Mayumi put her arm around her friend’s shoulders. Her brother sipped his lukewarm tea with an uneasy expression.
Ever since then, Katsuya had abruptly stopped stalking Misa. That had been only a month ago.
Misa’s phone was on silent mode but she saw that she had a message. It was from Mayumi.
Kengo has been worrying about you lately and wants to know if you’re OK. Give him a call if you feel like it.
There was another text:
Don’t tell him I told you but last time he was home he said, Misa-chan’s got really pretty. He may be a Daimajin but he would never hit a woman, he’s the real deal. And all he ever does is karate so he doesn’t have a girlfriend, you could snatch him up.
I’ve got really pretty?
When Misa imagined Kengo saying those words, in the same calm and confident voice that he had used with Katsuya, her heart skipped a beat.
But Misa couldn’t bring herself to be the one to reach out, not having seen him for so long and then enlisting him to deal with the aftermath of her drama.
Then again – Kengo had got pretty cute himself.
He was a solid guy, relaxed and easy to talk to – nothing like that loser Katsuya.
Misa certainly wasn’t going to do as Mayumi suggested and throw herself shamelessly at Kengo, but she could probably get away with sending him a little present as a token of gratitude for his help. Then maybe they could get together for tea or something?
And she did have his mobile number – when all that business was happening, he’d given it to her ‘just in case’.
Before putting her phone away, Misa tapped out a response to Mayumi.
Thanks. I’ll call him soon. Don’t say anything to him though, it’s embarrassing.
‘That good-for-nothing. Have you thought about getting rid of him? For all he puts you through.’
—Yes, even breaking up with him put me through a lot. But I stayed true to myself and I’m glad I did it. Thank you, ma’am.
That’s what she’d say, if she ever crossed paths again with that nice old lady.
And if she were to see that geezer who had scolded her when she was in junior high, she might even thank him too.
Oh, and Et-chan’s gang as well, with their giddy girl-talk that she’d eavesdropped on. Even just thinking about them made Misa smile. She wondered how their studies for the entrance exams were coming along.
Misa made a wish that they’d all pass their exams with flying colours.
Thinking about these things made her forget all about those women with their designer handbags.
Mondo Yakujin Station
‘Unbelievable. You old ladies are the worst.’
These words were clearly aimed directly at her – well, at the group of women that she was part of – and the passenger who muttered them was the young woman beside her, she herself not a run-of-the-mill good girl but a rather fashionably dressed college type.
The kind of girl whose suitability she might question as a mother, if her son were to bring her home to meet the family.
When a mother imagines the ideal girlfriend for her son – especially one he is considering marrying – she should be neither strikingly beautiful or flamboyant, nor too homely as to be a black mark against her son’s reputation. The ideal girlfriend is a nice young miss, the type who would appear neat and unobtrusively pretty, perhaps wearing a conservative blouse and pleated skirt. Of course, not the type who’s overly bold or assertive.
At least, that’s what her group of ladies thought. They all considered themselves refined housewives who enjoyed getting dressed up for a fancy outing together. That meant a satin or chiffon dress, accessorized with eye-catching jewellery and a designer handbag. All the more of a status symbol for having been acquired at a department store in Umeda.
Even buying it in the sale, after jostling among other shoppers and snatching it away from another woman’s hands – a department store purchase still earned top honours.
Then again, the housewives who actually were refined – the real deal, not wannabes like the ones in this group – could probably afford to visit the department store anytime, regardless of the sale season, to shop at their leisure and pay full price.
Nevertheless … Yasué Itoh stole a glance at the young college student sitting beside her.
Those who really were refined wouldn’t dare to complain if their son brought home a showy girl like her who would say something as sassy as what she had just muttered.
Yasué had seen from afar the antics of the queenpin leader of her group. How she had tossed her handbag onto the seat just as that other woman was about to sit down. And Yasué had heard the crass burst of laughter.
How embarrassing.
She had been loath to join the group, wondering what the people around them would think of her.
But Yasué was definitely too timid to confront the woman who had thrown the bag. The way the queenpin saw it, she had done it as a kindness towards Yasué, giving her a leg up when she was lagging behind. Yasué was well aware of what might happen to her, were she to defy that kindness, having witnessed others who had left or been ousted from their group.
There was nothing else to do but hand the carelessly tossed bag back to her. As Yasué muttered an apology, she felt an unpleasant prickling sensation in her stomach. She’d been experiencing more frequent stomach upsets recently. She didn’t really have any interest in going all the way to Takarazuka today for an expensive lunch at a Chinese restaurant. Someone had got hold of their menu and, studying it, had remarked, ‘If we’re going to go, we just have to try the fancy prix fixe,’ and so it was decided they would order the most expensive option that was five thousand yen per person.
It being a Saturday, her husband and son were home for the day and before she left Yasué had prepared fried rice for their lunch.
I’d much rather go out with my family for such an elaborate meal, she thought. Five thousand yen apiece! Now that her daughter had married and left home, that was more than the daily food budget for her three-person household.
Her association with this group had started back when they were together in the PTA for their children’s junior high school. Yasué’s husband and son, familiar with the group’s challenging dynamics, hadn’t said a word – they had always been sympathetic to her ambivalence about attending these outings.
When Yasué had handed the bag back and apologized, the queenpin had said, ‘No big deal,’ with an audible laugh. Yasué had smiled in an attempt to be agreeable. She had learned that the secret to getting along in life was not to go against the alpha.
That’s when the comment, like a stab in the gut, had been let loose from the seat beside her.
Unbelievable. You old ladies are the worst.
But what could Yasué say that would make the young woman understand that she dared not refuse the seat saved for her by the queenpin?
It’s not as if I’m happy to be a member of this group, Yasué thought. I find them embarrassing myself.
Would you believe me if I said I’m ashamed to admit that you, young lady, tut-tutting, behave better than they do?
Thanks, but no thanks – next time, don’t bother saving me a seat, I’d rather stand.
The fact that Yasué lacked the nerve to say any of these things out loud meant being lumped in with these ladies and being one of ‘the worst’.
She envied those women who had long ago been put off by the group and whose names no one ever mentioned any more. Having missed her chance to escape herself, she wondered just how long her relationship with them would go on for.
‘NEXT STOP, MONDO YAKUJIN. MONDO YAKUJIN.’