clang-dong

Someone had entered the café. To enter this café, one has to descend stairs from the ground level, and go in through a large door about seven feet high, made out of solid wood. It’s when this door opens that the bell sounds, but the visitor does not immediately appear at the entrance, as a small patch of flooring must be crossed first. Once the bell rings, there is a time lag of a few seconds before the visitor takes those one or two steps and enters the café.

So when the bell rang, Kohtake had no idea who had come in. Was it Nagare? Or Kei? She noticed how nervous the suspense was making her. Her heart was racing in excitement. It wasn’t the kind of thing she normally did—a once in a lifetime experience, to be exact. If it was Kei, she would probably ask me why. Kazu, on the other hand, would just probably deliver her usual customer service...that would probably be a disappointment.

Kohtake played out various scenarios in her mind. But the person who appeared was neither Kei nor Kazu. Standing in the doorway was Fusagi.

“Oh...” Kohtake said. His sudden appearance had taken her by surprise. It was him she had come back to see, but she hadn’t been expecting him to walk into the café right then.

He was wearing a navy polo shirt and beige knee-length shorts. It was what he often wore on his days off. It must have been hot outside, as he was fanning himself with his black zippered portfolio.

She sat unmoving in her chair. He stood at the entrance for a while, staring at her with an odd look.

“Hi there,” she began.

She felt clueless as to how she was going to broach what she had come to talk about. He had never stared at her like this. Not since they met—let alone since they had been married. It was both flattering and embarrassing.

She had formed a hazy image of three years ago but she didn’t know how to make sure that that was where she was .

Maybe she hadn’t imagined it right, and if that was the case, what was to say that by some mistake she’d got the three right, but she had only returned to three days ago? Just when she began to think she might have been too vague...

“Oh hello. I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said matter-of-factly.

Fusagi sounded like he had before he became ill. He was as she had pictured him—that is to say, he was how she remembered him.

“I was waiting, but you didn’t come home,” he added.

He looked away from her gaze. He coughed nervously with a furrowed brow, as if uncomfortable with something.

“So it’s really you?” she said.

“Huh?”

“You know who I am?”

“What?” He looked at her with bemusement.

But she was, of course, not joking. She had to make sure. It was obvious that she had returned to the past. But when? Before or after the onset of the Alzheimer’s?

“Just say my name,” she said.

“Are you going to stop messing with me?” he spat out crossly.

Though he hadn’t answered the question, she smiled with relief. “No, it’s okay,” she said, shaking her head a little.

This short exchange told her everything she needed to know. She had definitely gone back. The Fusagi standing before her was Fusagi from before he had lost his memory. And if the image she pictured had worked, it was the Fusagi of three years ago. Kohtake smiled as she gave her coffee an unnecessary stir .

Fusagi observed Kohtake and her peculiar behavior. “You’re acting a bit strange today,” he said, looking around the café, as if he had just realized no one else was there.

“Nagare, you here?” he called to the kitchen.

With no reply, he went behind the counter, flapping his setta sandals as he walked. He peeked into the back room, but no one was there.

“That’s odd. No one’s here,” he grumbled. He sat down on the counter seat furthest away from Kohtake.

She coughed on purpose to get his attention. He looked at her, fed up.

“What is it?”

“Why are you sitting there?”

“Why not? What’s stopping me?”

“Why not come and sit here?”

She rapped on the table to beckon him to sit in the empty seat facing her. But he winced at the idea.

“No. I’m fine,” he replied.

“Oh, come on now... Why not?”

“A mature married couple, sitting down together like that...nah,” Fusagi said, a little crossly. The crevice between his brows deepened. He was dismissive of the idea, but when his brow furrowed in that way, it wasn’t that he was displeased. On the contrary, it was a sign that he was in a good mood.

She knew all too well it was meant to conceal his embarrassment.

“True. We’re a married couple,” she agreed, smiling. She was so happy to hear the word couple from his lips.

“Ugh... Don’t be so sentimental... ”

Now anything he said brought back waves of nostalgia...and happiness. She absentmindedly sipped the coffee.

“Uh-oh,” she said out loud, as she realized how much the coffee had cooled. It suddenly dawned on her how limited her time there was. She had to do what she had to do before it went completely cold.

“Look, there’s something I need to ask you.”

“What? What is it?”

“Is there anything...anything you want to hand me?”

Kohtake’s heart started racing. Fusagi had written it before the onset of his illness, it may have been a love letter. Totally impossible... she was telling herself. But if it were... Her wish to read it was now running wild, reassured by the fact that no matter what she did, the present would not change.

“What?”

“About this by this...”

