Weasels in the Attic Read online

  WEASELS IN THE ATTIC

  also by Hiroko Oyamada

  The Factory

  The Hole

  Copyright © 2013, 2014 by Hiroko Oyamada

  Translation copyright © 2022 by David Boyd

  All rights reserved. Except for brief passages quoted in a newspaper, magazine, radio, tele­vision, or website review, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the Publisher.

  The stories in Weasels in the Attic were originally published in 2012, 2013, and 2014 by Shinchosha Publishing Co., Ltd., Tokyo. This English edition is published by arrangement with Shinchosha Publishing Co., Ltd., in care of Tuttle-Mori Agency, Inc., Tokyo.

  First published as New Directions Paperbook 1542 in 2022

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  Design by Erik Rieselbach

  New Directions gratefully acknowledges the support of .

  The translator would like to thank Nick Kapur and Rebekah Chacko.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Oyamada, Hiroko, 1983– author. | Boyd, David (David G.) translator.

  Title: Weasels in the attic / Hiroko Oyamada ; translated from the Japanese by David Boyd.

  Description: First edition. | New York : New Directions Publishing, [2022]

  | “A New Directions Paperbook Original”

  Identifiers: LCCN 2022018816 | ISBN 9780811231183 (paperback) | ISBN 9780811231190 (ebook)

  Subjects: LCGFT: Short stories.

  Classification: LCC PL874.Y36 W43 2022 | DDC 895.63/6—dc23/eng/20220422

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022018816

  New Directions Books are published for James Laughlin

  by New Directions Publishing Corporation

  80 Eighth Avenue, New York 10011

  CONTENTS

  Death in the Family

  The Last of the Weasels

  Yukiko

  Landmarks

  Cover

  DEATH IN THE FAMILY

  I didn’t know how to respond when Saiki called to tell me that Shuzo Urabe had died. I’d known Saiki since college, but Urabe was much more his friend than mine. I’d only met Urabe once, not that long ago, when Saiki and I went over to his place.

  Saiki had just gotten back from the funeral, but it was pretty late.

  “I just thought you should know . . .”

  He hurried off the phone, and I opened a can of beer in Urabe’s honor. As my mind started to clear, I realized something. It was last year, nearly six months ago, that we’d gone to Urabe’s.

  My wife had gone to bed ahead of me.

  Urabe’s family had a lot of money. I think he had two older brothers, and one of them had taken over the family company. Listening to Saiki, it sounded like Urabe had probably gone his whole life without ever having a real job. He was obsessed with tropical fish, so his family had set him up with his own fish shop. I guess they figured it would keep him busy. The business failed after a few years, but he still lived in the space above the shop.

  Saiki was a fish lover, too. That was what they had in common.

  “I used to have lots of fish, a long time ago. But then I went to Urabe’s. He’s a real collector. Guess it doesn’t hurt that he’s rich. Back when he had the shop, he had all the best tanks, the best fish. He told me I could have whatever I wanted, for free, but that kind of took the fun out of it.”

  “So you don’t have any fish now?”

  “Not anymore. Keeping them alive is way too much work.”

  One day, out of the blue, Saiki asked me to go to Urabe’s with him. I had no idea why.

  “He asked me to come out to his place. He said we had to celebrate a new addition to his family or something. I’d feel weird going alone, though.”

  When we met at the station, Saiki had a giant bottle of sake wrapped in fancy paper. I don’t know why, but it hadn’t occurred to me to bring anything. Noticing my concern, Saiki shook his head and lifted the bottle.

  “We’re covered. I told you, Urabe loves booze. This’ll be more than enough. I mean, he could probably drink this whole bottle on his own, but we’ll be fine, trust me.”

  I almost never drank, and I couldn’t have cared less about tropical fish. From everything Saiki had told me, Urabe sounded really weird.

  “Didn’t he just have a baby? I don’t know if we should be trying to get this guy wasted in front of his wife and kid.”

  “Whoa, hold up,” Saiki laughed. “That’s not what he meant by ‘new addition.’ At least I’m pretty sure it isn’t. Urabe’s not the marrying type. Hell, I’ll tie the knot before he does. He probably just wants to show off some new fish or something. You’ll see.”

  I wasn’t sure if I was disappointed or relieved.

  My wife and I had been together for three years, but we hadn’t had any luck getting pregnant. She was always talking about fertility treatment, our “best options.” These talks had basically become our nightly routine. Meanwhile, it was getting harder and harder for us to see other people our age with kids of their own.

  “I always tell her it’s her call. Then she comes back with all these pamphlets and websites. ‘If the problem’s on your side, here’s what we can do, and here’s what it’ll cost us. If it’s my womb, or my ovaries, here’s what we can do, and here are our chances . . .’ It’s the same thing every night. Then she asks me: ‘On a scale of one to ten, how badly do you want kids?’”

  “Man. What can you even say to that?”

  When we got to Urabe’s place, the old shop sign was still up over the door: WORLD OF WATER—RARE AND EXOTIC FISH. It was too dark to see anything through the window. There was some kind of plastic sheet hanging up on the other side of the glass. Saiki pushed the button on the intercom, then we went around the side and up the stairs to Urabe’s apartment.

