The Perfect World of Miwako Sumida Read online

This must be confusing, but I’ll explain it properly soon.

  Thank you for everything. The times we’ve had together are some of the most precious of my life.

  Take care, Ryusei. And please send my apologies to Fumi-nee.

  Miwako

  2

  A Woman

  Who

  Wants

  a Man

  in Her

  Life

  The first time Miwako saw my sister was when Fumi-nee came looking for me at the university library. I had accidentally left my house keys in the studio.

  “Stupid.” My sister dropped the keys on top of my book. “How can you be so careless?”

  I looked up and frowned. “How did you know I was here?”

  “You were carrying a stack of library books.” She rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t that seem like a dead giveaway?”

  “Well done, Sherlock Holmes.”

  She leaned in and whispered, “The next time you forget your keys, Ryusei Yanagi, you’re sleeping in the hallway.”

  I inched away from her. My sister glanced at Miwako, who was looking at us from across the table, but didn’t speak to her.

  “I’ll see you for dinner,” she said before leaving.

  Once she was gone, Miwako asked, “Was that your girlfriend?”

  I wanted to laugh but decided to tease her instead. “Why, are you jealous?”

  “Yes.”

  I felt a lump in my throat. I had hoped Miwako would get flustered and deny it so I could make fun of her, but her tone was so serious that I felt like she was mocking me.

  “Your girlfriend is so pretty,” she continued. “Not to be rude, but isn’t she a bit older than you?”

  “She is. She just turned twenty-nine.”

  Miwako raised an eyebrow.

  “I like older women. They’re more experienced.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said, seemingly undisturbed as she returned to her newspaper. It was the first time I’d seen her read anything other than school textbooks and romance novels.

  “What are you looking at?” I leaned over and saw the advertisements section for part-time jobs. “Ah, so you’re broke.”

  She glared at me. “No, I’m not. And even if I were, that’s none of your business.”

  “Come on, I’m just kidding,” I said. “What kind of job are you looking for?”

  “I don’t know. Something not too difficult? Preferably not a night shift. Maybe waitressing or looking after a shop. I just want a part-time job for the school break.”

  I involuntarily pictured Miwako in a waitress uniform. She was so hardworking—her colleagues would definitely like her, and romances were always starting at those jobs. The thought made me depressed.

  “You’re so strange,” I said. “Most people would prefer to sleep in and relax at home during their holiday.”

  “Not everyone is as lazy as you.”

  “So, Miss Hard-Working, have you found the job you want?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve seen a couple of openings near my apartment, but their hourly rate is too low. I’m hoping to find one with better pay. I really need to save up.”

  “Do you want me to introduce you to the boss at my part-time job? There’s enough work for both of us.”

  “I didn’t know you worked part-time,” she said. “What kind of job is it?”

  “Nothing too difficult. Just helping out. I’m sure you could do it too.”

  “And how much do you get paid to ‘just help out’?”

  Leaning in, I whispered the amount.

  “That much?” she asked, a little too loud. People looked up at us, and the librarian shot us a warning glance.

  “I’m sorry.” She lowered her voice, then turned to me. “So this job, where is it?”

  “Pretty close by. I’m heading there later. If you don’t have classes this afternoon, you can come with me, but there’s no guarantee my boss will hire you.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll do my best to convince him.”

  It was chilly outside when we left the library. The maple trees lining the pavement were yellowing, signaling the beginning of autumn.

  That day, Miwako was wearing a loose beige sweater and a long pastel-colored chiffon skirt. The wind shifted her hem as she stepped onto the fallen leaves. When she walked, she almost tiptoed, like she was dancing. The airy motion reminded me of cotton candy. She probably did it without even realizing it.

  I kicked at some gravel, wondering what people thought when they saw two university students alongside each other. Surely it looked like we were on a date. The thought made me flush.

  “What are you smiling at?” Miwako asked.

  I turned to her. “Nothing.”

  “It’s creepy.”

  Still grinning, I quickened my pace and turned onto a side street. Old warehouses flanked the quiet alley, each enclosed by a tall wooden fence. I looked for unit twenty-three. The gold plate had been taken out, replaced by a number spray-painted in black covering the entire gigantic blue door. I climbed over the fence and unlocked the gate from inside.

  “What are you doing?” Miwako hissed. “People will think we’re trying to break in.”

  “This is the only way to get in. The door can only be opened from here,” I said. “I assumed you wanted me to open it for you, or would you prefer to jump over in that pretty skirt?”

  She frowned at me.

  “Come on,” I said, leading her around to the back of the building.

  The warehouse was almost empty. One of the walls had been partially knocked down for ventilation. Two bicycles rested against the wall. Nearby, buckets of paint and cans of spray paint lay atop stacks of old newspapers. But even with a huge ceiling fan providing some much-needed circulation, the air was thick with a sharp chemical smell.

  The other side of the warehouse contained a small partitioned office. The door opened and my sister came out, wearing her work apron. It was stained by so many different paints that it was impossible to determine its original color.

  “Ah, we’ve got a guest,” she said, coming over to us. “You’re the girl from the library, aren’t you?”

