have to do every morning is look in the box to see if the medicines for the previous day have disappeared. I plan to take him to the hospital for a checkup when I go there for his medicines at the end of the month, so I have asked the welfare workshop to give him a day off then.
“O-chan's the sort of person who sets up a program for himself and then carries it out alone, so he systematically studies for his entrance exams at the desk in his room. During his breaks he listens to music through headphones at the dining table. I imagine he's working off his stress with this well-coordinated combination of study and music.
“Now about the condition of my stress. As you know, I often burden myself with anxiety, because I'm so clumsy in coping even with matters that, in the eyes of others, might be hilariously simple. I even feel that, in going to America, Mama, next to your worry about Eeyore's physical condition, your main concern has been about me sinking into psychological stress.
“But now we're stable. The worrywart that I am, though I'm maintaining my usual vigilance, in the event that beyond a higher level of stability might come an even higher level of instability. Please don't be too concerned about this point. Even if something were to come and hit my head with a clunk, it would certainly not be “a clunk from an unexpected blow.”I'm sure Eeyore and I would tide ourselves over pretty well. And though O-chan remains thoroughly reserved, we have his moral support, too.”
Now about what happened the following week right after we went to the Shigetos, and Eeyore's music composition lesson started: Mr. Shigeto, who came out of the music room leaving Eeyore to himself, which he usually does not do, approached my side as I was reading a book and said, “I lope I'm not being too inquisitive, but can you answer one question for me?”
These words themselves petrified me. They had been uttered in a manner no different from the way he usually speaks, playfully unconcerned and aloof. But when I looked up. I saw on his face, and in his eyes, which were fixed squarely on the thick staff paper he held in his hands, the ebb and flow of so distressed an ire that a chill came over me. Frightened to the bottom of my heart, I waited for his next words.
Turning toward me a pair of bloodshot eyes that were filled with resentment and agony, he resumed speaking.
“Ma-chan, this is a piece Eeyore started working on immediately after K and Oyu-san left for California, and finished for today's lesson. While he was working on the details, I was thinking more about music theory, which isn't my forte … and because I often saw him calmly smiling right before my eyes, it didn't occur to me to think of what was being expressed in the composition in progress. Besides, I was looking forward to the pleasure of playing the piece straight through upon its completion.
“Eeyore made a clean copy of the entire score and showed it to me today, and I played it, only to discover that it's such a dreadfully sad piece! Why is this?”
Mr. Shigeto cut his words short and swallowed, whereupon the blotches on the flesh of his quivering throat appeared tohave turned darker and more pronounced, giving the impression of an old man, an impression he usually does not project. My flinching ears heard his voice itself, an echo entreating me, “… a dreadfully sad piece. Why is this!”
I finally took into my dully shaking hands the large sheet of paper that had been thrust before me, and I hesitated as I thought, ‘What for? I don't read music.' Yet when I saw in the upper margin of the staff paper the title “Sutego” * in penciled letters, I thought I was able to understand the reason for the painful rage in Mr. Shigeto's voice.
“What,” I asked, “is he doing in there now, all alone?”
“He's playing the newly completed piece, using the draft.”
“Does he look sad?”
“…No. Very cool, as usual … But Ma-chan, what on earth do you
“O-chan's the sort of person who sets up a program for himself and then carries it out alone, so he systematically studies for his entrance exams at the desk in his room. During his breaks he listens to music through headphones at the dining table. I imagine he's working off his stress with this well-coordinated combination of study and music.
“Now about the condition of my stress. As you know, I often burden myself with anxiety, because I'm so clumsy in coping even with matters that, in the eyes of others, might be hilariously simple. I even feel that, in going to America, Mama, next to your worry about Eeyore's physical condition, your main concern has been about me sinking into psychological stress.
“But now we're stable. The worrywart that I am, though I'm maintaining my usual vigilance, in the event that beyond a higher level of stability might come an even higher level of instability. Please don't be too concerned about this point. Even if something were to come and hit my head with a clunk, it would certainly not be “a clunk from an unexpected blow.”I'm sure Eeyore and I would tide ourselves over pretty well. And though O-chan remains thoroughly reserved, we have his moral support, too.”
Now about what happened the following week right after we went to the Shigetos, and Eeyore's music composition lesson started: Mr. Shigeto, who came out of the music room leaving Eeyore to himself, which he usually does not do, approached my side as I was reading a book and said, “I lope I'm not being too inquisitive, but can you answer one question for me?”
These words themselves petrified me. They had been uttered in a manner no different from the way he usually speaks, playfully unconcerned and aloof. But when I looked up. I saw on his face, and in his eyes, which were fixed squarely on the thick staff paper he held in his hands, the ebb and flow of so distressed an ire that a chill came over me. Frightened to the bottom of my heart, I waited for his next words.
Turning toward me a pair of bloodshot eyes that were filled with resentment and agony, he resumed speaking.
“Ma-chan, this is a piece Eeyore started working on immediately after K and Oyu-san left for California, and finished for today's lesson. While he was working on the details, I was thinking more about music theory, which isn't my forte … and because I often saw him calmly smiling right before my eyes, it didn't occur to me to think of what was being expressed in the composition in progress. Besides, I was looking forward to the pleasure of playing the piece straight through upon its completion.
“Eeyore made a clean copy of the entire score and showed it to me today, and I played it, only to discover that it's such a dreadfully sad piece! Why is this?”
Mr. Shigeto cut his words short and swallowed, whereupon the blotches on the flesh of his quivering throat appeared tohave turned darker and more pronounced, giving the impression of an old man, an impression he usually does not project. My flinching ears heard his voice itself, an echo entreating me, “… a dreadfully sad piece. Why is this!”
I finally took into my dully shaking hands the large sheet of paper that had been thrust before me, and I hesitated as I thought, ‘What for? I don't read music.' Yet when I saw in the upper margin of the staff paper the title “Sutego” * in penciled letters, I thought I was able to understand the reason for the painful rage in Mr. Shigeto's voice.
“What,” I asked, “is he doing in there now, all alone?”
“He's playing the newly completed piece, using the draft.”
“Does he look sad?”
“…No. Very cool, as usual … But Ma-chan, what on earth do you
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