Translation of Summer Blanket by Ekuni Kaori

Preface

This is a rather obscure translation, and I would be very surprised if any of the few people to click on this would already know about the author or writing. Similarly, if someone is looking for an English translation of this short story, I wonder if they will ever be able to find this since it's published on spacehey. Nevertheless I want to post it since I have the impulsive energy to make my first blog post.

I made this translation a while ago for a final school project. I really like this author and her writing. I think it would be nice to be able to introduce an amazing author and nice short story to some people who would normally never have access to it. I hope you enjoy reading my translation.

Author: 江國香織
ISBN: 9784087477856 
Book: 泳ぐのに、安全でも適切でもありません
Short story title: サマーブランケット

Translation

Summer Blanket
by Ekuni Kaori

Lots of sand gets into the house by the sea. This could be partly due to Marius always running around on the beach, but it is more likely due to the fact that the windows are constantly open. Especially during this time of year. 

During the day, you can smell the sun. It is the smell of sand, warmed wood, and dried shriveled paint. When night falls, the smell of the tide life suddenly tinges the air. It is the smell produced by the seawater, chilled air, and sea creatures. It is similar to the smell of certain overripe fruits just before they rot. 

These smells would be in the house all day long.

I wish someone had told me that this much sand would get in the house before I had bought it, I thought. But thinking this was pointless. It will soon be three years since I’ve lived in this house.

I have no family. My father and mother are both dead, I am unmarried, and I live alone with my golden retriever, Marius. It’s just the two of us. Marius is an old dog, and I was told by the veterinarian that he has cholesterol buildup in his arteries.

I have two friends. I met them last summer. Well, rather than meeting, one day they just came to this seaside house– and into my life– out of nowhere.

Mayuki has an average figure and stays up to date with the latest fashion trends. I often get captivated looking at her long, slender legs that stretch from her shorts. Omori is her boyfriend, with skin so tan that I thought he was from a southern island. They are both students at a university that is about a 20-minute bus ride from my house. 

They show up here together every week on Wednesdays. They also spontaneously show up on random days to come and relax whenever they feel like it. I always tell them that they are welcome to visit anytime.

Today the waves are great. After lunch, I always read my Michael Gilmore novel. It’s a dense, serious book, but it’s incredibly interesting. Marius is sleeping at the foot of the sofa that I am stretched out on with my book.

It was at a garbage dump where I had found the old-fashioned wooden side table next to the sofa. I was surprised– I thought it was far too good of a piece to be thrown out, so I picked it up and took it. I glance at my wristwatch. It’s two-thirty. Omori will be arriving soon.

With a turn of the page, I notice that even the book is gritty with sand. I couldn’t help but be slightly amused at my own laziness. Truthfully, after I moved into this house I barely cleaned at all. Not just the windowsills and floorboards, but the bathtub and sheets also remained full of sand. So I started wearing shoes inside of the house like a European or American. Once I’d gotten used to it, if anything, I felt it suited my nature more. Taking off one's shoes is a terribly vulnerable act.

“Do you want me to clean anything?” 

Mayuki would ask me this from time to time. Whenever she did that, I would exaggeratedly wave my hands around in front of my face and say “No, no really, it’s fine. I’ll do it myself soon.”

Mayuki is a laid-back and kind girl. She told me she is from Tokyo and lives alone in a condominium near her university. Omori is a local boy who lives not far from here with his parents at home. 

One time when Mayuki was a highschooler, she came here with a group of her friends, but without Omori. She had brought a lot of fireworks. “Ms. Michiko, you should light them with us,” she told me. We lit them by the seaside. Mayuki told me which boy in her friend group was her “ex-boyfriend.” That “ex-boyfriend” had a large build and fair skin, and was rather good-looking. But he somehow gave off a meek impression. Omori is better, I wanted to tell Mayuki, but I kept it in my head.

“Ms. Michiko is a rich lady,” Mayuki would explain to her friends.

“She’s like a classical heiress that you don’t find much anymore today.”

It was true at least that my parents were wealthy. I grew up in a household with maids and a chauffeur. When I graduated from college, I found a job, but when both of my parents died, they left me an inheritance. So I left the company I had worked at for twenty years, bought a house by the sea, and moved here. I was feeling strange during the fireworks. I was sure that Mayuki would never understand what it’s like to be the "rich lady” like me.

So then, at such times, I found myself harboring resentment toward Mayuki. An unjustified, yet unmistakable resentment. I was unsettled and upset by it. 

It’s a humid afternoon. I close my book and go to the kitchen– which is cramped yet breezy and slightly cooler than the living room– to make iced tea. 

From ages twenty-six to thirty-nine, I had an affair with a man who was my boss and a friend of my father's. He was a wonderful man and I loved him from the bottom of my heart. But I try not to remember those times. He ended up going back to his wife. So that was that. 

I have one picture of him displayed in my house. It’s not because I still have feelings for him, but rather it’s there to add some color to my life. My life here is monotonous but satisfying. I have more books than I will ever be able to read in a lifetime, and I also own about two-hundred records.

