?Are you pleased with your new house, Father?? [asked. . ?My house? Why, yes. It?ll need a little more work here and there, as I say. But it?s much more compact. The Nagasaki house was far too large for just one old man.?
He continued to gaze out of the window; in the sharp ?morning light, all I could see of his head and shoulders was 1a hazy outline.
?But it was a nice house, the old house,? I said. ?I still stop and look at it if I?m walking that way. In fact, I went past it last week on my way back from Mrs. Fujiwara?s.?
I thought he had not heard me, for he continued to gaze silently out at the view. But a moment later, he said:
?And how did it look, the old house??
?Oh, much the same. The new occupants must like it the way Father left it.?
He turned towards me slightly. ?And what about the aza1eas, Etsuko? Were the azaleas still in the gateway?? The brightness still prevented me from seeing his face clearly, ,but I supposed from his voice that he was smiling.
?Azaleas??
?Well, I suppose there?s no reason why you should remember.? He turned back to the window and stretched rut his arms. ?I planted them in the gateway that day. The day it was all finally decided?
?The day what was decided?? ?That you and 1km were to be married. But I never told tu about the azaleas, so I suppose it?s rather unreasonable of me to expect you to remember about them? -
?You planted some azaleas for me? Now that was a nice thought. But no, I don?t think you ever mentioned it.?
?But you see, Etsuko, you asked for them? He had turned towards me again. ?In fact, you positively ordere4 me to plant them in the gateway.?
?What? ? I laughed ? ?I ordered you??
?Yes, you ordered me. Like I was some hired gardener. Don?t you remember? Just when I thought it was all settled at last, and you were finally to become my daughter-in-law, you told me there was one thing more, you wouldn?t live in a house without azaleas in the gateway. And if I didn?t plant azaleas then the whole thing would be called off. So what could I do? I went straight out and planted azaleas.?
I laughed a little. ?Now you mention it,? I said, ?l remember something like that. But what nonsense, Father. I never forced you.?
?Oh yes, you did, Etsuko. You said you wouldn?t live in a house without azaleas in the gateway.? He came away from the window and sat down opposite me again. ?Yes, Etsuko,? he said ?just like a hired gardener.?
We both laughed and I began to pour out the tea.
?Azaleas were always my favourite flowers, you see,?I said.
?Yes. So you said.?
I finished pouring and we sat silently for a few moments, watching the steam rise from the teacups.
?And I had no idea then,? I said. ?About Jim?s plans, I mean.?
I reached forward and placed a plate of small cakes by his teacup. Ogata-San regarded them with a smile. Eventually, he said:
?The azaleas came up beautifully. But by that time, of course, you?d moved away. Still, it?s no bad thing at all, young couples living on their own. Look at Kikuko and her -husband. They?d love to have a little place of their own, but old Watanabe won?t even let them consider it. What an old war-Lord he is.? -
?Now I think of it,? I said, ?there were azaleas in the gateway last week. The new occupants must agree with me. Azaleas are essential for a gateway.?
?I?m glad they?re still there.? Ogata-San took a sip from his teacup. Then he sighed and said with a laugh: ?What an kild war-lord that Watanabe is.?
Shortly after breakfast, Ogata-San suggested we should go and look around Nagasaki ? ?like the tourists do?, as he put it. I agreed at once and we took a tram into the city. As I recall, we spent some time at an art gallery, and then, a little F before noon, we went to visit the race memorial in the large public park not far from the centre of the city.
The park was commonly known as ?Peace Park? ? I never discovered whether this was the official name ? and indeed, despite the sounds of children and birds, an atmosphere of solemnity hung over that large expanse of green. The usual adornments, such as shrubs and fountains, had been kept to a minimum, and the effect was a kind of austerity; the flat grass, a wide summer sky, and the memorial itself ? a massive white statue in memory of_ those killed by the atomic bomb? presiding over its domain.
The statue resembled some muscular Greek god, seated with both arms outstretched. With his right hand, he pointed to the sky from where the bomb had fallen; with his other arm ? stretched out to his left ? the figure was Supposedly holding back the forces of evil. His eyes were dosed in prayer.
It was always my feeling that the statue had a rather cumbersome appearance, and I was ever able to associate with what had occurred that day the bomb had fallen, and those terrible days which followed. Seen from a distance, the figure looked almost comical, resembling a policeman conducting traffic. It remained for me nothing more than a statue, and while most people in Nagasaki seemed to appreciate it as some form of gesture, I suspect the general feeling was much like mine. And today, should I by chance recall that large white statue in Nagasaki, I find myself reminded primarily of my visit to Peace Park with Ogata-San that morning, and that business concerning his postcard.
?It doesn?t look quite so impressive in a picture,? I remember Ogata-San saying, holding up the postcard of the statue which he had just bought. We were standing some fifty yards or so from the monument. ?I?ve been meaning to send a card for some time,? he continued. Ill be going back to Fukuoka any day now, but I suppose it?s still worth sending. Etsuko, do you have a pen? Perhaps I should send it straight away, otherwise I?m bound to forget
