I grated garlic and ginger, then placed heaps of spring onion and grated radish with chili on top. The fresh, raw sardines were so good that you could eat them all day and never get sick of them. I also salted a few sardines and broiled them, which complemented the sardine tempura I made. I’d been soaking some globeflowers I picked from the garden yesterday in water, which I boiled with soy sauce and mixed with rice. We drank only a little beer but stuffed our faces with the food.
“Wonder if those bikers are gonna come back today,” Shimon said.
“You better not pull anything risky.”
“I was just planning on holding you till they left, Mimi.”
He dropped the Ms. and was just calling me Mimi now. There was no beating this family, was there? They ate what they wanted to eat, did what they felt like doing, said whatever was on their minds.
“Do you like me?” I asked Shimon.
“Yeah, I do. But you like the old man, don’t you?”
“Eh, I guess. I haven’t gotten sick of him yet, at the very least. What, you hate him or something?”
“Nah, I don’t hate him. Sometimes, I even like him better than my folks. Anyway, enough about my family… But really, though, I wonder why he’s still not here when you’ve been waiting for him this long.”
“He likes making people wait. Loves being irritated at work while fantasizing about leaving at any moment.”
“Makes no sense. Sounds like a midlife crisis.”
We washed the dishes together while telling each other our likes and dislikes. I told him I liked figs, that one card game Concentration, strawberry milk, dogs, fireworks, and gossip. And of course, I couldn’t not mention Marquise de Merteuil in Les Liaisons dangereuses. Shimon didn’t like confined spaces, the Asahi Shimbun, girls who pretended to be cute, girls who got smashed every night, and abalone liver.
“Find a job yet?” I suddenly asked.
“Aw, c’mon, don’t start. That’s another thing I don’t like: smug old ladies. Besides, I know you don’t really care.”
“Nope. I’d rather know if you’ve been with any women yet.”
“You gotta be kidding me…,” Shimon said with a laugh.
He told me he’d lost his virginity, and his friend accidentally brought it up in front of his mother, who immediately burst into tears from the shock. She’d apparently spent the entire next day in bed.
“I dunno why she made such a big deal about it. She should’ve just pretended she didn’t hear anything,” he said.
I suddenly remembered my conversation with Ren about how becoming a family was lewd, but I didn’t bring it up. Obviously, I wasn’t shocked or even disgusted that Shimon wasn’t a virgin. After all, I wasn’t his mother. If anything, I was more disgusted by how she had reacted.
Shimon and I spread a deck of cards on the table and started playing Concentration while drinking some refreshing whiskey soda. I’d developed my own trick to memorizing cards, so I started the game feeling pretty confident. I ended up finding one matching set after another, netting me most of the deck. I made sure to close the window so the breeze wouldn’t blow the cards off the table, and thankfully, it wasn’t that hot out. Closing the window blocked out most outside noise, although I probably wouldn’t have noticed anyway, since I was so focused on the game.
“You hear something?” Shimon asked, tapping my hand. Now that he mentioned it, I could hear the roaring of engines in the distance.
“It’s them,” I said.
Shimon opened the window. A row of headlights shone through the hedges by the gate, so he went outside. I asked him if he was sure about this, but he didn’t answer.
“Evening,” he called as he leaned against the iron gate. The men on the other side of the gate seemed to be saying something back.
I turned on the TV, figuring it was better to make it look like there were a few more people inside just in case.
“You can’t pass through here, sorry. Too many bushes. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t cut through the yard,” Shimon told them.
I have no idea what the bikers said back, but I heard their motorcycles begin heading down the street. I thought they were going to circle the house like they did last night, but they simply went down the hill before fading into the distance.
They were apparently a fickle bunch. When Shimon asked them not to drive through the yard, they just made fun of his accent, then left. He said they were all guys in their late teens.
He seemed rather laid-back about the whole thing, but I was nervous. I was honestly sweating bullets, worried something was going to happen to him. I’d never worry this much if it were Ren, but those bikers were around Shimon’s age, and I was concerned they’d feel like he was taunting them. Apparently, I got all worked up for nothing.
After Shimon turned off the lights at the front door and came back inside, I immediately threw my arms around his waist and hugged him tight.
“Oh, thank goodness! I was so scared.”
“I was only able to all say that ’cause I’m drunk. I dunno what I’d do if I was sober.” Shimon wrapped his arms around my shoulders. “And I dunno what I’m doing right now, either, ’cause I’m drunk,” he mumbled as he tried to kiss me, but I managed to slip away.
“Oh—Shimon, I made muffins. Want any?”
I returned with a basket of raisin muffins I’d baked from flour, baking powder, eggs, milk, and some vegetable oil. They looked really tasty for how simple the recipe was.
“Nah, I hate anything sweet like that,” Shimon answered.
Come to think of it, Ren loved my cooking but hated sweets as well.
Shimon and I slept in separate bedrooms that night. He must have been exhausted, because he fell asleep instantly. His room was completely silent.
It rained the next day. I was going to take Shimon to the hotel pool, but unfortunately, those plans fell through.
“Bet the old man would play golf even in the rain. I wonder if he’ll be here today.” He seemed really curious if Ren was coming or not.
Then he gazed vacantly out the window. “Man, I drank way too much last night.”
“You did?”
“I went downstairs in the middle of the night and had some booze.”
“Oh my.”
“It started pouring then, so I watched the rain as I drank. Did a bit of thinking. I was debating whether I should wake you up to have someone to talk to.”
I was making omelets for breakfast.
“Would’ve rather slept with you than talk, though,” he continued. “But I didn’t, ’cause that’s what the old man was expecting me to do. I didn’t want to feel like a pawn in his game.”
That sounded accurate to me. Ren was probably worried that Shimon and I would do something, and that frustration caused him to enjoy work even more. He’d get busier and busier with work until that became his sole focus. Maybe he would wonder how I felt, and that energized him, making it even less likely for him to come here. Maybe I was merely a pawn Ren used to get enthusiastic about his job.
Shimon’s face was swollen black and blue, perhaps due to all the drinking and the weather.
The front yard’s pink marble nymph statue glistened in the rain, and the white tiling reflected the greenery. Only the sound of raindrops filled the air.
Suddenly, I said, “Shimon, want to get out of here? I’m not gonna wait for him anymore.”
“Okay.”
“Let’s take a trip somewhere, just the two of us.”
“Sure.”
We stood by the rain-drenched window, my arms wrapped tightly around his waist. His hair and lips were soft.
There wasn’t any bread to go with the omelets. I briefly thought we could have the muffins instead, but that was when I realized that I didn’t really like muffins that much, either. I’d only made them to satisfy my own ego, thinking they’d make me look good.
I hadn’t brought much with me: just makeup, some clothes, and that book by Tatsuhiko Shibusawa. Oh, and now I was leaving with something even bigger: Shimon.
I retired from the vacation house with its beautiful view of the ocean. The boats passed one another through the foggy sea and unrelenting rain.