When I was forty-two my father died, and the following year my mother died. When I was done sorting out this and that, the inheritance ended up being a rather large sum. There were some real estates under my name and I sold those too. Since I remain the only member of the board of directors of my father's company, I still organize various aspects of the business. Only my name was on the deed. But after dealing with it for a while, I became mildly depressed. I couldn’t sleep without pills and I couldn’t think about anything but dying. It wasn’t that I was worrying about anything in particular, but instead it was like my thoughts suddenly opened their mouths and swallowed me whole. 

I was utterly devastated by the fact that I fell into a depression when I lost my parents but not when my lover left me. 

Optalidon, Quaalude, and little blue Halcion pills. Drugs became the most intimate source of comfort for me.

The side effects were strong, and I would often drift in and out of consciousness. But I didn’t care at all. It didn’t hurt. I would get bruises all over, but I didn’t care because I knew there wasn’t a single person left in the world who cared about my body.

Even now, sometimes my fingertips turn white and refuse to move. I also suffer from minor involuntary convulsions. But within a year of moving here, I quit taking drugs. 

Sometimes I wonder about what will happen when Marius dies. If Marius dies, then there will be nothing left to keep me tied down to this earth.

Omori arrived by bicycle a little after three o’ clock. He was wearing a T-shirt and shorts, and had sweat on his arms and forehead.

“Hey,”

Omori’s bright voice called, as he entered not from the front door but from the garden entrance. 

“Thank you very much, sorry for making you go out of your way to get this,”

I said as I accepted the dog food Omori brought. I returned to the kitchen and brought him out an iced tea.

I don’t have many varieties of drinks in my house. So I am always bringing Omori and Mayuki black tea. Fortunately, they both like my tea. Mayuki in particular likes it, and inquired how I make it. When I explained that I use brandy sugar, they both said they had never heard of such a thing. At that moment, I felt like a relic of my own past.

“It’s so hot outside… it’s summer for sure,”

Omori said as he pulled up the bottom of his T-shirt to wipe his face, exposing his thin belly button and tan stomach.

“It’s already summer,”

It had been almost a year since they started coming to this house. Once a week, on Wednesdays, they would go shopping for me. A bus stop was located a 20-minute walk away along the coast, and after a 15-minute bus ride you would arrive in town. It’s a relatively large town, and I can usually get my hands on everything I need there. 

On the day I first met them, I found Mayuki laying on my porch with her legs outstretched. Omori was by her side and he explained that they were visiting the beach, but Mayuki was anemic, so they came to my porch since it was the nearest source of shade. For some reason, Mayuki had a small towel spread on her lap, and she was saying she’d be fine. “I’ll get better soon, don’t worry,” she assured. I invited the two into my living room. I let Mayuki lie on the sofa and gave her a glass of ice water.

That day, Omori drove me into town on his way to drop off Mayuki back home. He told me that the beach around here was his childhood playground, and that Mayuki would often come here too. When I told him that I always walked 20 minutes along the coast to the bus stop and then took the bus to go shopping, he said he felt bad for me. He insisted that since he comes here often anyway, he would give me rides once a week in and out of town. I replied that I don’t like taking advantage of other peoples’ kindness. Omori didn’t say anything back, he just smiled at me with a raised eyebrow and funny expression.

The following Wednesday, as if they were keeping a promise, the two of them appeared with a “Hey!.” So that’s how all of this happened. It was actually nice to be able to buy bottles of balsamic vinegar and dog food without having to worry about the weight of carrying it all back home. 

They were a young and beautiful couple. They got along very well. They naturally held hands as they moved from room to room. It was a heartening sight to see.

As they were exploring my house, they took an interest in my bedroom. My room, and my life.

“Is this your husband?”

Seeing the picture of the man who had left me and returned to his wife, Mayuki asked me this.

“Yes,” I answered, as if I was a woman who had lovingly built a family with him.

“He passed though. We were very far apart in age.” 

Saying that lie didn’t evoke any feelings of guilt. As I said it, I felt as if it was the truth. 

Mayuki loved dogs. 

“Can I play with Marius?”

She would say this, and then go out to the beach with him and Omori. After swimming in the ocean, they would return here, their bodies still wet, and ask, “Can we use your shower?”

In my opinion, this was very ill-mannered behavior, but somehow their forwardness made them shine brighter in my eyes. My heart took a liking to that forwardness.

After swimming, their cheeks would be flushed and they looked content as if they had just had sex. The two of them seemed to be a kind of young people that I had never met before in my life. Or perhaps more strangely, I could have forgotten all of the young people I had met who were like them.

I told them that they should at the very least consider my Wednesday shopping as a part-time job. When I proposed that, they discussed the matter with me on the spot, and concluded “Alright, we’ll do that.” 

“Thank you for the tea,”

Omori says, and puts the cup back down on the table. 

