“Have you told someone next door about me?’ “No, it’s not that! It’s just
that the people next door—I’ve . . .” Takako couldn’t go on. “You scare me.
If you’re going to start coming here like this, it’s over between us. The end!
I’ve been thinking I made a mistake anyway.”
“Okay, don’t shout—calm down. . .
“No—Ĩ’U shout if I want to! How dare you tell me to calm down! ’
“But what’s happened?” Fujiki asked, starting to take off his shoes.
“Stop it, stop it!” Takako said, backing away. “It doesn’t have to be
tomorrow—we can meet today. I’ll come see you, I promise, just as long as
it’s somewhere else—please, will you leave? Al right? Please, just get out.”
The terror she felt at Fụjiki’s arrival had to do with her husband, of
course, but a sudden spark of feeling told her that it had to do with Chiba,
too. Her loss of control was his fault as well as Hirata’s. The Hiratas’ plank
fence was full of holes, and one could peep through it anywhere if one
wanted to.
Even though the Chibas were both out, and their maid, Taneko, was the
only one home, it seemed as though Chiba were home, as though his eyes
were fixed on her and Fujiki.
The thought that Fujiki had been peeping in at her as she peeped in at the
flowers in the Chibas’ garden filled her with shame—shame that was at the
same time hatred for Fujiki.
Takako still hadn’t calmed down. Fujiki stepped hurriedly ụp into the
house, put his arms low around her back, and hugged her to him.
“Let me go! Let me go! What have I ever done to you? Forgive me. . . .
Oh—I hate you!” Takako’s words came in bursts. Her face lost its color.
“Hey—hey.”
Fụjiki shook Takako as if to call her back.
