Pathway to Japanese Literature

Husband

Wife

Inn Maid A

Inn Maid B

Bath Attendant

Inn Manager

Inn Manager

Act I

*Midsummer—A Rainy Day*

A seaside inn — a room overlooking the sea.

*Husband (lying prone and mimicking swimming)*

*Wife (contemplating recipients for her picture postcards)*

*Inn Maid A (enters)*

*Husband (stops mimicking swimming and pretends to read a newspaper)*

MAID: "Truly, with this dreadful weather day after day, you must be so dreadfully bored."

WIFE: "Yes, but since we can always go into the sea later, staying here quietly listening to the rain has its own charm. Since we came here for a summer retreat anyway, coolness is what matters most."

"Well, regarding the coolness—if I may say so—it's certainly preferable to sunny days."
"Even though this is a coastal area, when the sun shines brightly, it becomes quite impossible to sit still for long."

Wife: "That may be true, but with this sort of weather, there can't be many guests."

"Well, some guests have already started making arrangements to leave under these circumstances."
"In Tokyo too, they say it's been rather cool these days…"

“That can’t be true,” said the Wife. “The day we arrived was cloudy but terribly muggy. We practically fled our busy lives to come here.”

“Is that so?” replied the Maid. “Our manager actually went to Tokyo last night—he had some urgent business, you see. This morning he called to say Tokyo’s had heavy rain since yesterday evening too—so cold you’d freeze in just a yukata.”

“Hey you, cut out the Tokyo talk. I went to all this trouble to forget about work and rest my mind for a couple of days...”

Inn Maid A: “Oh! Such terrible rudeness...”
“Is there anything you require?”

Husband: “I’ll call if needed—just go back downstairs.”

Wife: “What are you... saying such blunt things...”

Inn Maid A: “My sincerest apologies.”
(Exits.)

Wife: “Please stop... there’s no need to lash out so harshly...”
“What’s wrong with swimming in the rain? If you’re so desperate to swim... go right ahead...”

Husband: “Even if it’s raining… swim?”
“They’d call me crazy if anyone saw.”

Wife: “You’re far crazier swimming on tatami.”

Husband: “Why don’t we just go back to Tokyo?”

*Wife (languishing)*
“Let’s try staying one more day.”
“Look—the sky over there seems brighter now.”
“Maybe tomorrow will bring clear weather.”

Husband: —“They say Tokyo’s been pleasantly cool.”
“Write this postcard: ‘Sweltering daily here—not once entered sea.’”

Wife: “I wrote this to Ms.Yuriko:‘Tokyo must be sweltering for you.Here，it’s so cool that one needs a light jacket even during morning and evening strolls…’”
Husband:“Morning and evening strolls…?”
Wife:“Oh，do listen.”“‘—It’s so cool here that you need a light jacket even for morning and evening strolls…And since we spend all day in the sea during daylight hours，we hardly notice any heat…’”
Husband:“Good grief…”
Wife:“‘Within two or three days，I’ve become embarrassingly tanned.’”

“Hey.”
“Do be quiet.”
“—We’re currently discussing whether to venture out by boat later today.”
“Impressive.”
“Are all those postcards using identical wording?”
“Much the same with minor variations.”
“Who are you sending them to?”

“This one’s for Ms. Yuriko.”
“And this one’s for Mom.”
“This one’s for Takako-chan.”
“This one’s for the neighbor’s wife.”
“This one’s for the Deity out back…”

“I’m fortunate to be with you, so I don’t have to receive such postcards.”
“Truly, you should never befriend women who go on summer retreats.”
“Well, it’s really brightening up now!”

“The rain’s letting up now.”
*I’m glad.*

“Do you know what this swimming style is called?”

“It must be breaststroke.”

“Good, that’s right,” said the Husband. “This is…”

“So you’re still on about swimming?”

“It’s swimming,” he insisted. “Suifu-ryu style.” He demonstrated a hand position. “This nukite thrust…”

“Which stroke will you teach me?”

“Breaststroke first,” he decided. “Easiest to learn.” He patted the tatami mat. “Try it here.”

“No, not in a place like this…”

“For practice, this spot’s better suited, I tell you.”

