I Hear Them Cry (5 page)

As I continued to brood, a young French man approached and asked how I was enjoying the party. He was a salesman for a French wine supplier and introduced himself as Alan. After I talked about my drawings and part-time jobs, he offered to whisk me away on a drive and show me around.

“If we take a short trip to the suburbs,” he said, “we can drive along a street lined with
marronnier
trees. It’s a beautiful sight.”

“Sounds lovely!”

“Okay, then! I promise: I’ll come pick you up sometime.”

I was enjoying that intimate chat with Alan as half of me burned with a sense of rivalry against Shigeki. It was then that my cell phone rang.

ANNA: ONE

“Mayu,” Jean said, “something serious has happened.”

“What is it?” I asked, the alarm in Jean’s voice making me tighten my grip on the phone.

“Pierre stabbed his mother.”

Just like that, I was dragged down from the opulent heights of this party and the world it represented, falling back down to the cruel world of violence and horror with the poor people of the church community. Shigeki’s contribution had been tossed in a ditch after all.

“I’m at the hospital now, but Anna is frightened.”

“I’m on my way,” I said.

Anna’s eyes were wide open in terror. I heard her cry,

Help. Help. Somebody help.

I failed to do anything for my grandmother that time. It happened when I was in the third grade. As dusk approached, a dim light appeared in the kitchen’s bay window.

“Excuse me, which way to Hikami? It’s in Hyōgo Prefecture? I’ve lost my way.”

It was my grandmother, holding a rolled-up newspaper that she had set on fire and was using like a torch. Although this is where she had been born and bred, she was aimlessly wandering around.

“Hello? Hello? Can anyone tell me? Hikami? I’m trying to get to—”

My mother, having seen the “torch,” ran from the garden and emptied a bucket of water over Grandmother’s head. The flame had been on the verge of spreading to her kimono cuff. She stood there in a wet daze, cloaked in the cold autumn twilight, unable to grasp what had just happened.

Having witnessed this spectacle, I was left speechless. But what shocked me most wasn’t Grandmother’s odd behavior, but my mother’s merciless act of dousing her. I sensed in my mother something akin to hatred. She had demonstrated such intense resolve.

Then, all at once, I saw what was in the depths of Grandmother’s heart. I knew then that everything would be all right if I simply hugged her and stayed close to her. All she wanted was a place where she could feel safe and secure—where she could have peace of mind.

Anna, darling, you just hang in there, okay? I’m coming for you.

Seeing how quickly my demeanor had changed, Alan said, “What’s going on? Do you need a ride? My car’s outside.” I took advantage of his kindness and left a message for Shigeki, telling him that something urgent had arisen.

When I arrived at the hospital, I was asking myself what had come over Pierre. Jean was sitting in a chair, looking sad with his shoulders drooped and his head in his hands. He seemed to be at his wit’s end. Anna was clinging to Jean’s right arm.

“Simone narrowly escaped death, Mayu,” Jean said.

“What happened?”

“I’m in the dark. Simone had turned over a new leaf, and even Pierre was doing his best.”

I coaxed Anna away from Jean and embraced her.

“I’ll be going to the police now,” Jean said. “You’ll stay with Anna?”

“Of course.”

Alan drove Anna and me home. Anna fell asleep in the car, the shock and fatigue of the day catching up with her. We arrived at my apartment before long. Alan carried her inside and put her in my bed.

I prepared some coffee. I was so fraught with tension that it felt like each one of my nerve fibers was stretched abnormally thin, ready to split apart at any moment. Not only had Pierre stabbed his mother, but I couldn’t shake what Noriko had told me about Shigeki. These thoughts swirled in my head, creating eddies of confusion. Slowly, the aroma of the coffee calmed my mind—but not for long.

Shigeki entered the apartment just as Alan stepped out of the bedroom after putting Anna to sleep. Before I could even begin to think about what to say, Shigeki slapped me.

“I didn’t think you were that kind of a woman,” he said.

My mind went blank. I had no idea what was happening.

“Hey, calm down,” Alan said, stepping between Shigeki and me. Shigeki grabbed Alan’s lapels and suddenly took a swing at him, knocking him off his feet.

“Stop!” I hollered while attempting to push away Shigeki and protect Alan. But this only inflamed the situation. Shigeki pushed me into the bedroom door with such force that it opened.

Standing there, Anna looked horrified. Shigeki turned stiff for an instant and stared at Anna and Alan before resting his eyes on me, his body drooping.

“It appears that I have done a terrible thing,” Shigeki said, offering his hand to Alan.

“Yes, you have,” I said. Then I guided Anna back to the bedroom, where I lulled her to sleep.

When I returned to the living room, the two men had become calm. It was as if nothing had happened.

“I’ll be leaving now, Mayu. It appears that I’m intruding,” Alan said.

“Thank you so much for your help today, really—I mean it.”

Shigeki turned to Alan and said, “I’m genuinely sorry. Mayu, would you convey my apologies again?”

Alan waved his hand, as if to say
nevermind
, and left.

As soon as the front door closed, Shigeki approached me from behind and placed his hand around my waist, whispering into my ear, “I was in pain. My chest was burning up—I’ve never experienced such a sensation before. It’s my first time. Can you forgive me?”

When I turned around, instead of answering, I wrapped my arms around his neck and passionately returned his kiss. At that moment, I was aggressively driving away the other women in Shigeki’s life, kicking them out, walking all over them. Noriko’s warning be damned! It was absolutely meaningless to me. We drifted toward the sofa and fell over each other to become one.

