Page 24 of A Serving of Hope

He led Toshio down a hallway lined with photographs of food. When Toshio commented on them, Nagare turned and smiled. “I’ve always loved cooking. Whenever my wife said she was craving something, I’d insist on making it myself.”

“She doesn’t help out at the restaurant, then?”

Nagare’s smile grew wistful. “No. These days she keeps an eye on us from the altar instead.”

“I’m sorry,” said Toshio, bowing deeply. “I didn’t mean to—”

“That’s all right. Anyway, Koishi will see you now.” Nagare opened the door at the end of the hallway, then turned and made his way back to the restaurant.

—

Seeing Toshio hesitate in the doorway, Koishi called out: “Come in, then!”

Toshio felt like he was back at school and Koishi was a teacher beckoning him into the staff room.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said as he stepped inside. Koishi, now wearing a smart black pantsuit, was smiling at him from the other side of a low table.

“You can relax, you know. Make yourself comfortable.”

Toshio did his best to loosen up as he settled onto the long sofa. Koishi had him fill out a form, glanced at it, then got right to the point.

“So, Mr. Toshio Harasawa, what dish are you looking for?”

Toshio had been expecting a little more small talk, and her abruptness startled him. He sat up, leaned forward, and said, “Pork shogayaki.”

“Shogayaki, eh? One of my favorites. Did you have it at a restaurant?”

“No. Someone made it for me.”

“Someone, eh? Very mysterious. Mind telling me the details?” Koishi opened her notebook and leaned forward attentively.

Toshio let out a sigh. “I should warn you—it’s not a very edifying story.”

Koishi’s expression softened. “Whatever you’re comfortable sharing.”

Toshio took a moment to get things straight in his mind, then began to speak. “I inherited the company from my father, who founded it. Business always went pretty smoothly, and we never had any major hiccups while I was in charge. When I hit sixty, I handed the company over to my son. I’m still chairman on paper, but I’m basically retired. I spend most of my days just sort of…enjoying myself.”

Koishi’s eyes lit up. “You get to live it up, and the money still comes rolling in? Sounds like the dream.”

“It’s not quite as nice as it sounds,” replied Toshio, his gaze dropping to the table. “Back when I was slaving away every day, I couldn’t wait to retire. But now that I’m free, life has started to feel a little empty. Like the world doesn’t need me anymore.”

“Really? I’d give anything to live that sort of a life.”

“Take it from me: Without work to keep you busy, things get very dull, very quickly.”

“Okay, so you miss work, but what about home? After all those years at the company, your wife must be glad to have you around again.” As Koishi leaned forward again, Toshio shrank back slightly.

“Sayo is five years younger than me, and ours was an arranged marriage. I was twenty-eight and she was twenty-three. A marriage like that has its advantages, but it comes with its fair share of problems too.” Toshio gave a gruff cough. Koishi slid a cup of chilled tea across the table. “She’s from Matsue. Shy, not much of a people person. The stay-at-home type. She’s never been interested in traveling or dining out. She prefers to cook things herself, but it’s only ever the same few dishes.” Toshio shook his head as he spoke, as if puzzled even now. “The truth is, I’ve never really understood what she enjoys in life.”

“Marriage does sound like a tricky old business. Even if you get on, it must be hard to enjoy each other’s company when you have such different lifestyles.”

“Exactly. I’ve always loved traveling and eating out, so it used to really bother me. At first she forced herself to come along for my sake, but eventually that became too much for her.” He gave another deep sigh and took a sip of the tea. “About five years into our marriage, we stopped going on trips together, and only ate out on special occasions. She seemed happier that way. But to me something always felt missing.”

“I can imagine,” murmured Koishi sympathetically.

“It wasn’t that I resented it. If that was what made Sayo comfortable, then I wasn’t going to complain. In a way, it meant I could live at my own pace.”

Koishi glanced up at him. “So…how does the shogayaki fit into all this?”