The Pachinko Parlor by Elisa Shua Dusapin

Author:Elisa Shua Dusapin [Dusapin, Elisa Shua]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Open Letter Books

BY THE TIME we finish our lesson, it’s already getting dark. Henriette has asked me to stay on past the usual time, she has a meeting. Mieko declares that she has something to show me. She wants to take me up to the roof.

We climb the emergency staircase and step out onto a platform. Air vents cling to its surface like leeches. Smoke billows up from below. Looking down, all you can see are low-rise buildings, no higher than the lampposts, lights coming on in the windows. Signposts. No cars. Everything seems to float, like jellyfish in the sky. Mieko points at the building across the way.

“That’s where the bee came from. They’re Tokyo bees. They make cherry blossom honey because cherry blossoms are the only flowers in the city.”

It takes me a while to make out the hives. Little houses lined up by the dozen on the roof.

“I’m cold, I’m going to get something warm,” Mieko says, heading back inside.

I walk over to the edge. Cawing of crows. Ambulance sirens. Muffled sounds. A spider spins its web on the railing; it looks as big as the rooftop baseball pitches in the distance, their safety nets.

A player, his hand frozen in mid-air, waiting to catch a ball. He hurls his body forward in slow motion, surely it will take him years to return to his original position. I stand watching this lone player for a moment, mirroring his gestures, their infinite slowness, wondering if he really is playing or if it’s a trick of perception, if time has stalled and slowed down all movement.

“Onni?”

Mieko is staring at me, holding a thermos and two towels. I become conscious of the way I’m standing: on one foot, one leg raised with bent knee, one hand in the air. I adjust my stance, show too much enthusiasm for the thermos, say it’s a sure sign that summer is ending.

“It’s cold,” she laughs. “It’s royal milk tea.”

We wrap ourselves in the towels. They’re too short for me, they stop just below my stomach.

“The bees are dying,” says Mieko. “So are the trees. There aren’t nearly as many as there used to be in the city. One day they’ll all be dead, and then we’ll all die too.”

I turn to look at her.

“I’m scared too, you know.”

“Of the bees?”

“Of the trees dying. Everything. That’s why I like going up high in the mountains, at least it’s normal for there to be no trees there.”

“I’ve never seen anything like that,” says Mieko. “Maybe you will someday.”

We huddle together, drink the tea straight from the thermos, passing it back and forth between us. The crescent moon has come into view, lying on its side. It always surprises me in Japan, the way the moon seems to be sleeping, while in Switzerland it stands upright. I tell Mieko. She cranes her neck to look at the moon from a different angle.

“Are you looking forward to going away?” I ask.

“Mum says it’s for my future.”

“What about you? What do you think?”

“I don’t know really.

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