Grotesque Read online

  Hundreds of bonsai were lined up with careful precision along thick wooden planks throughout the estate grounds. Among them was a large pine that resembled the tree my grandfather prized so dearly. In my estimation, it was much too impressive and expensive even to begin to compare to the one my grandfather had.

  “I’m sorry to ask, but does my grandfather really know nothing of bonsai?”

  “He’s a rogue amateur.” The probation officer snorted with contempt, his genial expression suddenly darkening.

  “But if my grandfather tricked people, they must have been extremely wealthy.”

  I was thinking that if there were people who were so rich they were susceptible to my grandfather’s scheme, their lack of appreciation for the bonsai he adored must have made him blind with anger. I could hardly imagine that people would actually be willing to spend so much on a single bonsai; it seemed to me that the swindled were worse than the swindler. Of course, the probation officer didn’t see it that way. He was furiously poking his hand though the air around him.

  “Plenty of people in this area got rich off the compensation money paid when they lost their fishing grounds. This whole area used to be under the ocean, you know.”

  “Under the ocean?” I gasped in spite of myself, completely forgetting the bonsai. I suddenly realized that the love that had been ignited between my mother and father, and the energy it had generated, dissipated the moment conception took place. The new life-form that was to become me ought to have been released then and there into the sea that opened up between them. I’d thought that for a long time. And now at last I had found my release in this new life that I shared with my grandfather, a life that was the sea itself. My decision to live with my grandfather in his tiny pomade-permeated apartment, the fact that I had to listen to his ceaseless chatter and live in a room surrounded by bonsai, was for me the sea, the very sea itself. This coincidental congruence made me happy, and that’s what led me to decide to stay in the area.

  When I got home, I told Grandfather about meeting the probation officer at the Garden of Longevity. Surprised, my grandfather began to question me.

  “What did he say about me?”

  “That you were a bonsai amateur.”

  “Shit!” my grandfather growled. “That bastard doesn’t know shit! That ‘true oak’ of his that won the Ward Prize was a joke. Ha! Just thinking of it makes me want to bust a gut! Anybody can throw money around and buy a good tree. Let him boast about his five million yen. You just look, he doesn’t know about inspiration.”

  From that day on my grandfather spent the entire day on the veranda talking to his bonsai.

  I didn’t learn this until later, but the probation officer used to work for the ward office. He took a position as a guide at the Garden of Longevity, when he retired, and volunteered to monitor my grandfather’s probation. He’s dead now. As soon as he died, my grandfather and I felt as if a huge boulder had been lifted off our heads.

  My grandfather? He’s still alive, but he’s a senile old man who sleeps most of the day. He has no idea who I am. I change his diapers and work like crazy to look after him, but he just points at me and asks me who I am. Occasionally he’ll call my mother’s name, and say things like, “Better do your homework or you’ll end up a thief!” Each time I’m tempted to respond, “Yeah, well, look who’s talking! You’re the one who turned out to be the thief.” As long as grandfather is alive, I can continue to live in his government-sponsored apartment, so I can’t come down on him too hard.

  Oh, yes, I want my grandfather to live a long and frugal life. It seems the word inspiration has completely evaporated from his brain. I wore myself out two years ago trying to take care of him, so I had to put him in the ward-managed Misosazai Nursing Home.

  My grandfather really did work as a handyman, and I did more than just answer the phone for him. When I could I was happy to help him with his jobs. I really enjoyed it, especially since I hadn’t had a lot of contact with people until then. Hardly anyone came to visit us when I was little. My father preferred to associate with people from his own country, but even then he rarely included his family. My mother didn’t associate with others in the neighborhood. She didn’t have a single friend. She never came to meet our teachers or sit in on our classes. Needless to say, she didn’t belong to the Parent-Student Association. That’s the kind of family I had.

  I never thought Yuriko would return to Japan and ruin everything. But four months after moving to Switzerland, my mother committed suicide. Before she died I’d gotten a number of letters from her, but I hadn’t sent her a single note in return. That’s right. Not one.

  I have a few of her letters still with me and will be happy to show them to you. As much as I read them, I never imagined she’d commit suicide. That’s because I never dreamed Mother had such a hidden store of pain. Until she actually chose suicide, I never even noticed that she wanted to bid this world farewell. But what really surprised me was that Mother had the courage to take her own life.

  How are you? The three of us are well. How are you getting along with your grandfather? He’s much more decisive than me, so I suspect the two of you are hitting it off. I wanted to let you know, though, that you don’t have to give Grandfather a single yen more than the ¥40,000 that we’ve promised to pay each month. You have to take care of things at your end and can’t rely on us. But I’m transferring a small sum to your bank account. This is to be your own spending money, so keep it secret from your grandfather. And if he manages to wheedle a loan out of you, be sure to get him to write out a promissory note. These are your father’s instructions that I’m passing along.

  By the way, how’s your schoolwork? I can’t believe you made it into such an elite high school! I brag about you whenever I run into another Japanese person here. And although Yuriko has yet to say anything, I’m sure she is furious with jealousy. Please keep up your studies; it’s great incentive for Yuriko! You can always better her with your brains.

  I suppose the cherry blossoms have all but fallen in Japan. I miss the Yoshino cherries. They must have been so beautiful when the blossoms were at their peak. I’ve not seen any cherry trees in Bern. I’m sure they must be blooming somewhere, so the next chance I get, I’m going to ask a member of the Japanese Citizens Association. Though your father isn’t really keen on my joining the Japanese Citizens Association—or the Japanese Women’s Group, for that matter.

  It’s still cold here: you can’t go out without a coat. The wind off the Aare River is chilly, and the cold so bitter it makes me lonely. I’m wearing the beige coat that we bought on sale at the Odaky Department Store. I’m sure you remember. It’s really too light for this weather, but I’m constantly getting compliments on it. Some people even ask me where I bought it. The people here really dress well. They carry themselves properly and always seem dignified.

  Bern is as pretty as a fairy tale but it’s much smaller than I had imagined, and this really surprised me at first. I was also surprised to find people from so many different countries living here. When we first arrived I walked through the streets amazed at everything I saw, but lately I’ve grown a little tired of it. Most of our money is going toward your allowance and school fees, so we can’t really buy anything and have to live as frugally as possible. Yuriko is angry and claims it’s all because you got to stay behind in Japan. But don’t worry about it. You’ve got to rely on your brains to get ahead.

  Our house is in a new area of the city. Karl’s hosiery factory is one building over. Across from us is a building with tiny apartments, and alongside that is an empty lot. Your father’s pleased because we are within the city limits, but it feels like we’re on the outskirts to me. If I bring it up, however, it makes your father furious. Wherever you go in Bern the streets are orderly, and all you find are tall people speaking an incomprehensible language. Moreover, everyone is really aggressive. This has been quite a lesson for me.

  Just the other day I had this experience. I’m always c