Trying hard to keep my voice steady, I said, “I’m Seigi Nakata. I’m an apprentice jeweler who wants to work in government someday.”
“How’s that now?”
“Uh, well…”
It ended up being a long story.
I told her the entire series of events that began in the spring of my second year in college: the night I met a beautiful jeweler in Yoyogi Park, Kobe and my grandmother’s padparadscha sapphire, being offered a part-time job in a jewelry store in Ginza, Richard waiting for me for hours at Shimbashi Station, how I pursued Richard to England, the whole thing with the white sapphire, the telling-off Richard gave me and how I cried, the story of my bio dad and my real dad, how I went through jeweler boot camp in Kandy while studying for the civil service exam, meeting Vince on the cruise ship, the treasure hunt in Provence, my return to Japan, and a bit about the encounter with Octavia. Most of it ended up being about Richard.
Honestly, until I opened my mouth I hadn’t been sure what to say. Before this, I always thought I wasn’t able to put into words all things that had happened to me. But when I tried, to my own surprise, I was more than capable.
My story wasn’t a big deal. It had barely been four years between the day we met in my sophomore year of college and now. Yet in those four years, a ridiculous number of things happened to this person known as Seigi Nakata. I talked and talked and still didn’t run out of things to say.
Through it all, Deborah was a quiet, patient listener. When my long monologue dried up, she said only one thing with a perfectly calm expression: “That’s good to hear.”
“Sorry, what?”
“That he’s doing well. He almost sounded like a stranger in those stories of yours—very dashing and handsome. The picture of energy and health.”
I didn’t know what to say. Finally, I dared to ask, “Was he…not handsome before?”
She giggled. “Do you care more about the flavor of your sake or the bottle it comes in?”
“Well, I mean…”
She had a point, but there was more to it than that. But I didn’t know how to explain it, and while I struggled to figure out how, she shook her head.
“Oh no, I’m not finding fault. Quite the reverse. Your argument is more valid than mine. Without an exterior, there can be no interior and vice versa. I suppose I’m simply the sort of person who cares only about what’s on the inside. Perhaps I stood out to him because I cared so little about his exterior.”
“…Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
By the time I realized what I had said, the words were already out.
What had gotten into me? She said she wanted to see me, so I was going just to see her. Nothing more. Didn’t I promise myself that? But my mouth moved with a mind of its own. No. Stop, my heart ordered. At the same time, with just as much force, my heart demanded, Do it. Now’s your only chance. My only chance to speak to her. This was it. We were little more than strangers and would never see each other again.
That’s why I had to say—
“Richard, he, uh… He likes you very, very much. If you, um, if you like him, too, I don’t think you should just…give up on him like that…?”
“Octavia said much the same.”
I felt my heart freeze over, soundlessly. Against the distant background noise of children squealing in the pool, I hung on to her every word.
“You must be curious about what led me to divorce my husband. To put it simply, it was a fight between my parents and my in-laws. My uncle had a drunken quarrel with my ex-husband, saying, ‘If she hadn’t married you, she would have been a British aristocrat right now.’ The culture I grew up in is very patriarchal. After marriage, a woman is under the protection and authority of her husband, so this was unspeakably rude. It caused a rift to form between our families, and we ultimately were unable to make it work. Once I make up my mind, I’m always quick to act. Thus, I said my farewells, and that was it.”
She spoke matter-of-factly, but oddly, there was nothing cold or clinical in her tone. As I listened to her, I wondered just what kind of person she was. A sense of guilt crept over me. I felt like I was judging something I had no right to criticize. Richard was good at picking up on facts about his customers and feigning ignorance. But me? I had no idea how to hide the things I felt.
“Oh, my family is so funny. They turned bright red at the notion of marrying Richard and refused to let me marry into such a rude family. But when they realized what a catch he had been, they couldn’t get over the fact that I let him get away. Yes, they’re a funny bunch indeed. Nonsensical, even. It wasn’t their marriage! I eventually had enough of all that and moved far away. Perhaps I was influenced by a certain someone, although I must say, I would never have thought of moving to Hong Kong or Sri Lanka.”
She giggled. Oh, right, I thought. She and Richard were on speaking terms. I couldn’t imagine they had sent each other status updates during Richard’s wild period in Sri Lanka, but she must have heard about it afterward. Somewhere, deep down inside, I realized these two were really, really good friends with each other. Friends. Was that what they were? Friends?
“…So, Deborah…”
“Yes?”
“You don’t…feel like giving Richard a second chance?”
“I wouldn’t dismiss it out of hand, but neither do I see a reason to go out of my way for it.”
Right to the point and crystal clear. My better instincts told me to quit while I was ahead—we barely knew each other. I couldn’t pry. I knew the best thing to say was something like “Really now? Well, it was great meeting you.” I wanted to. I wanted to walk away. But…
I sent an apology to my future self, who was probably regretting this moment for all eternity, and forced myself to ask, “But why?”
“Why don’t I give him a second chance?”
“…If it’s not too rude to ask, then yes.”
“It’s difficult to explain. I suppose it’s, well, the timing of the thing.”
“The timing? Do you mean…?”
That, if enough time passed, there would be a possibility of making up?
Throwing embarrassment and my last chance to make a good impression to the wind, I asked her that very question. She gave me a thin smile and said, “No, no. I mean you, Seigi. The timing of you and Richard.”
The what?
I pointed at my own face in confusion. She gave a deep nod, an emphatic yes. It still didn’t make sense. What did she mean?
“At heart, Richard and I are both helpers. We love extending our help to those in need and working hard for those who would benefit from our talents. I suppose this might be true of everyone, in some way, but I’ve always felt more driven by altruism than self-actualization.”
“Okay…?”
“This means that, when people tell us they love us, we tend to fall for them.”
“Right, and…?”
“I am referring to you, Seigi.”
“What?!”