Chapter 5 The View beyond Friendship Carrot Cake
The View Beyond Friendship Carrot Cake
Again, Iori didn’t pick up. It was the sixth time I’d called him.
“Still not answering?” Hozumi asked.
“The one time we really need him…” I bit my nails.
What are we going to do? Maybe we should contact the police.
I turned around to face the little girl, who was sitting on the sofa and idly gazing out the window. I sighed.
—
We had met her a few hours ago.
My dad had sent me a box full of fresh vegetables from home, and I had asked Hozumi to help me carry it to Amayadori.
We staggered our way to the café, clumsily lugging the heavy box together.
Upon arriving, we saw a small figure sitting curled up by the entrance.
It was a young girl, probably in her third year of elementary school.
There was a somewhat ethereal quality to her.
She wore her long hair in braids that hung below her shoulders.
Judging from the T-shirt tan and sunburn that ran from her arms to the tips of her fingers, she probably got to play a lot over the summer vacation.
Her face, on the other hand, was clear and pale, as though it had been edited using a filter app. She reminded me of an angel.
Clutched in her hands, unusually, was a snow globe. She kept shaking it back and forth, letting the glitter inside the glass sphere dance like confetti.
I squatted down next to her to meet her eyes. When I said hello, she opened her mouth slightly, but quickly pursed her thin lips and averted her eyes.
Hozumi and I tried every trick in the book to get her to speak, but none of it worked. She remained in the same position, staring into her snow globe.
“I’m worried she’ll get sick from the heat,” Hozumi said. “For now, let’s just get her inside. When Iori comes in later, we can decide if we should call the police. He seems like the type who’s good with children.”
—
And so here I was, trying get ahold of Iori. I had texted him and called, but he wasn’t answering. He had mentioned that he had some errand to run, although, per the rota, he was supposed to be working.
Why did he have to choose today of all days to be MIA?
The girl headed for the bathroom. She’d been before—she had been here that long. Outside, the sun had shifted. I looked toward the house opposite the café. A small tree peeking over its fence was now casting a shadow. Unable to wait any longer, I pulled out my phone, ready to call the police.
At that moment, the door flung open noisily.
“It’s boiling! Let’s hit the beach!”
In walked Iori.
Finally!
“Where have you been? We were waiting for—hey, why are you dressed like that?”
I had never seen Iori in a suit before. He wore a formal jacket in black and a starched shirt. His bangs, which normally hung loosely around his face, were neatly combed back, fully exposing his chiseled features.
“Oh, this? I was just running an errand. God, it’s hot.” Iori slipped his tie off and loosened his collar.
“How do I look? Not bad, right?” Iori continued, winking at Hozumi for no logical reason.
Hozumi waved him away annoyedly. Dismissing Iori’s narcissistic comment, he cut to the chase. “Actually, something has happened. There’s a little girl here and we don’t know who she is or what to do.”
“A girl?”
Iori pulled off his jacket and hung it over the backrest of a barstool, then rolled up his sleeves. I could see that his face had turned red, probably from the heat, so I poured him some water, filling the cup to the brim. He gulped it down and exhaled.
Hozumi and I gave him a summary of everything that had happened, explaining to him how we had found the girl sitting outside when we arrived at the café, and that she wouldn’t reply to anything we said.
Having heard the story, Iori deliberated, placing a finger on his chin as he drank his second cup of water.
“I see. I hope we can find a way of helping her.”
“Oh, I think she’s coming.”
Right on cue, we heard the tap shut off, and the girl reemerged from the back of the café. She walked toward us, drying her hands with a classy beige-colored handkerchief.
“Hi, sweetie,” Iori said cheerfully, “my friends tell me you appeared out of nowhere…”
At this, the girl, who had been looking down at the floor, lifted her glance. She stopped short at the sight of Iori’s face. Still gripping her handkerchief, she stared at Iori with eyes as clear as two amber marbles.
Iori sat paralyzed, his gaze fixed on the girl. It was as though the two of them were in their own world where time had stopped moving.
“What’s going on, you two?” I asked.
“Shizuku…?” Iori jumped out of his seat. He slowly approached her. “You are Shizuku, right?”
I had the feeling that something significant was happening before our eyes, though I didn’t quite know what. I looked at Hozumi and gestured with my hands (What the hell is going on?!). He replied with a grim look (How should I know?).
