Short Story: The Woman with the Parasol

—I was out for my usual casual drive, cruising along the coast.

The long breakwater, which seemed to go on forever, stretched out thinly as if to divide the summer sky from the Sea of Japan. To my left was a concrete wall and the endless expanse of the sea. To my right, more wall and the occasional remains of a small fishing port. The road, which ran straight for about twelve kilometers, was a joy to drive along, completely unencumbered.

It was 3:30 in the afternoon. The sun was still strong, and the car was a bit stuffy. The radio only played static, but that made for a good soundtrack too.

—Then, I saw a white dot ahead.

Was that... a person? It looked like a woman holding a parasol.

A white lace parasol, a thin navy blue dress. She seemed to be walking barefoot on the asphalt. Surprised to see her in a place where she didn't belong, I pulled the car over and rolled down the window.

"Excuse me, would you like a ride? There's nothing for the next twelve kilometers."

She slowly turned her face toward me, squinting against the glare. The shadow of the parasol hid half of her face. "I've been walking for a long time... I sort of got dumped." "...Well, please, get in. Walking in this heat without any water is dangerous—you could get heatstroke." "...Thank you." She gave a small nod, tilted her parasol, and opened the passenger door. A shadow spread through the car. Instantly, the stuffiness vanished, as if a cold breeze from the bottom of the sea had blown in.

"Here, have this for now." I handed her a plastic bottle of water and started the car again.

She asked, "Are you sure?" and when she saw me nod, she took a quiet sip. Perhaps feeling a bit more settled, she laid the parasol across her lap and stared intently at the sea outside the window.

"You mentioned it earlier, but who... dumped you?" I asked after a brief pause. She answered quietly, still looking at the scenery outside.

"A guy I met this morning on a matching app. It didn't work out this time either. So I got out of the car and started walking. ...With just this umbrella." She gently stroked the handle of the parasol with her fingers.

"This umbrella is a bit old, but it's a keepsake from my mother. It doesn't just block the sun... it's filled with memories of her. But he called this umbrella, which holds so much meaning, tacky and dismissed it. Who says something like that?"

"That is, indeed... a bit harsh."

"Right? Someone who can so easily discard something filled with a person's feelings—there's no way things would have worked out with him in the long run, right?"

"So that's why you got out."

"Yeah... but walking all alone along that empty breakwater, I started to wonder. Maybe I should have talked to him a little more."

"Was it too hasty to judge him just on that?"

As we talked, I occasionally saw her fingers grip the handle of the umbrella tightly. I suppose when you're looking for a connection, there's bound to be some hesitation. After driving a bit further, we finally saw some signs of life. It was a small roadside station along the coast.

I pulled into the parking lot, thinking we should take a break, when she noticed something. A white rental car was parked in the same lot. She said, "Excuse me for a second," and got out of my car, walking toward the rental. The man in the driver's seat seemed to notice her too; he looked surprised, rolled down his window, and the two of them started talking. Seeing them, I figured they would be fine, so I drove off again. As I passed by them, she turned and gave me a polite nod. The man also gave a slight nod in return.

—I'm glad that the two of you didn't lose your connection in a place like this.

Relieved, I left the roadside station, shifted gears, and stepped on the accelerator once more.

The man in the white rental car gave her a small smile.
“...I mean, that car from earlier was pretty old, wasn't it?”

“Huh? Was it? I don't know much about cars, so I couldn't tell... come to think of it, maybe the air conditioning was too strong, because it was a little cold inside the car.”
“You don't see many manual sedan-type cars on the road these days. We really owe that guy a debt of gratitude.”

“...That's true. If he hadn't driven us this far, I wouldn't have been able to talk to you like this again.”

“Well then, shall we get going too?” “Yes...”
The two of them left the roadside station in their rental car and headed straight toward the city.

—In the grass near the roadside station, a rusted car lies abandoned, half-buried. A manual sedan-type car.

The owner of the car died in an accident ten years ago, but it seems his family left it on the property instead of scrapping it because he loved that car. Now, it just stands there quietly, covered in rust, blown by the sea breeze.

—But tomorrow, he might be out for a light drive along this breakwater again, just like always.

In the distance, the sound of gears shifting and the engine revving can be heard.