“No.”

“What a strange one you are.
You did say you’d never once entered the sea?”

“Yes.”

“Can’t have you being timid.
Getting comfortable with water’s what counts most.
Swim or don’t swim—that feeling when your body floats on the waves? Nothing compares.
If I had to liken it…
Well now…that dreamy intoxication from when we first spoke of love—”

“Please spare me your corny lines.”

“Why is that corny? You—this is exactly why you’re hopeless. You reduce everything to prosaic literalism.”

“True enough—we’ve been living parched, flavorless lives day after day. I bury my skull in paper, ink, and abacuses from dawn till dusk, while you march between frayed seams and charcoal stoves.”

“Between us, even those figments we called dreams had withered away. No—we’d lost sight of our very selves.”

Wife: …
Husband: "The meager money we happened to obtain—the meager leisure—has placed us here now before boundlessly vast hope, look—like that sea out there. Hey—are you listening?"
Wife: …

“Have we ever yearned for the sun this intensely before? Have I ever clung to things so desperately in recent days? You’re a woman yourself. Can’t you feel it? The passion in my heart that was likely to vanish forever—it’s blazing up again right now. What, can’t you feel it?”

Wife: …
(She glanced briefly at her husband.)

Husband: “Why are you looking at me with such a mystified face? I have not gone mad because of this rain that’s been falling for three days straight.”

The desk telephone's call bell rang.

Husband: (Calmly) I have no use for telephones.
"Your... that youthful..."

The call bell continued ringing even more shrilly.

“Ugh, shut up!”
(Picking up the receiver) “Hello? Hello? What is it?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“Huh? From Tokyo…”
“From who in Tokyo…?”
“Please hurry and connect me.”
“Ah, hello, hello. Yes, that’s correct.”
“Ah, it’s you…”
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Huh? Well... It’s not like that.”

“Who is it?”

“Mr. Kobayashi.”

“Mr. Kobayashi?”

Husband: No, no—it’s nothing like that.
“Don’t talk nonsense.”
“Ha ha ha ha.”
“Yeah, it’s quite a nice place.”
“Ah, the sea’s beautiful.”
“Huh? Ah—she’s here, of course she’s here….”
“Bringing her along just ruins everything.”

“What was that...?”

“She’s here.”
“She’s glaring over here.”

Wife: “What sort of conversation…?”

Husband: “What do you mean ‘conversation’? I’m listening!”
“Ha ha ha ha.”
“Is Tokyo sweltering?”
“I see—since last evening then…”
“It’s far cooler here.”
“No no, the sea’s perfectly calm.”
“Ah yes, we were just about to head out actually.”

Wife: “Do give his wife my regards.”

Husband: “Huh. You never can tell.”
“Well that sounds dreadful.”
“My wife says to pass along her greetings to your better half.”
“Yes, muddling through somehow.”
“Is the old man in?”
“Tch, quit nagging!”
“When it’s time to return, simply say we’re returning.”
“Our brilliant strategy—only pursuing what’s beyond reach.”

“Oh—goodbye then. Uh—ah—got it.”
“Goodbye…”

Wife: “What was the call regarding…?”

Husband: “What business could there be?”
“Well look—the rain’s stopped!”
“Come on—let’s hurry while we can.”
(He hurriedly stripped off his yukata—underneath lay swimwear already properly worn.)

Wife: (rising briskly) “Why must you carry on like this?”

“Of course it is,” said the Husband. “The sea’s right there. Practically part of the garden. What—you planning to take a taxi?”

“Then I...” began the Wife.

“You’re fine as you are.”

“But I haven’t put on my swimsuit yet.”

“Hurry up and put it on then.”

“Go wait outside.”

“More importantly, there should be a changing hut at the coast.
Just take it as it is.”

“No one’s watching.”

“If you keep dawdling, it might start raining again.
Come on, hurry...”

The couple scrambled outside.

By the time they had presumably descended the ladder-like stairs, the rain suddenly began falling again. A gramophone was playing in one of the rooms.

As if keeping time with the music, dejectedly, the couple returned.
The two silently entered the room and each took their respective seats.
They did nothing in particular, just vacantly gazing up at the sky.
Faint sighs.

