Novel 'Six Seats' Part 1: A Week of Six People (6)
Chapter 6: Shun Nakano
Monday—The Room Without a Morning
Shun Nakano hated Monday mornings.
When did he start to hate them?
Back when he was working at a company, Monday was the start of the week. The alarm would ring, he would put his arms through his shirt sleeves, tie his necktie, and board the train at the scheduled time.
That was normal.
When Monday came, work began.
When work began, he would count the days until Friday.
And when Friday arrived,
"The week is finally over,"
he would think.
He had continued that kind of life for decades.
But now, it is different.
Shun no longer goes to the company.
Three years had passed since he reached retirement age.
Even so, when Monday comes, his body remembers the old memories.
Six o'clock in the morning.
He wakes up.
He looks at the clock.
He doesn't have to get up anymore.
That is what he thinks.
Yet, he cannot sleep.
Shun stared at the ceiling with his eyes open while in his futon.
The room was quiet.
Only the second hand of the clock,
tick,
tick,
was moving.
There was no sound from the next room.
There was no sound from the kitchen either.
In the past, his wife would have been up at this time.
She would wake up a little earlier than Shun and boil water.
By the time Shun got up, there would be the smell of miso soup from the kitchen.
"Are you up?"
His wife would always say that.
Shun would answer,
"Yeah."
That was all.
Just those two words, repeated every morning.
That is gone now.
Shun looks at the clock.
Six twenty-three.
"Time to get up,"
he said in the empty room.
—
He goes to the kitchen and opens the curtains.
The morning light comes in.
Shun opened the window a little.
The summer air was already hot.
The sound of cicadas could be heard from afar.
He opens the refrigerator.
Eggs.
Milk.
Natto.
Vegetables.
The tofu he bought yesterday.
He wondered what to eat.
In the past,
"What shall we eat?"
he would ask.
Now, there is no one to ask.
Shun took out one egg.
He puts the frying pan on the fire.
A little oil.
He cracks the egg.
It makes a sizzling sound.
While listening to that sound, Shun remembered the old days.
His wife liked her fried eggs cooked a bit firm.
Shun liked his sunny-side up.
So at breakfast,
"It's hard again,"
Shun would say.
Then his wife would say,
"You like yours too runny."
They would have such trivial conversations.
Now, he thinks.
The more trivial things were,
the more important they were.
Shun put the egg on a plate.
One plate.
One pair of chopsticks.
One chair.
The other side of the table is empty.
Shun ate his breakfast while trying not to look there.
—
Nine o'clock in the morning.
Shun ran the washing machine.
A white shirt.
A towel.
Socks.
There was little laundry.
There used to be more.
That was because it was for two people.
While listening to the sound of the washing machine, Shun sat on the sofa.
He turns on the TV.
News.
Weather.
Sports.
Shopping channel.
He had no interest in any of it.
He turns it off.
It becomes quiet again.
Shun opened the newspaper.
He reads the front page.
Page two.
Page three.
His hand stopped midway.
It was a small article.
An article about someone who had passed away.
The age was in their seventies.
Even seeing the name, it was someone he didn't know.
Shun finished reading the article and closed the newspaper.
Every day, people
are informed that someone's life has ended.
However,
no one tells you
when your own life will end.
Shun looked at the clock.
It was still ten in the morning.
"It's long,"
he thought.
Mondays are,
after all, long.
—
Before noon.
Shun went out for a walk.
There was no destination.
Recently, walks without a destination had increased.
In the past,
"Where are you going?"
his wife would ask.
"Just walking,"
he would answer, and she would laugh,
"Then why don't you get a dog?"
Shun was not good with dogs.
He didn't have the confidence to take care of one.
Thinking about it now,
maybe he should have kept one.
Sometimes he thinks that.
He walks through the park.
Children are playing.
Mothers are sitting on benches.
An old man is walking alone.
Everyone has their own time.
Shun stopped in the shade of a tree.
The wind blew.
The leaves swayed.
A leaf fell to the ground.
Shun watched it.
"It's early,"
he thought.
Summer had just begun, yet
the leaves were already falling.
Perhaps humans are the same.
While thinking that everything is still fine,
something is lost little by little.
