Page 2 of The Vanishing Cherry Blossom Bookshop
She muttered the words – seemingly lines of poetry she had memorised – almost hypnotically, as though she wasn’t aware that she was reciting them.
The melody ofBolérowas now being played by a trombone. Outside, white rays of the sun glinted off the cherry-blossom petals dancing silently in the air.
‘Hey Kobako, which one should I pick today?’
From time to time, the girl paused her hand and turned towards her companion as she gently placed her fingertip on one of the spines. But the cat, apparently uninterested, remained completely still. This exchange went on for a while until the girl, seemingly giving up, moved on to the next shelf, then to the one after that.
Then, just as her finger glided over one of the larger books, the cat opened one eye and let out a short meow.
‘This one?’
The girl turned to find that the cat had lifted its head, its eyes wide open. Its golden pupils had dilated as if to say:That’s the one.
Removing the book from the shelf, the girl brought it to eye level, then opened it in a reverential manner.
‘Ahem,’ she said exaggeratedly, pretending to clear her throat.
The book wasThe Little Prince. Putting on a slightly affected tone, the girl began to read, her resonant voice echoing through the shop.
‘“My star will be just one of the stars, for you. And so you will love to watch all the stars in the heavens… They will all be your friends…”’
As she continued to read, the girl and the calico cat – now in a loaf pose again – faced towards each other. Every time the girl turned the page, the cat twitched its whiskers and slowly blinked its eyes as though it was nodding along. Outside the square of the largest window, the petals continued their graceful dance.Boléroplayed on, reorchestrating the same melodies, over and over again.
ONE
‘What is essential is invisible to the eye.’
Just like that,the cremation was over.
Less than two hours after the door to the incinerator was closed, sixty-seven years of her mother’s life had been reduced to nothing but bones and ashes.
Mio carried her mother’s urn in her arms the whole way from the crematorium. Although it was placed inside a box, wrapped in thick cloth and afuroshiki, she could feel its warmth on her lap. It was as though her mother was trying to tell her that she was still there.
Arriving at the place where her mother had lived, Mio found that it was a tired, two-storey building of wooden structure. Her mother’s studio flat was at the north-facing corner on the first floor. Its window looked out onto the bank of a river. Gazing at the neat row of winter-bare trees under the thick, grey sky, Mio felt overwhelmed with guilt that she had let her mother die all alone in such a place.I should have done more for her,she thought.
Until then, Mio had never even set foot in the flat. Two years earlier, her mother had suddenly told Mio and her younger brother that she would be moving out of their family home. Although Mio had to admit that they hardly had any good memories of the house, she was dismayed by the thought of her childhood home being passed on to a stranger. For once, her brother agreed with her. The two teamed up to try and dissuade their mother, but she told them that the topic was not up for discussion.It’s not like you two come back very often, she had said.Do as you please,thought Mio. After her mother moved to her new flat, Mio used her busy work schedule as an excuse to avoid checking in on her. Now, she deeply regretted this.
The flat was modestly furnished with just the bare essentials. There wasn’t even a television, though Mio knew that the family house had sold for a decent amount of money; she never imagined that her mother had been living so frugally. It seemed that the futon that was removed along with her mother’s body was the only set of bedding she owned. Thinking that she would need to stay in the business hotel across the street, Mio wondered if it would be all right to leave her mother’s ashes alone in the flat.
On the floor lay a pale green carpet. Although it was worn out, it looked reasonably clean. There was a small round table which appeared to have been used as a dining table. Mio set her mother’s urn on it, creating a makeshift altar. Then, suddenly feeling a wave of exhaustion, she dropped down on the floor. Still, wanting to give her brother an update, she summoned up the energy to pull out her phone from her bag. Checking that it would be early morning in his time zone, she hit the call button. After two rings, her brother picked up.
‘Hi, Yoshihiro,’ Mio said. ‘I just wanted to let you know that the cremation went smoothly.’
There was an awkward pause before her brother replied with a thank you. Oddly, it sounded like his voice was doubling. Mio couldn’t tell if this was because the line was unstable, or becauseshewas.
‘I’m sorry that all of this has fallen on your shoulders, Sis.’
‘Hey, it’s not your fault. She wasn’t sick or anything, so it wasn’t like we could have prepared for it –emotionallyor logistically.’
The previous year, Yoshihiro, who worked for a major electronics manufacturer, had moved to South Africa after being put in charge of setting up and running a new plant there. Mio had not seen her brother in quite some time, as he rarely had the time to return to Japan. Their mother had been right – neither of them had visited her.
‘Anyway, Sis, where are you at the moment?’
‘I’m at Mum’s place. I’ve just brought her ashes here. I wanted to let you know that the funeral side of things is all done now. There’s still a lot to do in terms of paperwork, but I’ll manage.’
Yoshihiro apologised again. It seemed to Mio that there should have been more to talk about, but she didn’t know what to say. She was fairly certain that her brother also felt the same way.
‘I don’t fully understand why she sold the house,’ Mio said.
