Chapter 4 Grandma’s Secret Umeboshi #4
“I-I’m sure it was just a coincidence! I mean, it’s scorching outside. I checked the forecast earlier, too. I know that the rain seems to follow me everywhere, but I really don’t think that’s going to happen today.”
“Okay then.” Iori shrugged, then went to attend the next customer in line.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about what Iori had said and grew more worried. Even the hot bubbles of cheese melting on the hot plate reminded me of raindrops hitting the concrete.
I’ll check, just in case. Really, I can’t stress enough how unnecessary this is, but I’ll do it, just for peace of mind. You know, just in case.
I placed the plate of cheesy hamburger steak on the counter. Then, before a new order could come in, I quickly pulled my phone out and tapped on the weather app.
“The forecast in Setagaya…” I mumbled to myself as I scrolled.
There’s no way it’s going to rain.
“Sunny with…scattered rain.”
Huh? This can’t be. I swear, it said it would be sunny—and only sunny—when I checked this morning!
Weather forecasters get it wrong all the time. I’m sure they got this one wrong, too…
A voice called out.
“Excuse me, do you have a spare umbrella I could borrow?”
And just like that, I was in hell.
“It’s started raining out of nowhere. None of us have umbrellas,” another customer added, clearly unhappy.
I don’t believe this!
When I turned around, I saw that the customers who had left just a few minutes before were poking their faces through the door. One of them pressed a handkerchief to her bangs, and I could see that the tips of her hair were slightly wet.
It was true.
Rain. Big drops of rain.
I could see it through the window. I could see the needles of rain falling to the ground.
My phone slipped out of my hand, and I heard it hit the kitchen floor.
Calm down. You have to get it together and quickly bring the plums inside.
Another customer: “Is that rain?”
“Oh, dear, I’ve left the laundry outside!”
The first group to get up were local ladies, who had been lingering and chatting away, even after they’d finished their lunch and coffee.
“So sudden.”
“Oh, gosh, it’s really coming down!”
One after another, the ladies spoke loudly, causing other customers who had finished eating to also get up in a hurry.
“Please wait your turn to pay, thank you!” I shouted, attempting to control the chaos.
This can’t be happening!
Please, not now. Let me get to my umeboshi!
My prayers were in vain. Thanks to the ladies, a long line formed by the till, people eager to pay and get out before the rain became worse.
Although the ladies were beloved regulars of Amayadori—they visited the café at least four times a week to see Iori—at that very moment, I wanted to kill them.
I mean, the fate of our umeboshi was hanging by a thread.
Please, I just need to slip away for a moment to go and save them…
But I couldn’t do it. Despite the sudden rain, the customers in the line that had spilled outside were still waiting. They’d gone out of their way to come to Amayadori. There was no way I could just leave them.
It was over.
Our umeboshi. Our precious umeboshi!
Everything that had happened in the last month flashed before my eyes.
I pictured the three of us plucking the stems off the plums one by one.
Because we would be spending long stretches of time on the rooftop, we had borrowed camping equipment from the café owner and used it to build a small workspace.
It took us all night to put up the tent. My poor skin even got badly sunburned.
My God, it was arduous. Of all the dishes I had cooked in my life, umeboshi-making was hands down the most exhausting.
Is this how artists feel when the sculpture they’ve put their heart into gets smashed to pieces?
I’m sorry, Kimura. I’m so sorry.
Even though I was drowning in tears inside, my body moved seamlessly around the café, my energetic voice ringing out as I served the customers. It seemed that whatever happened, I was always going to be well-suited for this job. That was one thing I could be sure of.
—
“Why don’t you go up already?” Iori asked after the rush hour had settled.
“I don’t want to see it.”
“I thought you said life was better with the bitter and astringent flavors.”
“Oh, I didn’t actually mean that,” I replied. “I just got carried away.”
“What is this depressing creature, and what have you done with Momoko?”
Hozumi walked in. “Don’t tell me you—”
“Yes, the umeboshi got wet from the rain…” Iori whispered to him. “We haven’t gone to see them yet.”
Hozumi’s eyes filled with pity as he looked at me.
“The rain follows me everywhere,” I said. “I’m a failure. I’m not good at anything.”
Had things gone to plan, we would be checking in on the umeboshi right now. I could be saying fun things like “They’re nearly ready!” and could have pinched one to try. We could have taken bowls of rice with us and sampled the umeboshi and shiso leaves on the rooftop.
And the Funeral Committee meeting could have gone on as planned.
Iori, seemingly tired of waiting, sighed.
