“Chiba makes sure we get along. There are all sorts of things about me
that he’d like to complain about, but—I suppose in certain ways that makes
life easier.”
A dog whined at the gate.
“He’s home!” Takako was the first to speak.
“Indeed he is. How clever of you to know.”
When Chiba’s footsteps drew near the gate, Ricky would become excited
and start whining on the other side. This whine was different from his bark.
Takako always listened for it from next door, and each time she heard it she
thought: Chiba’s home!
Ricky leapt at Chiba’s pants and followed him into the entryway.
Takako left the living room with Ichiko and stood behind her, her
shoulders stiff.
“What’s wrong?” Ichiko asked him.
“Oh, I forgot something.”
Something unpleasant seemed to have happened to Chiba at work. His
forehead was pale, and he avoided looking at Ichiko and Takako. He
walked into the living room, still in his overcoat, and rummaged through a
drawer in the table near the window.
“Dear, Takako has come over. I wanted to talk with her, and I thought we
might have lunch together. Will you be . . . ?”
“Oh.” Chiba glanced at his watch as he turned. He was holding a folder
of papers, which he carried with him to the center of the room.
“Sorry I was so rude,” he said to Takako. ‘‘I’m afraid something rather
awful has happened. I took a girl from work along with me to a
construction site, and a carpenter overhead dropped a chisel—her cheek
was cut.”
