Quicksand (21 page)

“How can my wife be causing you any trouble?” my husband asked. “I'm not familiar with the details of the situation, but she tells me she sympathizes with you both and hopes you'll be married as soon as possible.”

Then Watanuki said: “You don't seem to understand the actual relationship between your wife and Mitsuko.” He was hinting that we were back on the same old terms.

My husband was not inclined to trust a man he had never met before; and it was hard to imagine that a woman who was carrying his child could be so closely involved with another woman. He began to wonder if the man was out of his mind.

“It's natural for you to doubt me,” Watanuki went on, “but here is the clear proof.” Then he showed him the document.

When my husband read it, he felt distressed that his own wife was still deceiving him, but what distressed him even more was that, quite unknown to him, she and a total stranger had sealed a pledge of kinship. To begin with, it really angered him to think how this fellow, who had exchanged vows with another man's wife, had boldly come in to his office and displayed it to him, without a word of apology, grinning triumphantly, for all the world like a detective who has just got his hands on a damning piece of evidence.

“I think you'll agree that the signature is your wife's, won't you?”

“Yes, I suppose it looks like her handwriting,” my husband replied icily. “But first of all I want to know about the man who signed it.”

“That is myself. I am Watanuki.” He looked as calm as if the sarcasm was lost on him.

“And what are these brownish marks below the signatures?”

Watanuki nonchalantly started to describe the process of sealing the pledge in blood, but my husband angrily interrupted him.

“According to this document, the relations between you and Mitsuko and my wife, Sonoko, are prescribed in minute detail, but there's no consideration whatever for me as her husband. My position is disregarded. Since you are also one of the signatories, you obviously share responsibility for it, and I'd like you to explain
your
role in the matter. All the more so because it appears that this wasn't Sonoko's idea; she seems to have been drawn into it against her will.”

Far from showing any sign of shame, Watanuki responded with another self-satisfied grin.

“As you can see in our agreement, Sonoko and I are linked by Mitsuko, and that relationship has always been in conflict with your interests as Sonoko's husband. If your wife had had any regard for you, she wouldn't have formed such a close tie with Mitsuko, and she would never have exchanged a vow like this. That's precisely what I would have wished, but I have no way to prevent another man's wife from doing as she pleases. In my opinion, this agreement recognizing their relationship amounts to a great concession to Mrs. Kakiuchi.”

Now he was implying that he resented my husband's failure to control me. There was nothing illicit about forming a bond of kinship, he said, and so he himself felt he had not behaved immorally.

AND SO
, as much as my husband loathed that document, he decided he had better try to get it into his possession. He felt he was dealing with an irrational person, and there was no telling what a fellow like that would do with it.

“I understand completely,” he assured Watanuki. “If everything is as you say, I'll fulfill my responsibilities without any urging. But I'm in the position of having met you for the first time today, and I need to hear my wife's side of the story. So won't you lend me this copy for a while? If I show it to her, she may very well confess. But if I don't, she can be extremely stubborn.”

At that, before saying whether he would lend it, Watanuki cautiously put the document down on his lap.

“And what are you going to do if Mrs. Kakiuchi confesses?”

“What I'll do depends on the circumstances. I can't tell you now. I'm not going to accuse my wife just because you asked me to. Please understand that I'm not acting out of
your
interests; I'm acting for the sake of my own honor and the happiness of my family.”

Watanuki frowned slightly.

“I'm not asking you to do anything for my sake,” he said. “I came to see you because I thought your interests and mine happened to coincide. Surely you must recognize that.”

“I haven't time to worry about your interests,” my husband then declared, “and I don't want to either. Excuse me, but I refuse to be dragged into this affair by you. I'll deal with my wife as I see fit.”

“Oh, if that's how you feel, it can't be helped,” Watanuki replied. “The fact is, I have no connection with you myself, so I'm under no obligation to you. But if your wife runs away with Mitsuko, I won't be the only one to suffer. I began to think it would be wrong of me to keep silent, knowing what I do.” He peered intently into my husband's eyes. “Once it came to that, you'd be dragged into the affair whether you liked it or not.”

“Yes, I understand your concern,” my husband said, being sarcastic again. “Thank you for your kindness.”

“Thanking me isn't enough! I don't believe you'd be so foolish as to let your wife run off, but just suppose she
did
. What would you do then? Would you resign yourself to it and say good riddance, or would you go after her wherever she went and bring her back home? You've got to make that decision!”

“I can't tell how I'd behave until the time came, and I won't make any promises to others or let them interfere with what I do. All the more so because relations between husband and wife ought to be settled between themselves.”

“But still, no matter what happens, you don't intend to divorce your wife, do you?”

Watanuki's officious manner was so exasperating that my husband told him to stop worrying; it was none of his business whether or not he divorced his wife.

But Watanuki kept right on: “No, I suppose you're far too beholden to her family,” and “You'd be showing a lack of gratitude, wouldn't you, if you threw her out just because of some indiscretion”—things like that. Probably he'd heard enough about us from Mitsuko to be well aware of our family affairs.

“You're such a fine gentleman I can't believe you'd do anything unworthy of you.”

That kind of talk was more than my husband could stand.

“Why the devil did you come here?” he exploded. “Must you keep blabbing on and on about something that's none of your business? I'll do my duty as a gentleman without any instruction from you! But please understand, I can't guarantee it'll serve
your
interests.”

