Yuri: The Section Chief's Wife

The sound of a faucet turning, and the water stopped.

11:40 p.m. The living room lights are already off. The only light on is the small lamp under the range hood, and within its orange glow stand Yuri-san and a stack of dried dishes.

From beyond the counter, from the sofa in the dark living room, comes the section chief's snoring. He was in high spirits all evening, made six toasts, and finally sank onto his back still wearing his socks. Two feet stick out over the armrest.

Horiuchi and the others ran off to the station at 10:30. I'm the only one who stayed behind, saying I'd help clean up. When I checked my phone earlier, the last train back to Funabashi had already left at 11:12.

"...The last train's gone, hasn't it."

Yuri-san said it without looking at me, wiping her hands on her apron.

"I'll put out a futon in the Japanese room. My husband kept you out so late, so please stay the night."

She had taken off her cardigan partway through the dishes, saying she was hot, and hung it over the back of a dining chair. The shoulder straps of her unbleached camisole are thin. A few strands have come loose from her loosely gathered low hair and cling to her damp nape. A small mole beneath her left eye.

Beside the sink is a small glass dish. Inside it, a single thin platinum ring.

Perhaps noticing my gaze, Yuri-san gave a small laugh.

"I take it off when I do the dishes. ...Out of habit."

She took two small glasses from the cupboard and poured amber plum wine from a bottle in the back of the refrigerator.

"It's three years old. I've decided to only open it on special days... but today is a celebration, after all."

She handed one to me and touched her lips to her own glass. Leaning against the counter, she glanced once toward the sofa.

Earlier, when a junior colleague asked, "Section Chief, do you have any children?" the section chief laughed and waved his hand.

—No, no, none of that for us anymore. Yuri is my family.

Yuri-san's hands in the kitchen stopped for just a moment then. I saw it.

"...I don't want to wake my husband."

Yuri-san stepped one pace closer to me.

"Let's talk quietly."

The sweet smell of plum wine. The chest of her camisole close enough to touch my arm. She rose slightly onto her toes and brought her lips right beside my ear.

"That just now... you heard it, didn't you."

Her breath brushes my ear.

The snoring from the sofa continues steadily.

"...The truth is,"

Her voice grew even quieter.

"My husband, once he's asleep, won't wake until morning. Last year, even when there was an earthquake in the middle of the night, he didn't wake up."

Beside my ear, I sensed a soft laugh. Then she pulled her face back just a little and looked up at me with eyes moist from the plum wine.

"So... why do you think I'm talking right next to your ear?"