This is the second part of a short story by Tina deBellegarde. For Part One, please see here.

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It is a quiet Saturday and Aki finds herself alone. Natsumi was out late drinking the night before and won’t be coming into the store. She doesn’t mind. Aki enjoys the walk to work. She carries her umbrella but chooses not to open it. Her hair is already wet from her shower. She luxuriates in the autumn rain. She walks and dreams of living in the hills away from the crowded city.

The rain this morning is keeping the customers away. She savors the quiet. Aki opens the mail and finds her order has finally come in. Cannonball Adderley’s Somethin’ Else. Two copies. One for her and one for Ian if he still wants it.

 Ian returns every week or so. Buys a new album, pays with exact change and has lunch with Natsumi. Aki suspects he can’t afford to keep buying albums but uses it as an excuse to see Natsumi.

She carefully slits the plastic cover and eases the vinyl out of the sleeve and onto the turntable. The needle comes down gently to the opening piano notes of Autumn Leaves, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum… bum, bum, bum, bum, bum. And then the wind instruments enter ever so softly, and lead up to a crescendo where the trumpet joins them clear as the rainfall. The brushes swish on the drums like wind on leaves. And just when she was sure this would be her favorite piece of music, the alto sax sneaks in like a caress. She is startled by the immediacy of the emotion. The music reaches into her and disturbs things – much like Ian’s smile had done that first day.

This quiet Saturday she sits behind the counter and reads her book. Her treat for the day, no school work. She reads and listens and languorously moves her body to the music.

            “Ohayou gozaimasu. Good morning,” Ian says as he enters.

Aki freezes in place. Had he seen her swaying to the music? “Good morning,” she says without making eye contact.

            “Is that Autumn Leaves playing? Natsumi said you only play classical.”

            “Natsumi likes to exaggerate.” She slips her bookmark into the crease of her open book. “I bought two copies of the Adderley album. One is for sale if you still want it and one is for the store. I confess I wanted to hear it, the first song, I mean. Autumn is my favorite season. I wanted to hear another musical version of it. I love the sound of Vivaldi’s Autumn. The first piece of classical music I ever heard. My father always played it for me.”

            “Autumn is my favorite season too.” Then Aki sees it dawn on him. “Of course, Aki, autumn.”

She smiles in response. “Adderley’s saxophone is beautiful. But mournful. It is the essence of autumn. I must say, it touched me.”

 There is silence between them as the sax swirls like the leaves in the vortex the first day she met him.

 Aki thinks to warn him about Natsumi. Her sister bores quickly, then gets distracted by other men. But she changes her mind. If Aki says something it will seem like she is competing with her sister for his attention. If she says nothing…  It saddens her to think that his quick smile and gentle nature would be hurt by Natsumi.

            “Your English is fluent. I wish I could speak Japanese so well.”

            “You will, especially if you plan on staying in Japan.” Aki is embarrassed with herself for this shameless digging. But he doesn’t offer any assurance that he will remain in the country. “I studied English at school since I was a young girl and now my university courses are in English.” She pauses as she straightens out a display. “Natsumi wants us to plan a music night for you. She says you are a jazz guitarist?”

            “Yes, she said I can plan on next Saturday night. Thank you for hosting me.”

            “I’m sorry we can’t pay you.”

            “I am happy to get the gig just the same.”

            “Gig?”

            “A performance, a show.”

            “Oh, yes. Gig. I like that word.” She continues to fuss with the display. “I told Natsumi that it was too soon. I don’t think we can get enough people to attend.”

            “That’s ok. I’ll take what I can get. I just want a chance to play.” Ian uses his chin to nod at the book on the counter. “What are you reading, anything interesting?”

            “Murakami, 1Q84. Are you familiar with him?”

He reaches into his backpack and pulls out his copy of Murakami’s short story collection The Elephant Vanishes. “More coincidences. Funny, this feels like a Murakami moment, doesn’t it? Sort of outside of time and space.”

            “Yes, it does.” She has run out of things to organize so she looks up at him. “I like Murakami’s stories. Which one are you reading now?”

            “On Seeing the 100% Perfect Girl. Do you know it?”

            “No, I’m sorry to say I don’t. Tell me about it.”

“It’s about a guy who passes a girl on the street and in the instant he knows immediately that she is perfect for him. He imagines what he might say to her.”

            “Does he?”

            “Does he what?”

            “Does he say anything to her?”

            “No, that’s just it, the whole story is what he imagines, but he never says any of it, he just walks on.”

            “That’s sad.”

            Their eyes linger on each other in silence. The phone rings. The Murakami moment comes to an end.

*  *  *

The following Saturday Aki dusts and polishes all the surfaces. Natsumi hangs streamers. Aki reminds every client that walks in of the jazz guitarist from America who will be performing tonight. His debut appearance in Japan. Special concert just for Lovely!

At eight o’clock Natsumi takes her coat off the hook.

            “Where are you going? The concert starts in an hour.”

            “I have a date. You can manage, can’t you?”

            “But what about Ian?”

            “He’ll be fine. Don’t wait up.”

With that she leaves. Aki is left standing in the middle of the room.

There is too much to do to focus on her anger at her sister so she sets a table in the corner with snacks and hot tea, then she arranges the chairs.

Ian arrives and warms up. Between pieces he looks around, searching. Aki feels bad for him; he is looking for Natsumi.

At nine o’clock there is only an elderly couple in the front, and a young man leaning on the record stacks by the side of the chairs. Ian looks both nervous and disappointed but he starts playing. His music is at once playful and serious. He switches between upbeat and languid, and Aki doesn’t just hear the music, she senses it with her whole body.  

When he finishes his first few pieces he looks into the sparse audience and the few claps he is receiving. In the back of the room sitting in the last row alone is Aki. Smiling broadly and clapping fervently.

He smiles at her and starts the opening strings of Autumn Leaves.

*  *  *

Ian plays three sets. Over the course of the evening some stragglers appear. Walking by the store they are captured by the sounds wafting from the door, they come in and take a seat.

When he is done there are a dozen people clapping for his performance. Some linger and ask about buying a CD. Aki watches Ian as he graciously accepts the praise and shakes hands or bows awkwardly. Once they are all gone, he starts stacking chairs. In silence they finish putting the store back in order.

She turns out the lights and locks the door. He waits for her and they walk together, not speaking. With his guitar slung over his back, he walks his bike by her side.

It’s almost midnight, and they pass through Teramachi, the covered shopping arcade that intersects the city. Auld Lange Syne plays in the background as one and then another shop turns out their lights.

They exit onto the main street where the rain has started. The wind picks up and he gives her his jacket.

Neither opens an umbrella.

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Tina deBellegarde is the author of the Batavia-on-Hudson series, the latest publication being Winter Witness. For an interview with the author, please see here.