A long silence.

Eventually, the husband took out a travel brochure from his suitcase and began flipping through its pages.

The wife took out a pillow and prepared for an afternoon nap.

“Hey, stop sleeping! If you go ahead and sleep now, I won’t know what to do with myself.”

“If you were to get some rest too...”

“You’ve slept fourteen hours straight from seven last evening until nine this morning and now want to sleep again? That’s pushing it,” he said. “Even granting there’s nothing to do but sleep – we rode that bone-rattling train all this way, paid five yen for this inn, came to this vaunted Shonan Beach resort! Shouldn’t we at least pretend to enjoy ourselves?”

“But if sea bathing’s impossible,” she countered flatly, “what would you have us do?”

Husband: “Instead of just saying 'If we can’t go sea bathing then there’s nothing to be done,' can’t we find some way to make the best of this situation?”

Wife: “You should take an umbrella and go for a walk or something. I’ll just stay lying down like this.”
(lies down)

Husband: “With an umbrella? I didn’t bring one.”

Wife: “Then borrow one.”

Husband: “Are you lying down?”

Wife: “Yes.”

The husband borrowed an umbrella and took a walk; his wife lay down and savored her boredom.
This wasn't even a joke.

Wife: "That's why I kept saying it would've been better to make even one piece of clothing than come to this place..."

Husband: "I get it already.
From now on, I'll go traveling."

"Where are you off to?"

Husband: "Wherever my fancy takes me—all over Japan."

Wife: ...

Husband: "Maybe I'll try going somewhere like Beppu."

Wife: "Just take the travel brochure."

Husband: "Of course... There's no journey more economical than this. Travel brochures are curious things, aren't they? When I look through the train timetables one after another, I start feeling like my body's moving along with them. Might just be some illusion, but if I apply this thing properly, maybe I could pull off some grand discovery."

Wife: ...

Husband: "When it says 'bento,' you can practically smell those fancy lunchbox wrappers - isn't that fascinating?"

“What’s so interesting about that?”

“Don’t you find it interesting? You never find anything interesting. That’s why mosquitoes bite the soles of your feet. Still itching?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“This Ōnuma Park place seems to have rather splendid scenery. Wouldn’t be bad to visit Hokkaido sometime either. Let’s see… what’s the timetable like?”

“If you’re going traveling, do it quietly please.”

“Travel quietly…? What you’re describing is so-called ‘mute travel,’ isn’t it?”

The gramophone's sound stopped.

“You say all sorts of things, but lately—what do you want to eat?”
“…”
“Are you already asleep?”

“…”
“That can’t be right.”
“You were just biting back a yawn this second.”
“…”
“Still clinging to your tanuki act?”

Wife: …
Husband: I'm gonna say something that'll shock you. Still okay with that?

“…”
“All right…”
“I’ll say it.”
“Don’t raise your voice.”
“…”

“I met my lover from ten years ago earlier.”
“That I ever had such a lover—you probably wouldn’t know about that.”
“I hadn’t mentioned that until now.”
“Because I didn’t want to needlessly upset you.”
“However, the day has finally come when I must confess this to you.”
“You don’t have to hold your breath like that.”

Wife: …
Husband: “Seems she’s still single over there.”
“A woman with eyes like pure innocence itself.”
“She claims that just as those eyes haven’t changed one bit from the old days, her feelings toward me remain exactly as they were back then.”
“When she asked how I felt about it, I told her.”
“Do you know what I said?”

“…”

“Hey—this isn’t the time to be resting easy.”

Wife: (Scrubs vigorously under her arm)

Husband: "This isn't the time to be scratching there. What do you think I said? I said this: 'It's truly kind of you to care for me so deeply, but I'm no longer free.' Then she said, 'I do know about that. Just yesterday I saw you two walking so affectionately down the hallway together.' 'Your wife seems... both kind and clever,' she said. I was at a loss for how to respond and told her women like that are a dime a dozen."

Wife: (Takes a deep breath)

Husband: Just saying “they’re a dime a dozen” didn’t feel sufficient, so I rephrased it—“A woman that insensitive is practically one of a kind.”
“I said it right to your face, but that’s the honest truth.”

