Swallows, p.8
Swallows, page 8
The man’s name was Somuta. His actual name was longer, like Somuchai-something, but he’d shortened it to make it sound more Japanese. Somuta’s mother was Thai, and his father was Japanese. They’d met while working at an electronics factory in Aichi. But when Somuta was still a baby, his father had quit his job and left him and his mother. After that, his mother had become seriously depressed. When she got to the point where she could barely leave the house, Somuta started taking care of her. But he had dropped out of high school and become a part-time construction worker, so he never had money and was financially dependent on Teru.
So Teru couldn’t quit sex work even if she wanted to, Riki had recently learned, because, besides having to repay her student loans, she was supporting Somuta and his mother. Riki hadn’t heard any updates about Somuta recently, which meant it was probably about time for him to make an appearance again.
“How many times has it been now?” Riki said in a whisper, so people around them wouldn’t hear. Teru made a face.
“The fifth? I knew you were going to say something.”
“I didn’t say anything.” Riki opened her Tupperware of leftovers. Ground-pork-and-cabbage stir-fry over rice. Teru glanced at the slightly soggy noritamago furikake on the rice and looked jealous for a moment.
“Somuta’s mom isn’t doing well. He said he couldn’t leave her alone for too long, so he just spent one night at my place, then went home after that.”
Somuta’s family was extremely poor. His mother lived in a single room in what looked to be an abandoned building. She slept on a futon.
“So you loaned him money again? Sounds rough.”
“What else was I supposed to do? No one else is helping them. Somuta was crying when he asked to borrow money; he said he was sorry but he wouldn’t be able to pay it back right away. I told him I’d just give it to him.”
Teru was too nice to people and often got taken advantage of. She had worked hard to repay the large loan her parents had taken out for school, but now her boyfriend’s family was living in poverty, and she couldn’t abandon them.
It’s not as though Teru’s family was particularly well off, and she hadn’t even planned to go to college at first. But she’d applied for a scholarship on a whim, thinking it would look bad on her résumé if she hadn’t gone to college. Now she regretted it and claimed it was the biggest mistake of her life. Riki had heard her say it countless times: “There’s no point in getting a college degree if you’re just going to a no-name local college.”
“How much did you loan him?” Riki asked, putting down her chopsticks.
“Pretty much everything I had, so a little over fifty thousand yen. I mean, he hitchhiked all the way to Tokyo just to borrow money from me. He said he’s eating one meal a day. I feel so bad for him.”
“Yeah, but you’re not getting paid for another two weeks. Are you gonna be okay?”
“I’m working at the bar this weekend, so I’ll be fine.”
Teru had mentioned that there were lots of other sex workers in exactly the same situation. The competition was stiff. She was obviously unhappy. She had bad teeth. And it didn’t seem likely that any rich, handsome customers would glom onto her, either.
“If it really doesn’t work out, I might go into porn.”
“Stop—you’re gonna regret that. Look, I can loan you a little bit. And by that I mean ten thousand yen at most.”
Riki didn’t have an inch of wiggle room, financially. Even if she wanted to save money, she couldn’t. Her take-home pay was barely enough to cover her daily expenses, so she had nothing left over after that. But she was doing okay compared to Teru. In fact, it was clear from observing the patients at the hospital every day that very few people in this society had much financial cushion, either. It was rare to see a patient take out a 10,000-yen bill. Every time she saw someone else who didn’t have money, she felt relieved, and then sad.
“No, that’s okay. I know you’re struggling, too,” Teru muttered in between bites of ketchup-slathered egg. She stuck her disposable chopsticks into the hard-boiled egg, which was threatening to roll away, then wiped the ketchup on the yolk with intense concentration. When she finished eating her egg and green beans, she carefully secured the top back on the plastic container. Riki assumed she was going to eat the rest of the ketchup later.
“Oh, that reminds me, I got a call from Planté last night.”
“What did they say?”
Riki thought they’d called to say Teru had failed the application process because she hadn’t answered the questions on the application with enough enthusiasm. Teru had even said herself that she’d decided not to apply.
“They asked me if I wanted to do it.”
“Uh, didn’t you say you failed the application process?”
“No, I wrote sloppy answers to the questions, and then I got a call from them asking me to rewrite the answers because they couldn’t accept my application as-is. I just felt fed up with the whole thing at that point—like, had it really come to this? I felt so pathetic. But then this person named Aonuma-san called me again yesterday, asking if I’d finished rewriting my answers. I was surprised. I told her I hadn’t, and that I wasn’t interested anymore. Then she said the answers didn’t have to be that detailed, and that I should come by and talk to them sometime. She encouraged me to reconsider being an egg donor. She said egg extraction is a simple process, and that I’d get to go on a trip overseas, too. Didn’t I want to help someone else out while I was still young? I was, like: Help someone? Ha! What is she talking about? I’m the one who needs help.” Teru grinned as she slurped her noodles, one by one. She’d been so disgusted when Riki told her about being a surrogate, but now she was fine with being an egg donor? Riki was puzzled.