  When we opened the door, Urabe was standing there. For some reason, I’d imagined that he was going to be some scrawny guy in glasses, but he was tall and had broad shoulders. He was actually pretty good-looking. I guess he was a little pale, but if somebody told me he used to wrestle, I’d believe it. His shirt had a wild pattern on it, the kind of thing a teenager would wear. I stepped inside and took off my shoes. Lining them up with the rest, I saw a pair that clearly belonged to a woman. I shot Saiki a look. He tilted his head like he had no clue who they belonged to either.

  When we opened the door to what must’ve been his living room, the walls were lined with fish tanks, and standing in the middle of the room was a young woman, holding a baby in her arms, leaning a little to one side. She gave a sheepish nod hello.

  “Okay, so when did this happen?”

  Saiki’s voice was higher than I’d ever heard. Urabe was already sitting on the couch, alone. He gave Saiki a baffled look. “What are you talking about? I told you on the phone.”

  “I thought you were talking about some new fish . . .” Saiki muttered under his breath.

  Urabe glared at him, indignant.

  “You really think I’m going to call you up every time I have some new fish to show you? Anyway, it’s a girl. She was born last month.”

  Saiki looked embarrassed. I took a couple of steps toward the woman to get a better look at the baby, the way another woman might. “She’s sleeping,” Urabe’s wife said, holding her child out. “Do you want to take her?” I nodded. The baby’s face was small and red. Her shut eyes looked li
ke knife slits. I could feel her warmth and dampness through the layers of cloth. I’ve always liked kids. I wished I could have one of my own. I couldn’t give it a number, but I knew it was what I wanted.

  Urabe’s wife was wearing a soft, cottony blouse, her breasts hanging underneath. She and the baby really looked alike.

  “She has your face,” I said.

  “You think so?” his wife asked. She had a few freckles on her cheeks, big eyes, and a small nose. Her daughter had the same nostrils.

  Urabe’s wife moved her tiny lips. “Her father says she doesn’t.”

  “No, she does,” I said. “She has your nose.”

  “My nose? . . . You really know how to hold her.”

  “My sisters have children, and I used to babysit for them all the time.”

  The way she giggled, she couldn’t have been more than twenty. I held the baby for a while and then gave her back. She slept the whole time.

  As soon as I handed the baby back, I noticed the tanks again. I didn’t know anything about fish, but I could tell right away that this was no ordinary collection. The room had enough tanks to fill a whole shop. Maybe this had been his inventory back when the shop was open. The tanks had different shapes and sizes. The biggest one was rectangular, maybe five feet long. A few of the smaller ones were round. Some were filled with plants, but others were empty. Saiki and Urabe were standing in front of one of the tanks, talking about something.

  “You think it’s time?”

  “Any minute now.”

  “Hmm. Look at them all.”

  “Yeah, they’ve got great chemistry.”

  I looked at the tank. There were two round, flat fish inside. They were silver with inky vertical stripes, about six inches long. Depending on how the light hit, their scales glowed green or pink. They were pretty, but a little plain compared to the bright red and blue fish in the neighboring tanks. The tank had no plants, but there was something white in the middle, shaped like a traffic cone. When I walked over to them, Saiki pointed to the top of the tank.

  “See it?”

  Following his finger, I could see something like a tadpole swimming. Its head looked like a black triangle and its tail was basically a scrap of thread. It was maybe five millimeters long. It was wriggling like mad, rising and falling in the water.

  “Is that the only one?”

  “Look there.”

  Urabe held his finger over the tank, pointing down. There were little dots that looked like cod roe stuck to the side of the white cone. Some were filled with a creamy substance. Others had a black glow, but most of them were clear.

  “The ones that look black inside are about to hatch. The milky ones haven’t been fertilized.”

  The parents swam toward the surface, ready to peck at our fingers.

  “They’re angry,” Urabe said, apparently amused. He pointed to one of the adults and said, “That’s the female.” The couple took turns threatening us. Meanwhile, the tadpole, oblivious to the conflict, continued to rise and fall.

  “What’s this fish called?”

  “Discus,” Saiki and Urabe answered in unison. Urabe stared at me in disgust.

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Urabe’s a real wizard at discus breeding.”

  If I knew Saiki, he was being sarcastic, but Urabe nodded, serious as could be. His Adam’s apple was huge, bulging.

  “I have more discus here than anything else. It’s all about numbers. The more you raise, the better the pairs. The better the pairs, the better the offspring.”

  I looked around the room. At least ten tanks had the same round fish inside. Some tanks had only two fish, others had too many to count.

  “All the pairs are couples?”

  “Yeah,” Urabe nodded. “Some lay lots of eggs, others don’t. But quantity doesn’t necessarily mean anything. One time, I had a couple that laid eggs like you’ve never seen. It was crazy, but none of the eggs worked out. Then I took a closer look and it turned out they were both female.”

  “It’s really hard to tell them apart,” Saiki laughed. “The male and the female.”