Wife: (Adjusts the pillow)

Husband: "Then she turned out to be quite tactful."
"'But wouldn't you say being with someone like yourself brings greater happiness in the end?' she said."
"When I asked why she was playing dumb like that, she just laughed and didn't answer."

Wife: (Snores faintly)

Husband: "That fishy snoring shows my words hit home."
"Come on, say something."

Wife: …

Husband: “You’ve got nothing to say, huh? Then I’ll continue.—The two of them suddenly regained their former intimacy. There were various detailed exchanges during that time—which I’ll skip over—but in any case, she invited me to visit when we return to Tokyo. She even added that she’s been living a lonely life with an old maid. So then, without mentioning returning to Tokyo, I tried proposing that I wanted to go to her room right then for a proper talk. After all, there’s nothing to do here—I suggested she must be utterly bored. I even ventured to say I wanted to escape from my wife’s side—this woman I’ve grown tired of seeing daily—if only for a moment. Then comes her rather peculiar response: ‘No, that won’t do. In a place where I feel your wife’s presence so acutely, I couldn’t possibly offer you proper hospitality. Nor could I bring myself to feel that way.’ ‘The Tokyo residence,’ she added, ‘is in such a quiet, secluded spot. A stranger would need three hours just to find it.’ With that, our conversation briefly lapsed. Fresh from the bath, her translucent hands rested on the veranda railing, poised as if subtly awaiting something. Neither pursed nor parted, her unrouged lips quivered faintly. Her eyes were fixed on the distant horizon beyond—that land where memories bloom.”

Wife: (Turns over and reorients herself toward her husband.)
(—her mouth now left slackly agape, nostrils angled upward in a posture that allows clear visibility into their depths—as if positioned for examination in an ear, nose, and throat clinic—)

Husband: (Seeing this, he instinctively turned his face away) You turned over with such audacity.

In the hallway, a maid’s voice suddenly called out, “Okin-san.”

Wife: (Suddenly appearing to wake—or pretending to—she sat bolt upright with sleep-thickened voice and artfully blank expression) “Is the bath ready yet?”

Husband: (Flustered yet still dubiously) “Were you actually asleep?”

Wife: (Without responding to this, she rises, gathers her hand towel, soap, toiletries, and exits unsteadily.)

Husband (watching her go with deflated resignation)

― Curtain ―

II

The following evening

Husband: (In a white shirt, preparing the suitcase)

Wife: (Drying a hand towel at the hibachi)

Maid: (Bringing the bill) There remains considerable time until your train's departure. Please relax at your leisure...

Husband: (Pulling the bill closer) We'll return before long—do keep our usual room ready...

Maid: By all means, please...
"But after all this time—with tomorrow's weather finally looking up—mightn't you consider extending your stay one more day?"

Husband: Ah, well... Work keeps me busy.
"What nonsense—I've rested aplenty."
"Escaping Tokyo was our chief purpose from the outset..."
"Bad weather's equally dreary anywhere."
"Here—this should settle it..." (hands over payment)

Maid: (Bows and exits)

Wife: How much does it come to?

Husband: Came out cheaper than expected.

“As planned…?”

Husband: “Well, that’s about the size of it. Should I splurge on the gratuity?”

Wife: “Oh, stop that—such a waste… If we’re spending that much, it’d be smarter to stay another day.”

Husband: “If we could do that, I wouldn’t complain. Look at that—the sky… It’s hard to believe it was raining all this time.”

Wife: “About your company… Couldn’t you manage one more day…?”

Husband: “If only that phone call earlier hadn’t come. I’m practically hogtied here. However, through this incident, they’ve finally come to understand just how crucial I am to the company. I’ll make a point of arriving a bit late tomorrow morning. And then I’ll put on a slightly displeased expression. That section chief guy will definitely come over and start spouting some flattery. I'll just give a curt grunt in response.”

“You may be satisfied with that, but what am I supposed to tell everyone when I get back? Just wait until someone accidentally finds swimsuits that were never once wet. What a fine disgrace that would be.”

“Don’t you go using a word like ‘disgrace.’ If you’re so worried about it, why not just wet the swimsuits with water from the iron kettle? For one thing, do you think having gone into the sea is really something to boast about?”

