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Mineko spent her day off at the rehabilitation center, waiting for a phone call or text message that never came. She checked her phone every thirty minutes, wondering if her message notification or ringtone was loud enough, wondering if she had accidentally switched the sound mode to silent, wondering if maybe she should call Maria, just in case.
By the end of the day her phone's battery was depleted.
The storm clouds had departed the night before and left a new expanse of wetlands in their wake. Dirt roads on the outskirts sucked foot and wheel in like quicksand, lakefront residents saw the lake at their doorstep, and those living in areas of lower elevation did not dare to walk through the shallows that had filled over the course of two days. Trains were delayed from arriving and departing, and so Mineko found herself carefully wading through the water that had steadily risen to her ankles. The taxi she left half a mile back, imagining it would become stranded before it reached the main gate.
It took her over half an hour to make it to the stone pillars, and by the time her boots splashed up the porch steps, the sun was well up and glittering through the trees. As if she needed reminding that she was late for her shift.
She knocked twice on the front door, and looked down to assess how much wet filth she would be tracking inside. The door clicked softly and opened slowly, scaring her nonetheless. Maria typically unlocked it about fifteen minutes before her shift was due to begin; the knocking was just a declaration that she had arrived, and followed by a call once she walked inside.
"Good morning." Mineko found her voice after a beat, peering at the black suit looking down at her. Did he recognize her? She didn't recognize him. "Mari-ia-san…"
There were no cars at the gate, and the grounds, as far as she had seen, were deserted. She had hoped—foolishly, prematurely—that their guests packed up and left…in the middle of the deluge…while one member of their group was in all appearances, bedridden. Had she known a stranger would be standing behind the door, waiting for her, she would have prepared something to say.
"I know I'm late. The r-ro-oads are bad." The man opened the door for her, and she walked in without another word. Maybe he did recognize her?
As the black suit shut the door, she ventured a shrill, "Good morning," that did not crack the silence of the manor. It seemed that it was not only early to bed, but late to rise.
Is Maria-san in the guest suite again? She glanced at the black suit out of the corner of her eye as she tugged off her boots and slipped on her slippers.
"Do you know where Maria-san is?" She pulled out her phone and shut it off, wary of the man watching her. He shook his head, and Mineko looked away. She left the black suit in the hall and headed for the kitchen to stow away her backpack, keeping an eye out for the caretaker.
The windows she passed were curtained, confirming her suspicions that the morning routine had not been started despite the late hour. She must be in the guest suite.
Steeling her nerves, she marched to the other side of the manor, intent on finishing her business there so she could get to work and focus on those chores that needed doing.
Four black suits stood at casual attention on either side of the guest suite doors, the number down from what it had been two nights ago. With tentative optimism, she considered the possibility that the guests' stay might not be so distracting after all—aside from the man at the front door. She would rather they all stay here, out of sight and out of mind.
She approached the double guard and stated her business. "I need to let Maria-san know that I'm here." Not one stutter. She liked the sound.
"I don't think Maria-san is inside." The man who spoke looked to his counter-part, who shook his head.
"Oh." She hadn't anticipated that. She scratched her arm, glancing sideways. "Do you know w-wh-where she is?"
Both men shook their heads, and it was the elder of the two who commented, "I haven't seen her since early this morning."
"Oh. Um, thank you." She bowed stiffly and made a hasty exit.
I'll start with the usual routine. If Maria-san's in the manor, I'll run into her. From one room to the next she travelled, pushing aside curtains and looking out the windows in hopes of catching the flap of a purple or blue yukata on the porch.
On the stairs she encountered her employer, dressed in a suit but appearing to be in no hurry to leave the estate. He looked mildly surprised to see her given the condition of the roads, and said so. She greeted him as she stepped aside, and asked the whereabouts of the caretaker.
"Maria-san? I thought she was downstairs? Is she not with the others?"
"The men I spoke to said they have not seen her since early this morning. I've just begun opening the w-windows, but I haven't seen her." Sakata paused next to her on the stairs.
"Well, she's here somewhere," he grinned, and she forced a smile on her face.