She drew the size of the envelope in the air using her fingers, just as Kazu had shown her. Her direct approach provoked alarm in his face, as he glared at her, completely motionless. I’ve blown it , she thought on seeing his expression. She remembered that something similar had happened soon after they were married.

Fusagi had a present ready to give her for her birthday. On the day before, by accident, she saw it among his belongings. Never before having received a present from him, she was overjoyed at the prospect of receiving this first gift. On the day of her birthday, when he had returned home from work, she was so excited that she asked him, “Don’t you have something special for me today?” But on hearing this, he went very quiet. “No, nothing in particular,” he said. The next day, she found her present in the bin. It was the lilac handkerchief.

She felt she had repeated the same mistake. He hated being told to do something that he had been meaning to do himself. Now she feared that even if he was carrying the letter, he would never give it to her—especially if it was a love letter. She regretted her carelessness even more so because time was of the essence. He still looked alarmed. She smiled at him.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean anything. Please forget it,” she said in a lighthearted way. Then to emphasize that it didn’t really matter to her either way, she tried to make small talk. “Hey, I just thought: why don’t we have sukiyaki tonight?”

It was his favorite dish. He seemed to be in a sulky mood, but this usually lifted his spirits.

She slowly reached for the cup and felt the temperature of the coffee with her palm. It was still okay. She still had time. She could cherish these precious moments with him. She wanted to forget the letter for the time being. Judging by his reaction, he definitely had written her something. If he hadn’t, he would have responded in no uncertain terms, “What on earth are you talking about?” If she allowed the current situation to play out, he would end up throwing the letter away. She decided to change strategy. She would try to alter his mood to prevent a repeat of what happened on her birthday. She looked at him. His face was still serious. But then again, it was always like that. He never wanted her to think that just by hearing sukiyaki his mood instantly lifted. He wasn’t that straightforward. This was Fusagi before Alzheimer’s. Even his sulky face was precious to her. It was bliss to be with him again now. But she had read the situation incorrectly .

“Oh, I get it. I see what’s happening,” he said, with a gloomy look. He got up from the counter and walked over to stand in front of her.

“What do you mean?” she asked, looking up at him. He was striking an imposing stance as he glared back at her. “What’s wrong?” She hadn’t seen him like this before.

“You’re from the future...aren’t you?”

“What?”

What he had just said could be considered crazy. But he was right—she had come from the future.

“Er. Now, look...” She was racking her brains trying to remember whether there was a rule that said, When you go back in time, you cannot reveal that you are from the future. But none existed.

“Look, I can explain—”

“I thought it was strange that you were sitting in that seat.”

“Yes...well.”

“So that means you know about my illness.”

She felt her heart start racing again. She thought she had been transported back to a time before his disease—but she was wrong. The Fusagi standing before her knew he was ill.

Just from looking at his clothes, she could tell it was summertime. She had been transported back to the summer of two years ago—the time when he began losing his way, when she began noticing the telltale signs of his illness. If she had gone back by as little as a year, her conversation with him would have become muddled by now.

Rather than three years ago, she had returned to the day that met with the criteria she had imagined: a day when Fusagi had not forgotten her...a day when he was thinking of passing her the letter...and a day when he brought it with him to the café. To have gone back three years would have meant that he had not yet written the letter.

The Fusagi standing before her knew he was ill, and so it was likely that the content of the letter concerned his disease. Also, the way he reacted with such dread when she mentioned the letter seemed further evidence.

“You know, don’t you?” he said forcefully, pressing her to give an answer. She couldn’t see how she could lie at this stage. She nodded silently.

“I see,” he muttered.

She regained her composure. Okay, whatever I do here, it’s not going to change the present. But it might upset him... I never would have returned to the past if I thought that might happen. How embarrassing that I was all caught up in the idea of it being a love letter.

She felt deep, deep regret for coming back. But now was not the time to be wallowing. He had gone silent.

“My love?” she said to the despondent-looking Fusagi. She had never seen him looking so depressed. It was heart-wrenching. He suddenly turned his back on her and stepped toward the counter where he had been sitting. He picked up the black portfolio. From it, he pulled a brown envelope and walked back to her. His face showed no signs of wretchedness or desperation; he looked more embarrassed than anything else.

He began to mumble in a throaty voice that was difficult to hear.

“The ‘you’ living in this time doesn’t know about my illness... ”

He might be under that impression. But “I” already know, or will very soon.

“I just don’t know how to tell you...”

He held up the brown envelope to show her. He was planning to tell her that he had Alzheimer’s in this letter.