“So now you’re going to do it?”
“I mean, it’s not like I want to. But I am broke,” Riki said flatly. “At this point, does it even matter what I do? Would I rather touch some guy’s dick, lick it, and put it inside me, or have my eggs extracted? I’ve never given birth, so I obviously can’t be a surrogate but if I could, why not do that, too? I could have a kid. Who cares? I’ll sell whatever I can sell.”
“Teru…you sound really desperate.”
“Yeah. I am. I am desperate,” Teru shot back. But Riki didn’t feel like scolding her. She felt the same way. If things went on as they were, she’d have to live through another year of poverty. Maybe it was all right while she was still young and had a glimmer of hope, but things would only get worse as she got older.
She’d seen so many poor, old people at Kitamuki General Hospital. And so many old, lonely people at the nursing home in Hokkaido, too. It was enough to make her sick.
Most of the old people in the nursing home didn’t have any visitors. Even if they had kids who came to visit, they’d only stop by for a few minutes before going home again. The old people had been kicked out of their families and were just waiting to die. One elderly woman had been so sad that she’d handed over all her assets to a man who claimed to be her distant relative. When the hospital looked into it, it turned out he wasn’t related to her at all. Her real son had come rushing in when he heard the news, calling her stupid and senile. The woman seemed to be smiling to herself.
Riki knew she was consigned to the same fate as these old people. She had no money and no family. Even if she did manage to get married, it would obviously be to someone who was just as poor as she was. And if she had a kid with someone like that, it’d be over for them. They’d end up like Somuta’s Thai mother. It could happen to anyone.
“We’re trapped, aren’t we? The future’s bleak.”
“Yeah. I want money, for real. So are you gonna do the surrogate thing?”
Aonuma-san had told Riki that she wanted an answer soon. If she agreed, they’d go ahead with the plan, and if not, she wanted Riki to consider being an egg donor.
“I’m still thinking about it. I’ve been pregnant before, but I’ve never given birth. When I think about this being my first, I don’t know. It just makes me think twice.”
“Why don’t you at least meet the couple to see what they’re like? They might be nicer than you think.”
“Maybe.”
“I mean, who cares what they’re like? Money’s money.”
Riki recalled what Teru had said before: I want to have a child with someone I love. I think I’d become emotionally attached to the baby after I gave birth. I mean, we all have a maternal instinct inside of us. I just don’t think I could become a surrogate mother when I think about all that.
“You’ve really done a one-eighty on this, haven’t you?”
Teru gulped down the last of her ramen broth, tossed her disposable chopsticks into the Styrofoam cup, and sighed.
“I’m thinking of breaking up with Somuta.”
Riki wasn’t surprised. How many times had they broken up and gotten back together? She looked at her friend with an expression that said: Again? Teru looked pained.
“I’m serious this time. I feel bad for him, but I feel bad for myself, too, paying for both him and his mom. I mean, he’s never paid me back a single yen. I’ve been thinking this for a while now, but I feel like I’m the ideal source of revenue for them.”
Teru’s voice was getting louder, and the word “revenue” echoed in the silence of the break room. She looked around nervously, startled by the volume of her own voice. The only people in the room were a full-time employee, a middle-aged woman who was staring at her phone, and two male lab technicians talking in low voices as they ate their lunch. Even if someone had heard, no one cared about Riki or Teru in the slightest.
Riki lowered her voice. “But don’t you love Somuta?” she asked.
“Hmmm…” Teru pondered. “You know, it’s complicated. I don’t dislike him. And we’ve been together for so long. We definitely care about each other, but I just want him to be more independent. So I’m thinking of becoming an egg donor and disappearing. I mean, you get to go on an overseas vacation for two, three weeks, right? It’s perfect. I’ll quit my job, move out of my apartment, and go abroad. The rest I’ll figure out later,” Teru said matter-of-factly
“What about your loans?”
“I’ll pay them back eventually. I just really need a break right now. And with my current job, I definitely couldn’t go abroad. It’s, like, fuck it, you know? I can only sell my eggs while I’m young, so I may as well do it now.”
Riki was becoming more convinced as she listened to Teru. Three million yen. A year of rest and relaxation. Maybe being a surrogate wouldn’t be so bad after all. If she didn’t have to do anything while she was pregnant, she could take her time thinking about what to do after the birth. Right now, she was so pressed for time and money that she didn’t have space even to consider a different path. If she was going to set out in a new direction, she’d need time and money.
* * *
•
On Sunday afternoon, Riki and Teru went to their appointment at Planté.
Teru was called into Aonuma-san’s office first. She must have had a lot of forms to fill out, since she was in there a long time.
When she finally emerged, she looked slightly guilty. She was holding a bottle of Evian water, just like the one Riki had been given, and a white envelope that contained her transportation fare.
“How did it go?”
Teru nodded several times. “I decided to do it. I asked if the procedure was going to take place in Thailand, and she said it’s going to be in Hawaii. I wasn’t really up for it before, when she said it would be in Thailand, since that’s where Somuta’s from. But Hawaii sounds great. I’ve always wanted to go.”