“Oh? Well, in that case, I'm sorry but I can't lend my copy to you.” Then Watanuki took up the document, carefully reinserted it in its envelope, and put it away in an inside pocket.

My husband had indeed wanted it, but now he decided there was no use pursuing the matter. That would only have shown weakness.

“All right. I won't ask you to lend it to me against your will,” he said. “Please feel free to take it back with you. Only, there's one thing you need to understand: since I've been prevented from showing it to my wife, I can hardly accept it as genuine if she denies what you say. Naturally I would take her word over a stranger's.”

“Well, doting on a woman is a man's undoing,” Watanuki muttered, as if to himself. “Anyway, your wife has a copy; if you look for it, it'll certainly turn up. Of course you needn't really bother to do that. Just have her show you her arm, and I'm sure you'll find the proof still there.”

With that ugly insinuation, he politely excused himself: “I'm very sorry to have disturbed you.” And he took his leave.

My husband saw him out to the corridor and came back into his office with a sigh of relief, thinking: What a dreadful fellow! But about five minutes later he heard another knock at the door, and it was Watanuki again.

“Hello. I'm sorry to keep bothering you,” he said, with a curiously amiable smile. “Could I just have a little more of your time?” For some reason, he seemed an entirely different person.

Startled, and once again repelled by his manner, my husband watched in silence as Watanuki came up to the table, bowed, and, without waiting to be invited, sat down in the same chair as before.

“I was in the wrong just now,” he said. “But I'm on the verge of losing the woman I'd give my life for, so I've been blinded by my own feelings and couldn't appreciate how you must feel. I didn't mean any harm by it—please forgive my rudeness.”

“Is that what you came back to tell me?”

“Yes. After I left your office I thought it over and realized I was wrong. Somehow I couldn't rest until I came to apologize.”

“That's very kind of you,” my husband replied sarcastically.

“Uh, yes. . . .” Watanuki sat there squirming hesitantly, still with that odd forced smile. “The fact is, you see, I came here partly to make that request of you and partly to apologize, all because I'm in such an agonizing predicament that I can't find a way out. Just try to imagine my wretchedness, the tears I can't begin to shed! If you understand how miserable I feel, I'm willing to lend you the document.”

“And how, exactly,
am
I supposed to understand that?”

“I'll be honest with you: what I fear most is that you might divorce your wife. If you do, she'll be so desperate she'll cause even
more
trouble, and I'll lose all hope of marrying Mitsuko. Not that I think you're likely to divorce her, but I can't help worrying about Mrs. Kakiuchi running off somewhere with Mitsuko. I'm sorry to have to insist on this, but if you don't keep a strict watch over your wife, she'll be sure to run away one of these days; when that happens, even if you want to forgive her, you may find it's impossible, considering other people's attitudes. Just to think of it makes me feel the danger pressing in on me. It's so bad I can't sleep at night!”

As he spoke, Watanuki bowed over till his forehead touched the table.

“Please, I'm begging you,” he whimpered. “That's how it is, though you may think I'm being selfish, just asking for what
I
want. But consider my predicament, and start to take responsibility for controlling your wife. Don't let her get away from you, ever. I know you can't tie her down, maybe you can't prevent her from escaping, but promise me that if she does, you'll go right after her and bring her safely home. If you agree to that, I'll turn my copy of the vow over to you.”

And he added: “I don't need to repeat myself. I know you love your wife very much and you'd never divorce her, but I'd like it to come from your own mouth. If you have
any
sympathy for me, can't you please tell me what is in your heart?”

The more my husband heard, the more disgusted he felt. Why couldn't the man simply have said what he meant all along, instead of prying into their affairs and rubbing him the wrong way? What a slippery fellow—changing his attitude with every change in your response. Any woman would be irritated by that, Mitsuko too, no doubt. That was another of his disagreeable traits.

By then my husband was beginning to feel almost sorry for him.

“Then will you swear you'll never make this document public?” he asked. “Will you leave it in my custody as long as I wish? If
you
agree, I'm prepared to accept your conditions.”

“As you've seen, our vow itself says it can't be shown to anyone without the prior consent of the other party, but it's clear that Mrs. Kakiuchi has broken faith, so I can do anything I like with it. I could use it to make trouble for both of you. But I'm not a vengeful person, you know; that's why I brought it here, ready to entrust it to you. Anyway, no agreement is more than a scrap of paper unless you're sincere. So go ahead and take it home, if it's any use to you. I'll be satisfied as long as you promise to observe the conditions I've mentioned.”

Why didn't he tell me that in the first place? my husband wondered. “Very well, then,” he said. “I'll take charge of it for the present.”

But as he was about to hand over the document, Watanuki hesitated. “Just a moment, please. I'm sorry to have to ask this, but could you make out a receipt, for future reference?”

My husband agreed, and wrote: “I hereby acknowledge receipt of the following . . .” At which point Watanuki interrupted him.

“Please add a little more to that.”

“What do you want me to write?”

Then Watanuki dictated a whole series of requirements:

That wasn't something Watanuki came out with smoothly, all at once. As soon as my husband wrote down one condition, he would ponder for a moment, and say: “Oh yes, please add another one,” as the number grew.

What nonsense! my husband thought. That rascal sounds like a cheap shyster. Half amused, he let him dictate whatever he pleased, and wrote it all down. But then he said: “I'd like to add a proviso of my own: ‘However, if the document proves to be false, all pledges herein will be rendered null and void.' How about it? You don't object to putting that in writing, do you?”