The Graveyard Apartment Page 15

  The gas flame burst into bloom, vigorous and brilliantly blue. Misao’s eye lit on a can of potato chips and she thought of putting them out in a basket, then decided that neither she nor Eiko was likely to touch them. Instead—despite the fact that she rarely smoked—she plucked a couple of cigarettes from a pack of Teppei’s that was lying on the counter. By that time the coffee was bubbling again, and Misao carried the carafe and the cigarettes out to the dining table. Silently, Eiko took one of the proffered smokes and the two women lit their cigarettes.

  “I’m starting to think that buying an apartment here might have been a huge mistake,” Eiko said, blowing out a long plume of smoke. “Maybe it would have been better just to lease one of the units. That way, we would have been able to move out, like all the other tenants who’ve left already.”

  “Are you saying that you want to move out?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure.” Eiko let out a tired-sounding laugh. “I’m just not good at dealing with this kind of thing.” Misao didn’t need to ask for clarification of what Eiko meant by “this kind of thing.” She knew only too well.

  Just then the door to the nursery creaked open and Tamao called out, “Mama?”

  It was raining harder now. Misao got up and closed the sliding door that opened onto the balcony. She glanced quickly at the graveyard and felt an unreasoning wave of revulsion at the way the rainy mist was rapidly engulfing the graves, obscuring them from sight. As Misao turned away from the window, Tamao came barreling down the hall with her face still swollen from sleep, and leaped into her mother’s waiting arms.

  11

  May 17, 1987

  Early one evening, Teppei and Tamao were on their way back from taking Cookie out for a run when they encountered Sueo Tabata, who was in the building’s lobby polishing the elevator’s brushed-metal doors. The nearby entrance to the caretakers’ apartment stood open and Sueo’s wife, Mitsue, was visible through the lacy door curtain, pacing back and forth in the kitchen.

  “Oh, you’ve been out for a walk?” Sueo asked in a friendly way.

  Teppei smiled and said, “You know how it is—when you have a dog, you can never take a day off from exercising.” As he spoke, he bent down and gave Cookie’s head a rough pat. Cookie looked up at her master with the eager, invigorated face she always wore after an outing.

  Mitsue Tabata slipped into her sandals and emerged into the lobby. Her body language struck Teppei as brisk and resolute, and it was immediately clear that she had come out with a specific aim in mind.

  “Hasn’t this been a lovely Sunday?” Mitsue began, wiping her damp hands on a blue apron that was already covered with a constellation of grease spots. “Tamao, dear, did you go somewhere with your papa in this nice weather?”

  “Yep, we went waaaay over there,” Tamao replied, childishly stretching out the vowel in “way” as she pointed toward the front door. She was thirsty after the long walk, and she just wanted to go home as soon as possible and drink some Calpis—her favorite beverage—so her response was more perfunctory than usual.

  Mitsue smiled down at Tamao in a way that seemed to make her large-featured face collapse inward on itself. Then she turned her attention to her husband and Teppei, looking from one to the other in a transparent attempt to gauge the expressions on their faces. When Teppei pressed the call button, Mitsue finally spoke up. “Um … er…,” she stammered in a tentative manner.

  “Yes?” Teppei turned to look at her.

  “No, it’s just—I mean, it’s something really silly and unimportant,” Mitsue said, showing her teeth in a forced smile.

  “What is it?”

  “Um, well, it’s just that it seemed like something out of the ordinary might have been going on in the basement last night, and we…”

  Oh, not the damned basement again, Teppei thought, but he held his tongue. Mitsue shot a glance at her husband, as if seeking affirmation. Then, having apparently received the go-ahead signal, she launched into her story.

  “Anyhow, late last night, maybe around two a.m., I was awakened by sounds coming from the basement. First there was a kind of scraping noise, like somebody whittling away at something, and then I heard some loud crashes that sounded like objects being tossed around. I thought a burglar might have gotten in, so I woke up my husband. Isn’t that right, dear?” Mitsue looked at Sueo with a pleading expression, as if asking for backup.

