A Pale View of Hills

I was in the kitchen one afternoon preparing the supper before my husband came home from work, when I heard a strange Sound coming from the living room. Estopped what I was doing and listened. It came again — the Sound of a violin being played very badly. The noises continued for a few minutes then stopped.

When eventually I went into the living room, I found Ogata-San bowed over a chess-board. The late afternoon sun was streaming in and despite the electric fans a humidity had set in all around the apartment. I opened the windows a little wider.

“Didn’t you finish your game last night?’ I asked, coming over to him.

“No, Jiro claimed he was too tired. A ploy on his part, I suspect. You see, I have him in a nice corner here.’

‘‘1 see.’’

“He’s relying on the fact that my memory’s so foggy these days. So I’m just going over my strategy again.”

“How resourceful of you, Father. But I doubt if Jiro’s mind works quite so cunningly.”

“Perhaps not. I dare say you know him better than I do these days.” Ogata-San continued to study the board for several moments, then looked up and laughed. ‘This must seem amusing to you. Jim sweating away in his office and here I am preparing a game of chess for when he comes home. I feel like a small child waiting for his father.”

“Well, I’d much rather you occupied yourself with chess. Your musical recital earlier was hideous.”

“How disrespectful. And I thought you’d be moved, Etsuko.”

The violin was on the floor nearby, put back in its case. Ogata-San watched me as I began opening the case.

“1 noticed it up there on the shelf,” he said “I took the liberty of bringing it down. Don’t look so concerned, Etsuko. I was very gentle with it.”

“I can’t be sure. As you say, Father’s like a child these days.” I held up the violin and examined it. “Except small children can’t reach up to high shelves.”

I tucked the instrument under my chin. Ogata-San continued to watch me.

“Play something for me,’ he said. “I’m sure you can do better than me.”

“I’m sure I can.” Once morel held the violin out at arm’s length. “But it’s been such a long time.”

“You mean you haven’t been practicing? Now that’s a pity, Etsuko. You used to be so devoted to the instrument.”

“I suppose I was once. But I hardly touch it now.”

“A great shame, Etsuko. And you were so devoted. I remember when you used to play in the dead of night and wake up the house.”

“Wake up the house? When did I do that?”

“Yes, I remember. When you first came to stay with us.” Ogata-San gave a laugh. “Don’t look so worried, Etsuko. We all forgave you. Now let me see, who was the composer you used to admire so much? Was it Mendelssohn?”

“Is that true? I woke up the house?”

“Don’t look so worried, Etsuko. It was years ago. Play me something by Mendelssohn.”

“But why didn’t you stop me?”

“It was only for the first few nights. And besides, we didn’t mind in the least.”

I plucked the strings lightly. The violin was out of tune. “I must have been such a burden to you in those days,” I said, quietly

“Nonsense.”

“But the rest of the family. They must have thought I was a mad girl.”

“They couldn’t have thought too badly of you. After all, it ended up with you marrying Jim. Now come on, Etsuko, enough of this. Play me something.”

“What was I like in those days, Father? Was I like a mad person?”

“You were very shocked, which was only to be expected. We were all shocked those of us who were left,. Now, Etsuko, let’s forget these things. I’m sorry I ever brought up the matter.”

I brought the instrument up to my chin once more.

“Ah,” he said, “Mendelssohn”

I remained like that for several seconds, the violin under my chin. Then! brought it down to my lap and sighed. “I hardly play it now,”! said.

“I’m sorry, Etsuko.” Ogata-San’s voice had become solemn. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have touched it.”

I looked up at him and smiled. ‘So,” I said, “the little child is feeling guilty now.”

‘It’s just that! saw it up there and I remembered it from those days.”

“I’ll play it for you another time. After I’ve practiced a little.’’

He gave me a small bow, and the smile returned to his eyes.

“I’ll remember you promised, Etsuko. And perhaps you could teach me a little.”

“I can’t teach you everything, Father. You said you wanted to learn to cook.’

“Ah yes. That too.”

“I’ll play for you the next time you come to stay with us.”

“I’ll remember you promised,” he said.

After supper that evening, Jiro and his father settled down to their game of chess. I cleared up the supper things and then sat down with some sewing. At one point during their game, Ogata-San said:

“I’ve just noticed something. If you don’t mind, I’d like to make that move again.”

“Certainly,” said Jim.

“But then it’s rather unfair on you. Especially since I seem to have the better of you at the moment.’

“No, not at all. Please take the move again.’

“You don’t mind?”

“Not at all.”

They played on in silence.

“Jiro,” Ogata-San said after several minutes, “I was just wondering. Have you written that letter yet? To Shigeo Matsuda?”