Page 59 of A Serving of Hope

“It’s just that with a child that age, it’s usually the mother who gets custody—but you agreed never to see him again. Was there a reason?”

“Right,” said Yuiko, crossing her legs again. “I suppose I need to explain that part too.”

Koishi set her pen down. “If it’s hard to talk about, I understand. I just wondered.”

“We got divorced because I had an affair. My husband and his mother both insisted that a woman like that had no business raising a child. It was true I’d cheated, so I couldn’t exactly argue. They branded me unfit to be a mother.” A pained look flitted across Yuiko’s face, followed by one of resignation and, finally, a faint, self-mocking smile.

Koishi frowned and began restlessly clicking her pen. “I’m not sure how to put this, but…doesn’t a five-year-old boy need a mother?”

“My mother-in-law was still quite young, and happy to take on that role. Again, I was the one in the wrong, so I felt like I had no choice but to accept it.”

“It just doesn’t sit right with me. Taking a child away from his mother, at that age…” Koishi puffed out her cheeks in frustration.

“I didn’t want Masaya getting caught up in it all,” explained Yuiko, tilting her gaze toward the ceiling. “All I wanted was for him to have a safe and happy childhood.”

“Right. Sorry for getting off track. Shall we get back to the gratin?”

“One of the conditions of my divorce was that I leave Tokyo—to keep me from seeing Masaya, I think. I moved to Nagoya and found a position at a hospital in Chikusa. Life began to feel a little empty, so I decided to join a gogyoka poetry group.”

“Gogyoka?”

“As in ‘five-line poetry.’ The idea is that, unlike haiku or tanka, there are no strict rules about syllables. As long as it’s five lines long, anything goes. You just express your feelings as they come to you.”

“Sounds fun.”

“It really is. I was hooked right away. We go on trips together, which is always a blast. We choose a theme, write poems during the trip and share them with each other, offering feedback and encouragement. Of course, it isn’t just about the poetry. Going for meals, drinking together, sharing stories about our lives—it’s really helped ease my loneliness.”

“Wow,” said Koishi, tapping her pen against her head. “Maybe I should sign up. I could do with something like that in my life.”

“We take trips three or four times a year. Three years ago, in the autumn, we went to Shizuoka.”

“Hmm, Shizuoka—I’m guessing the theme was Mount Fuji?”

“That’s right. How did you know?”

Koishi shrugged. “Hey, this is a detective agency.”

“The trips are always two days long and include an overnight stay. On the morning of the second day we usually go our separate ways. On this occasion we were staying at a hotel near Shizuoka station. We said goodbye after breakfast as usual, and I went for a stroll around Asama Shrine and Sunpu Castle. Then I got hungry and started looking for somewhere to have lunch.”

“I’ve never been to Shizuoka,” commented Koishi. “Famous for tea, isn’t it? I’m imagining the smell of it wafting through the air.”

“Yes, there were tea shops all over the place. The streets are all named after old Edo-period businesses—you know, money changer’s street, dyer’s street, and so on—and there’s this lovely leafy avenue called Aoba-dori. Anyway, as I was walking past a park, I spotted a café. The sign said Tapestry.” An excited gleam had come into Yuiko’s eyes.

“Tapestry,” said Koishi, repeating the English word. “As in one of those cloths you hang on a wall?” She began sketching an illustration in her notebook.

“People your age might not know, but for my generation it’s actually music the word brings to mind. There’s a Carole King album by that name, see, and I used to be crazy about it. That makes me sound like some connoisseur, but it was my older sister who got me hooked. She’s ten years older than me, and I was just a kid at the time—though maybe one who liked to pretend she was a grown-up.”

“Carole King, eh? Can’t say I’m familiar. Was this back when people listened to records?”

“Naturally,” said Yuiko, a faraway look coming into her eyes. “It came in one of those big sleeves. That was partly what I loved about it. Carole sitting there on the windowsill with her jeans and curly hair, one knee up, a big smile on her face and a cat at her side. I remember taking photos with my sister where we’d copy the pose.”

“I’ll have to check it out sometime. So, do you think the owner of the café was a fan of the album too?”

“I had a feeling he might be. But I couldn’t ask.”

“Why, was it too busy?”

“No. I got there before the lunch rush. I was the only customer there.”