Seiji leaned in from the side, peeking at the screen. “Huh?”
“Did something catch your attention?”
Seiji’s eyes had stopped on a photo taken at the campground’s washing-up area. Junya was standing off to the side, holding a lathered-up sponge. “So even good-looking guys wash dishes.”
“Hmm? What do you mean by that?”
During his college days, just once, Seiji had been invited to a barbecue. For some reason, the role of dishwasher had been dumped on him even before the meat was done grilling, and at some point while he was dutifully doing his best raccoon impression washing dishes, the party had broken up without him.
He suspected part of the reason was that he hadn’t been able to afford the meat everyone was supposed to bring and had tried to fudge it by showing up with packets of “Big Cutlet,” which, despite the name, contained fish instead of meat.
“Heh-heh. Really, you drifted off far too long that time, even for you.”
“But you do space out when you’re washing up, you know? That’s why you end up dropping and breaking dishes.”
“Seiji, if you spaced out any more than you already do, I suspect you might stop breathing.”
Okay, that was mean.
He was about to protest when he noticed Saori’s gaze had cooled to subzero temperatures. In cold like that, he could probably have hammered in a nail with a banana.
Hastily, he shifted his focus back to the smartphone. “Oh, actually, he’s not washing dishes in that photo, is he? He’s writing something down with his left hand.”
It seemed like Junya had gotten a call in the middle of cleaning up.
With a soapy sponge in his right hand and a smartphone wedged between his shoulder and his ear, Junya was desperately taking notes. It wasn’t as if Seiji had any right to talk, but the guy seemed like kind of a klutz.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” Shiroshi asked, looking suddenly serious.
Taken aback, Seiji blinked. “Huh? Um, he’s not washing dishes; he’s taking notes with his left hand…”
“Ah yes. I understand.” Shiroshi nodded as if something had clicked into place for him. His mood was better than Seiji had ever seen it. “You do notice some uncommon things, Seiji.”
“Huh? I do?”
“Yes, you’re amazingly off-kilter.”
…Why did that not feel like a compliment?
“Did you find something in the photo?” Saori had leaned over to look at the screen; she didn’t seem to get it, either.
“Just a minor detail that caught my attention. Do you suppose you could email that photograph to me?”
“I don’t mind, but don’t use it for anything weird.”
“Thank you very much. Oh, send it to this smartphone, if you would.” The phone Shiroshi held out was Seiji’s; it had been sitting on the table.
…Apparently he was a What’s mine is mine, and what’s yours is also mine kind of guy.
“And what became of Junya after that?”
“The seminar got too uncomfortable for him to keep going to, so he quit. From what I heard, he eventually ended up moving back home.”
“My, my. Then he’s still living there?”
“No idea. Rumor has it that he’s depressed and doesn’t leave the house anymore. He’s really come down in the world.”
“That’s on him, though, don’t you think? It wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t been an abusive partner.” Without meaning to, Seiji had found himself speaking more and more emphatically. No matter what kind of misfortune had found Junya, it was just the punch he’d thrown coming back to deck him, wasn’t it?
“Do you really believe so?”
“Huh?”
Saori seemed to be insinuating something. Her cheeks spasmed, twisting. She’d been smiling.
Leaning farther over the table, she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
“You see, Satsuki’s got a little quirk— She’s had it for ages. She hasn’t noticed, but whenever she tells a lie or covers something up, she blinks harder. Like this.” She demonstrated, blinking dramatically.
“Oh!”
He recognized that gesture.
He’d seen it yesterday, when Satsuki had been talking with Shiroshi about the malicious emails.
“Let me ask once more: You really have no idea who the sender might be?”
“No, I don’t.”
When Satsuki had said that, she’d blinked so hard it had looked unnatural.
“When she turned up at my apartment after Junya hit her, and when she was crying and talking to the seminar professor about the abuse, she blinked like that the whole time.”
Seiji was speechless. Did that mean that she’d been lying when she claimed she’d been abused? “And you didn’t tell anyone about it?” The question came out sounding more like an accusation than he’d meant it to.
Saori shrugged evasively. “It’s not as if I had proof. Satsuki’s cheek was actually swollen, and she’d gotten a medical certificate to attest to the damage. People would have criticized me for questioning my friend, no doubt about it.”
“But if you knew she was lying…”
“This is Satsuki we’re talking about. If I’d accused her of lying, she might have made up an even bigger lie. Like, she could’ve told everyone that Junya had been cheating on her with me, and I’d secretly incited him to get abusive toward her.”
The more vulgar the rumor, the truer it seemed to people. Considering that, the lie he’d just heard seemed like a perfect fit for the truth.
“Heh-heh.” A little laugh escaped Saori’s lips. “We actually had a college reunion four months ago. I was the organizer, and wouldn’t you know it, I accidentally sent an invitation to Junya’s parents’ house.”
“Huh?”
“If that invitation had found its way to Junya, he might have managed to ambush Satsuki outside the venue. Something serious may have happened. She’d been updating her blog every other day, but she switched to every three days right about then.”
“But… No way!”
Right at that moment, something came back to Seiji in a rush.
Looking forward to seeing you at the reunion tomorrow. Let’s all sing the school song. It’s been too long since I really drank, so let’s go wild!
At first glance, that comment had seemed to have been a note to a close friend. However, if she’d written it to subtly broadcast the fact that Satsuki was planning to attend the reunion…
“Aren’t you her friend?” Seiji asked, suddenly feeling very cold.
Saori shrugged. “I’d been thinking it was about time we went our separate ways,” she said, with a simplicity that was hard to believe. Then she gave a small, self-deprecating smile. “Ever since I started this job, she’s been keeping her distance. What Satsuki needs is a sensible big-sister type who’ll act as her foil, not a creepy loser who earns a living from ghost stories. That’s why I decided to stop being her friend,” she told them flatly.
Pulling her tote bag over her shoulder, she rose to her feet. Turning to Shiroshi, she gave him a smile that had a hint of defiance to it. “Just you wait. That girl’s going to end up unhappy. It’s bound to happen, and it’s going to be soon.”
“You will, too,” Shiroshi said quietly. His voice was like a single droplet of ink falling onto a blank sheet of paper. “Be careful. As they say, ‘You dig two graves when you curse someone.’”
Saori seemed to bite her lip hard, but she said nothing.
The heels of her low pumps clicked across the ground as she disappeared into the distance. Then all that was left was her nearly untouched cup of tea.
“Um…”
What should he say—and how? As Seiji floundered, utterly at a loss, Shiroshi smiled suddenly.
“Now then, we should be on our way.”
“Huh? We’re going home already?”
“Not quite. There’s still time left in the day, so I believe I’ll stop by the Suicide Bathroom we read about in the blog yesterday. Would you care to join me, Seiji?”
“Huh? No thanks.”
“My, how cold of you.” Shiroshi chuckled. It sounded a bit like the way a cat purred when it was stalking its prey, and for some reason, it sent a shiver down Seiji’s spine.
“Either way, make sure you’re home before twilight. We’re expecting a guest.”