But I don’t need to read it... I already know. It would make more sense to give it to me in the past. The “me” that Fusagi can’t bring himself to give it to... I guess if he can’t pass it to that version of me, it’s okay that I take it. That’s just the way things are.

She decided to leave while things were as they were at that moment. She didn’t want the subject of his illness to be broached. The worst-case scenario was him asking about his condition in the present. If he asked how his condition progressed, who knows how he would take the awful news. She should return before he asked. Now was the time to return to the present...

The coffee was now at a temperature that she could down it in one go.

“I can’t let the coffee go cold,” she said and brought the cup close to her mouth.

“So I forget? I forget you?” he mumbled, looking down.

Hearing this, she was overwhelmed by confusion. She didn’t even know why there was a coffee cup in front of her.

She looked at him in trepidation. Staring at him, she noticed how forlorn his expression was now. She had never imagined that he could look that way. Lost for words, she couldn’t even maintain eye contact and found herself casting her eyes down.

By giving no reply, she had answered his question with a yes .

“I see. I feared as much,” he murmured sadly. He bowed his head so deeply his neck looked like it might break.

Her eyes welled with tears. After being diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, he had struggled each day with the dread and anxiety of losing his memory. Yet she, his wife, had not seen how he had borne these thoughts and feelings alone. On learning that she had come from the future, the first thing he had wanted to know was whether he had forgotten her, his wife. This realization filled her with both joy and sorrow.

It gave her the strength to look him in the face, without wiping away her tears. She smiled broadly at him so he might interpret her tears as those of joy.

“Actually, your illness does get better, you know.” As a nurse, now is the time I need to be strong.

“In fact, you in the future told me...”

I can say anything without changing the present.

“...how you did have anxious moments.”

What does it hurt if I lie? If I can relieve his anxiety, even if it’s just for a moment, it’s worth it...

She wanted so much for her lie to be believed, she would do anything. She had a lump in her throat. Tears streamed down her face. But maintaining her beaming smile, she continued.

“It will be all right.”

It will be all right!

“ You recover.”

You recover!

“ Don’t worry.”

You recover... Really.

Every word she spoke, she delivered with all her strength .

In her mind, it wasn’t a lie. Even if he had forgotten who she was... Even if nothing she did changed the present. He looked her straight in the eyes and she looked right back at him, her face streaming with tears.

He looked happy. “Oh really?” he said in a soft whisper.

“Yes,” she said.

He looked at her in the gentlest of ways. Looking down at the brown envelope he was holding in his hands, he slowly approached her. The distance between them was now such that a letter might be handed from one to the other.

“Here,” he said. Like a shy child, he offered her the brown envelope he was holding.

She tried to push the letter away. “But you get better,” she said.

“Then you can throw it out,” he said, handing her the letter more forcefully. His tone was different from his normal gruff self. He spoke with such gentleness that it gave her the odd feeling that she must have missed something.

He once again pressed the brown envelope on her. Her trembling hands reached out and nervously took it. She wasn’t really sure of his intentions.

“Drink up. Your coffee will get cold,” he said, acknowledging the rules. The kindness in his smile seemed infinite.

She nodded. It was just a small nod. With no words left, she reached for the coffee.

Once she had her hands firmly on the cup, he turned his back.

It was as if their time as a couple had reached its end. A large tear began to form in her eye.

“My love,” she cried out without thinking. He did not turn around. His shoulders appeared to be trembling ever so slightly. While watching his back, she drank the coffee in one go. She drank it in one gulp, not out of a sense of urgency that the coffee was about to go cold, but rather out of respect for Fusagi, whose gentle back was turned to ensure she could quickly and safely return to the present. Such was the depth of his kindness.

“My darling.”

She felt overcome by a shimmering and rippling sensation. She returned the cup to its saucer. As her hand drew back, it seemed to dissolve into steam. All that was left to do was to return to the present. This fleeting moment, when they had once more been together as husband and wife, had ended.

Suddenly, he turned round—a reaction, perhaps, to the sound of her cup hitting the saucer. She didn’t know how he could make her out, but he seemed to be able to see her there. As her consciousness flickered and dissipated into the steam, she saw his lips move a little.

Unless she was mistaken, he seemed to be saying, “Thank you.”

Her consciousness had merged with the steam, and she had begun the transition from past to present. The café around her began to fast-forward. She could do nothing to stem the flow of her tears. In a blink, she realized Kazu and Kei had reappeared in her field of vision. She had returned to the present—the day that he had completely forgotten her. One look at her expression was enough to fill Kei’s face with worry.

“The letter?” she asked. Letter , not love letter.

