Daichi had put such thoughts from his mind whenever they arose in him; that the house had become a burden or that it was far too big for him, even if its location on the outskirts of Kyoto left him and his family, or visitors, in an enviable location. They could soon be in the surrounding countryside and away from the traffic fumes, the noise and the crowds. Where he lived made it easier to escape the mayhem of city life that so many had no choice but to endure these days.
He considered himself to be luck living where he did, but times had changed and now his large property was overlooked by a garishly designed apartment building that cast a shadow over the garden at certain times of the day. It lessened the pleasure to be found from the early morning sunlight. Its bulk made him feel closed in, and it aroused a sense of being oppressed by the sheer pressure of humanity that the quiet of the property’s carefully appointed and sound-roofed interior sought to dispel. He achieved this by lighting candles, the scent of blossom often to be found on the air.
Daichi had considered the idea that he move out and into a smaller place, but he had resisted all suggestions that he do so. He rejected the advice of concerned friends who said that a care home was the place for him to be, and thus to cut loose from the draining effects of living by himself.
The solution was only too simple.
He would concede to the pressure and the drip-drip of his son, Jomei, that he move in, along with his pretty young wife, Aiki, so that in time they could bring up their own family there. He would be taken care of, and in only too familiar surroundings that continued to stir memories of his younger days.
But, in that lay a problem, for his son’s young wife, Aiki. In two years of marriage, she had failed to conceive and, so, he had not felt the urgency to concede to any request that he move out or that they should move in with him.
But the day finally dawned when he had done so, when he chose to admit that company, the sounds of other voices and of laughter, would bring the house back to vibrant life. A start in that process, or changed ways, of living had to be made. He had always taken care of himself since his wife died some ten years ago, and long before they could have enjoyed his retirement together. He wasn’t lost for company. Being a member of a local tennis club, with its hot baths and games rooms, brought him associations with men and women alike; the occasional uncomplicated trysts with favoured ‘younger’ women meeting his needs. He would often wake during the night and concede that the only cure for his loneliness was to sleep with a few favoured women, no more than three, and in an only too accommodating rota…as far as he was concerned. Yes, he had discovered that there were women who conceded to the idea that conventional behaviour only heightened their loneliness too. He was uncommonly pleased that they, like him, believed that some rules could now be broken. They could discover pleasure but not be unduly bound to each other. He soon found it to be the perfect arrangement. Both he and his women knew the rules and abided with them. Yes, it was feckless and selfish, but at least you were free of draining commitments.
‘Oh, what a modern arrangement some of us can now live by,’ Daichi would often tell himself as he worked at tending his garden.
Daichi was the perfect and discreet lover of them all and he made studious efforts not to be seen in their company when another might be met. He was a distraction for them, and they met his raging needs. They even loved his passionate and selfish ways of it when in their beds, or on the mats of their small apartment’s day room. He was still in good shape for a man of sixty, with his full head of closely cropped greying hair lending his slender, hollow-cheeked, face and trim body the appearance of a man not eager to concede, too easily, to the ravages of the passing years. He shaved and bathed every day; he ate sparingly and he exercised regularly. So, it was pleasing to often hear that he defied the ravages of time.
No, a care home was not to be the answer. It was to be found with Aiki and her uncomplaining devoted and attentive ways, and soft tread whenever she was near him. She could so easily become his ever-present guardian and a dutiful carer. Along with that, a respectful companion when she was not at work in the very care home that Jomei had tried to persuade him to go to.
The pretty young woman was strong in her opinions, not deferential to him. That did not mean any lack of respect. Aiki had chosen for them to live as equals, as far as Japanese ways of it, and society, ever allowed such a thing to prevail between elders and the young in a family.
‘What’s the point of me hiding away in same care home?’ he would argue with both of them, but with his son in particular, whenever the subject of him selling up had been raised. He had finally put those moments of discord between them to rest.