Mayu, Mayu, Mayu.

Over and over again he whispered my name into my ear. It began to overlap with Anna’s cry; it was a cry for help, a cry that brought to mind the picture of Anna desperately trying to hold on to someone.

Was it just my imagination?

ANNA: TWO

I was talking to Shigeki about Anna and Pierre when Anna awoke and timidly entered the room. With her wrinkled T-shirt and soft blonde hair disheveled, she looked strangely sensual. When she noticed Shigeki relaxing in a chair at the dining table, holding a cup of coffee in one hand, she quickly pulled back her hair, smoothing and arranging it. Looking all prim and proper, she approached the table, rested her chin on her right hand, and said in a very languid, apathetic fashion, “Mayu, I’m thirsty. I’d like some juice.” She was clearly ignoring Shigeki while being mindful of his presence.

Shigeki was watching Anna, but he wasn’t perceptive enough to see that Anna was a wounded soul, so he seemed to be hesitating, clueless about how best to interact with her. He glanced at his watch, got up, said—“Mayu, I’ll call you later”—and promptly left.

“He likes you, doesn’t he, Mayu?” Anna said.

I couldn’t help but wonder if she was really just seven years old. Did she actually say what she did with the understanding that male jealousy was in play when she saw Shigeki striking Alan?

Jean had firmly told me not to thoughtlessly ask her any questions about the incident. Unless a child psychologist was present, we were not to meddle with her mind.

“Hey,” I said, “it seems your mom’s going to be fine. That’s great news.”

Anna said nothing. I got up and prepared a bowl of soup and served it along with some bread and cheese. I thought this might comfort her, but she had only a few sips of the soup, and hardly put anything else in her mouth. A few minutes later, though, she said under her breath, “What’s going to happen to my brother?”

“Pierre has Father Jean to look after him, so you don’t have to worry about him, okay?”

“Will he be sent to the slammer?”

Slammer:
what a word for a girl her age to use. Anna had said it so breezily, as if prison was a topic of everyday conversation in her life.

“It can’t be helped,” I said. “Pierre needs to let his head cool down a little.”

“For how long?” she said.

This time around Pierre wouldn’t be let off. They would probably try him for attempted murder.

“I don’t know,” I finally said, “but as soon as Mommy gets well, you’ll be together.”

Slammer, murder—I couldn’t believe the talk I was having with her, and I was trying my best to only give answers that would offer her temporary peace of mind.

“When Mommy gets well, will she come out right away? If Mommy dies, what will happen to my brother?”

“Mommy is not going to die. She’ll leave the hospital soon. Pierre’s going to be able to come out after that, got it?”

My tone of voice had turned unexpectedly harsh. I just wanted to put an end to the sad conversation. Half of my body—no, even more than that—was still soaked in the pleasant,
rapturous sensations that lingered from my exposure to Shigeki’s world, from which I had only just parted.

“Pierre must be with me!” she said, sounding even harsher than I had.

“It’s all right,” I said, choking up. “God will figure out what to do.”

Anna was more worried about the criminal, her brother Pierre, than the victim, her mother. He must have doted on her.

Hoping to soothe her, I picked her up and sat on the sofa. She buried her face in my breasts and was quiet. Poor Anna. Her home life was brutal. But Pierre was getting serious about work, and he even seemed to have changed his ways slightly. He had finally left home and didn’t have to live with his mother anymore. So why on earth did he stab her?

As I sat there hugging Anna, sleep began to approach, induced by the warmth of this tender moment.

“Let’s go to bed,” I said, taking a peek at her face.

“Will anyone else be coming today?”

“No one else is coming, dear.”

“Can I sleep by myself?”

What a strange question. I wondered what she meant by it. Did she simply want to sleep alone?

“Do you usually sleep with Mommy?”

It was a simple question, a casual one at that—but she remained silent. I became uncomfortable, as if a sheet of ice had just touched a part of my body.

“Anna? Answer me,” I said.

I waited for her answer, peering into her eyes. But she was strong-willed and kept her lips tightly sealed.

“Anna, who do you usually sleep with?” I said, irritated and involuntarily shaking her shoulders. Anna just stared back at me with the eyes of a stray, feral dog—the same eyes Pierre had when he was trying to tell friend from foe.

“Anna, come on now. You can talk to me. I won’t tell anyone.”

In a harsh, throaty voice, Anna finally answered, “When I’m sleeping, some man walks into my room and comes into my bed.”

My grogginess vanished. I felt myself turn pale as the word
pedophile
rang in my mind with a terrifying resonance.

“That can’t be true,” I said.

But Anna’s glass-bead blue eyes betrayed all, as if they were about to dissolve and vaporize into a blast of steam breaking out from deep inside her. Then, with a blazing rush of insight, the mystery unraveled in my mind. Her rather baffling talk with me, about visitors and sleeping alone, made perfect sense now, as did her total lack of concern for her mother’s fate. I now saw—with crystal-clear clarity—why Pierre had stabbed his mother.

It was a well-known fact that Simone invited men into her home. But her addiction had robbed her of womanly charm. But the men still came. Why?

She was putting her own daughter up for sale.

Pierre must have caught her in the act.

My heart felt like it was about to be crushed by the magnitude of the situation. Jean had said, “The testimony of a child must be investigated for an extensive period of time in the presence of a child psychologist and social counselor.” Just posing questions to a victimized child can amount to a second rape. I could not possibly interrogate Anna.