  “Yes, that’s right. It was an infernal racket,” Sueo said. “We couldn’t figure out what was going on, but there were unmistakable banging or thudding sounds coming from down in the basement. I’m telling you, I was shocked. ‘It’s a burglar,’ I said. ‘We’d better call the police right away!’ I was about to dial the number when my better half here stopped me. ‘Don’t jump to conclusions,’ she said. ‘It could just be one of the tenants tidying up their storage locker.’ So instead of calling the police, I went down to the basement to take a look around.”

  By that point, Teppei knew, Mr. and Mrs. Yoshino had already moved out, as had the Yada sisters. Mr. Shoji, too, was long gone. Besides the caretakers, the only remaining residents were the Kanos, the Inoues, and the hostess, Ms. Harashima: four households in all. Ms. Harashima’s moving date was rapidly approaching, and since she worked late every night it wasn’t inconceivable that she might have been down in the basement in the wee hours, obliviously making noise while she got her possessions in order.

  Except for one thing, Teppei thought. That woman swore to me that she had no intention of ever setting foot in the basement again, for any reason, so it seems highly unlikely that she would have ventured down there alone in the dead of night. Besides, she stopped using her storage locker ages ago, so what would she have been doing there, at any hour?

  “So anyhow, I went down to look around,” Sueo repeated with a flustered expression on his face. “And there was nobody there! I thought a cat or some other animal might have gotten in, but there was no sign of life at all.”

  “Huh,” Teppei said, shifting Cookie’s leash from one hand to the other. “So where do you suppose the noise was coming from?”

  “I have no idea,” Mitsue said, shaking her head. “But there were definitely noises coming from downstairs, loud enough to wake us from a sound sleep on the floor above. It wasn’t mishearing on our parts, or imagination, or anything like that.”

  “What could it have been?” As Teppei stood there, looking baffled, he surprised himself by remembering something he had never expected to think about again: the conversation with Mr. Shoji, several weeks earlier. What had that con man said about the basement? Some nonsense about its being a gathering place for evil entities, or spirits. Hogwash, Teppei thought.

  When Misao told Teppei about Eiko’s uncanny experience the other day—hearing, or thinking she heard, people conversing on the other side of the wall—he had been on the verge of shouting, “Okay, that’s it. I’ve had enough. I’m declaring a permanent moratorium on talking about anything having to do with that stupid basement, starting now.” It was the first time since their wedding day that he had come close to raising his voice at Misao, for any reason.

  Misao was clearly terrified of the basement, and she hadn’t ventured down there even once since Tamao’s accident. She had a knack for being able to think things through in a rational manner, and she was also remarkably adept at exercising self-control; those faculties just seemed to come naturally to her. Even when Reiko committed suicide, Misao had managed to move beyond that devastating event in an admirable and even heroic way. Indeed, there was a part of Teppei that believed Misao’s support was the primary reason he had been able to make it this far. It simply wasn’t like her to get all worked up over something as inoffensive as a basement; it was as though she had fallen under the influence of one of those supernatural-mystery TV dramas, and was getting absurdly overwrought about nothing. Teppei tried to be patient, but he was finding his wife’s obsession with the basement increasingly hard to tolerate.

  Here I
am, he thought, day after day, being jostled by other passengers on the rush-hour train morning and night so I can do battle at my workplace, which is a vortex of viciousness overlaid with a toxic mix of cynicism, sarcasm, and false pride. I spend my days writing copy that’s basically trying to sell vinegar as wine (or, as the old Chinese saying goes, to pass dogmeat off as mutton), and I am fully complicit in concealing the squalor that lies beneath the corporate mask, because I need to bring home the bacon every week. With everything I have to deal with out in the real world, does Misao really think I’m going to join her in believing a crock of occult mumbo-jumbo, and hold her hand while we both quake in our boots for fear of the big, bad basement? Not likely!