“I was so thirsty since I rode my bike here.”

His thin T-shirt sticks to his back due to sweat. I can see the outline of his spine.

“Take some oranges home with you if you want.” 

On the table littered with sand, 3 oranges are laid out.  

“What is this?” Omori asks, looking at the folded blue lump on the floor.

“Ah, that. It’s a summer blanket.” 

I answer, shrugging my shoulders. I make the gesture to show that I’m ashamed of buying that thing. 

“When I moved here I didn’t buy anything new except for that. It was an impulse buy. For some reason I thought it would look good in a house by the sea.” I explain as if I’m making up excuses.

It is a huge, heavy blanket woven of thick, navy blue yarn. It’s a king-size blanket too, so it’s annoyingly large. 

“But I don’t have any way to use it, it was dumb of me,” I add. “I wonder what it’s supposed to be used for. It’s not practical at all.” 

The weave is so rough and the whole thing is so heavy that if you tried draping it over a bed or sofa, it would just sag down and look sloppy. It’s too chunky and solid to drape over one’s body. What’s more, the gaps in the weave are so large that air and sand can pass through. I can barely even manage to fold it up by myself.

Omori listens to the end of my story, and gives a smile that depresses the skin of his thin cheeks. 

“Let’s use it,”

He says in a cheery tone.

“We can totally use this.” 

Omori gets up and takes the dark blue pile into both of his arms, and leaves out the front door before me.

The tide has calmed down. 

It’s hard to believe, but I am somewhere 10 minutes away from home, wrapped up in the summer blanket with Omori. It's hard to believe, but the gray sand is dry and warm. The blanket is also warm, so warm it's hard to believe it's made of cotton. I can feel Omori’s body heat, too…

It will be evening soon but the sun is still shedding white light.

“You can definitely use it like this, if you spread it out,”

Omori unfolds it out flat on the sand in a rather careless manner. 

“It’s huuuge,”

He mutters in admiration, and lays down on top of it. He urges me to come lay down on it as well. I already feel uneasy. My expression and body language probably comes off as more stiff than nervous to him. Omori’s rubber flip-flops are scattered out, slightly buried in the sand. 

“Come on, Ms. Michiko!”

He urges me once again, and I reluctantly take off my shoes. 

As I lay down, Omori takes the two ends of the blanket and folds them over top of us so that we’re both wrapped up in it. 

“See, it’s good that it’s so huge. You can do stuff like this with it. It was a good impulse purchase.”

I lie completely still. I even hold my breath. I am lying on my stomach, and I’m not looking at the sea, but the sand. The sand and the navy blue blanket. 

My right arm is touching Omori’s left arm. 

“The smell of sand,”

I say this, and Omori looks at me with a confused expression. But to me, the smell of sand is clear in the air right now. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

I see Marius trotting along the water’s edge. I close my eyes, and for some reason, I think of the man in the photo in my living room. The only man I ever knew. He had large arms, was smart, and spoke in a quiet voice. While holding me, he would speak to me with a heartfelt tone. “I could die here,” he would say to me.

During that time, my parents often set me up on meetings and dates with arranged spouses, but every penny was a waste. I couldn’t think about any other man but him. That hasn’t changed even now. In fact, as time goes by, that feeling gets stronger and stronger. 

A fresh odor fills the air, and I turn my head to see Omori peeling an orange. In a mist the juice spurts from the peel. Orange juice is dripping down Omori’s nails and fingers, and it catches my eye. Such beautiful fingers.

Omori suddenly quickly stretches out his hands. He was peeling the orange above the sand so that the juice wouldn’t get the blanket wet.

“It doesn’t matter, peel it on the blanket. This might as well be a rug,” I said. “That’s what it’s for, isn’t it?”

Omori looks at me. The rays of sun are beginning to slant, and his eyes are glazed with light. The orange is lukewarm and sweet. The two of us eat it with sticky hands. 

“I’m jealous of you,” Omori says in an absentminded whisper.

“You’re still young, but you live such a quiet and carefree life. You’re free.”

Free.

I just smile and don’t say anything.

“Mayuki is also super jealous. She wishes she was born as a wealthy lady like you.”

The house on the beach is just like me. Windows and doors left ajar, covered in sand, just standing still. Until it breaks down, many, many years later.

Suddenly, driven by an unbearable feeling, I stand up and dust off my clothes. I hurriedly put on my shoes. 

“Let’s get going.”

The fragrance of orange still lingers in the air, and the two of us still have the same sticky orange juice on our hands and mouths.

I have a strong urge to feel Omori’s body heat once more. The wind ruffles my hair. I try to not look at my watch. The sky is no longer blue, but it is still bright enough. It probably hasn't been that long since we arrived here. But I don’t want to know how short it was.

As usual, the blanket is heavy and difficult to handle since the weaving has been stretched out. We take it from both slides and roughly fold it back together.

“Marius!,” Omori calls. 

We walk along the beach, back towards the seaside house covered in sand.