"I'll just check the second floor, then." She passed him, the steps groaning under her, and heard him call out.
"I'll let you know if I see her. And I'll tell her you're here. She'll be glad for the help." Turning the corner at the top of the stairs, she set about her task.
Five rooms down, and still no sign of the caretaker. She breathed a quick sigh of concern, which came out sounding like frustration.
At the end of the hall she pulled open the curtains, squinting down at the yard made into a watery reflection of the sunlit sky. Partially concealed by the corner of the porch, she noticed a person doubled over, yukata knotted at the knees, just above a pair of boots. When the figure straightened, she saw a mix of brown and silver hair drawn into a bun.
"Maria-san?" She spoke aloud, though the woman could not hear her. What is she doing outside?
Mineko flew through the rest of the upstairs, tugging aside shades with little care before rushing down to the front hall. Tugging on her boots and dancing awkwardly around the black suit standing at the front door without an explanation, she squeaked down the porch steps and splashed into the front yard. Water rippled around her feet as she picked them up and set them down, sending small, dirty waves of grass whipping back and forth like seaweed in an ocean current.
In front of the steps leading the guest hall entrance she found Maria, setting down a grey piece of…something…on a towel. The older woman looked up at the sound of her arrival, looking more surprised than Sakata.
"You shouldn't have come today. The television says there is flooding everywhere; the roads aren't safe…"
"I thought you might need help. I-I di-idn't know how bad the flooding would be here." Embarrassed, she felt a warmth creep up her neck in the chill of the morning air. Looking down, she put in an unnecessary amount of effort into watching where she placed her feet, trying to hide her flush. "W-what are you doing out here?"
After a slight pause that conveyed her persisting disapproval, the woman answered, "This is from the roof." Mineko looked up at what she was holding in her hand. Maria set down the tile on the pile of shards in the middle of the spread towel. Tilting her head back, she looked at the roof two stories above, and Mineko followed her gaze to the bare patch beside the gutter. "We'll need to have someone come and fix it, once the standing water's gone. I didn't see any water spots on the ceiling but that doesn't mean there isn't a leak."
"What about the rest of the roof?"
"Did you see something?"
"No, I just meant… If one area is damaged, should you replace the w-wh-w," she fussed, "the entire roof?"
Maria sighed heavily. "I hope not. But it's been several years since the siding was replaced."
"It might be more beneficial to replace everything than to repair the damage." Maria said nothing as she looked at the fragments on the towel, and Mineko shut her mouth. It wasn't her place to make such a suggestion—especially when spending was involved—and with the mysterious guests settling in the manor, Maria already had enough to worry about.
"I-i-f you have other things to do, Maria-san, I can fini-ish out here. Or I can go back inside… I only opened the w-w-windows."
Maria looked at the yard in front of her, turned towards the towel on the stairs, and then returned her gaze to the water. She looked like someone with too much on her mind.
"If you will continue looking in this area, I'd appreciate it. Many of the tiles are cracked, but did not shatter. I think you'll find everything that fell here," she waved her arm to encompass the one side of the manor. "When you're done, wrap up the towel and bring it to the kitchen. We won't throw it away just yet." She splashed up the steps and removed her boots with a swift tug, a few strands of hair hanging behind her ears after falling out of her bun. "Be careful out here. You can't tell where the ground slopes."
"I will." Mineko gave her a slight wave as she walked through the door before angling her head down, squinting against the reflected sunlight. The murky water wouldn't help her search either, and she wasn't about to start reaching blindly into the water for potentially sharp pieces of roofing. Rolling her sleeves up past her elbows, she bent forwards, hands on her knees.
Mineko's boots thumped on the second step, her backside following suit on the fourth. It was hot working with the sun shining from above and below, and the shade of the porch was a welcome relief from the heat and light. For a moment she closed her eyes, the back of her eyelids glowing bright from the strain of squinting. Out of instinct she raised her hands to rub her eyes. The feeling of water trickling down her forearms and soaking into the bunched fabric at her elbows had her rethinking the move, the grit of damp earth rubbing between the tips of her fingers. She let out a soft sigh and pressed her head against her shoulder, wiping away the sweat gathered over her upper lip and forehead.
