Mistress Oriku. Matsutaro KawaguchiЧитать онлайн книгу.
occupied, the Paulownia was hers. When Monjirō stayed over, he and Oriku would sleep side by side in the annex’s main room, on separate futon, but in summer the mosquitoes were so bad that they slept within the same mosquito net. He even turned up suddenly late at night, drunk. He had taken a rickshaw from Azuma Bridge, and he plopped himself down on the kitchen floor, mumbling, “Please pay the rickshaw man.” This was not the first time this kind of thing had happened. By no means a sturdy drinker, he suffered for it if he was made to drink too much.
“There’s nothing worse for you than drinking more than you can take!” Oriku scolded him.
“I’m angry tonight, so please don’t you be angry with me!” he said. Nice young man that he was, he made up to her just as though she had been his real mother. She had the rickshaw man paid and half-carried him to her private room in the Paulownia. It was early August. She put him to bed in the mosquito net, since the houses along the river were buzzing with mosquitoes, and being so drunk he immediately began snoring loudly. Ten o’clock had come and gone, the other guests spending the night were quiet, and the even the kitchen fire had sunk low. Oriku had changed into her nightclothes and was just about to have a nightcap.
“Give me some, too!” Still sleepy-eyed, he began to get up and move toward her.
“I will not! Basically, drinking isn’t a good idea anyway, and I’m certainly not going to let you drink more than you already have. Just be a good boy and go to sleep.”
“But I can’t sleep when I’m angry! Tonight my friends made a fool of me.”
“In what way?”
Oriku sat there in her nightclothes. It was chilly near the river, toward dawn, and she was wearing a thin silk slip with a pink sash. She may have been in her mid-fifties, but she still had considerable allure.
“A lot of us got together tonight in a bar behind the Kabuki-za, to brag about our conquests.” He still looked sleepy.
“Young men do that, you know. You should have done your bit of bragging too.”
“But I have no conquests to brag about! So they all made fun of me. ‘That moron hasn’t had a woman yet!’ they kept saying. They treated me like an idiot. It made me so angry, I just couldn’t take it anymore.”
“Well, you weren’t very smart. Why get angry over something like that? All you had to do was pretend!”
“But I’d told them I haven’t!”
“Talk about being naive! What a baby!”
“Yes, I’m a baby, I know. Even if I’d faked it, though, it’s still true, I’ve never experienced a woman. I’ve fallen for women, women have fallen for me, but it’s just that I’ve never gone all the way, and it’s driving me crazy! If I could just once experience the real thing, after that I could tell whatever lies I need.”
He was hanging his head, looking sweet, comical, and pathetic all at once. She readily believed it was driving him crazy.
“You’ve never been to the Yoshiwara?”
“No. The women in places like that turn me off.”
“Don’t be cheeky. You’ll find the most popular of them is just like any other girl. Well, tomorrow, go to the Silver Flower. Everyone there knows you, and you can have as good a time as you like. That should do, shouldn’t it?”
“I don’t want to. It’s not that buying a girl worries me. I just don’t like the idea. If a woman can feel strongly about being a virgin, then a man can, too. I want my first woman to be someone I can remember forever after. I’m damned if she’s going to be some tart!”
His face was bright red. Come to think of it, there was something to what he was saying. There could be nothing wrong with a man cherishing his first time, just the way a girl is likely to do. Oriku had had her first experience with the owner of the Silver Flower, and even now the memory of that first night was clear in her mind. She understood how he felt. Still—
“If that’s what you really insist on, you’ll never find anyone. If you won’t have a woman who’s for sale, you’ll just have to keep waiting for the right chance.”
“Your talking that way just convinces me I’ll end up with some woman who means nothing to me after all, and it makes me afraid.”
“Well then, I see no way out. You’re a man, not a woman. Why not just let things take their course?”
“Dammit, no! I won’t have it!”
Red-faced, he glared at Oriku.
“Auntie, won’t you show me?”
“What? Me?”
“Yes, you. You’re always so sweet to me, and I really love you too. It’d be a memory I’d always cherish. Besides, in time I’m bound to be appointed principal actor.”
“Wait a minute! I can’t do that!”
Oriku straightened up. This was just too unexpected. Flustered, she was also overcome with confusion that the sixteen-year-old Monjirō should feel that way about her. Naturally, she had not yet given up her taste for men, and she fully intended to have a good time with the right partner, if she found one. Anyone other than Monnosuke’s son might well have put the age difference out of her mind. Kabuki people customarily subjected a colleague’s first sexual partner to minute scrutiny. They called the experience “fude oroshi,” or “testing the brush.” Oriku herself had been through it before. So far she had pampered him like a child, and she had no particular reason to say no, but the thought of Monnosuke’s past with her convinced her it was out of the question.
“I won’t have you talking like that. Please. I just can’t.”
She meant this to be her final word, but she simply could not mention Monnosuke. Needless to say, Monjirō fought back.
“I can’t accept that. I’ve had the courage to be frank with you, haven’t I? I’m asking you straight out: please, show me what it’s like. I’m sure you’ve done this ‘testing the brush’ before. Everyone at the theater says you have. Please, Auntie, please.”
As he spoke, he threw himself tight against her. The full impact of his strong young body toppled her over, and he clung to her leechlike, with all his strength. Struggling to push him away got her nowhere, and every word she tried to say came out too loud. The Paulownia was a separate building, it is true, but it was high summer, and every room, everywhere, was wide open. Any cry from her would be heard. For a while she resisted, but in the end she gave up and let Monjirō do as he pleased.
As soon as she woke up the next morning, she went straight to the bathhouse. It was behind the main building, and when there were overnight guests the water was heated early. Despite luxurious soaking, she felt as though the events of the night had soiled her in some way. She thought of the Monnosuke of old. Yes, now she had that bond with the son too, as well as with the father. An indescribable sort of shame seemed to flow through her, like black blood. She scrubbed her arms and legs, and dashed water over herself to wash away any reminder of what had happened.
She did not return to the Paulownia after her bath. Instead she went to a room facing the river and had a cold beer.
Monjirō got up and came to join her. His expression was happy and peaceful. At first he betrayed a touch of embarrassment, but he looked full of life. He was completely different from the night before.
“I’m sorry,” he softly, his own beer glass in hand. “I’m confident now. I could have made up stories, but I’d never have felt confident until I’d known the real thing. I apologize.”
For all his expressions of contrition, he looked distinctly happy.
“It’s going to feel wonderful, later on, knowing you were my first. I’m just so happy, when I think I could fall in love with a woman even better than you.” His words conveyed real joy.
“You’re