building support for his innocence. I guess he’d thanked me in his own manner.
I gave myself a quick sponge bath in the lavatory, scrubbing everywhere his mouth had been. Then I dressed and began making plans for my trip back to Tokyo.
10
“But the holiday week isn’t over yet. You have not visited the ghost museum.” Taro Ikeda pushed his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose as if examining me for my true intent. We were eating our last breakfast together, and he and Yuki had vehemently protested my early departure. Mrs. Yogetsu remained silent as she moved between us, scooping hot rice into the breakfast bowls.
“ Boyfriendo trouble.” Yuki’s Jinglish didn’t make me smile. How had they picked up on things?
“Yes, Rei, don’t you want to wait to say bye to Hugh and Mr. Yamamoto?” Mrs. Chapman asked. “I think they’ll be back from skiing by mid-afternoon.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t. The death—I’ve never been exposed to anything like that. And I booked myself on the morning train. I’ll beat the U-turn rush of travelers going back to the city.”
You’re going back to Tokyo, then?” Mrs. Chapman’s voice was all business.
“That’s right.” Back to my crummy flat and my best friend Richard Randall and a job that, on the best days, could only be called tolerable. Back to life and not death.
“Don’t worry, honey. I’ll tag along with you. I’ve seen all these mountains. What I need is to experience a world class Japanese city. I’ll stay with you until I find a hotel.”
How to best discourage her? “Mrs. Chapman, I live in a fourth floor walk-up. One and a half rooms with no heat. Also, the neighborhood is a magnet for the homeless.”
“That sounds interesting!”
Taro grunted and Yuki put her hand over her mouth, hiding her giggle.
Remembering Mrs. Chapman’s conservative nature, I brought out the artillery. “My roommate is gay or bisexual, he’s not sure which. We’d have to all sleep together….”
“Well, I could just as easily find a hotel. With heat.” She blinked rapidly. “Mr. Ikeda, would you be kind enough to set something up with your reservations person? So it’s ready when we arrive?”
We had seats on the train and slept half the way to Tokyo. Once there, we went straight to the touristy southwestern part. Taro’s agent had found a single room with private bath and central heat in Roppongi for $150; the only explanation for the deal was thateveryone was out of town for the holidays. Mrs. Chapman was pleased with the price and the sight of all the Western restaurants in the area.
“We’ll talk first thing tomorrow morning,” she said, writing down my telephone number and address in the hotel lobby. “You’ll take me to Tokyo Tower and the Meiji Shrine and maybe Disneyland.”
“Why don’t you try another bus tour? There are organized excursions to all those places…” I had escaped my holiday in hell only to find it wouldn’t let me go.
She got my message, because her voice came more slowly. “Gosh, I’m chattering on, when you probably left Shiroyama to get away from me! My husband always said I was pushy. I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry,” I said. “It is hard to be a stranger in a foreign city. I’m sure we’ll be able to meet some time…maybe for lunch early next week?”
“You’ve got a deal. Rei Shimura.” She sighed happily, looking around the cozy lobby decorated in pink and teal. “Hey, do you think there’s a bellhop in this place?”
I could have used assistance by the time I finally got home, humping my heavy bag up the stairwell into a dark and freezing apartment. Richard should have been home, but then again, I hadn’t called ahead to tell him about my premature arrival.
Saturday morning, the kitchen was so cold I had to turn the broiler on for warmth while I made toast and coffee. Going through the stack of newspapersthat had piled up, I began looking for mention of Setsuko Nakamura’s death.
I
I gave myself a quick sponge bath in the lavatory, scrubbing everywhere his mouth had been. Then I dressed and began making plans for my trip back to Tokyo.
10
“But the holiday week isn’t over yet. You have not visited the ghost museum.” Taro Ikeda pushed his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose as if examining me for my true intent. We were eating our last breakfast together, and he and Yuki had vehemently protested my early departure. Mrs. Yogetsu remained silent as she moved between us, scooping hot rice into the breakfast bowls.
“ Boyfriendo trouble.” Yuki’s Jinglish didn’t make me smile. How had they picked up on things?
“Yes, Rei, don’t you want to wait to say bye to Hugh and Mr. Yamamoto?” Mrs. Chapman asked. “I think they’ll be back from skiing by mid-afternoon.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t. The death—I’ve never been exposed to anything like that. And I booked myself on the morning train. I’ll beat the U-turn rush of travelers going back to the city.”
You’re going back to Tokyo, then?” Mrs. Chapman’s voice was all business.
“That’s right.” Back to my crummy flat and my best friend Richard Randall and a job that, on the best days, could only be called tolerable. Back to life and not death.
“Don’t worry, honey. I’ll tag along with you. I’ve seen all these mountains. What I need is to experience a world class Japanese city. I’ll stay with you until I find a hotel.”
How to best discourage her? “Mrs. Chapman, I live in a fourth floor walk-up. One and a half rooms with no heat. Also, the neighborhood is a magnet for the homeless.”
“That sounds interesting!”
Taro grunted and Yuki put her hand over her mouth, hiding her giggle.
Remembering Mrs. Chapman’s conservative nature, I brought out the artillery. “My roommate is gay or bisexual, he’s not sure which. We’d have to all sleep together….”
“Well, I could just as easily find a hotel. With heat.” She blinked rapidly. “Mr. Ikeda, would you be kind enough to set something up with your reservations person? So it’s ready when we arrive?”
We had seats on the train and slept half the way to Tokyo. Once there, we went straight to the touristy southwestern part. Taro’s agent had found a single room with private bath and central heat in Roppongi for $150; the only explanation for the deal was thateveryone was out of town for the holidays. Mrs. Chapman was pleased with the price and the sight of all the Western restaurants in the area.
“We’ll talk first thing tomorrow morning,” she said, writing down my telephone number and address in the hotel lobby. “You’ll take me to Tokyo Tower and the Meiji Shrine and maybe Disneyland.”
“Why don’t you try another bus tour? There are organized excursions to all those places…” I had escaped my holiday in hell only to find it wouldn’t let me go.
She got my message, because her voice came more slowly. “Gosh, I’m chattering on, when you probably left Shiroyama to get away from me! My husband always said I was pushy. I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry,” I said. “It is hard to be a stranger in a foreign city. I’m sure we’ll be able to meet some time…maybe for lunch early next week?”
“You’ve got a deal. Rei Shimura.” She sighed happily, looking around the cozy lobby decorated in pink and teal. “Hey, do you think there’s a bellhop in this place?”
I could have used assistance by the time I finally got home, humping my heavy bag up the stairwell into a dark and freezing apartment. Richard should have been home, but then again, I hadn’t called ahead to tell him about my premature arrival.
Saturday morning, the kitchen was so cold I had to turn the broiler on for warmth while I made toast and coffee. Going through the stack of newspapersthat had piled up, I began looking for mention of Setsuko Nakamura’s death.
I
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