Water Lily (5 page)

And she saw Jun now as he was, just a kid with his friends, probably thinking about his homework for the next class. Somehow,
mixed up with those thoughts, would be Runa and tonight’s meeting. She couldn’t imagine how they fitted together in his head,
but she knew he was excited about tonight and had no idea that anything might be wrong. It was painful. The thought that she
could be pregnant with his child horrified her. Why had she never seen how young he was?

So she would not tell him then. It would do no good. When she had gone it would be up to him to decide whether to admit or
deny the affair. And no one would blame him. It was Runa they would want to find. She went back into the school, closed the
door behind her, knew it was the last time she would do so.

A boy with a broom in his hand was sweeping around the teachers’ shoe lockers. As Runa changed slowly from her out-door shoes
back into her sneakers, she realized he was staring at her. He had spoken and was waiting for an answer.

“So is it today then?” He stopped sweeping and put the broom behind him, as though out of politeness.

“What’s that?”

“The test. Teacher, are you all right?”

“Yes, fine. A test. Did I say it would be today? Then I think it must be.”

She had no memory of writing a test. She wondered if she should have. She would check her desk and see if she’d written anything
before she went to Nanao’s house. She knew the boy’s face but was too tired to remember which class, or even which year, he
belonged to. If she was lucky, the test would be some general thing that had already been written by the head of English.
She was beginning not to care.

The last class finished with yawns and a tired bow. Runa slipped out of the classroom before the pupils had time to come at
her with the inevitable questions and chatter. In an alcove of the teachers’ room used for photocopying and gossip, the principal’s
voice was a harsh stage whisper; now he was expressing frustration, martyrdom. Runa glanced across. He was hissing about something
with Mr. Araki, the music teacher, and Mr. Araki was trying to get the principal into a store cupboard for privacy. The principal
pushed past him and stormed away. Another teacher joined Araki to find out what had happened. Runa picked up a book and hovered
out of sight near the photo-copier, pretended to be finding a page. She listened to the conversation.

“What’s the latest?”

“It was a newspaper reporter, on the phone to him.”

“How can he be sure? It could be the letter writer pretending.”

“Well, he can’t be sure. But he says he has no choice but to believe it. And the person gave a name so I suppose he could
check.”

“And the reporter knows who it is?”

“No names, but he has seen a copy of the photograph.”

“Good grief. How many do you think are in circulation?”

“It’s hard to guess. But the teacher is a woman and the student is a boy. And that’s not all. The reporter says he also has
evidence of immorality and under-age drinking in a local bar, encouraged by the very same woman.”

“That’s nonsense. There are only half a dozen female teachers here anyway and as far as I can see, they stay in every night.
Though, now I think about it, someone does come to mind. Even so, an affair with a boy …”

They shook their heads, lowered their voices, until Runa couldn’t tell whether they were still speaking.

Later, in the hallway of the teachers’ apartments, the gossip continued. This was going to be a big story, they said. Ever
since the arson attack on a school in the next city where the perpetrators were a gang of teenage girls and boys, the papers
had been obsessed with the region’s declining moral standards, especially in schools, especially crimes committed by women.

Kawasaki passed Runa in the corridor. “I don’t think it’s even true. But if it were, and I knew the woman, I’d wring her neck.”

Runa dressed in the night, packed a bag of clothes. There was nothing she could do about Jun and there was not time to call
Ping. She took Nanao’s passport and the knife and slipped out of her apartment into the darkness of the bamboo forest. Among
the trees a tall figure moved toward her. She stopped breathing and tried to keep still but clearly he had seen her. And as
he came closer, she recognized his silhouette, tall and athletic. It was Jun. She dropped the bag, kicked it into the undergrowth,
and stepped forward.

“I’m early,” he said. “It would have been difficult to get out of the house later. My dad sometimes comes home from work really
late so now he’ll just think I’ve gone to bed already. But, anyway, you’re early, too.”

He was wearing jeans, sneakers, a yellow T-shirt. His hair was gelled and combed immaculately. He looked to Runa like a picture
from a teen magazine. She put her fingertips gently on his chest then pressed her whole hand to feel his basketball player’s
muscles. She had hoped to escape before he arrived but couldn’t help feeling happy to see him and touch him once more.

