Read Online The Samurai's Garden: A Novel by Gail Tsukiyama - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Gail Tsukiyama
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with the news. I was grateful when Matsu changed the subject and spoke of the weather, business at the teahouse, his garden. My own thoughts began to take over. I knew deep inside that it was true that Shanghai would soon fall to the Japanese. Then they would continue south, destroying everything that stood in their way. I tried to change my thoughts, thinking how there might be a chance of my running into Keiko and Mika if I went for a walk. I was just about to excuse myself when Kenzo’s questions drew me quickly back into their conversation.
“Have you seen her?” Kenzo asked.
“A few days ago,” Matsu answered. “She’s doing very well.”
“Did you bring her the chicken?”
“Yes.”
“Did she ask about me?”
Matsu drank down the remainder of his beer. “No,” he said quietly. “But she gave me this note to give to you.”
Kenzo’s face lit up. He quickly reached across the table and snatched the note from Matsu’s hand, placing it carefully into his shirt pocket.
“It’s rosewater,” Kenzo whispered to me as we stepped out into the cool air. “Just a drop.”
I laughed and bowed, thanking him for the drink.
“What lies is he telling you?” Matsu asked.
“It’s a secret,” I answered.
Kenzo smiled, then looked toward Matsu. “You’ll tell me if she needs anything?”
“Of course,” Matsu said.
Kenzo bowed and put his hand over his shirt pocket to make sure the note hadn’t slipped out. He stood just a moment at the doorway of his teahouse, then disappeared back inside.
“I need to get the mail,” Matsu said, as I followed him back across the road toward another building.
“Does Kenzo know Sachi?” I quickly asked.
Matsu slowed down and turned to face me. “Tarumi is a small place. We all knew each other when we were young.”
“Then why doesn’t Kenzo go to visit her?”
“When we were young, Sachi cared a great deal for Kenzo, but the disease changed everything. After she left for Yamaguchi, she would no longer see him.”
“Just like she wouldn’t see her family?”
“Yes.”
“But, she allowed you to visit her?” I asked, not knowing if Matsu would give me an answer.
“At the time,” Matsu paused, in thought, “it was easier for Sachi to see someone she didn’t care for.” His face was expressionless, as he turned and walked quickly into the post office.
It never failed to amaze me how much one post office was like another in different places, even if every other custom varied. Tarumi’s post office was identical to ones I’d seen in Hong Kong and Canton. A small, wiry man sat behind a caged window and became the messenger of words. The bare room was crowded with people who waited in line and whispered in low voices. Matsu gestured brusquely for me to wait while he went to collect the mail. I watched him hurry to the back of the room, down a narrow hallway, and stop halfway at what must have been his box.
I hoped I hadn’t offended him by asking too many questions. When he returned, Matsu didn’t say anything, simply handing me an envelope which had my name on it.
NOVEMBER 20, 1937
The weather had changed drastically this morning. I could tell right away just by the heavy smell in the air. The sky was a dreary gray that hung so low and thick it felt suffocating. Matsu kept looking out the back door and up at the sky with such an intensity, it seemed as if it were night and he was looking for a particular star. He then mumbled something I couldn’t hear and returned to the table saying nothing.
After breakfast, I went out to the garden and read my mother’s letter over again. I had hoped that something overnight might have changed its contents. In it, she asked if I’d known anything about a woman my father was keeping in Kobe. The shock and disbelief I felt yesterday now gave way to a stabbing pain that moved through my body as I faced her words again.
“I have always known that there might be someone else,”
“Have you seen her?” Kenzo asked.
“A few days ago,” Matsu answered. “She’s doing very well.”
“Did you bring her the chicken?”
“Yes.”
“Did she ask about me?”
Matsu drank down the remainder of his beer. “No,” he said quietly. “But she gave me this note to give to you.”
Kenzo’s face lit up. He quickly reached across the table and snatched the note from Matsu’s hand, placing it carefully into his shirt pocket.
“It’s rosewater,” Kenzo whispered to me as we stepped out into the cool air. “Just a drop.”
I laughed and bowed, thanking him for the drink.
“What lies is he telling you?” Matsu asked.
“It’s a secret,” I answered.
Kenzo smiled, then looked toward Matsu. “You’ll tell me if she needs anything?”
“Of course,” Matsu said.
Kenzo bowed and put his hand over his shirt pocket to make sure the note hadn’t slipped out. He stood just a moment at the doorway of his teahouse, then disappeared back inside.
“I need to get the mail,” Matsu said, as I followed him back across the road toward another building.
“Does Kenzo know Sachi?” I quickly asked.
Matsu slowed down and turned to face me. “Tarumi is a small place. We all knew each other when we were young.”
“Then why doesn’t Kenzo go to visit her?”
“When we were young, Sachi cared a great deal for Kenzo, but the disease changed everything. After she left for Yamaguchi, she would no longer see him.”
“Just like she wouldn’t see her family?”
“Yes.”
“But, she allowed you to visit her?” I asked, not knowing if Matsu would give me an answer.
“At the time,” Matsu paused, in thought, “it was easier for Sachi to see someone she didn’t care for.” His face was expressionless, as he turned and walked quickly into the post office.
It never failed to amaze me how much one post office was like another in different places, even if every other custom varied. Tarumi’s post office was identical to ones I’d seen in Hong Kong and Canton. A small, wiry man sat behind a caged window and became the messenger of words. The bare room was crowded with people who waited in line and whispered in low voices. Matsu gestured brusquely for me to wait while he went to collect the mail. I watched him hurry to the back of the room, down a narrow hallway, and stop halfway at what must have been his box.
I hoped I hadn’t offended him by asking too many questions. When he returned, Matsu didn’t say anything, simply handing me an envelope which had my name on it.
NOVEMBER 20, 1937
The weather had changed drastically this morning. I could tell right away just by the heavy smell in the air. The sky was a dreary gray that hung so low and thick it felt suffocating. Matsu kept looking out the back door and up at the sky with such an intensity, it seemed as if it were night and he was looking for a particular star. He then mumbled something I couldn’t hear and returned to the table saying nothing.
After breakfast, I went out to the garden and read my mother’s letter over again. I had hoped that something overnight might have changed its contents. In it, she asked if I’d known anything about a woman my father was keeping in Kobe. The shock and disbelief I felt yesterday now gave way to a stabbing pain that moved through my body as I faced her words again.
“I have always known that there might be someone else,”
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