“But isn’t it maddening?”

Husband: “I agree.”
“But it’s all about perspective, you know.”
“That story about how we went through all that trouble to come to the coast only to get rained on the whole time, never once setting foot in the sea over five days—it’s not such an unpleasant tale for others to hear.”
“In fact, depending on who’s listening, they might even weep tears of joy.”

Wife: “Who on earth would cry over that…?”

Husband: “And if we looked just a bit more dejected about it, wouldn’t that make the whole farce even more perfectly absurd?”

Wife: “But our spirits when we left were hardly anything to boast about.”

Husband: “What does it matter?
It’s actually an encouraging story when you think about it…
That sort of thing happens all the time anyway.
Even if we’d foreseen this outcome and left home looking utterly dejected from the start, nobody would’ve been moved.
Truth be told—and I don’t mean to single you out—your family members, whether your mother, sister, or Okō-chan, they all share that same unfortunate tendency.”

They stopped talking at the sound of footsteps.

Maid: (Appears.)
(bringing the change) Thank you very much.

Husband: (taking a few bills from the amount) Ah, here... just a small gratuity...

Maid: No, we have a policy against accepting gratuities...

“Right.”
“Well now... that’s something.”
“In that case, take this—for your trouble.”

“You’re too kind.”

“Now then—that other maid. The one who kept popping in and out... What was her name again? The stomping one...”

“Oh really...”

“What’s wrong with that? Don’t you think? She’s not exactly the quiet type,” said the Husband. “Call her here.”
“And the young bath attendant too.”
“That mute fellow, you know…”

The Maid replied, “No, that’s simply his way.”
“Unless it’s something truly significant, he doesn’t speak to anyone at all.”

“With behavior like that,” retorted the Husband, “nothing major’s ever going to happen.”

“Once your luggage is ready, please…” said the Maid before exiting.

“How much did you give them?”

“There’s no need to fret over every little thing. Just keep pretending you’re a director’s wife until we get back to Tokyo.”

“I plan to keep up the pretense even after we return.”

“By all means do. You’re hopeless—your very spirit’s that of some low-wage deity.”

“Which makes it absolutely perfect.”

“Perfect,” you say…?
“Are you trying to insult me?”
“Keep that up and I’ll start lecturing again.”

“I’ve had enough of your lectures….”

“I suppose you have.”
“But listen—I want to discuss this properly. It’s high time you made some effort to understand my feelings.”
“You’re a remarkably good woman—the rarest sort.”
“Then why are you making that face?”

“......”

“No flattery intended—you’re exactly the kind of woman who was born into this world for my sake.”

“Thank you.”

“That’s precisely what I’ve been telling you.”
“In that sense, I consider myself a blessed man.”

At this moment, the maid with her stomping footsteps and the hunchbacked bath attendant appeared one after the other.

Husband: “Ah, you all... thank you for everything. This is just a small token...”

Maid: “Thank you...”

Bath Attendant: (silently bowed his head)

Maid: "Is there anything else you require?"

Husband: "Thank you, that’s all…"

The maid (bows politely and exits).

Bath Attendant: (also begins to leave)

“Ah, you there—wait a moment, if you please.”
“Are you from around here?”

Bath Attendant: (vacantly staring at the other's face)

Husband: Were you born here?

Bath Attendant (bows head lightly)

Husband: How about it—anything unusual happened?

Bath Attendant: (smirking)

“You’ve got quite the reputation around here.”

Bath Attendant: (looking up at the other with a quizzical expression)

“Hey—do say something.”

Bath Attendant: …
Husband: “You’ve made some sort of resolution, haven’t you?”
Bath Attendant: …

“Darling, it must be time now.”

Husband: (staring at the Bath Attendant’s face)

Wife: “Really, that’s quite enough now.”

Bath Attendant: (bowed politely and exited)

Husband: (irritably) “He’s a master of silence.”

A long time passed.

Wife: You... oh, what a thing to say.

Husband: (suddenly laughs self-deprecatingly)

The Wife looked at her husband’s face.