“I’m glad you came. But we can’t stay long tonight.”

“I don’t mind. Whatever you want. Let’s go on the roof again.” He kissed the soft skin on her inner arm, the way she had taught
him, the way she liked it.

“I don’t think it’s such a good idea tonight. Someone might see. You know, the teachers’ apartments are so near, and our voices
could be heard.”

“It doesn’t matter. Nobody knows a thing about us or even suspects.”

He was so beautifully happy, so straightforward, and she couldn’t bear to tell him. So she followed him up the rusty stairs,
watching his feet jump two steps at a time. She was tired as she shuffled out onto the roof. She should have been halfway
to the next village by now. She walked to the center, stood still with her arms folded across her chest. The air was still
warm and close though there was a strong breeze up there above the trees. The sky was murky, just one or two stars showing.

“You’re in a funny mood tonight.” He stood behind, put his arms around her, and drew her close. She rubbed her face against
his bare arm, felt the soft hairs. Their skin was damp with sweat and, briefly, they stuck to each other. He rocked her from
side to side. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” She turned, smoothed his hair, rubbed her nose against his. “Nothing at all.”

“It’s because of my speech practice today, isn’t it? You thought I was terrible. I was and I know it. I’m sorry. It’s just
that I can’t’ do that kind of thing in front of you.”

“I know.”

“It’s embarrassing, with all my friends there. Even though they know nothing—I can’t explain.” She loved his eyes at moments
like this. They were big and limpid, so uncertain. She wanted to take his hand and lead him through each piece of his life.

“I understand. Jun, that’s why I’m worried about seeing you anymore.”

His head jerked back, as if his whole face had just woken up.

“No. No, please. It doesn’t matter that much. I don’t want to win the stupid contest anyway. It’s the least important thing
in my life. Why would I want to win a speech contest? I don’t even want to enter it at all. You’re far more important to me.”

Her chance to say goodbye was slipping through her fingers and she couldn’t stop it.

“All right. Perhaps I could try and have my timetable altered so that I’m not teaching you anymore. They might let me do that.”
She considered the idea, almost believing that it would happen. “I’d have to come up with a plausible reason though.”

“I like being in your class. It’s the only reason I keep coming to school.” He walked to the edge of the roof and lowered
him-self carefully until he was sitting with his legs dangling over the side. He was quiet for a few moments, then spoke in
a daydream voice. “I like to be high up. It suits me. I’d rather be looking down on the world than be a part of it, worrying
about some-one looking down on me.”

“Jun, that’s dangerous.” But she went and sat beside him, experienced a pleasant dizziness when she looked down on the school,
the gym, the playing field, the bike sheds. During the day the buildings acted out being a school. At night, everything reverted
to its normal state and time moved forward.

“Runa-teacher, we’ll have to come up here in winter.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because of the snow.” He gesticulated vaguely toward the trees. “When it lands on the bamboo and makes it lean over, we’ll
get the best view of all.” He was swinging his legs, looking at the trees, even now anticipating the winter scene.

Runa remembered the snow from last year, how the bamboo sprang back into shape as it began to melt. But it never happened
when you were looking. If you hung around for long enough, you might hear a low creaking but then you’d turn to see which
tree it was and behind you snow would thud to the ground and another tree was upright again.

“Hey, do you want to hear something funny?” Jun was chuckling. “My parents suspect that I’ve got a girlfriend. I heard them
talking. They say they can tell from my behavior, though I don’t know what they mean by that. They’re very excited.”

“They know? That’s terrible.” Runa wondered if they had seen the letter or the photograph.

“It’s all right. No, in fact it’s good. They’re relieved to discover that there are girls who like me so it doesn’t matter
that I come and go a bit. Of course, they will never think that my girlfriend is my teacher.”

She put her hand behind his head, pulled him forward to kiss him. Already his kisses, his words, were becoming more remembered
than real. She rested her fingers on his shoulders, somehow the most solid part of him, to convince herself that he was there,
to stop him falling too quickly into the past.

“I’m sure they don’t know that I’m often out all night.”

“But they would mind, if they knew.”

“As long as it’s not before an exam I don’t think the world would end. And after that I’ll be at university and it won’t matter.
You’ll leave the school, too, and become a famous actress or model. Or you’ll be managing your own bar and I’ll come and help
you serve the customers.”