The girl, who had been gazing at Iori with widened eyes, seemed to be finally convinced. Parting her small lips, she finally spoke.
“Daddy.”
“Daddy?” Hozumi and I cried in unison.
What? Iori is a dad? This little girl is his daughter? It can’t be!
How old is he again? I’m pretty sure he said he’s thirty-three…I suppose he could have a daughter around the girl’s age.
But still.
Iori lived in the apartment above Amayadori, which also doubled up as the café’s office, so I’d been there a few times. It was a minimalist apartment, with no sign of someone else living with him. He only had one mug and one toothbrush (yes, I was looking).
“Shizuku, how did you know I would be here?”
Iori crouched down to meet the girl’s level and gently took her hand—she softly brushed him away. Instead, she picked up the snow globe from the table.
“I didn’t tell Mom. I didn’t want her to get upset,” said Shizuku.
“So you came on your own? It’s a pretty long way.”
“It was fine. It’s not that far.”
“All right. I’m proud of you for finding your way.”
Iori lifted her hat and caressed her sweaty hair in a way that told me he had done it so many times before. I felt a little pang in my chest.
Iori had a world that belonged to him and only him—a world that I didn’t have any part in.
Of course he did. Hozumi and I had our own worlds, too. Each of us was living our own life.
That’s how things are, isn’t it?
“Is this for me?” asked Iori.
Shizuku pushed the snow globe into Iori’s hand.
“I wanted to give you something, since you’ve given me so many things.”
“Isn’t this—”
“I wanted to give you something for a change.”
What a mature thing to say.
Shizuku quickly gathered her notebook and pencil case she had spread across the table and placed them into her backpack. While Iori stood there astonished, she promptly got herself ready. When she’d finished, she brushed the dust off her skirt and bowed deeply to us.
“Thank you for your hospitality.”
Hozumi and I found ourselves bowing back. Thank you for your hospitality? I hadn’t expected to hear such proper words from a little girl.
“Bye,” Shizuku said, waving at Iori. She turned to head out the door in a manner that said My business here is done.
“Hey, wait! Shizuku!”
I watched as Iori hurried after her.
Turning to me, Hozumi dumbfoundedly said, “What just happened?” He spoke the exact thoughts that were going through my head.
A sense of tranquility had returned to Amayadori after Iori had run out, and it felt as if a weight had lifted off my shoulders. The two of us sat slumped over the counter. The whole conversation had lasted only a few minutes, but I was drained.
The hot afternoon sun poured in through the window, creating a parallelogram on the floor.
I searched my mind for the right word to describe what I had seen on Iori’s face as the little girl walked out. Sadness…? Frustration…? Whatever you call it, it was the first time I had seen him look that way.
As if on cue, the gossip news program on TV started to give us the weather forecast:
“A low-pressure system is expected from this evening and overnight. If you’re planning on going out tonight, be well prepared for rain.”
“It always seems to rain on Funeral Committee nights.” Crossing his arms, Hozumi spoke in an expressive tone, as though he were reciting a haiku.
“Didn’t I tell you? No clients tonight. We don’t have any bookings.”
“Yes, we do. There’s someone whose story we need to hear.”
Someone whose story we need to hear…
Could he mean…?
Now that I thought about it, I hardly knew anything about the man we called Iori Amamiya.
He is national-treasure-level hot and was hired as the manager of Amayadori a few years ago.
There’s someone else who owns the café, and he has a meeting with the owner a few times a month.
If there is a story behind why he became manager, I’ve never heard it.
Judging from the comments he makes during our Funeral Committee meetings, he never seems to have any problems finding romance, although currently he’s not seeing anyone he would call his girlfriend (that I know of).
Given how popular he is, there are probably plenty of women who would happily have a casual relationship with him, but he probably declines all offers.
That was what my (not so reliable) woman’s instinct told me.
But do I know where he’s from? No. Do I know anything about his past? No.
His hobby is…umm…coffee and…collecting coupons in the local shopping district?
What else do I know…
“Damn, I can’t think of anything else,” I said to myself.
After the incident, Iori returned to the café at around six o’clock, behaving as though nothing significant had happened.
Although he acted in a nonchalant manner, he settled himself on the sofa at the back, where Shizuku had been sitting earlier, and kept toying with the snow globe she had given him.
He stayed like that for hours. Even Adachi, who had come by to deliver our order of meats, asked worriedly, “He looks like he’s turned into a ghost or something—is he all right? ”