. We went to a Chinese restaurant a couple of blocks down the street.
"Have you been eating regularly?" asked Mother as she took
***
Mother came to Tokyo one weekend a month. She always came with gifts and Grandmother fussed over her like a housemaidâas if to make up for all the years she'd punished Mother with silence and neglect. There was always a lot to say after a month's separation, but our conversations were mostly gossip and small talk. I'd been waiting for an opportunity to tell Mother about Sensei, but Grandmother was always hovering in the background, not giving us a chance to be alone.
In the end I decided to visit Mother at her shop, which was in a fashionable shopping area in Yokohama. It was a small place with three glass counters and mirrored walls, with a storage room and a tiny windowless office in the back. Walking in there was like walking into a cloud of smells, fragrances of the things women useâface powder and perfume, cold cream and nail polish. The two girl clerks who worked for Mother gave me a friendly smile. One of them was pretty and it embarrassed me to look her in the eye. I didn't know why.
"Is she expecting you?" she asked me in a whisper. I shook my head. It gave me a strange feeling to realize that she was my mother's employee. Clumsily I waved to her not to bother and knocked on the office door.
"Come in," I heard Mother's voice say.
She was leaning over her neat desk, with an open ledger in front of her. An abacus lay across the ledger. As she looked up her face broke into a smile.
"Koichi, what a surprise," she said and leaned back on the
swivel chair, and nodded at the empty chair in front of her. I went and sat in the chair, feeling like someone on a job interview.
"What a nice surprise," she said again.
"I meant to write to you first...." I started to apologize.
"Is there something the matter?"
"No, I thought I'd come and see you."
"How delightful. I like surprise visits. Have you had lunch?" I shook my head. "Let me finish this column and we'll go somewhere. Would you like a cup of coffee? Mari-san can run across the street and get you a cup."
"No, thank you." I shook my head. Mariko was the pretty clerk. We always drank tea at Grandmother's house, but Mother was fond of strong coffee.
She had on a finely knit lavender sweater with a brightly patterned silk scarf around her neck, held in place by a single pearl pin. Her lips glistened with deep rouge. Even her nails were painted. Grandmother didn't approve of cosmetics and in Tokyo mother dressed in somber colors and never wore makeup. On the wall behind her hung a framed picture of me taken a long time ago in Kyushu. Father had a copy of it in his album, but seeing it on Mother's wall always pleased me. Mother's fingers worked rapidly on the abacus, clicking the beads, and she entered the figures in the ledger with a dip pen. In about ten minutes she was finished.
"Let me treat you to your favorite dish." She looked up and smiled.
"Sweet and sour pork?"
"You were always such a fussy eater, but that's one dish you never refused. Is Grandmother well?"
"She's fine."
I noticed her tweed skirt when she went over to the corner to take some money out of the old safe. I'd never seen her in it before and thought it looked elegant on her.
Mother told Mariko we'd be out for about an hour and we walked out into the busy noontime street. I stood almost a full head taller than she, and I smelled her perfume as we walked
along the covered sidewalk. Mother was a familiar figure in the neighborhood, and from time to time someone would stop and greet us with a bow. One time she told me that a store owner on the same block had seen us together and thought I was her brother, and she laughed about it. We went to a Chinese restaurant a couple of blocks down the street.
"Have you been eating regularly?" asked Mother as she took
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