“Hozumi, could you take her up? I’ll stay here and mind the café.”
“I guess I have no choice,” Hozumi replied. “Come on, let’s go.”
“Ugh…”
With Hozumi’s help, I somehow managed to drag myself out of my seat. Taking my time, I followed him outside to the staircase next to the café door. I trudged up the stairs.
Each time I lifted my foot, my mind brought back a memory.
“You can make them again,” Hozumi said without turning around.
“I can’t anymore. Not this year. The plums are out of season now.”
“Make them next year, then.”
“We’re going to make Kimura wait another year?”
“It will just give him another thing to look forward to. Motivate him even more to live a long life.”
His words made me shed yet another tear.
I know that I have to accept it. Stuff like this happens all the time.
If anything, things had been going too well. I had gotten cocky, thinking that I had the skills to re-create any dish. I had underestimated the art of cooking. Even with umeboshi, I didn’t doubt for a moment that I would be able to do it. I’d had no idea how much work went into making them.
We were finally on the rooftop terrace. The rusty iron railing was still wet with rain.
I dropped my gaze, unable to face the reality. My legs refused to move.
Then I heard Hozumi say, “They’re gone.”
“What did you just say?”
“They aren’t on the terrace. You put them there, didn’t you?”
I turned in the direction Hozumi was pointing.
The umeboshi were nowhere to be seen. There must have been around eighty plums, divided equally between two large bamboo strainers. But everything had vanished without a trace. All I could see was the wet rubber covering on the ground.
“Did someone steal them?” I wondered out loud.
“Why would anyone want to steal two whole strainers worth of umeboshi?”
“True.”
Calm down, I told myself. With it being so hot, maybe I did something in a moment of madness.
I scanned around.
Maybe I moved them somewhere without even realizing it, I thought to myself as I glanced behind the clutter of camping equipment.
At that moment, I locked eyes with the plumpest, sourest-looking umeboshi.
“They’re…here. They’re here! I found them!”
All eighty of them were nestling under the tent as if they’d been enshrined there.
With trembling fingers, I checked the condition of each plum one by one. They were fine. No sign of mold. They hadn’t gotten wet at all!
It felt like I’d just been reunited with my lost children. A wave of relief washed over me, and I sank down to the ground.
“But…how?”
Had someone moved them here before it started to rain? It wasn’t Iori or Hozumi, so who could it be?
Hozumi suddenly reached his arm out.
“Look at this, Momoko.”
There was a piece of paper attached to the rim of one of the strainers. It was a sales slip, like the ones we saw in Kimura’s house. Printed on it was the title of a recent bestseller. I flipped it open to find a short message inside:
I could smell the rain
I moved them inside
Kimura
It was written in a black marker with a rather scrawly hand. He’d probably come in a hurry and written the note spontaneously.
“Kimura!”
He smelled the rain? Wow. Never underestimate a man who’s kept his business running in the shopping district for fifty years!
“Oh my God. How cool is he? No wonder Matsuko fell for him!”
I broke into full tears, holding nothing back.
Enveloped in the sweet and tangy scent of the plums, I felt like thanking the whole universe.
“Where did you get these…?”
As I set down the bento box wrapped in indigo-colored furoshiki on the table, Kimura widened his eyes, as though he’d just seen something unworldly.
“It was all written in Matsuko’s notebook, which we found and took the liberty of reading, hoping to get some clues. Your favorite color, the way you like your onigiri shaped, the type of bento box. She didn’t miss a thing.”
Thanks to her methodical personality, I was pretty confident that this was a faithful re-creation.
Kimura reached his hand out ever so slowly. Hesitating, he closed his bony hand into a tight ball, turning his worried gaze toward me. I gave him an enthusiastic nod to keep going. In response, he finally brought his hand to the knot tying the furoshiki.
The soothing whispers of the fabric drifted into my ears as he loosened the knot and opened up the square cloth. Kimura inhaled, filling up his lungs.
“She…Matsuko also—”
A pair of onigiri, wrapped in foil, sat atop the oval-shaped bento box made of wood.
“Matsuko also used these, err, silver things…”
“Do you mean the aluminum foil?”
“Yes, yes. Aluminum foil.”
“That was in Matsuko’s notes, too. Normally, I put Saran Wrap around them, but according to Matsuko, it has to be aluminum foil. Otherwise, the nori will get too soggy.”
“Is that so? I had no idea…”
Starting from the edge, Kimura began to peel off the foil with his thumb. He seemed to struggle with the fingers on his right hand. He slowly removed the thin metal in stiff movements.