Blinking against daylight when she opened her eyes, she looked at her collection on the towel. It seemed Maria had found the majority of the fallen pieces; her own contribution to the pile was quite insignificant in comparison. Holding the corners of the towel, she pulled them in to the center, inspecting the fabric for rips as the contents clinked and grated within. After she tied a knot, she wiggled out of her boots and hoisted the bundled fabric into her arms, holding it gently but firmly to her chest as she climbed the remaining steps.
Not in the least bit enthusiastic about passing through the guest hall, she took the roundabout way to the kitchen. I should have come this way to meet Maria-san instead of trudging through the water. Why did I do that?
Thinking of the black suit standing behind the front doors, she passed the main entryway in favour of following the porch to the kitchen door at the rear. Adjusting her load in one hand, she braced a shoulder against the wall and shoved the door open. Crossing the empty room, she set down the bundle on the counter, checking once more than there were no holes or tears before leaving the way she had come.
Next time I'll bring a spare set of clothes to change into. Something lighter—and looser, she thought as she pulled at the damp neck of her shirt, feeling the stick of moisture behind her knees, between her thighs, and under her arms. She hoped she didn't smell.
Going back for her boots, she considered looking in the garden shed for something she could use to mark the area where she has been searching for the fallen tiles, to warn anyone who ventured out in the yard when the flooding subsided that smaller fragments not swept away by the water might be tangled in the grass. But the shed was farther back from the manor, hidden behind a copse to maintain the natural aesthetic of the property. And she couldn't recall if the structure was raised off the ground or not. It might have been wise to leave the shed be, for now. I'll ask Maria-san later.
She reached for her boots, picking them up and then setting them back down. Just a quick break. She sat on the steps and leaned back onto her hands, waiting for her skin to cool in the autumn breeze. It would be warmer inside, and she wasn't keen on overheating before her work really began. I should have had a sip of water when I was in the kitchen, she lamented.
Letting her head tilt back, she looked up at the ceiling, following the lengths of wood with her eyes until she found one area to scrutinize. A congregation of soot sprites hovered near the corner of the porch, round bodies bumping against the roof as if they could move in no other direction but up.
She heard the door behind her open, and twisted around. "S-Sakata-san."
"Matsumoto-san?"
"Sorry, you startled me." She pulled her boots in front of her. "I just returned for my boots. I'm fi-inished out here."
"Maria told me about the roof." His lips were drawn into an unhappy line, although his posture was relaxed. "She's convinced that there's water damage. I haven't seen anything, and neither has she, but she's upstairs checking again."
"Oh." She stood, not sure how to respond to the news. Using her wet boots as an excuse to turn away from the businessman, she shook them out over the side of the porch, dislodging some of the mud wedged between the grooved soles but doing little to remove the stray blades of grass wrapped around the rubber.
It took a few extra seconds for her to reason that the man did not come to talk about the roof. "Is there something I can help you with?" If the importance of Maria's work outweighed his need, it must have been a trivial request.
"Do you know where the window screens are kept? The guest suite needs some circulation." Mineko wanted to point out that it was a little chilly outside, but thought better of it when she remembered the smell in the room. It was also all right to open the windows and do without the screens, but she had a feeling that the request was intentionally specific.
"Yes. They're in the hall closet." There were four hall closets. "I can bring them to you," she said, to give them to the guests.
"Yes, they'll appreciate it. One will do." She bowed at him and hurried down the porch to the front doors, holding her boots at arms' length.
Inside, she searched the first closet and found table linens, old kitchenware, and a couple of rugs that belonged in an antique shop rather than the cramped confines of a storage closet. On the top shelf of the second hall closet, she found a stack of screens. She needed a footstool to reach them, and, naturally, the largest screen was at the bottom of the pile. It took almost five minutes to find the pins to secure the screen in the box erroneously labelled "toothpicks."
Stowing the pins in her pocket, she hoisted up the long frame and shuffled down the hall, minding the corners as she tried to keep it parallel with her torso. One of the black suits at the first suite knocked on the door as she maneuvered around the corner. By the time she reached it, the door was open and Sakata was waiting for her.
