sat in the driver's seat of the truck. He could take anything his wife might throw at him. He drew out a cigarette and tapped it lightly against the steering wheel. Striking a match, he lowered his head to conceal a smile. Mitsuo noticed that his father's face was paler than he remembered. Tomiko thrust out one leg and let her arms dangle at her sides. Mitsuo observed her sloping shoulders and large buttocks.
His father raised his head and asked, "How's Granma?"
Tomiko responded indirectly. "The family's real estate is now in Mitsuo's name, but you've left something of yours behind, you know. Your mother wants to live with you. She keeps crying and begging me to bring her to you."
Matsuzo had taken only two puffs on his cigarette, but he crushed it in his fingers. He turned to Mitsuo and blinked. "When are you gonna bring me the carp?"
"I don't know. Look, Koji's here, so let's not bring out all the family dirty laundry right now, OK?"
Saying "I'm leaving," Koji rushed out into the rain.
Mitsuo wanted to charge after him, but suddenly felt as though a pair of hands had reached up through the earth and latched on to his ankles. We're all no better than worms, he thought, here on earth just because we happened to be born. He felt the presence of worm-people spoiling the tomatoes he had lovingly raised since fall, the tomatoes which had responded so well to the water and fertilizer he had fed them.
Matsuzo climbed out of the driver's seat and positioned himself before his wife. With clenched hands he bowed deeply to her. "I've been very bad to you. Actually, I'm thinking of leaving her. She's so damn pushy. I'm fed up with it."
"Get the hell out of here!" Mitsuo yelled. Matsuzo drew back. "Don't show your face here again! You get your hands on a little money and look what an asshole you become!" Mitsuo's eyes stung with heat and began filling with droplets similar to the ones pounding on the vinyl outside. Again he ordered his father out. Matsuzo gave a hang-dog look and turned toward the door. Through the gashes in the vinyl, Mitsuo saw the rain soak his father's work clothes the instant he closed the door behind him. Matsuzo stood still for a moment, then headed in the direction of the apartments, stooping as he walked.
Lunchtime came but neither Mitsuo nor Tomiko stopped working. The rain continued as hard as ever, and water oozed through the hothouse soil, causing it to shimmer. Only through the succession of programs on the radio was Mitsuo aware of the passing of time. He realized he was famished and made a meal of three tomatoes, which he wiped on his shirt before eating. Tomatoes picked in sunshine somehow tasted much better. Back at work, he and his mother picked furiously, and it seemed he would have enough for another shipment tomorrow.
Toward evening the woman from the coffee shop came with two children. Though the rain had stopped, the wind was heavy with moisture. The woman caught sight of Tomiko, which seemed to dampen her spirits. She said, "Excuse me, but I'm a regular customer here."
Tomiko called out more loudly than necessary, "Michi, Michi, there's a woman here to see you."
Mitsuo picked a number of tomatoes close at hand and filled the woman's bag. Being a cool day, few of the tomatoes were red.
After making sure that Tomiko was out of earshot, the woman whispered, "When will you be coming for a drink? I'll be there tonight."
"I think my friend'll be there." Mitsuo handed the bag over without receiving the usual three hundred yen. He saw the two children peeping toward the back of the hothouse, and startled them by yelling and stamping his feet. They began to cry and buried their faces in the woman's skirt. She glared at Mitsuo, who only laughed like a fool. A moment later Tomiko ran up, pruning shears in hand.
"IALWAYS LIKED going into town, but it wasn't much fun actually visiting the stores. The shopowners always looked down on me because I was a farmer. One of em used to stay right where he was when I walked in. If I wanted something, he told me to take it from the shelf myself. If I got a little confused, he just laughed at me. And he never gave an inch on prices neither. But if someone from town walked in, he changed straight away and fell all over em. Tell the truth, I never went into town unless it was an open market day, when there'd be other farmers there selling their produce. They'd invite me to drink tea with them. We'd take it with red sugar, and I licked what was left off my palm. They'd always keep hot water steaming on the cooking stove. I tell you, it was great. I'd spend the entire day in town. There was a road that went straight there, but part of it passed through dark woods. We farmers often got robbed there. No, it certainly wasn't a trip for women and children to make by themselves."
Granma spoke to no one in particular as she folded a change of clothes, her nightwear, and some personal items into an old-style wrapping cloth. She sat with her knees upright on the tatami. Tiny and bent over, she resembled a potato bug.
To keep her in a good mood, Mitsuo called out as gently as possible, just loudly enough for her to hear, "The car'll get us there in a hurry. We'll be there before you know it. Pa is really looking forward to seeing you again."
She nodded. "That's good." Mitsuo stood right over her, which meant her nod was to his feet. "I'll be so much better off with someone who shares my blood. Look how badly my daughter-in-law treats me."
Knowing she'd hear nothing but recriminations if she helped her mother-in-law pack, Tomiko had remained in the kitchen, doing dishes.
"He's got a TV there, so you won't be lonely," Mitsuo said, picking up her wrapping cloth. Lifting Granma by the wrists, he found she was much lighter than he expected. The old bastard better buy her a TV at least, he thought. Granma was dressed in her best kimono, the last present she'd received from her late husband. Seven years earlier he had suffered a stroke while returning from the fields and died in the barn. Mitsuo had been a high school student. Hearing a thud, he rushed into the barn and saw his grandfather lying face down in the mud, dressed in his quilted work clothes. Death was swift.
In the front hallway, Granma slipped into the sandals that Tomiko had laid out for her. Mitsuo yelled toward the back of the house, "We're leaving now," but his mother did not respond. Granma's slender palm felt dry and cold against his.
She squatted in the back seat of the car in her accustomed manner. When Mitsuo yelled that it was dangerous to sit that way in a car, a cloud passed over her face.
Mitsuo started the Corolla. He switched on the interior lights and periodically looked back at Granma in the rear-view mirror. She pressed her forehead against the window, peering absent-mindedly into the surrounding darkness. Mitsuo controlled his urge to slam the accelerator to the floor. The regular rhythm of the tires on the pavement lulled him.
He drove to the end of the alley where his father lived. Leaving Granma in the car, Mitsuo ran up the stairs two at a time and flung open his father's door without knocking. Matsuzo, who had been divining his fortune again, backed away on his knees all the way to the window.
Mitsuo kicked the concrete floor of the hallway and said, "I've got something to give you. Come down and get it."
"If it's tomatoes, I don't need any."
Mitsuo caught the laugh in his throat before it came to his lips. Matsuzo slipped into sandals, griping that he had eaten nothing but tomatoes for two days and that there was still a pile of them in the bar.
When Matsuzo arrived at the car, he stopped and took a deep breath. Mitsuo said, "Look here, Granma. It's someone you haven't seen in a long time." He slipped the sandals on her feet and helped her out of the car. She giggled. Mitsuo dropped her bundle on the ground, tooted his horn, and backed out of the alley. It was narrow