“With all that, I wonder what that man thinks of me.”
“I don’t believe he considers you ordinary.”
“Trivial matters never turn out as one imagines.”
“Treat someone carelessly as a fool, and you’ll find yourself despised instead.”

“I didn’t intend it that way at first,” he said. “I was actually looking forward to it—thinking that if a man who stays silent like that ever speaks up, he’d surely say something splendid.”
“However, that man is certainly contemplating something magnificent.”
“Of course, I probably don’t even register in his mind—but for instance, he might have detected some secret about our married life that no one’s noticed… Not even us ourselves, you know?”
“I truly feel that way.”

“You’re off on another of your self-indulgent imaginings again.”

Husband: “Alright, let’s get started on packing.”
“No forgotten items?”

At this moment, the inn manager appeared.

Inn Manager: "Will you be departing already? A most unfortunate turn in the weather..."

Husband: "No—since it cleared when we left, it’s fine enough."

Inn Manager: "I believe these preparations should suffice now..."

Husband: "That’s what I’d prefer to think. Now—take this suitcase, that basket, and those assorted small things downstairs."

“The tickets—”

Husband: (Taking out paper money) “Use this to purchase them.”

Inn Manager: “Understood. Tokyo Station second-class…”

Husband: “Third class.”

Inn Manager: “Ah, I see.”
(bows politely and exits)

Wife: “Our return trip is rather pitiful, isn’t it.”

Husband: “Don’t be ridiculous—if I told you tonight’s plans, you couldn’t say that. What do you think Tokyo has? There’s Overland, there’s Senbikiya, there’s your ‘Summer Seoul’.”

“Which Seoul…?”

Husband: “And there’s still more—all sorts of things.”

Wife: “There are all sorts of things—out of reach, you know.”

Husband: “Here we go again.”
“What does it matter if they’re out of reach?”
“This seaside trip was just like that.”
“Until now, it was what you’d call an unreachable plan.”
“But hasn’t it been realized exactly like this?”

Wife: “Do you honestly believe it’s been realized?”

Husband: “If only the rain hadn’t come...”

Wife: “More than that... If only we could have stayed longer.”

“So that’s your interpretation?”
“Naturally, your grievances would continue unabated.”
“But if you’re gazing at that sea spread before us like this, doesn’t it amount to the same as having entered it?”
“If you simply imagine we’ve been swimming daily these five days—well, why couldn’t you think that?”

…

“The seawater’s merely briny—consider it equivalent to soaking in a chilly bath.”

“But the vastness differs.”

“Curl your limbs and the scale matches perfectly.”
“Shut your eyes and pretend the blue heavens crown your head.”

“If you don’t feel those waves rolling in one after another like that…”

“The wave sensation comes easy if you just shake your body back and forth,” said the Husband. “Anyway, going into the sea counts as an adventure. Every year at any beach resort, there’s always two or three drowning victims, isn’t there? Then take someone like Kawakami—try sneaking in clumsily and you’ll lose your gold-rimmed glasses. And Mrs. Kaneda’s pearl ring getting swept away by the waves…”

“I heard it was a cheap one…” replied the Wife.

Husband: "Anyway."
"And then there’s no shortage of folks cutting their toes on shells or getting saltwater in their ears and ending up with otitis media."

Wife: "When you say such things, that's what's called sour grapes."
"After all that grandstanding about the benefits of going to the coast, how can you say such things now without an ounce of shame?"

Husband: "I was trying to comfort you."

Wife: "If that's the case, then please do the opposite and be thoroughly disappointed."
"Such transparent consolations—whether you’re the one giving them or I’m the one receiving them—it’s just unbearably awkward."
"Can’t we just let disappointing things stay disappointing?"
"Just the two of us, you know."

Husband: “Oh come now—if you’re feeling that way, there’s nothing to it. Well then, let’s leave this disappointment as it is for now and make up for it another time. That should be fine.” “Alright—but let me make this clear: I consider it a blessing that we didn’t end up pretending to swim together this time.”

Wife: “… .”

Husband: “As for why—you don’t need to ask the reason.”

Wife: “I understand.”

Husband: “If you understand, then say it.”

“I don’t need to say it—I understand.”