  Miwako didn’t answer.

  “Yes, she is,” I said. I gestured for Miwako to introduce herself, but when she remained silent, I ended up doing the talking. “This is Miwako Sumida. She’s studying at Waseda too.”

  My sister furrowed her brow.

  “She’s looking for a job,” I continued, nudging Miwako with my elbow.

  She bowed nervously. “Good afternoon.”

  My sister forced a smile. “One moment,” she said to Miwako before dragging me off. “Didn’t I tell you to bring in someone who could help with my work?” she whispered.

  “I did.”

  “What are you talking about? That’s just your girlfriend,” she said, a little too loud. “She’s tiny. How do you expect her to help paint a giant mural? It’s hard labor, you know that.”

  I flashed her a smile. “You’re a girl too, aren’t you?”

  She was quiet for a moment before continuing. “Look at her clothes. Is she planning to work in those?”

  “Isn’t it you who always says not to judge a person by their appearance?”

  My sister rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll let her give it a try, but don’t blame me if she ends up crying and running home.”

  I laughed. “She’s tougher than she looks.”

  My sister walked over to Miwako, who had a smile that looked entirely forced.

  “You can call me Fumi-nee,” my sister said. “I’m Ryu’s older sister and the owner of Studio Salt. Welcome to my place.”

  Miwako’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

  “Studio Salt,” she said. “Does the name strike you as odd?”

  “No, not th
at. It’s just . . . Ryusei told me you were his girlfriend.”

  My sister burst into laughter. “Me, his girlfriend? You’re joking. I’m not interested in boys who’ve just entered puberty.”

  “Hey, stop it,” I said. “I didn’t say you were my girlfriend. She jumped to that conclusion. I’m not into cougars.”

  My sister ignored me. “You’re so cute, Miwako. Ah, may I call you Miwako?”

  “Yes.”

  “And I happen to be single, so if you have a kind and handsome older brother, you can introduce me to him.” She flashed Miwako one of her signature smiles. “Now, you’re probably a pretty good painter. Are you planning to start today?”

  Miwako looked at me. “Actually, I still have no idea what the job is, and . . .” Her gaze shifted to my sister, who was now staring at me. “I’m not good at painting.”

  “You didn’t tell her anything about this, Ryusei?”

  “I told her the job was to help you, which is true.”

  “Useless.” My sister sighed. “Well, I’m a painter, and I’m on commission for an outdoor mural at an orphanage. It’s quite a big wall, so I’ll need some help laying the foundation by painting the whole wall a base color, then tracing over the lines I draw and filling in the colors. It’s exhausting work, very labor-intensive. Are you up for it?”

  Miwako nodded.

  “Then let’s start today. We can walk there—it’s about fifteen minutes away on foot.” My sister tilted her head. “But are you going to be all right painting in that outfit? Your clothes might get dirty.”

  “It’s all right. I can start now.”

  “Great. Let’s pack up.” As she walked off, my sister called over her shoulder, “If you haven’t quit by the end of the day, I’ll hire you until the project is finished.”

  The sun was high when my sister left us to go buy lunch. We had begun painting the wall with a white base.

  Despite the cooling wind, Miwako was drenched in sweat and had taken her sweater off. Underneath, she had on a lavender tank top, which was now smeared with paint. She’d tied her hair up, but stray wet hairs kept sticking to her face. She was so focused on painting the wall that she didn’t bother to brush them off.

  “It’s tiring, isn’t it?” I dipped my brush into the paint bucket. “You can rest for a bit. I won’t tell my sister.”

  “No way. I’m being paid to do this,” Miwako said.

  That was just like her. I used to think it was sheer stubbornness, but I’d grown to admire her resilience.

  I glanced at Miwako and was surprised to find her gaze already on me.

  “What are you staring at?” I asked, looking away.

  “Now that I’ve gotten a proper look, there really is a resemblance between you and Fumi-nee,” she said. “You have the same features, especially the nose. Both of you have a sharp nose, which gives you a nice side profile.”

  I became flustered. “It almost sounds like you’re saying I’m good-looking.”

  “I never said you weren’t. Your face is well proportioned, and you have nice eyes.”

  I laughed half-heartedly at her clinical compliment. “You should also say you like my personality.”

  She laughed too. “Of course I do. I’m not the kind of person who’d spend this much time with someone I don’t like.” She looked into my eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever said it out loud, but I do enjoy our time together at the bookshop.”

  Before I could stop myself, I said, “Miwako, will you go out with me?”

  She stared at me, then she shook her head. “No. I can’t.”

  I swallowed. “Why not?”

  “Because it’s you.”

  I thought I heard her wrong. “Excuse me?”

  “You’re too important as a friend. If we were to go out, sooner or later things would turn sour, and we wouldn’t be able to spend time together anymore. It would make things awkward for the rest of the group too.”

  “What makes you so sure things would turn out that way?”

  “Some things are bound to fail,” she said, then looked up at me. “I’m sorry.” She made the confession as if presenting a straightforward set of facts.

