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The Salaryman's Wife(97)

By:Sujata Massey


“I’m very safe now that I’m in the public eye. With cameras following me, who would possibly have a chance to harm me?”

“I think the best thing is to stay home with my mother. No gangster would look for you in a suburban family home.”

“I’ve got to get back to the hospital and Nichiyu.” My shock had passed, and I was finding the suburbs less than charming. At five in the morning I’d been awakened by screaming blackbirds, a sound more frightening than anything I’d ever heard in north Tokyo.

“Teaching should be the last thing on your mind, and if your employer has any compassion, he will understand your need for a leave of absence,” Tom insisted. My cousin, protected in his medical ivory tower, knew very little about the contract worker’s life. A leave of absence for me would mean a loss of salary. I wouldn’t be able to keep up my share of the apartment, and Richard would find a new roommate.

My worries multiplied as I picked up an assortment of English language dailies at the train station. The Japan Times ran a photograph of me taken at a Nichiyu holiday party with a beer in hand. Courtesy of some student, no doubt. I prayed the panties picture wouldn’t make it into print. The Japan Times journalist described me as refusing to comment, which made me look really guilty. I would have stayed away from Roppongi Hills if I knew I would have to do anything with Hugh’s defense. Why hadn’t Hugh thought about that? Then the ugly thought came to me that perhaps he had slept with me expressly for that reason—because, once firmly in hand, the little English teacher from Nichiyu would surely say and do whatever he wanted.

When I walked into orthopedics, the chip on my shoulder had grown as large as Ueno Park. I pushed aside the curtain that guarded the entry to Hugh’s room, inspecting a large arrangement of white roses with a card that said “Love from Winnie and Piers” and yellow tulips from Hikari Yasui before reaching Hugh, who lay shielded by the Japan Times.

“I’m not ready yet, Nurse,” he muttered. When I pulled the newspaper away, he brightened. “Rei! I thought you were one of them, forcing bed pans on me every quarter of an hour. This is the most humiliating experience of my life.”

“Wasn’t prison worse?” I didn’t return the charming, lopsided smile he gave me.

“Close the curtain, will you?” He patted the edge of the bed for me to sit down. I did, leaning assiduously away from his outstretched arms. He sighed and said, “I see you’re living up to the terms of our agreement.”

“What’s that?”

“My punishment. It happens to me every time we start to get close. I find it rather tiresome, especially at a time like this.”

“I don’t hate you,” I whispered, conscious of the open door. “I just had a rather rude surprise on television and in the newspapers this morning. Something about me being called as a witness for your defense.”

“Wouldn’t you testify for me?”

“No! Not when all of Tokyo knows I left your apartment at eight-fifteen in the morning. I look like your mistress, not an objective observer.”

“I see.” Hugh paused. “I know it’s rotten for your image to be wrapped up with mine. That’s a good part of why I tried to hold myself off you for so long.”

“It would have been nice if you had asked me whether I’d be willing to testify.”

“Darling, that’s not the way lawyers work. They don’t ask, they subpoena. And if I had asked and you’d agreed, the prosecutor would have asked all about what we’d concocted together. It was the best thing, really.”

He was bluffing. Searching the Nakamura house and spending the night together had compromised my credibility beyond repair. We both knew it.

“We’re not going to talk about defense or trials at all. Starting now, for your good and mine.” Hugh flashed me the look that had led to my last meltdown. “I have enough on my mind with the bastards who beat me up.”

“That attack was my fault. I am so sorry I provoked Keiko—”

Hugh flicked my apology away. “Actually, it could serve me rather well. If I have to show up in court in a wheelchair, Mr. Ota has a powerful visual argument that evil forces are trying to hush up the truth about Setsuko’s death.”

“But we still aren’t sure Keiko was behind Setsuko’s death. Mariko said she was in Tokyo on New Year’s Eve, too far from Shiroyama to do anything,” I reminded him.

“The gangsters could have followed Setsuko’s car north to Shiroyama, just as they followed me yesterday. I saw their Cadillac near my building and then outside the travel agency when I stopped to make that call to you. They jumped me after I left the phone booth.”