  Sueo’s voice brought Teppei back to reality. “The thing is, there’s something we wanted to ask you,” the older man said, lowering his voice and inching closer. “We were wondering whether you might be willing to go down to the basement with us—preferably tonight, or whenever it’s convenient—to do a little reconnaissance.”

  “Reconnaissance?” Teppei was still a bit disoriented from his internal rant.

  Mitsue let out a booming laugh. “My husband here is too timid to go down there again by himself, or even with me,” she explained. “He’s just a big old scaredy-cat. So I was telling him he ought to ask Mr. Kano or Mr. Inoue to go with us, but he didn’t feel comfortable about asking either of you.”

  Teppei frowned. “What would you be looking for?”

  “Well, that’s the thing. I don’t really have anything particular in mind,” Sueo admitted, scratching his bumpy, balding scalp in a way that made his few remaining hairs sway slightly, as if stirred by a gentle breeze. “It’s just that your daughter got injured there, and it’s troubling to think that we might have overlooked something dangerous around the edges of the basement or wherever.”

  “Okay, fine. I’ll go with you,” Teppei said without enthusiasm. “Sure, let’s check it out. My wife and Mrs. Inoue spend entirely too much time griping about the basement, and I’ve actually been thinking recently that it might be a good idea to go down and prove once and for all that there’s nothing to be afraid of. I mean, the fact is, we’ve made a sizable investment in this place, with the down payment and our mortgage and everything, so I’d really like to put an end to all the fuss about the basement right now.”

  “My sentiments exactly.” Mitsue smiled.

  After a brief discussion, it was agreed that Teppei would stop by the caretakers’ apartment later that evening, at his convenience, and the two groups went their separate ways.

  In the elevator Tamao said, “You’re going down to the basement, Papa?”

  “That’s right,” Teppei replied.

  Tamao was silent for a long moment, gazing up at her father’s face. Finally, she let out an exaggerated sigh and murmured, “Mama isn’t going to be too happy about that.”

  “Nah, she won’t mind.” Teppei laughed. “Your papa’s super strong, you know. If there are any monsters down there, he’ll chase them away, for sure.”

  “You really think there are monsters?”

  “No, of course I don’t. I was only joking. There’s no such thing as monsters in real life, anyway; they only exist in stories. The noises last night probably came from a great big mouse, or maybe from a homeless man who found a way to get into the basement and slept there overnight because he didn’t have money for a hotel, or something like that. I’m sure there’s a simple explanation for the noises the Tabatas heard last night.”

  “Um, what kind of person is the homeless man?”

  “He’s a very nice person, I promise,” Teppei said, taking Tamao’s hand. “Not like a monster, at all, so there’s really nothing to worry about.”

  * * *

  When Teppei announced that he and the resident managers were planning to go down to the basement on a so-called reconnaissance mission, Misao stared at him with eyes that had suddenly lost their customary sparkle.

  “Are you serious?” she asked.

  “Why, you don’t want me to go?”

  “I just don’t see the need for reconnoitering, or whatever you want to call it. I mean, both Eiko and I have already decided not to use the storage lockers anymore. If you include the caretakers, there are only four occupied units in the building now. That’s four out of fourteen, so if we have extra things that won’t fit in the cupboards we can just stack them up in the exterior hallways, instead of putting them in the basement.”

  “That’s all very well, but we’re talking about apples and oranges here,” Teppei said in a placating tone. “If we can locate the source of the noises, which will probably turn out to be the same thing that’s been giving you and Eiko such a bad feeling, then from now on we can just shrug it off and be like, ‘Oh, right, it’s just that thing again.’ Because I guarantee that the explanation is ultimately going to turn out to be something harmless, like a family of noisy mice.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Misao said glumly.

  “Of course I’m right. Anyway, that’s why we’re going down to take a look around. It’s really not a big deal.”

  Misao remained visibly unconvinced. “That place isn’t safe,” she said.

  “You know, it isn’t like you to swallow the superstitious nonsense that old Mr. Snake Oil Salesman—you know, that Shoji guy—was dishing out.”