  I stood there in stunned silence, wishing I could sweep away my feelings for Miwako like she wanted. But denying that I was in love for the first time didn’t make it true.

  “Your sister is really cool,” Miwako said, changing the topic. “It’s so bold of her, choosing an unconventional career as an artist.”

  I forced myself back into the conversation. “Don’t be so quick to assume. She wanted to be a doctor.”

  “Why didn’t she pursue it?”

  “Not everyone has the money to attend college, and medical school is particularly expensive.” I continued to paint broad white lines along the wall. “My sister happens to be talented at drawing. She taught sketch classes for children at an art school and eventually set up her own studio, but she never planned on becoming a painter. It just happened.”

  “I see.”

  “She doesn’t hate her job, but it’s not her dream,” I said, trying not to think about what my sister had sacrificed for us—for me.

  “What does she envision for this mural?” Miwako asked, dipping her brush into the paint bucket.

  “I’m not sure. It will probably be of the kids and the pastor who live here,” I said. “The children will be back soon, so you’ll be able to play with them.”

  She looked down. “I don’t like children.”

  “Really? That’s surprising, since you look like one,” I teased. “Just wait until you’ve got your own.”

  “I’m never having kids. I would hate them.” Her tone had gone so sharp, it was almost frightening.

  “What are you two talking about?” my sister asked, coming over with two big plastic bags.

  I ignored the question, though I was glad she had returned. The three of us went into the orphanage, and my sister led us to the dining area.

  “You seem familiar with this place,” Miwako said to Fumi-nee as we sat at the table.

  My sister opened the first plastic bag and took out three lunch boxes. “Ryu and I have spent a lot of time here.”

  Miwako passed out the disposable chopsticks. “Ah, you volunteer? That’s nice.”

  I looked up. My sister gave a thin smile to reassure me that it was okay, but I didn’t want to hide this from Miwako.

  “We used to live here,” I said.

  My sister’s eyes widened.

  “It’s fine, Fumi-nee,” I said. “You can tell her.”

  “We were here for a couple years,” my sister explained, snapping her chopsticks apart. “Our parents died in a car accident.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring it up,” Miwako said.

  “Don’t worry, it was a long time ago. And it is what it is.” Fumi-nee opened her bento—chicken katsu with vegetables, my favorite. “That aside, I’ve taken a look at your paintwork, Miwako. You seem so organized, but you’re actually a bit clumsy.”

  Miwako bit her lip.

  Fumi laughed. “Don’t worry, Ryu will show you the ropes. But I can’t help thinking, being with you, my little brother would have a challenging life.”

  “Wait, there’s been a misunderstanding. There’s nothing going on between us.”

  Miwako looked at me to corroborate her statement, but I only shrugged and opened my bento box. We all had identical sets.

  “I want a boyfriend too,” my sister lamented, ignoring Miwako’s protests.

  “You’re so beautiful,” Miwako said. “I’m sure you’d have more suitors if you weren’t so intimidating.”

  I gaped at her bluntness.

  “Miwako,” I said, cutting her off. “Why don’t you start on your food?” I turned to my sister. “She didn’t mean it like that.”
/>
  “I know.” My sister sighed. “But maybe she’s right. And I really do want to find someone. I’ve been feeling so lonely lately, and I’m not getting younger. Finding a boyfriend isn’t as easy as it used to be.”

  I sighed too. “Didn’t you just break up with your last one a week ago? It’s a little too soon to be looking for a replacement.”

  “The best way to get over past love is by starting a new romance,” said my sister indignantly. She turned to Miwako. “Don’t you agree?”

  Miwako raised an eyebrow but nodded.

  “Oh, come on,” I said, groaning. They both laughed.

  My sister shook her head. “My poor, clueless brother doesn’t understand a woman’s heart.”

  “Shut up,” I hissed.

  “He might look like a player, but the truth is, he’s never gone out with anyone since he started college.”

  Miwako’s eyes widened. “Is that true?”

  “It’s not,” I said, looking away. “I don’t introduce my sister to every girl I date.”

  My sister covered her mouth, stifling a giggle.

  “So it’s true,” Miwako said.

  She always saw right through me. But I hoped this would help her understand that I really was serious about her.

  “Sounds like you’ve had a lot of relationships, though, Fumi-nee,” Miwako said.

  “Of course,” my sister said, unashamed. “I like having a man in my life. Being pampered.”

  “And that’s why you end up with a smooth-talking jerk every single time.” I took a bite of my cutlet. “Your criteria need to be questioned. You’re terrible at choosing men. You trust people too easily.”

  “Who says?”

  “Remember that so-called trader? You should’ve gone to the police.”

  Fumi-nee glared. “Stop it, Ryu.”

  Miwako turned to me. “What happened?”

  “Don’t tell her.”

  “I will tell her, so she knows how bad your judgment is.” I put down my chopsticks. “Listen to this, Miwako. My sister once dated this guy who pretended to work for a trading company. Turns out he was a con artist. He ran off with her life’s savings.” I looked into Fumi-nee’s eyes. “Tell me that didn’t happen.”

  My sister stared blankly ahead. “That was in the past. I’ve learned my lesson.”