His other children, a son and daughter, lived far away and rarely visited. So, he loved to have their youthful company and he felt that it would only serve to keep him young too. He could also look on the winsome figure, her gloriously smooth pale skin, and soft smiles of Aiki and he would take to wondering how such a lovely young creature, with her full breasts shaped by what she often wore, could not bring to Jomei what she so clearly sought, a son or daughter.
It perplexed him.
It also engaged his attention on Aiki more and more, wrong as it was to do that; destructive even, that he should discover moments, when alone with her in the house, that he lusted after her young body. He contrasted it with those of the women he still took to bed. He would take to wondering what would delight him and filled the discreet blouses that she wore; a fastening at her throat and their hems sometimes riding up over her slacks to reveal a slender hipped body and the gentle swell to her belly. He did not miss how her firm breasts pushed at the fabric of Aiki’s blouse; the hint of nipples to be seen there. She was only too young and vital in her appearance and behaviour.
In truth, the sight of the young woman had begun to plague him as the days went by.
Days would pass when he had to be away and out of the house and would seek the attentions of one of his lady friends. He would claim them and hear them clamour for more from him as he found them. His actions, however, were a consequence of his longing for someone else, a young woman who reached him in drugging waves. He lay with others to snuff out the flare of yearning for someone so much younger, someone whom others would regard as a delicious but forbidden fruit. Aiki was a delight that should never be tasted by him, a father-in-law and a man of some means; a man with an unblemished reputation.
Every man had his flaws of character. He was plagued by an unrequited longing for his son’s wife, Aiki. She who lived under the same roof, but who would never share his bed.
The reality of his situation, in that regard, plagued him.
2
‘You don’t have to help me with this work,’ he told her, as Aiki sought him in a favourite corner of the garden that he cherished. ‘I don’t help with the cooking…or much of the house work. I know that I should…but you take care of me so well.’
She smiled on hearing his softly voiced compliment, met the look of his stilled eyes upon her. The bond with him had become uncommonly close and that she sometimes felt Jomei intruded upon.
‘No, you don’t have to do any of that,’ Aiki laughed softly, brushing away stray strands of black silken hair from her face, a soft smile on her lightly glossed pink lips. She loved these easy- going ways between them and the attention that he paid to her. It confounded tradition and that so many of her friends were known to follow.
‘We each have our parts to play in our life together here…Daichi.’ She looked at him, wondered how he would react to a moment’s over-familiarity.
‘You won’t even let me do my own laundry. We do not have any secrets now…’
‘Should we have those…secrets?’ she asked, but not looking at him.
Aiki clutched a broom and swept the path purposefully, making sure the debris did not go back into the beds that he had so carefully tended. She would see him at work on the gravelled surfaces as he raked them over and smoothed the stones until the lines from the rake’s tines, which he used, became sharp and clear upon them and forming patterns. Neatly clipped, stunted, trees dotted the surface near a small shrine that stood in a shaded corner, the soft tinkling of tubes to be heard on the breeze.
‘No…I guess not,’ he answered her. Daichi moved to stand by Aiki’s side. ‘I hope…I hope that you do not feel obliged to me…to make me a grandfather? Such concern makes it no easier for you or Jomei,’ he said gently. ‘You must let nature take its course. Try not to be anxious and I am sure that it will be right for you in the end.’
She heard the concern for her in his voice and looked up at him. There were times when she felt so close to him and could reveal what was at work in her.
‘No, I do not feel that…feel any pressure. But there is something that I am missing. I…I have friends, as Jomei does, who would do anything to bear a child…anything.’
It was the first time she had confided in him on a matter of such delicacy, the words chosen and how they were spoken suggesting that she had more to say.
‘But you’re not like that?’ he prompted, delighting in her as she moved and began to sweep the path once more, Aiki’s hair swaying and brushing her cheeks.
He looked away. It would not do to have her know how he felt on looking at the gentle tumble of her breasts under her blouse as she leant forward, nor how he delighted in the silken smoothness of her pale skin. He saw that as the sleeves of her blouse were pulled up to reveal the delicate bones of her wrists and arms. She possessed an almost elfin fragility in her young, and yet, womanly body.