Runa laughed. “You’re good at looking at the future. It’s something I’ve never been able to do. But you might not be so keen
on me when I’m not your teacher anymore.”

“What are you talking about? I’d feel the same if you were a plumber, or anything, if you were married with five children.
I mean, it’s not just because I’m a student that you like me, is it?”

Runa shook her head, rested her cheek against his. “Of course not.” But even as she felt his skin, began to kiss it, she wondered
if she was telling the truth.

“Runa-teacher, shall we go to the Octopus? I want to sing.” He was playing with her fingers, squeezing them one by one. “I
want to sing love songs again.”

“We can’t, not tonight. I’m … I don’t feel like it.” And she didn’t have time. She looked out at the mountains. She must go
soon and without hurting Jun.

“But it’ll help me with my English pronunciation.” He looked more closely at her. “Something’s really wrong, isn’t it.”

“No. I’m just tired.”

“Of course. I’m sorry. You work hard at school and you need to sleep. Why don’t we meet tomorrow and go to the Octopus?”

“Yes. That would be good. We’ll go tomorrow. We’ll sing all night and come here afterwards to drink. And if the sky is clear,
we’ll watch the stars. We’ll have the perfect night together.”

“Thank you. And I promise you, I’ll practice and practice my speech until it’s perfect. I won’t let you be ashamed of me.”

They kissed, quickly, because Jun was already impatient for the next day. He hurtled down the fire escape ahead of Runa. Before
running off into the woods, he planted a kiss on her forehead. She waited until she was sure that he had gone, then touched
the spot, the exact place where his lips had been. She picked a leaf from the ground, blew gently on it to remove flecks of
soil, wiped the kiss away. There was no point in holding onto anything now, and a kiss was evidence of the crime.

R
alph took a cold bath at the hotel. He didn’t dry himself but dripped water through to the bedroom, lay naked on the bed and
enjoyed the new sensation of shivering. He opened his catalog,
Eastern Blossoms
, at a random page.

They are not spoiled by exposure to Western culture or women’s lib. They are pure, protected by their traditions and families.
Any man that can marry one is VERY LUCKY
.

The person who wrote that hadn’t met Apple. She was traditional, beautiful, on the outside. Then he’d got her to En-gland
and she turned sour. Sour Apple. And he couldn’t blame the agency. Her performance had been flawless. Hadn’t Ralph himself
been taken in by her beguiling innocence? At the memory of meeting Apple he made a feeble attempt at masturbation. But the
creeping heat started to return, and the exertion put a sharp pressure on the inside of his skull, so he stopped and kicked
Eastern Blossoms
off the bed. He would wait until the night when it was cooler. At the moment he felt pathetic, ridiculous. His temper was
simmering and for no good reason.

The day had begun perfectly and that made him more annoyed, as if he had brought this on himself by hoping for too much. He
had been excited about his appointment and woke early, had a cup of coffee—which he was supposed to avoid—in the hotel restaurant.
The silly buzz of anticipation gave him the confidence to go outside and explore. He took his sketchbook with him to create
a memento of his visit. He went for a long walk, took a couple of trains. He found a nice park and sketched some pine trees
and a temple. He managed to work a vending machine and get a can of lemonade. But—see?—it was a mistake. He should have stayed
at the hotel and thought about what to do if the girls didn’t want to meet him again, then gone directly to the agency. Instead
he had gone to the department store and let himself be captivated by some anonymous girl. Such dreamy optimism was asking
for trouble.

He was reaching a decision. He would give the Japanese agency one more chance. The girls he had met were good, there was no
denying. He recalled their anxious smiles as they shook his hand. No, they hadn’t given any sign that his age was a problem.
They were perfectly charming and he would happily have arranged a second meeting with either. He was sure that they had liked
him, too. After all, they both smiled through the interviews, answered all his questions and giggled at his jokes. Mr. K.
was just jealous. It was far more likely that they were nervous about moving abroad and leaving their families. Or that their
families opposed the match and didn’t want them to leave the country with a man they hadn’t had a chance to size up. Or it
may have been that England was not the place they wanted to live. He had heard that young Japanese people were very interested
in America.