  “Hey.” Urabe’s wife came up behind her husband and tugged at the back of his shirt. At some point, she must have put the baby down in a corner of the room. There were snacks and coffee on the low table by the sofa.

  “Oh, this is for you—for both of you.”

  Saiki handed the sake bottle to Urabe’s wife. She took it with a smile, then disappeared into the kitchen.

  As soon as she was gone, Saiki leaned toward Urabe and whispered, “Hey, how old is she?”

  Urabe grinned and asked back, “How old do you think?”

  Saiki looked at me. “She can’t be older than twenty,” I shrugged.

  “Haha. Twenty, huh?”

  Urabe was enjoying himself. Saiki couldn’t handle the suspense. He asked again.

  “Come on. How old?”

  “Yeah. Twenty.”

  “No way.” Saiki was visibly jealous. “How’d you pull that off?”

  “She was always in the shop.”

  “The fish shop?”

  “Where else?”

  We sat down and drank the coffee that Urabe’s young bride had made for us. Urabe hogged the bowl of snacks. Saiki had told me he was done with tropical fish, and yet he was the only one pushing the conversation in that direction. Everything they said went over my head. I’d finished my coffee, so I got back up to peer into the colorful tanks. One tank had what looked like killifish, iridescent blue and covered with different patterns, and another had something like a small scorpion fish. In the next tank, I saw a large fish that looked like a carp with well-defined scales, so I stopped.

  “Hey, is this a bonytongue?” I asked.

  “So you know that one, huh?” Saiki laughed.

  Urabe was all business. “That one’s from the shop. Too expensive for anyone to buy, I guess. If you want it, I can give it to you real cheap.”

  Saiki smiled cautiously. “How cheap?”

  “Well, I suppose I could go as low as eighty thousand.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Eighty thousand yen for a single fish. But Saiki didn’t miss a beat. “Eighty? That’s a damn good deal. If you’re willing to go that low, you should be able to sell it in no time. It’s got a great shape . . .” Saiki was staring at the fish now—I had to wonder if he might pull out his wallet right then and there.

  Urabe sighed.

  “It’s too much trouble to put an ad up. Besides, if the competition saw, they’d undersell me just for the hell of it.”

  I took another look at the bonytongue. Its scales flashed silver in the light. It almost looked like it was pouting. Personally, I wouldn’t be willing to drop that kind of money, but it really was a beautiful fish. It fanned its fins, but its eyes stayed right where they were.

  Under that tank was an even bigger one, with about thirty discus inside. They were a whole lot smaller than the couple in the other tank. They had to be babies, or maybe a little older than that. It looked like some had stripes, some had tiny spots, and others had polka dots, but they were swimming around, some coming closer, others moving farther away, so it was hard to say.

  “They were all born right here.”

  There was a voice in my ear. It was Urabe’s wife, standing next to me, admiring the fish. Urabe and Saiki had gone back to talking about fish, so she probably felt bad for me. I took a good look at her face. She wasn’t wearing any makeup. Maybe that was why she looked so young.

  “They have all kinds of patterns . . .”

  “Yeah, they do.”

  The neon light from the tank cast spots on her face. I could see fine veins in her cheeks.

  “We still don’t fully understand the relationship between genotype and phenotype. We haven’t been able t
o confirm which genes lead to which patterns. He says that’s why we need to experiment with different pairings—to see which combinations they produce.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I guess I wasn’t expecting someone so young to use that kind of language.

  “You mean like Mendel? To figure out what’s dominant or recessive . . . Like that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I see. So two fish with stripes won’t necessarily produce offspring with stripes . . .”

  “Exactly. So he’s pairing the fish to observe the outcomes.”

  “Is he publishing his findings anywhere?”

  “I bet he could, if he wanted to.”

  She smiled.

  I thought about my sisters. Having kids completely changed their appearances. They stopped wearing makeup and bought different kinds of clothes. They changed the way they spoke. It was like they became different people. I wondered what Urabe’s wife would look like if she went out with friends her own age, if she did her hair and put on makeup. She’d probably be one of those girls going around in miniskirts, the kind I tried to stay away from. She was skinny—only her breasts didn’t match the rest of her body. They looked really heavy. I felt bad for her. I wanted to ask her why she’d married a man twice her age, someone who’d never even had a real job, but I thought better of it. I’d never met them before and I didn’t want to offend either of them. Besides, it wasn’t any of my business.

  “You’re twenty, right? So what year were you born?”

  She opened her mouth like she was about to say something, then stopped. I started to feel guilty that we’d asked Urabe how old she was. I went back to looking at the fish. I could see a few red spirals at the bottom of the clear water. I was about to ask her what the spirals were when she whispered, “Um, do you want to have a drink?” She smelled so sweet that I had to look away. “We don’t have much, but . . .”

  “Please, don’t worry about that . . . with the baby and all . . .”

  Before we got here, I’d imagined that the three of us were going to be doing some serious drinking. But Saiki had no idea that Urabe had a wife and kid. Things being what they were, Saiki’s big bottle of sake was clearly not the right gift for the occasion. We would have been better off with a basket of fruit.