This begins the final part of Hanako's arc in 'After the Dream', my post-Lilly-neutral-end mosaic.
Minor edits incorporated, thanks to several members of this wonderful community.
Hanako 7: Findings (T +55)
When I tell people that my aged husband Hideaki has killed a bear and eaten its liver, it is of course a joke. But they believe it, for the large, strong, handsome man who is holding my even more aged hand is a great man of his times.
With those precious few of you who actually knew him in his youth, this is still cause for incredulity. After all, he used to dress up in—hush, husband, we have not long, and you will let me say these last things—unusual clothing and pretend to be somebody else. And he was thin and looked soft, besides.
To those who come after me, and wonder at these primitive records of our simple 21st century lives: call up the works of the Nakai Foundation, and try to understand that what I have done requires courage, and above all, a faith I have kept for many, many years. For it is more than five decades since my friend Hisao died, and I have still never let him down.
Lastly, to those of my readers who have faithfully followed me on my journey, remember that I have always been your shy Hanako, despite the many other things I have been. I have also kept faith with you.
*****
7-1: Family Matters
Picture this. There are two people sitting in the old, timeworn Shanghai café. They have clearly just come from a funeral. He is a big man in a charcoal-grey suit of Parisian cut; she is slender in a long black dress with a deep purple-black sash. The nervous waitress has poured their tea, their meals lie before them in the striking lacquer of a traditional dinner set.
“I love you. Have, for quite a while, really. I am quite sure I want to make you happy all my life,” he adds, to a long string of words that she is not really listening to in her confusion. For dinner after a difficult day is one thing, but a proposal is quite another.
“N-no,” she replies. She is grateful for his company and his thoughtfulness. But he is so young, so foolish… so. So. She realizes that maybe she has not really looked at him properly in a long while. She might have to look again, but that will take a longer time than this.
He smiles bashfully. There is an oddly appealing blush creeping over his neck and face, above the formal dark suit and black tie of the recent mourner.
“Ah, sorry, Hana-chan. It is the wrong day for such things. I don’t know what came over me. Let’s just enjoy dinner.”
“O-okay. No m-more of this, Hideaki. Besides, I am too old for you and your father will wreak a t-terrible vengeance. And if not, your sister will.”
I look back at that particular moment with a sense of irony, at times. I remember it well. Yes, husband, I am sure you do too. Yet, there will be other kinds of humour in this evening as well, personal and slightly charming, so my wise old self will share more of it with you.
His face falls. Truly, his father is an uncomfortable person to be with, which is why he spends so much time with his cousin Akira and me. I’m not sure what his sister will do, though. We’ve known each other a long time, and have shared some confidences, so maybe we’re friends.
What an odd thought: ‘maybe’ friends. But that is the way it is with Shizune Hakamichi, always. It is so easy to not be friends with her, I think ruefully even as I scold myself for being unfair.
“Thank you for listening. Let’s not allow the food to get cold,” he says, still not looking at me.
Maybe I have hurt him a bit. I wince, thinking of my own past experiences and fears of rejection. But I pick up my utensils anyway, giving a small nod of agreement.
It’s been a tiring day, and warm food in a light teriyaki sauce is always welcome. The sensations of crunchy pickles, smooth meat and sticky rice engage us for a while. There is a certain sensuality in eating, and sometimes, it is dominant over all else. So we eat, and take some pleasure in just being human together for a while.
The saké arrives. I take some of that time to look at him again. He has grown into his father’s build, his sister’s determination, and his own offbeat grace. It’s not a bad combination; I think perhaps Akira and I might have had some responsibility for that last element.
He catches me staring at him, and gives me a crooked smile. That disconcerts me, and I find myself saying something without my usual caution.
“Hide-kun, do you think your sister is b-beautiful?”
His heavy brows crease as he ponders both the question and the questioner. Deliberately, he finishes a sip of his miso soup before answering.
“Who, Shizune? She is a small piece of beautiful, but she is terrifying also. You might wake up in the morning and look at her and she’d be staring lovingly at you and you’d wonder what poison is in your breakfast.”
I laugh very softly into my hand. It takes some control.
He grins and continues, “Yet I do love her. She’s family. She and I, we fight sometimes, but very politely and not to kill.”
“H-how about your cousins?”
His grin broadens. It is incongruous to see this on a dangerous-looking man in a funeral suit, I realize. I wonder what the other patrons must be thinking.
“Oh, Lilly is without doubt the more dangerously beautiful of the two! Many have fallen, but few are chosen—perhaps only one. She is like a Valkyrie on the field of the slain, the one that hovers above the fray looking good in her armour. Or maybe like Bardot, the face of France.”
Now I am forced into placing a morsel of eel into my mouth just to suppress laughter. I have often thought of Lilly as a Valkyrie, but not so amusingly. I wonder how he’s become so literary—he’s a lawyer, and used to be such a robot. I’ve never heard him talk so much.
“Akira, on the other hand, was the love of my life. Until one day she broke my heart by saying, ‘Kid, I’m thirteen years older than you, I love you like a bro, but enough with that kissy-face.’ I was twenty, and still hopeful—I thought she would wait for me to grow up. It’s why I wanted to become a lawyer.”
