The Salaryman's Wife(90)

As we drove south, Hugh tuned the radio to a night jazz program. Akiko Yano sang in her high, sweet voice about memories the color of the wind. Keiko’s memories were much darker. Black enough, perhaps, to send me a swift, dangerous message.

I had laid the groundwork for my accident. On my first visit to Club Marimba, I’d given Mariko my card, which had my business and home addresses in both English and Japanese. She’d slipped it in her purse, which lay open on the dressing table when Keiko had walked in on us. Either the Mama-san had taken the card, or Mariko had given it to her.

We dropped off Richard at Simone’s cramped but safe apartment in Ebisu and continued on to Roppongi, where I stared out the window at cross-cultural couples. Peroxide-blond hostesses were slipping into the flash cars of old, wealthy Japanese men; more natural-looking Japanese O.L.s walked hand-in-hand with ruddy-faced foreigners they’d probably met at work. I thought about what Keiko had said about warped relationships between foreigners and Japanese.

“I have a question for you.” I kept my voice light. “Do you think of me as Japanese or American?”

“I don’t know why you’re worrying about things like this after the night we’ve had—you could have lost your life on those stairs—”

“You pointed out once that I had a problem defining myself. I wanted to hear what you thought. I’m curious,” I added, feeling his eyes on me.

“Both,” he said at last. “Turn here. I want to avoid Roppongi Crossing.”

“It’s impossible to be both!” I was irritated at his cop-out.

“What do you want me to say? That you have the face and figure of the woman in the Japanese art book, but a meaner streak than Tonya Harding? That despite your tea ceremony manners, you’re absolutely undaunted by power? I heard about how you treated Piers Clancy.” Hugh sighed, making me think they’d had an argument.

“He deserved it.” I recognized where we were and proceeded slowly into the Roppongi Hills driveway, looking out for photographers. No one was visible except for a good-looking blond woman pulling shopping bags from the trunk of a Volvo. She hastened her step so we all reached the elevator at the same time. I was glad there was no staircase; I couldn’t have handled one tonight, even with the lights on.

“Halo, Hugh! I suppose you know those television people were waiting outside all afternoon and evening? I was thinking of making them all a cup of tea.” To me, she said in an overly slow and loud voice, “Konnichiwa.”

“Konbanwa,” I replied, the teacher in me unable to resist correcting her good day to evening.

“Yes, yes. Four years here and I still can’t keep it straight.” Her throaty laugh matched her lean, tall figure and the black mink that stretched to her slim ankles. Faint lines around her hard blue eyes told me she was either a fanatic sun-worshipper or a few years older than Hugh.

“Rei, this is Winnie Clancy.” Hugh was yawning twice as much as he had in the car. “You know her husband Piers.”

‘Ah so desu ka?” Is that so? I asked. But Winnie didn’t seem interested in anyone but Hugh.

“Now that you’re out of that tiresome prison, you can come to the black-and-white party benefiting the International School’s swimming pool next weekend.” Winnie placed her massive shopping bags on the elevator floor, cordoning me off into a corner. “If you buy a table of ten, that would cover the cost of the diving board. I’ve got a dinner partner for you already, a lovely girl from Wiltshire who’s working with the cultural attaché…”

I smiled. It was interesting what people would say if they thought you didn’t understand their language.

“Winnie, please.” Hugh looked mortified.

“Oh, how impolite of me. You have a guest this evening.” The door opened at her floor but Winnie leaned in the doorway, unwilling to depart. “After your little friend leaves, come by for a sherry.”

“I’m exhausted. Better not.” Hugh waved and pressed the CLOSE button.

“I don’t know, Hugh. You seem to have a bizarre connection with older, married women.” I lifted the back of my skirt to rub my thigh still sore from Keiko’s blow.

“If it weren’t for Winnie, I’m sure Piers would have left me to rot in Shiroyama.” Hugh’s eyes were focused straight ahead. I followed his gaze and realized he was watching my actions in the mirror. I took a while dropping the hem of my skirt and stepped off the elevator in front of him.

“Don’t go before I take a look at your leg,” he offered while turning the key in his door.