Plum Wine: A Novel

Chapter 14

14 M r. Kawabata decided Barbara should see “the bird’s picture ” of Mt. Fuji, from the site of a volcano. He drove, talking and gesticulating as they went flying up the hill. Seiji and Barbara, in the rear seat, were thrown against each other on the curves. Barbara tried not to look at the sheer drop at the edge of the road. She thought of Ko, jostled along in the palanquin, crossing the mountains to be married. “I think we will part from him soon,” Seiji said in a low voice. Mr. Kawabata began to sing in a high-pitched monotone. Barbara glanced at Seiji, her eyebrows raised. “He is reciting a poem,” Seiji said, “inspired by the day and by the presence of a lovely fox woman. I am inspired also.” “By a fox woman?” He smiled. “If you are fox woman, then I am fox man.” She laughed nervously. “Are there any fox men in Japanese stories?” 4 122 4 4 123 4 “More women in fox stories, I think. But fox woman usually does very little harm, only deceives.” “Deceit can cause harm.” The car lurched around a sharp curve. They turned onto a gravel road and stopped beside a rickety looking ski lift. Barbara looked up at the mountainside: sheer rock above a rim of trees and for as high as she could see, the flimsy seats bucking their way along between pairs of spindly steel legs. They bowed to Mr. Kawabata, and waved goodbye. Seiji bought tickets and they waited on the platform. He held her arm as a seat came along from behind and lifted them off their feet. They started off into the trees and soon were skimming high above them. Barbara looked down, her heart thudding. Seiji took her hand. “There is fine sight behind us,” he said. She turned with him and saw the lake shining below in the bowl of green mountains; beyond the lake, Fuji-san glistened in the light. The cable car wobbled slightly. She closed her eyes and gripped Seiji’s hand. “Are you faint?” he said. “No,” she said, with a little laugh. She looked at him, his face close to hers. His eyes were dark brown, almost black. She’d never noticed before the delicate eyelashes partly hidden by the folds of eyelid. “I am happy for meeting you,” he said. He put his arm on the seat behind her, his hand just touching her shoulder. Something gave inside her, like a latch undone, and she let go, letting herself rise with the motion of the lift. She took a deep breath and looked around her. Everything—the vista of mountains, the filmy clouds—was brilliantly clear. Several chairs beyond them was another couple. The woman was wearing a mustard yellow coat and her hair shone blue-black in the sun. The man was smoking a cigarette; suddenly he flicked it into mid-air. Barbara watched it fall, a white speck twirling down; it could cause a fire. But then she saw they were going over barren rock; here and there were clouds of rising steam. “This is volcano’s edge,” Seiji said. “When do you think it last erupted?” “Many hundred years ago I think. Yet still we can see the desolate effect.” He was staring fixedly down, his profile solemn. Maybe the barren landscape reminded him of Hiroshima, she thought. They were silent as the lift began climbing at a sharper angle. Soon the jagged face of the mountain was before them, yellowish plumes billowing from fissures in the rock. There was a jolt like a boat docking, then the cable car moved across the exit platform. Seiji took her arm as they hopped off. Her legs felt wobbly. “We have survived,” he said with a laugh. They walked toward a row of small buildings. In one of them was a tourist center where they found a map of the area. A young female guide in uniform told them the way to the trail where they could see “the greater boiling.” The trail was on the other side of a parking lot, a raked path just wide enough for them to walk side by side. There was no vegetation, only rock. They went up a slight incline, past wet boulders hissing steam. The air smelled strongly of sulphur. There were patches of crusty looking ground and grey mud bubbling up from crevices in the rock. A sign in English warned them...