Shun walked while thinking about such things.
—
One o'clock in the afternoon.
He entered a small set-meal restaurant.
"Just one,"
he said.
The clerk nodded.
"Please, this way."
Shun sat at a window seat.
He ordered a grilled fish set meal.
While waiting for the food,
he looked at his smartphone.
There were no emails.
There were no notifications.
He closed the screen.
After a while, the food arrived.
Rice.
Miso soup.
Grilled fish.
Pickles.
It was a combination he had liked for a long time.
Shun ate slowly.
There were a few customers in the shop.
No one was looking at Shun.
That was fine.
Getting used to being alone
does not mean being okay with not talking to anyone.
It means being able to accept
the time spent without talking to anyone by yourself.
That is what Shun thinks.
He finished paying and left the shop.
The sky was blue.
—
Three o'clock in the afternoon.
Shun headed to the hospital.
It was the day to visit his wife.
He walked down the hospital corridor.
Light was streaming in from the window.
He opened the door to the hospital room.
"Hello."
His wife was lying on the bed.
"You came?"
"I came."
Shun sat in the chair.
His wife looked at Shun's face.
"What day is it today?"
"Monday."
"I see."
There was a short pause.
"Did you eat breakfast?"
"I did."
"What did you eat?"
"An egg."
His wife laughed.
"Again?"
"Because it's easy."
"You should cook properly."
"I am."
"Liar."
Shun laughed.
"It's the truth."
Just being able to have that conversation
made today a good day.
Shun held his wife's hand.
It was a little cold.
"It's hot outside."
"I see."
"The cicadas were singing."
"It's summer already, isn't it?"
"Yeah."
His wife looked out the window.
Shun looked with her.
The two of them looking at the same scenery.
That was all.
But,
that was enough.
—
Five o'clock in the afternoon.
He leaves the hospital.
Shun walked to the station.
The evening streets were crowded with people.
People coming home from work.
Students coming home from school.
People carrying shopping bags.
Shun walked slowly among them.
In the past, he too
used to walk to the station at this time.
He was in a hurry.
He wanted to get home early.
However,
when he got home, the fatigue of work was waiting.
Now,
there is no need to hurry.
That was a little lonely.
He waits for the train on the station platform.
He doesn't sit on the bench.
While standing,
he looks across the tracks.
The train arrives.
The wind blows.
Shun's white hair swayed.
He boards the train.
He stands by the window.
He watches the scenery flowing by.
The sunset could be seen between the buildings.
Shun thought about taking a picture.
However,
he stopped.
Even if he didn't keep it in a photo,
today's sunset is only for today.
That is what he thought.
—
Seven o'clock in the evening.
He returns home.
He opens the refrigerator.
There are leftovers from lunch.
He warms them up.
He turns on the TV.
He eats.
While listening to the news,
he eats alone.
He washes the dishes.
He takes a bath.
And then,
he sits at his desk.
Shun had a habit of writing a diary.
He opens his notebook.
He writes today's date.
Monday.
Below that,
he writes about today.
"Woke up at 6:23 in the morning."
"Ate an egg."
"Went for a walk."
"Went to the hospital."
Having written that much,
Shun stopped his pen.
And then,
after thinking for a bit,
he wrote just one line at the end.
"Was able to talk to my wife. That is enough."
Shun closed the notebook.
He looks at the clock in the room.
10:38 PM.
He is not sleepy yet.
Shun opened the window.
The night breeze comes in.
He heard the sound of a train in the distance.
Clatter.
Clatter.
Clatter.
Clatter.
Listening to that sound,
for some reason, he felt at ease.
The train is
carrying someone somewhere.
There are people waiting for someone.
There are people waiting for someone's return.
Shun closed the window.
He turns off the light.
He gets into his futon.
He closes his eyes.
Tomorrow is Tuesday.
There are no special plans.
The usual morning.
The usual meal.
The usual hospital visit.
The usual day.
Shun thought that and fell asleep.
At this time, Shun
did not yet know.
That the days passing by so casually,
would later,
in his own life,
come to have a very important meaning.
However,
it is fine for now.
Tomorrow, tomorrow's morning will come.
In the quiet room, Shun
slowly fell asleep.