"Thank you, Matsumoto-san." He accepted the screen, and a small weight lifted off her shoulders.
"I-I-I have the pi-pi-ins, too," she added, digging around in her pocket. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Nakamura watching her. She pulled out the last pin and dropped the handful into his upturned palm, not meeting his critical gaze.
"Let me know-w if you need anything else." Her voice was low, made quieter by her dipping her head in a small bow. Ready to depart, she was interrupted by a comment from Sakata, who was already standing by the parted curtains and frowning at the frame in his hands.
"The screen should have an outward facing side, I believe." Someone in blue whom she did not recognize unlocked the window, and it slid up with a resentful squeak. Who knew when it was last opened?
"The thicker side of the frame f-f-fits into the bottom of the window," she explained to her employer, watching the pins disappear in the doorman's fist. "There are braces on the w-window that come out to keep it upright. The p-pi-ins go on the side."
"…I don't see the braces…"
"Excuse me." Mineko mumbled, brushing past Nakamura without his permission. Fast enough to slip by before he could object, before the black suits outside could interfere, she made a beeline for Sakata, her eyes glued to the floor until she reached the window in front of the desk.
"Excuse me." She squeezed between Sakata and the man in blue scrubs, the edge of the desk digging into her hip as she leaned against it to grasp at the outside of the window frame. Her fingernails caught on something, and she pulled out and down. A four-sided bar as thick as a pencil swung down after a couple more tugs before snapping into place.
"There's one on the other side too," she said when she noticed the nurse had moved to the other side of the desk. He mimicked her actions, and when both braces were down, she pushed the window higher. "The screen slides up against the bottom of the w-window." She stepped back for Sakata. "Now you can push the window down. I-it should be tight, and the pins…" She turned, bumping into Nakamura who had snuck up behind her. "Sorry. Sorry." He didn't say anything, and she took another step back to get out of his way.
It seemed silly to need four people to put in one window screen. But only one of us knows how to properly set up the screen. She sniffed and rubbed her nose, hiding the trace of a grin behind her hand.
When Nakamura was inserting the last pin, she spoke up again. "The window wo-won't lock with the screen, so you'll have to take it out i-if you want to lock it."
The nurse, no longer needed, went back to the bed. Nakamura turned around and Mineko nodded at Sakata and then him, keeping her eyes on the floor. "Let me know if you need anything else." She said it a little louder this time, with every hope of being ignored. Sakata was going to dismiss her; she could tell—without even looking at him—just by the shortest of pauses after she had finished speaking.
A burst of coughing intruded upon the silence a fraction of a second before the words left Sakata's mouth, the beginnings of his dismissal overwhelmed by the sound. Everyone turned to the bedside, none more dismayed than Mineko—for a different reason than the others.
The person under the bedsheet took a gasp of breath and continued to cough, a wretched, wet, gagging noise that made her skin crawl. No longer a steady, background beat, the monitor beeped louder.
Nakamura reached the bedside in three long strides and began speaking in low tones to the nurse—or perhaps to the bedridden figure. The nurse said something and reached down to pull away the mask that had been covering the bandaged nose, a fresh towel in his other hand.
A spasm jerked the limbs of the patient, and then the upper body rocked forward, head and shoulders leaving the cushion of pillows in one swift motion. The sheet pooled at the waist, revealing the wrapped torso of a man slimmed by sickness. One final cough, and a glob of dark liquid spilled down his chin and landed on the stomach bandages, a stain instantaneously sinking into the white material and crawling towards his lap. With that final effort, the man seemed to lose all strength, swaying back towards the pillows to be caught by Nakamura, who kept him propped up as the nurse brought the towel to his mouth.
The monitor's signal began to slow. The nurse said something, and Nakamura responded by shifting his grip on the limp patient.
Mineko stared at them: the two healthy men, the mummified man with bloodstains on his lips and stomach, on the blanket. It felt surreal, having someone so unwell—contagious?—dying?—in the manor, in the guest suite of all places. She still didn't know who he—who any of them, really were. Sickened and entranced, she did not hear her name being called until a hand tapped her shoulder.
