Yasuyo asked her if she had a photo of her son. Yuriko shook her head. She didn’t have even one.
“If I had a photo or anything like that, I’d never be able to forget about him.”
As Yuriko said this, a stern glint appeared in her eye.
She’s merciless with herself. Was this what led to the breakdown of the marriage? Yasuyo wondered.
Yuriko had been working at Seven for around ten years when a major change occurred. Yuriko developed a deep attachment to one of the bar’s patrons.
Yuriko referred to him as Mr. Watabe. Yasuyo had met him a few times in the bar. He used to sit at the counter in the corner sipping a weak whiskey and water while reading a magazine or listening to the radio with earphones. He appeared to be in his late fifties and was of middling height, neither fat nor thin. From the hardness of his biceps, Yasuyo suspected he was probably a laborer of some sort.
Yasuyo, sensing that something was going on between the two, asked Yuriko about Watabe. Slightly shamefaced, Yuriko acknowledged that she was in a relationship with him. He always used to stay until closing time when he came to the bar. That was how Yuriko had picked up on his feelings for her. Over time, she’d come to feel the same way about him.
Yuriko apologized to Yasuyo.
“You’ve no reason to apologize to me,” said Yasuyo. “I’m happy for you. I always thought you’d be better off with a man in your life. Is he already married? I’m guessing he’s single. If he is, then what’s holding you back? Why not marry him while you’re at it?”
Yuriko didn’t rise to the bait. “Oh, I couldn’t do that,” she said halfheartedly, shaking her head.
Although Yasuyo got the impression that the relationship continued after that, she chose not to pry. It was obvious enough that Yuriko didn’t want to talk about it. Watabe’s life seemed to have complications of its own.
Eventually, Watabe stopped coming to the bar. When Yasuyo asked why, Yuriko explained that he had gone somewhere else — somewhere a long way away — for his work. He worked in the electric power business and had to travel all around Japan.
It was around the same time that Yuriko herself changed. She got sick and started missing work. The symptoms weren’t always the same. Sometimes she’d a mild fever; at other times, she just felt generally run-down.
“This could be serious. You should go to the doctor and get yourself a proper checkup.”
Whenever Yasuyo suggested this, she always got the same reply: “No, I’m fine.” After a while, Yuriko was able to resume working and was every bit as committed to her work as before.
Some while later, Watabe reappeared in Sendai. Yasuyo felt an enormous sense of relief. Poor Yuriko must have been so miserable being left all alone, she thought to herself.
Several more years passed this way. The economic bubble had long collapsed and Yasuyo’s restaurant was struggling. She wanted to offer good food at a reasonable price, but business was more competitive than ever. Two new restaurants opened close to hers, battling fiercely over a small handful of customers.
Things weren’t looking any better for her bar either. Once again, Yuriko’s health started breaking down and she often failed to show up for work. Eventually, she approached Yasuyo and asked for permission to quit.
“The way I am now, I’m only causing you problems. I’m not young either; you’d be better off hiring someone to replace me,” she said with a bow of apology.
“What nonsense! Everyone knows that you’re the person who made Seven into what it is today. If you’re having problems with your health, then take some time off, get looked at, get the treatment you need, and get better. Take all the time you need. I may hire somebody else in the meantime, but I promise you they’ll be nothing more than a stopgap. I’m worried about you. Are you eating properly? You’re so thin. It’s not normal...”
Yasuyo was right. Yuriko had lost so much weight that it was painful to look at her. Her cheeks had fallen in, and her chin was bony and angular. Her beautiful oval face had lost all its soft curves.
“I’m fine. Really I am. I don’t want you worrying about me...,” Yuriko said. Yuriko had never been one to wear her emotions on her sleeve, but her face seemed even more blank and expressionless than ever.
Yasuyo thought of Watabe. What was going on with him? He was off again in some faraway part of the country, came the reply. That can’t be helping Yuriko feel better, Yasuyo thought.
Yuriko ended up having to take a long time off work. Although Yasuyo was busy running both her businesses, she still found the time to phone her friend. Occasionally, she even went to see her.
Yuriko’s health seemed far from good. Yasuyo often found her lying on her futon and she didn’t seem to be eating properly. Had she gone to the hospital? Yasuyo asked. Yes, said Yuriko, but they had not been able to pinpoint what was wrong with her.
Yasuyo knew that the sooner she took her friend to a proper hospital the better, but her work was overwhelming and she simply couldn’t find the time. Before she knew it, it was winter again and another year was approaching its end.
One day, a light snow started falling early in the afternoon. If the snow settled, even healthy people would have trouble negotiating the city streets. Anxious about Yuriko, Yasuyo gave her a call.
No answer. The phone rang but no one picked up.
Ill at ease, Yasuyo immediately wrapped herself up in her hooded down jacket, pulled on a pair of boots, and set off. Yuriko still lived in the same apartment she’d had since she first arrived.
The apartment building was two stories tall and divided into eight units. Yuriko’s apartment was on the second floor at the far end. Yasuyo went up to the front door and rang the bell. There was no response.
She noticed that the mailbox was overflowing with junk mail and advertising flyers. Her heart fluttered in her chest. Yasuyo tried the bell again.
The next moment her heart jumped into her throat. She could hear the intercom ringing on the other side of the front door.
She started banging on the door. “Yuriko, Yuriko, are you there? If you’re there, say something.”
There was no sound from inside the apartment. Yasuyo turned the knob but the door was locked.
She ran down the stairs and, noticing a sign with the name of the real estate company, she hastily called them.
About thirty minutes later, someone from the real estate company let Yasuyo into the apartment. As the door opened, the first thing to catch her eye was Yuriko, sprawled on the kitchen floor. Yasuyo tore off her boots and dashed over to her friend, calling her name as she put her arms around her and lifted her off the floor. Yuriko’s body was cold, stiff, and startlingly light. Yasuyo thought she could detect the hint of a smile on her waxen face.
She started to weep aloud.
The police took away Yuriko’s body. Noticing the grimace on Yasuyo’s face, the detective in charge, who was in a suit, said, “It’s okay. We always put them back to normal before we give them back to you. Besides, I’m guessing that an autopsy won’t be needed. The apartment’s not been messed up. It doesn’t look like a crime’s been committed here and suicide looks unlikely too.”
Yasuyo was taken to the police station for questioning. The police asked her how she’d gotten to know Yuriko and what chain of events had led to her finding her friend’s body.
The detective listened to what she had to say. “It sounds as though she has no family then?” he asked.
“That’s what she told me. She has a son with her ex but I don’t think they’re in touch.”
“Have you got the son’s contact details?”