his penis, clammy with semen and female secretions. Under the bed cover, it instantly became erect and hot. A fragrant blend of straw and cosmetics drifted over him.
"It was fantastic, the best!" The woman smiled, her eyes narrow slits. Her eyelashes and eyebrows glistened in the moonlight as though wet with dew. Mitsuo buried his face in her chest, which felt as hot as scorched stones. He was bursting with energy, and unsure how to use it.
He recalled the events of a few hours before. While they'd gone at it, she'd panted in a clear voice, "Don't come inside me. Do it on my belly. I don't need another brat." Then she'd tilted her head back and screamed at the top of her lungs, an embarrassment to Mitsuo. At that moment, bending backward, it seemed as though she would slide right off the straw.
Mitsuo licked the makeup on her eyelids and nose. Her hair smelled like cheese.
She broke off a tomato plant leaf and wiped her stomach with it. "There's nothing like a young stud. I hadn't made love for two years, since my divorce." She raised herself on one knee and gazed at Mitsuo passionately. Running her fingers through his hair, she said, "I want to come here again after work tomorrow. I'll close the shop early."
Mitsuo carefully picked pieces of straw from her body. He told her he would be waiting for her, but his voice was barely audible, so he repeated himself. He felt an anticipation similar to that of watching his tomatoes grow. He'd have her again. Next time he would prepare a better bed and lay aside something to drink.
As the woman buttoned her blouse, she asked Mitsuo for a five-minute head start. It wouldn't do for them to be seen together. As he listened to her, he thought of the water he had drunk from the hose last night, how good it had tasted as it squirted down his parched throat. He wanted to hold on to the present moment forever.
After she left, he grasped his penis again, and soon his palm was covered with semen. Then he lay motionless, waiting for the excitement to ebb from his body.
At length he went back to the house. As he washed his hands at the kitchen sink, he was startled by his mother's voice.
"Tetsuo called again last night. Says he desperately needs three million yen. The same old story: he's the eldest son, it's his birthright, and all that. I told him we haven't got any money, and he said that was bullshit."
"Let's handle him like Granma: dump him off at Pa's." Mitsuo carefully soaped between each finger.
"Speaking of that, did he say anything?"
"He was too shocked; couldn't get a word out." Mitsuo lifted an oil-stained newspaper off the kitchen table and found three pale, dried sardines on a plate underneath. Taking a heaping bowl of rice handed him by his mother, he glanced at the clock on the wall. "Hey Ma, you're taking another day off from work to help me?"
"Today's a holiday. It's Constitution Day."
Mitsuo realized that meant he couldn't ship his tomatoes. Tomiko sat in front of him and sighed. She stared at him, her face serious, and hesitated before speaking.
"I think he wants to come home." Tomiko rubbed her thumbs and stared at them before looking back at Mitsuo. "He didn't mention anything about that?"
"Nope. Living that way probably makes him think he's twenty years younger. He's just an old peasant, though. And that woman; no way she could ever attract someone else. Not to say she isn't honest. I don't think she's after the money She's like a flower in a drainage ditch." The words spilled from Mitsuo's mouth as he shoveled down rice. When he finished, he saw anger flash in his mother's eyes.
"You shouldn't speak that way about him! You're the only one he can count on. I'm just his wife, but you share his blood."
"Fine. Why don't we suggest he come back? That'll make it easier for him."
"If it'll help settle things down around here." Her voice grew softer. She rubbed her freckled face in her palms, as though trying to cleanse it.
Mitsuo poured water into his empty rice bowl and chased away the salty aftertaste of the sardines. He thought of the full day of work that lay ahead.
Tomiko pressed her knuckles to her temples. Having pulled herself together, she continued, "The omiai is set for this Sunday. Don't make other plans."
"I suppose I'll need to wear a suit. In spite of everything, it'd be better if Pa were there, too."
"We'll just say he's sick. They know the truth anyway. Of course, saying he's not well is completely true. I just hope he gets over it." She struggled to her feet. "I'll be at the hothouse after I finish hanging out the wash."
Mitsuo left the house carrying two old blankets his father had once used. Like paper cutouts, the mountains rose distinctly into the sky beyond the apartments. Round clouds floated aimlessly above them. He thought of inviting the red-haired woman to spend a weekend with him somewhere.
The door of the hothouse was open, and Mitsuo supposed he must have left it that way. He sensed the woman's fragrance drifting among the leaves and around the skylights, through which rainbows were visible. Intending to clean up the straw that had served as a bed, he turned the corner of the ridge and found Granma asleep in the same spot where he had lain a few hours before. She had on her best kimono, the same one she wore when Mitsuo dropped her off at his father's apartment. Sunlight poured over her blotched face. Her dentures hung half out of her mouth and fell to the straw when Mitsuo bent over and lifted her by the shoulders. Her gums resembled fresh meat.
"Granma, you'll catch a cold here. I'll take you back to the house." She blinked, not knowing where she was, and gave a great yawn. Tears welled in her mucus-filled eyes. Her sandals lay near her head. Her socks were caked with mud. Mitsuo placed his hands under her armpits and stood her up. She was light as air. "Did Pa bring you back last night?" Mitsuo wondered whether he'd been caught in the act.
Granma slowly shook her head. A hairpin hung from her disheveled hair. She picked up her dentures and popped them back in her mouth. "This morning. Matsuzo brought me back here by taxi. He said to go into the house, and then he'd be right back. But the front door was locked, so I waited for him here. I hardly slept a wink last night, and I guess I fell asleep in the straw." She pressed the back of her hand to her nose and sniveled.
Mitsuo stood in the front hall. "Ma!" he cried. Tomiko had bed covers in her arms, ready to hang outside. When she saw her mother-in-law, Tomiko's expression froze. The bed covers slipped from her arms.
Mitsuo left Granma there and went back to the hothouse. He had plenty to do. He began by clearing away the straw bed. Next he tied branches to cords hanging from the overhead pipes so the tomatoes would receive maximum sunlight. His mother didn't appear, no doubt busy arguing with Granma. Occasionally, he peeked through the vinyl at the house but couldn't hear a thing. The silence in the hothouse made his ears ring. Rainbows sparkled on the vinyl, and it seemed they would melt it.
He dissolved powdered fertilizer in water. He might have more tomatoes than he'd be able to harvest. It was almost as though he were fighting against a battalion.
Black specks appeared on the vinyl, and at first Mitsuo thought they were sparrows. But the specks rolled down the sides of the hothouse, and he realized that someone was throwing stones. He dashed outside and found a man dressed in gray slacks, a cardigan sweater, and clogs.
"What the hell are you doing, you asshole!" Mitsuo shouted. The man tossed rocks first with one hand, then the other, provoking Mitsuo even further. He was small and mean-looking, with bushy eyebrows. He grinned at Mitsuo, exposing