That would have been about ten years ago, I think. Any more of these confidences, and I will split my sides. I put on a serious face.
“Is that all? Y-you have such interesting views on your relatives!”
He suddenly looks much more sober. Maybe he thinks he has been too irreverent. In Japan, family is still family, after all. And the young do not mock their elders.
“I did not wish to give offence.”
“I have t-taken none.”
He cheers up a bit, but there is clearly something nagging at him now.
“I think that when I have ideas about beauty, they come from my faint memories of Mother.”
This is dangerous territory, very personal. I breathe in sharply, but without showing it. In almost two decades that I’ve known him, he’s not said anything about this matter.
“She was quietly beautiful, and she was older by a few years than my father. A political arrangement, I think it was—the kind of business deal that only certain Japanese institutions make with each other. Father loved her completely; I think she came to love him too. But something… happened.”
He drinks his cup dry.
“Well, there’s almost nothing about her in Father’s famous autobiography, and my cousins were the last to see her at the end.”
He looks at me squarely, not favouring either side of my face. Perhaps he is looking through me, rather than at me.
“I also have a sister who is sitting in front of me, and she is beautiful to me like my mother was. That is all.”
*****
It’s been two years after that fateful dinner, and we have grown comfortable in our friendship. But there are still some very large and uncomfortable obstacles, and I am not talking about the natural relations that come with sharing a bed.
“No, no, ten thousand times, no!” roars the man with the katana.
“You’re being unreasonable, Father,” growls the man with the book.
I have thought at times that being in the Hakamichi house is like wandering around a den of fierce and arbitrary animals that might choose to turn on you at any time. Both the men are like bears, and if Shizune were not naturally incapable of speaking aloud, she’d possibly be more dangerous.
[Let’s go outside. We need to talk.]
“Stop waving those fingers at me!” hisses my potential father-in-law.
[Not at you!]
Shizune signs so emphatically that there is a moment of silence.
Her brother cuts into the gap with a few well chosen words—none of which I choose to repeat here—as Shizune pointedly turns her back on her family, seizes me by the wrist, and ushers me out of the front door. I willingly comply.
We are some distance away from the house when she finally turns to look at me. There is something else in her face besides anger, and it is not aimed at me. I am grateful for that, but as she releases a heavily-burdened sigh, my feelings change to concern.
[What do you need, Shi-chan?] I sign. The one thing that has really changed between us is that she accepts me as her sister in all but name.
[You know, Hana-chan, things have not always been simple between us. I am a person who is often bad for those around me, but you are the reverse. One must know one’s own shortcomings to progress.]
[All we did was ask your father’s blessing.]
I am surprised at how much sadness, how much longing, enters my heart as I sign this. The Hakamichi clan is very traditional in certain matters of custom and culture, despite the individually quirky behaviour of some of its members, and Shizune’s father is proving no exception.
[You know why he objects, Hana-chan. It is not just that you are older, but that…]
[I’m scarred? I’m not good enough for the family? I bring no advantages, nor prestige?]
Shizune’s face is glowing with angry embarrassment, I think. I immediately regret my outburst, but she sees that and waves it away. I subside and let her continue.
[No. Not that. It is that you remind him of Mother. I am sorry, but I myself have been silent on this matter, even though we have shared much friendship.]
I don’t know what to say. Maybe I will never know, and I certainly cannot ask Lilly, even though she is one of my closest friends and probably knows the tale. Family secrets are not for the outsider; that is my firm belief.
[I do not mean to intrude on your family’s business.]
[No. I know you. I know my brother. Some say I am a busybody, but I think you will be happy together. I will bless it, but it is not my blessing that you want.]
Her fingers are shaking, but she forces herself to continue. It is painful for me to watch, because she is doing this for me.
[One. Mother was older than he. She left him, went to live with her brother. It was an insult to the clan. Both his relatives and hers blamed him. He was hurt, blamed the foreign woman that this brother-in-law had married. This made matters worse.]
It’s like watching someone extract kidney stones with chopsticks. The sick feeling as I watch decades of history open up—this is something I can hardly bear. To judge from her expression, it is the same for Shizune. My instinct is to hold her. She lifts one hand, and I wait.
[Two. Father has a long-term illness. He looks well, but he has… a serious problem in the lungs. The doctors say even our current medical ability will not remove it. I want him to be at peace when his time has come.]
There seems to be nothing I could say, even if we were indeed sisters. What is the word for the feeling you have when nothing seems to be right?
*****
Hideaki and I were married the year after Jigoro Hakamichi passed on. The old man, as the poet wrote, blessed and cursed us with his fierce tears. He did not go gently into that good night. But he let us move on, and that made all the difference—we have now had many good years, and been blessed in many ways.
And Shizune became my sister. From that day on, though we quarreled over many things and sometimes most bitterly, we were always allies in trying to make the world a better place, through our words and acts. It was like this until she died, at the table next to mine, on her 75th birthday.
=====
This is the first half of a long post (see next post).
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