She dropped her gaze to the brown envelope she’d been given by Fusagi in the past. She slowly removed the letter from the envelope.

It was written in basic script, all squiggly like crawling worms. It was definitely Fusagi’s handwriting. As Kohtake read the letter, she held her right hand to her mouth to stop the sobbing as her tears fell.

So sudden was her outburst of tears that Kazu was worried. “Kohtake...are you okay?” she asked.

Kohtake’s shoulders began to shudder, and gradually she began wailing, louder and louder. Kazu and Kei stood there looking at her, unsure of what to do. After a while, she handed Kazu the letter.

Kazu took the letter, and, as if looking for permission, she looked at Kei behind the counter. Kei nodded slightly with a grave expression.

Kazu looked back at the tearful Kohtake and then began to read out loud.

“You’re a nurse, so I can only assume you have already noticed. I have an illness where I forget things.

“I imagine that as I keep on losing my memory, you will be able to put aside your own feelings and care for me with the detachment of a nurse, and that you can do that no matter what strange things I say or do—even if I forget who you are.

“So I ask you never to forget one thing. You are my wife, and if life becomes too hard for you as my wife, I want you to leave me.

“You don’t have to stay by me as a nurse. If I am no good as a husband, then I want you to leave me. All I ask is that you can do what you can as my wife. We are husband and wife after all. Even if I lose my memory, I want to be together as husband and wife. I cannot stand the idea of us staying together only out of sympathy.

“This is something I cannot say to your face, so I wrote it in a letter.”

When Kazu finished reading, Kohtake and Kei looked up at the ceiling and began to cry loudly. Kohtake understood why Fusagi had handed this letter to her, his wife from the future. From the letter, it was clear that he had guessed what she would do after she found out about his illness. And then, when he came from the future, it became clear to him that, just as he predicted, in the future she was caring for him like a nurse.

Amid the anxiety and fear of losing his memory, he was hoping that she would continue to be his wife. She was always in his heart.

There was more proof of this to be found. Even after losing his memory, he could content himself by looking at travel magazines, opening his notebook, and jotting something down. She had once looked at what he wrote. He had been listing the destinations that he had traveled to in order to visit gardens. She had simply assumed his actions were a hangover from his love of his work as a landscape gardener. But she was wrong. The destinations he made a note of were all the places that he had visited with her. She didn’t notice at the time. She couldn’t see. These notes were the last handhold for Fusagi, who was gradually forgetting who she was.

Of course, that she had looked after him as a nurse didn’t feel like a mistake to her. She had believed that it was for the best. And he didn’t write the letter to blame her in any way either. It seemed to her that he knew that her talk about him getting healed was a lie, but it was a lie he wanted to believe. Otherwise , she thought, he wouldn’t have said “thank you.”

After her crying had stopped, the woman in the dress returned from the bathroom, stood in front of her and spoke just one word.

“Move!” she said in a low voice.

“Sure,” she said, leaping up and relinquishing the seat.

The woman in the dress’s reappearance was impeccably timed, coinciding with a switch in Kohtake’s mood. Eyes swollen from crying, she looked at Kazu and Kei. She held up the letter that Kazu had just read, and waved it.

“So there you have it,” she said with a grin.

Kei responded by nodding, her round bright eyes still streaming tears like a waterfall.

“What have I been doing?” Kohtake mumbled, looking at the letter.

“Kohtake,” Kei sniffled, looking worried.

Kohtake neatly folded the letter and returned it to the envelope. “I’m going home,” she said, in a bold, confident voice.

Kazu gave a small nod. Kei was still sniffing. Kohtake looked at the still-teary Kei, who had cried longer than she had. She smiled as she thought that Kei must be getting pretty dehydrated, and let out a deep breath. No longer looking lost, she seemed empowered. She pulled out her purse from her shoulder bag on the counter and handed Kazu three hundred and eighty yen in coins.

“Thanks,” she said.

With a calm expression, Kazu returned her smile.

Kohtake gave a quick nod and walked toward the entrance.

She stepped lightly. She was in a hurry to see Fusagi’s face.

She passed through the doorway and out of sight.

“Ah!” she said and doubled back into the café. Kazu and Kei looked at her inquiringly.

“One more thing,” she said. “Starting tomorrow, no more calling me by my maiden name, okay?”

She grinned broadly.

It was Kohtake who originally requested that she be called by her maiden name. When Fusagi had started calling her Kohtake, she wanted to avoid confusion. But such consideration was not necessary now. A smile returned to Kei’s face and her bright eyes opened widely.

“Okay, got you,” she said happily.

“Tell everyone else too,” said Kohtake, and without waiting for a reply, she waved and left.