Something Strange Across the River Read Online Free Page A

each other for years.
    “It’s fine, you walk ahead—I’m right behind you.”
    We turned down a winding alleyway, and with every turn she looked back to make sure I was still behind her. Eventually we crossed a little bridge and found ourselves before a strip of low buildings with signs and awnings. We splashed to a stop before one of the little houses.
    “Oh, dear—look at you!” she shouted. “You’re soaked through!” She quickly folded the umbrella away and saw to wiping the beaded water off of my shoulders before attending to herself.
    “This your house?”
    “I’ll get you dry, come on inside.”
    “It’s a suit, like I said; I’ll be fine.”
    “Even though I’m offering to help? How am I supposed to show my gratitude?”
    “Show your gratitude? What exactly did you have in mind?”
    “Well… you’ll see. Anyway, come on inside.”
    The lightning had moved off, but the rain was pouring harder than it had before. It pounded the street and raised a hissing mist over the roofs and signs. I hurried inside without further protest.
    There was a partition in the middle of the room, covered with rough Osaka latticework and a rolling blind of ribbon. A little bell hung affixed to its strings. I took a seat on a bench that sat below the partition and, as I saw to remove my shoes, the woman finished wiping her feet with a spare cloth, unrolled her sleeves, and twisted the knob on a nearby electric lamp.
    “There’s no one here,” she said. “Come on up.”
    “You alone here?”
    “Yes. There was another person here until last night. They moved out.”
    “Your husband, I presume?”
    “No. My master lives somewhere else. By chance do you know the theater in Tamanoi? He has a house just behind it. He usually stops by around midnight to check the books.”
    “Guess you can do whatever you want then,” I said, taking the seat she offered me by the stove heater. She knelt at the table and began to prepare tea. I watched her.
    I supposed she was around twenty-five. Her face was a pretty little thing. The skin on her straight nose and rounded face was slightly rough from the application of cosmetics, but her neatly dressed hair had the shine of youth. Her large black eyes were clear, and her lips and gums were pink with blood, young and healthy.
    “Is it well or city water around here?” I asked absentmindedly before I drank my tea. Had she answered well water I would to pretend to take a sip and leave the cup undrunk. I was far more scared of a typhus infection then any sort of venereal disease. Old men such as myself, ruined spiritually far before we could lose out to our bodies, had little to fear from slow, chronic diseases
    “Did you want to wash up? We have city water right over there,” she said motioning off with postured amiability.
    “Thanks, I might use it later.”
    “At least take off that jacket. It’s soaked through.”
    “Sure is pouring out there.”
    “I’m more bothered by the flashing than by the thunder. At this rate I can’t get near the baths. Dear, you’re alright for a little while? I’d like to wash up and redo my makeup.”
    She twisted her lips up and patted at her hairline with strips of paper she pulled from a pocket and went to stand before the sink, which protruded from the wall on the other side of the partition. Between the slats in the partition I could see her pull off the top of her robe and wash her face. Her shoulders were much whiter than her face, and from the look of her breasts she had clearly never had a child.
    “Aren’t we casual? You’d think we were husband and wife here. And what a little home you’ve set up. You’ve got a bureau, tea shelves…”
    She motioned with a languid finger. “You can open that if you’d like. There should be some potatoes or something in there.”
    “You keep it clean—I’m impressed. What’s in the heater?”
    “I clean every morning. It may be bit of a dump, but I like to think I keep it