Star Sand by Roger Pulvers

Author:Roger Pulvers [Pulvers, Roger]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781503936027
Published: 2016-04-30T16:00:00+00:00

APRIL 7, 1945

FINE, LATER SHOWERY RAIN

I slept much later than usual. The events in the cave the previous day must have tired me out. I have never been good at dealing with conflict. Rather than defend myself or attack the other person, I simply withdraw into myself and sulk, rehearsing in my mind, often with hand gestures and whispered words, arguments on both sides of the conflict. This unnerved my father, who was fond of an argument, even for its own sake. He took one side and stuck to it until the other side capitulated. If it looked as if reason was working against him, he simply changed the subject on you.

I dressed, left the house without eating breakfast, and headed to Iwabuchi-san’s uncle’s house. I was hoping that he would still be there and that he would give me some provisions and medicine to take to the cave.

The garcinia tree in the front garden could be seen from far down the path, this tree that had withstood typhoons and storms for decades. The wall of jagged, notched stones around the house was higher than the walls around other houses on Hatoma. I turned into the front garden and noticed immediately that the door to the house was open. I stood under the eaves.

“Excuse me,” I said. I repeated this more loudly. There was no reply. I stepped into the spacious entryway. The first thing that caught my eye was a chair on its side in the living room. “Excuse me. Iwabuchi-san,” I called. I slipped out of my sandals and stepped up into the house. Without warning, Iwabuchi-san’s cat jumped out of the living room and ran past me. My right hand flew to my neck, and I exclaimed in English, “Oh my God!”

The living room had an upright piano in one corner and a cabinet housing a record player in another. Several oil paintings in ornate frames hung on the walls, all of them of mountains, some covered in snow. A long built-in bookshelf lined one of the walls. I could see tall books in it about mountain climbing, most of them in English: Conquering the Alps for Sport and Pleasure and The Himalayas: Challenge for the 20th Century. I wondered why someone so keen on mountain climbing would come to live on this little island, less than one square kilometer in size, at the bottom of a chain of islands leading from Okinawa to Formosa. He was displaced, that’s why, I thought. We were all displaced now, perhaps me more than anyone.

There were three framed photographs in front of some books. One was of Iwabuchi-san’s uncle as a young man and a pretty woman in a ski sweater. The second must have been a wedding photo, because both of them, unsmiling, were in formal kimonos, the uncle standing and the woman sitting primly beside him. The third photograph showed a family of four on a snowy mountainside. The photograph was out of focus, but it must have been one of the uncle, his wife, and their son and daughter.

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