“You’re misunderstanding. Then, do you understand this sort of thing? Sometime ago—right? When we borrowed that gramophone from the neighbors during our trip, saying it’d rust if left unused…”

“Yes.”

“Every night without fail, we’d play every last record we had—never once tiring of it. That’s also when we memorized ‘The Volga Boatmen’s Song’ by ear.”

“And then ‘Souvenir’...”

“That’s the one.”
“I’ve long been the type who struggles with mornings.”

“Because you were so difficult to rouse, you’d become cross every single morning.”

“Every single morning—people having their hard-earned dreams shattered like this—it’s sheer dreariness at its worst.”
“I’d long thought—if only one could wake naturally without any fixed hour to something like a schoolgirl’s singing voice by the pillow—how blissful that would be.”
“Even if I told you to do that, you wouldn’t bother replying ‘Yes.’”
“But with that gramophone right there at hand—well—I resolved to make that fantasy real just once.”

“Oh right, that did happen.”

“Don’t jump ahead.
Let me finish saying it.
So, one evening, I asked you—when waking me tomorrow morning, don’t go nagging ‘It’s time already!’ Just silently play the gramophone by my pillow.
Play ‘Souvenir’ or something on the gramophone.
I would sit bolt upright before the song even finished.”
Having said that, I burrowed into the futon.
I was already at my wit’s end with my own finicky nerves.
Anything would do—let the night end quickly, the sky as bright as possible, dreams as deep as possible—I closed my eyes while praying thus in my heart.

A single beer was finally making its rounds.

“The next morning, I did precisely as you instructed.”

“For once, you actually listened to what I said straight away.
You didn’t forget—you played ‘Souvenir’ by my bedside.”

“Once it ended, you told me to play it again.”

“Hmm.”
“But that wasn’t some excuse to sleep longer.”
That violin melody drifting through half-dreamt consciousness had truly lifted me to happiness’s peak.
The conviction lasted mere moments. As my hearing clarified—as I grasped you were actually playing that gramophone by my pillow—my heart throbbed with an electric ache. This was a mistake.
I yanked the futon over my head.

My wife must have been crying.

It’s no wonder if she thought I’d cried.
That was how intensely I had been shocked.
While the gramophone was repeating "Souvenir" once again, I thought about our happiness.
I thought about our dream.
I thought about our life.

Wife: “You truly had such a bright face when sitting down to your meal that day.”

Husband: “Is that so.
‘If I’d known it would be like this, I’d play it for you every morning,’ you said back then.
I refused that.”

Wife: “But from that next morning onward, once I called, you would surely rise.
Though lately, it’s stopped working again…”

Husband: You’d never understand even if I told you—as I lay beneath the futon, I thought deeply: This path leads to ruin...
I nearly kicked over the gramophone then—wanted to take you away, hide us in some mountain wilderness.
It felt like the heart’s tremor after committing mortal sin.
Horrible contrition.
Wretched self-disgust.
Yet I couldn’t let you know these feelings.
I quieted my heart.

“I can never tell whether what you say is truth or mere platitudes.”

“I don’t even know myself.”

A long silence.

“Since it’s become second nature by now, I hardly give it much thought these days—but even so, there’s something distinctly unreliable about it all.”

"You needn't trouble yourself about it."
"You'll understand soon enough what I'm trying to accomplish."
"I'm thinking of nothing but your happiness."

"Not this again..."

“You don’t believe me?”
“Just platitudes, I suppose.”
“Then shall I tell you my new plan?”
“There was that time you went to Ogikubo—saw a house ringed by lawn—said you wanted to live somewhere like that.”

“What sort of house was that again?”

“You’ve forgotten?”
“That young wife—the one pestered by her dog—remember?”
“This spring.”

Wife: “Ah... that time we went looking for a house...”

Husband: “That’s right.”
Husband: “That house was indeed about four rooms.”
Husband: “How much do you think it would cost to build?”

Wife: ...

Husband: That would be 2,000 yen.

At this moment, the first maid appears.

“Um, it’s about time now…”

Husband: "Oh, right."
(Having said this, he stands up mechanically.)

Wife: (Vacantly watching the darkening sea)

--Curtain--