"—Mineko." Her head tipped back an inch and then she turned sharply, eyes alert and focused. Sakata withdrew his hand and returned it to his coat pocket, a bystander like her. "Bring more pillows for them."
She swallowed and said nothing, turning her back on him, on the bed, and the men hovering over it. She turned left into the hall, took five steps, then stopped and spun around, having realized she was traveling in the wrong direction.
More pillows. Pillows. Pillows. The word circled in her head, repeating itself like a mantra until a pillow slipped off the shelf and dropped on her upturned face. She grunted at the impact and pulled it off, her braid whipping back and forth as she shook her head and exhaled through her nose. Sniffing, she looked at the three pillows in her arms. She pulled down a fourth. Hugging the cushions snugly to her body, she grabbed a handful of pillow covers and hurried down the hall.
The door was still partially open from when she had left, and she bumped it farther aside as she entered. Dropping the pillows at the foot of the bed, she opened one cover and stuffed a cushion inside.
Moving around to the headboard, she fluffed the pillow and stepped next to Nakamura, who was still holding the bandaged patient. "Here?" she asked the nurse as she settled the pillow where she imagined him might want it.
"Yes. Right there." His voice was soft and steady despite the bloody towel in his hands and slumped figure in front of him. This situation was nothing new to him.
"How-w many? Pillows?" She went back to the pillow pile and grabbed another cover. "Three should be enough. Set that one next to the other and put one more in front. I want him to be nearly upright." Mineko nodded and placed the second pillow, then the third, following the nurse's instructions.
When she moved to the opposite side of Nakamura, her eyes wandered to the blanket. "I can bring a clean sheet," she heard herself say in spite of herself, gaze settling on the bloody stomach bandages and freezing there. She couldn't do anything about that.
Nakamura eased the man back against the pillows, and the nurse adjusted the mask over the lower half of his face. A raspy breath fogged the transparent plastic.
"I would appreciate that." She turned to the nurse and saw him looking at her. His tone had a calming effect, and this time, when she left the bedside, the panic was not rushing through her veins. Retrieving the spare sheet from the wardrobe, she unfolded the cloth and looked to the nurse for guidance.
He was already tugging the sheet out from the bed corner closest to him. "If you can pull the rest of this out on your side, Nakamura-san? Be careful around the equipment."
To her, he asked, "Is there a basket we can throw all of this in?"
"Yes. Yes." Eager to turn her attention away from the man before the old sheet was fully removed—he might have been naked below the waist, for all she knew—she took her time returning to the wardrobe. From the back corner she slid out the laundry basket, her gaze cast downwards until she returned to the bedside. They had already covered the man with the fresh sheet, the cloth pulled over his hips and tucked tight and neat beneath the mattress, leaving the stained wrap exposed.
"Everything can go in here." Nakamura dropped the rolled up bedsheet in the basket and the nurse tossed in the bloody towel, both items in need of bleaching.
"Thank you… Matsumoto-san." There was a hint of uncertainty in the nurse's voice, as if he doubted his memory. She nodded to tell him he had gotten her name right.
"You're w-welcome."
The man in the bed let out a sigh: a long, rough breath that somehow managed to sound soft.
The men looked down at him. Even Mineko let her focus slip, a guilty curiosity taking hold.
He turned his head a fraction towards Nakamura, eyelids parting a crack to let in daylight over bright irises. It was difficult to tell if he could see the man beside him or if the slight movement had been intentional. His eyes opened a little wider when they shifted away from the buttons on Nakamura's suit and landed on the partially opened door.
Envisioning brilliant green eyes meeting hers, Mineko dipped her head and caught a strong whiff of blood. "I-I'll take care of this," she hurried, trying not to breathe in any more of the stench or make a face. "There's an extra pillow here, if you need it." She spun around, basket in her arms, and dismissed herself, not bothering to ask if anyone required additional help. Later, she wouldn't be able to recall if Sakata had still been in the room when she suddenly, if not a little rudely, departed.
With her arms full, she left the door opened behind her and sped down the hall, around the corner and out of sight.