Toddler Hunting by Taeko Kono

Author:Taeko Kono
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780811228282
Publisher: New Directions
Published: 2018-10-30T00:00:00+00:00

Ants Swarm

Ari takaru, 1964

For a moment, Fumiko thought of sinking back into that deep, free world she’d just been immersed in. But no, she couldn’t go back to sleep; she had to get up. . . . She pushed the thin quilt away with one hand, and then paused, reluctant: it worried her to think how her body might feel if she changed her position. Enclosed in the warm darkness, she lay on her side without moving, her body curved like a bow, her legs strictly aligned.

Her husband Matsuda was still fast asleep, his breath deep and powerful. The clock on the wall reverberated with each swing of the pendulum, but this didn’t tell her the time. Lying there, keeping her body as immobile as a person being forcibly held down, Fumiko began to feel her chest constrict; it became difficult to breathe. Laziness and hesitation kept her there for a while, but she finally stuck out a hand to help raise her upper body. This didn’t seem to make any difference in how she felt, so she let her legs relax out of their strict line, bent one knee, and slid the other onto the cool tatami mat. Still she felt nothing. She moved both feet firmly on to the tatami.

Sliding open their bedroom door she was surprised to discover that it wasn’t night after all. The corridor was hushed and still. Various objects were dimly visible: the white patch of frosted glass on the door of the bathroom met her eye. She was hardly ever awake this early, she realized. If anything, this was when she slept most deeply — worry had awoken her. Her hand touched the knob of the door to the toilet.

Fumiko’s period was overdue — by almost a week now. This was very unusual for her. From the start, her period had always been regular, so punctual as to be almost amusing. Even the time of day it came — the evening — was usually the same. She had been married to Matsuda, a man one year her junior, for six years now; and all that time her period had been as regular as ever. The two of them had agreed to avoid having a child, and until now, nothing had ever happened to concern them.

After her period didn’t come, she had waited three days before telling Matsuda. He responded with a surprised grunt.

“I told you, didn’t I?” she continued. “I told you I felt something that time.”

In fact, though they did not intend to ever have children, their only precaution was the regularity of Fumiko’s periods. Fumiko worked at an American law firm — there wasn’t any overtime, she could leave the office at five, and she had Saturdays and Sundays free. Matsuda, however, was a journalist who covered political affairs: his hours were unpredictable. When things got hectic, he would stay all night at the office, or for days at a stretch, and come home at dawn. Often when he did get a breather, Fumiko would be entering a risky phase in her cycle.

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