  “But even you can sense that there’s something peculiar about that space, right? I know, I can read between the lines.”

  “Who, me?” Teppei let out a staccato bark of laughter, but only because that seemed like the proper response. “Hey, when I was at university, we used to go to summer camp every year, and any time they had a contest to test our courage or nerve, I always won. Nobody else had a chance. So, no. To me, the basement just seems like a perfectly normal space.”

  Tamao was watching television in the living room. It was a new program, a cartoon featuring a bear cub that was pale pink, like a baby pig. Every time the bear said something, Tamao would roll around on the couch, laughing as if it was the funniest thing she had ever heard.

  Misao let out a long, sibilant sigh and began to fiddle with a small glass jar of black pepper that was sitting on the dining table. She often engaged in this sort of displacement activity when she felt the need to say something difficult or awkward.

  “What if I were to suggest that we put this place on the market and start looking for another apartment?” she asked. “Would you be angry?”

  “Yes, I would be very angry,” Teppei said without hesitation.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “Look, could you please give it a rest? I mean, just for the sake of argument, suppose there really are some restless ghosts or spirits in the basement, popping up and raising a ruckus and then vanishing again. Well, what does that have to do with us? We’re human beings who are alive right now, in the real world. If they want to pick a fight, there’s no chance a group of puny specters could win against us. Don’t you see? We’re too busy living to worry about people who are already dead; that’s all there is to it. I’ve managed to make it this far by believing that when people die, they’re gone forever, and I’m certainly not going to start believing in ghosts at this point.”

  Misao fixed Teppei with a frosty stare. “Let me get this straight,” she said slowly. “You’re saying you don’t have time to bother with the dead?”

  “That’s right.”

  “What a heartless thing to say. That’s just too cold for words.”

  “What? How so?” Teppei stared at his wife in perplexity.

  “I’m talking about Reiko,” Misao said, her voice quavering as she scratched at the label of the black-pepper jar with one fingernail. “There’s just no way … I mean, how could you say something like that about her?”

  “No, you completely misunderstood,” Teppei said gently. “That isn’t what I was getting at, not at all. I wasn’t even thinking about … that person.”

  “That’s good, because I would hav
e been very disappointed in you.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I was speaking in general terms, and I just didn’t phrase it very well, that’s all. We’ve had this conversation before, so I assumed you’d understand what I meant.”

  They both fell silent for a while. From her perch on the living room couch, Tamao was watching her parents intently.

  What the hell is going on? Teppei thought. Misao’s nerves really seem to be on edge these days. It’s getting downright ridiculous. I mean, overreacting to a simple misunderstanding, and making a constant fuss over a totally ordinary basement? It all comes down to one thing: our unwise decision to buy a unit in an apartment building next to a graveyard.

  Teppei had an uncomfortable sense that the conversation had changed abruptly from what seemed to be an abstract discussion of the supernatural into something far more personal, and volatile, but he decided to keep that thought to himself. With luck, by the time he returned, Misao would have forgotten about this minor hitch in their usually harmonious communication.

  “Well, then,” he said, affecting a brisk, cheerful tone. “I’m going to take off now. I’ll conduct a thorough investigation of the basement, just to put your mind at rest. I don’t suppose you feel like coming along?”

  “Are you joking? No way!” Misao said emphatically, chewing her lip. “To be honest, I’d be happier if you didn’t go, either.”

  Teppei looked into Misao’s eyes for a long moment. “I’ll be fine,” he said. “I promise, this whole expedition is going to turn out to be much ado about absolutely nothing.”

  Misao took a deep breath, then exhaled audibly. “Yes, of course, you’re right,” she said.

  “Listen,” Teppei said earnestly. “I’m afraid I didn’t do a very good job of expressing myself earlier, but I was just trying to say that what’s important to me right now is us: our family.”

  “Of course, I know, and I feel the same way.” Misao smiled wanly.

  Playfully tousling his wife’s hair, Teppei teased, “Seriously, Mrs. Kano, you really do need to pull yourself together.”