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Chapter 13
- University of Wisconsin Press
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13 I n the morning it was raining, a cold steady drizzle. Barbara woke at first light, but waited until nine before walking up the hill to Seiji’s inn. Surely he wouldn’t look in the bag before she came. The front door was open but the hallway was dark and silent. She’d come too early. Though there was a light on down the hall, and she could smell something cooking. “Ohayo gozaimasu,” she called out softly. As she approached Seiji’s room she was surprised to hear the faint sound of conversation inside, men’s voices. She slid the door open an inch. “Good morning,” she said, “I hope it’s not too soon to begin our work.” “Ah, Barbara-san.” Seiji walked toward her across the tatami. He wore a brown robe over his blue and white sleeping kimono; his feet were bare. “Please meet my friend, Mr. Kawabata,” Seiji said. “He is our innkeeper and also a poet.” An elderly man with bright eyes and a long white goatee sat 4 112 4 4 113 4 crosslegged beside the kotatsu. He bowed from the waist, gazing at Barbara over reading glasses perched low on his nose; in his hands was one of Michi’s papers. “You’ve opened the bag!” she said. “Yes,” Seiji said, “I am fortunate to find Mr. Kawabata kindly willing to help with difficult kanbun in Chie-san’s writing.” Mr.Kawabata said something in Japanese to Seiji. “Kawabata sensei thinks you are like apparition,” Seiji said, “golden haired woman coming into inn on a rainy morning.” “Domo arigato gozaimasu,” Barbara said with a little bow, though she couldn’t tell from the man’s expression whether this was a compliment or not. “Please tell him I thought he was an apparition too.” She knelt beside the kotatsu and reached for Michi’s bag while Seji translated what she’d said. The man burst into laughter. “He thinks you are funny,” Seiji said. “Yes, I see he does.” The man was now peering mischievously at her from the end of the table. He said something else in Japanese she didn’t understand. “Mr. Kawabata wants to know if you would please take some breakfast,” Seiji said. “I’ve already eaten, thank you,” she said, bowing toward Mr. Kawabata. “Please enjoy yourself at my inn.” Mr. Kawabata bowed, and waved her toward the kotatsu. He scrambled up, gave Barbara another of his impish smiles, and rattled off a few sentences in Japanese. “He says please warm yourself at the fresh coals,” Seiji said as Mr. Kawabata left, still talking. “His wife will bring tea right away. Meanwhile I will go to dress myself. I did not imagine you would be such early waker,” he added with a smile. “Really?” She smiled back at him as she sat at the kotatsu and slipped her legs beneath the quilt. “Did you think I was lazy?” “No, just enjoying sleep, like a cat.” Her face flushed. She watched as he took his clothes from a small suitcase. “Did you read anything else?” she asked, “Any of Michi’s other papers?” “Just one, from the 1931 wine, but it is quite long as you know. I could not have managed without Mr. Kawabata’s assistance.” After Seiji left, she unsnapped a side pocket of the black bag and saw with relief her journal and translation book seemed to be just as she had left them. And the diaphragm in its case, swaddled in the furoshiki. Of course he wouldn’t go rifling through her things. She took out the translation notebook, then unfurled the 1931 scroll. Even she could tell that some of the characters were more ornate than Michi’s. And the brushstrokes were more intense, clotted-looking in places. It was exciting not to know what Chie had written, yet to have the expectation that she would know. The process of translation—with Seiji as guide—had the quality of sexual anticipation. In the garden, rain was splashing on a large stone beside the pine tree and soaking into the green moss. There were odors of wet earth and damp tatami matting and, from somewhere in the building, a hint of incense. Mrs. Kawabata, a sweet-faced woman with white hair, brought tea and bean cakes. Just as she left, Seiji returned, wearing the same clothes he’d had on the day before. He was still barefooted, but his hair was carefully...