The Briefcase Read Online Free

There were newborn kittens and great big fat cats. A child was pleading with his mother for a cat. It was the mother and child from earlier.
    “We don’t have anywhere to keep a cat,” the mother said.
    “That’s okay, it can be an outdoor cat,” the child replied softly.
    “But do you really think a cat we buy here can survive outside?”
    “It’ll be all right, somehow.” The owner of the cat stall listened in silence to their conversation. Finally, the child pointed at a small, striped tabby. The owner wrapped the tabby in a soft cloth and the mother took it and gently placed it in her shopping basket. The faint sound of the tabby’s mewling could be heard from inside the basket.
    “Tsukiko,” Sensei said suddenly.
    “Yes?”
    “I’m going to buy something too.”
    Sensei approached not the cat stall, but a stall selling chicks.
    “Male and female, one chick each,” Sensei said decisively.

    The proprietor of the stall picked one each from the two separate groups of chicks on either side, and placed each chick into its own little box. “Here you are,” he said as he handed them to Sensei, who took the boxes cautiously. Holding them in his left hand, Sensei pulled his wallet from his pocket with his right hand and gave it to me.
    “Would you mind paying him for me?”
    “Why don’t I hold the boxes?”
    “Ah, yes.”
    Sensei’s panama hat was even more askew now. Wiping the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief, he took out the money to pay. He put his wallet back in his breast pocket and, after a moment’s hesitation, he took off his panama hat.
    Sensei turned his hat upside down. Then he took the chicks’boxes one at a time from my hands and put them inside the upside down hat. Once the boxes were settled, Sensei began walking with the hat carried protectively under his arm.
     
    WE GOT ON the bus at the Kawasuji-nishi stop. There were fewer people on the bus ride home than on the way there. The market surged again with people who were probably doing their evening shopping.
    “I’ve heard that it’s difficult to tell the difference between a male and a female chick,” I said, and Sensei made a sort of harrumphing sound.
    “Well, I know that much.”
    “Oh.”
    “It doesn’t matter to me whether these chicks are male or female.”
    “I see.”
    “I thought one chick would be lonely on its own.”
    “Really?”
    “Really.”
    Was that so? I wondered as I got off the bus and followed Sensei into our usual bar. “Two bottles of beer,” Sensei ordered right away. “And edamame.” The beer and our glasses came right out.

    “Sensei, shall I pour?” I asked, but he shook his head.
    “No. I’ll pour for you, Tsukiko. And I’ll pour for myself too.” As usual, he wouldn’t let me pour for him.
    “Do you hate it when someone else pours?”
    “I don’t mind if they can do it well, but you aren’t very good at it.”
    “Is that right?”
    “Would you like me to teach you?”
    “That’s not necessary.”
    “You’re a stubborn one.”
    “As are you.”
    There was a stiff head of foam on the beer that Sensei poured for me. “Where will you keep the chicks?” I asked. “Inside the house, for now,” Sensei replied. I could barely hear the sound of the chicks moving inside the box, inside the hat. “Do you like having pets?” I asked. Sensei shook his head.
    “I don’t think it’s my forte.”
    “Will you be able to handle them?”
    “Chicks aren’t very cute, are they?”
    “Is it better if they aren’t cute?”
    “That way I won’t become obsessive.”
    There was a rustling sound as the chicks moved again. Sensei’s glass was empty, so I replenished it. He did not refuse. “A little more foam. That’s right.” He talked me through the technique as he serenely accepted the beer I poured for him.
    “Soon you’ll have to let those chicks out somewhere in the open,” I said. That night we drank only beer. We had edamame, grilled eggplant, and octopus