“I want to go too.”
“Let’s go together!”
Riki was scared of the procedure, but if it meant being in Hawaii for two to three weeks with Teru, it would be worth it.
“Come on in, Ōishi-san.”
Now it was Riki’s turn. She entered the room filled with shades of pink. Aonuma-san was wearing a cutesy, flower-patterned dress and smiling.
“Welcome, welcome. Thank you so much for coming out again today—and with your friend, no less. I’m so happy she’s agreed to be an egg donor for us. She’s young, and optimistic—we’re just thrilled. This is to cover your transportation costs, and a little extra something from us as a thank you for the referral.”
Aonuma-san handed her a white envelope. Riki was happy—she hadn’t expected to receive extra money for the referral. She’d get something to eat with Teru later.
“Now, were you able to give some thought to what we discussed last time about being a surrogate for us?”
“Yes, I wanted to hear a little more about it.”
“Great! This is the couple who’s interested,” Aonuma-san said, pulling a clear file folder out from her desk. The photo showed only the couple’s faces.
“This is Mr. Kusaoke and his wife.”
The husband had short, cropped hair, and the photo showed his face in a half-profile. Riki was sure she’d seen that slightly affected expression somewhere before, but she couldn’t remember where.
Her eyes drifted over to the wife. She let out a gasp. It was true—she did look like Riki. The woman in the photo was much older than her, but far more beautiful. She could almost sense her determination. Riki searched the photo, trying to pinpoint exactly which features were similar to hers, and which were different. She couldn’t take her eyes off her.
Chapter 2
A Race Against Time
2.1
The bicycle parking lot in front of Riki’s apartment building had space for only five bikes—and they were always the same five. There was the mommy-bike that belonged to the single mother who was always making her kid cry. Then there was the one that belonged to the jockish college student who was always running around town. There was the black bike that belonged to the middle-aged, overworked salaryman; some random person’s Muji bike; and then there was Riki’s—a secondhand commuter bike.
These five bikes had occupied the lot for a while, and they were always parked in more or less the same order. The Muji bike with the unknown owner was leaned up against the right side, so Riki always made sure to lean her bike flat up against the left side. The other three were arranged between them, always in the same order.
But for a while now, a new bike—silver, slightly dirty—had been added to the mix. However carefully the others tried to park their bikes, the owner of the silver bike, who always seemed to come home late, would thrust his or her bike roughly between theirs, so that they would have to remove it first in order to take out their own.
Sometimes the pedals of one bike would get stuck in the spokes of another, and disentangling them was a whole ordeal. Plus, the silver bike was old, and big, and heavy. Just getting her bike out of the lot had become a stressful, annoying part of her morning routine.
The owner of the silver bike came home late at night and left again before noon. Riki assumed they lived on the second floor of the apartment building, on the east side. But she couldn’t complain even if she wanted to, since she’d admittedly never seen the person. She had no idea what they even looked like.
Sometimes the silver bike was left lying out in the middle of the road, its handles twisted violently to one side, the seat nearly yanked off, a clear expression of the mounting frustration of the other five tenants. She felt a little bad for the owner—after all, it wasn’t their fault there weren’t enough parking spaces for all the bikes. But it was the coercive and inconsiderate way they parked their bike each time that got on the tenants’ nerves and led to their bike receiving this cruel treatment.
This morning, the silver bike was on top of Riki’s yet again, completely blocking her access to it. The student’s bike was no longer there, so he must have shoved the silver bike roughly to the side to grab his.
Riki sighed, slung her canvas bag over her shoulder, set her lunch bag down, and began the tedious process of extracting her bike from the silver one. The pedals were especially tangled this morning, a situation made worse by the fact that the bike was locked, meaning that Riki had to lift the entire bike up by herself. It took her several minutes before she finally succeeded.
“Son of a bitch!” she yelled, kicking the silver bike over. Just then, she heard a man’s voice from up above.
“Hey—!”
Startled, Riki turned around, and saw a man scrambling down the stairs outside the apartment. He was pudgy and looked to be around fifty, his hair partially gray. He was wearing a white T-shirt and gray sweatpants. He looked like he’d just woken up.
“What the hell are you doing to my bike?”
“Oh—sorry.”
He’d managed to catch her at the most inopportune time, but she was annoyed at herself for apologizing to him right off the bat.
“I couldn’t get my bike out because of the way you parked yours,” she added.
“What am I supposed to do? There’s not enough parking spots. And it’s because you always pull it out like that that my bike’s literally about to fall apart. The other day it even got rained on.”
“I don’t know anything about that.”
“I just saw you kick my bike!”
It seemed the man had also reached his limit with the situation, and woken up early to be on the lookout. He must have been watching Riki struggle with the bike from his balcony the whole time.
“It’s not my fault! Someone threw your bike on top of mine, so I couldn’t get it out. That’s why I got frustrated.”
It was unclear whether or not the man was listening. He stood in front of the bike, arms crossed in defiance, as if to say: You pick it up. I’ll wait.
