Saito wasn't sure whether he believed such arguments or not. But he had to admit, love was not the only motivating factor in his desire to marry Keiko. There were other feelings, much more difficult to define, underscored by a tremendous sense of how "right" it would be to have her as his wife. If Sakamoto asked him to explain his decision, he'd just have to laugh and make a joke of it. But if he were pressed for the real reason, Saito simply would not be able to explain. Perhaps that's what love was. Indefinable. Was it the same with everyone?Saito turned away from the window and looked at Keiko. How easily she had fallen asleep. Her head was rocking gently on his shoulder now, her hair framing her round face like a snug black hood. Again, the words "my wife" formed in his mind and all but moved to his throat and beyond his lips. They were beginning to sound less strange. He sensed that in a very short period of time, he would be able to say them with no hesitation at all.
* * * Their arrival at the station in Saito's hometown as much less eventful than he had imagined. His parents were waiting for them, and his father even helped carry their bags to the taxi. On the way to the house, they talked about the train trip, the incredible rise in rail fares over the past year, how lucky they had been to get tickets despite the New Year's crowds, and so on. Once home, the women separated into the kitchen, leaving Saito and his father in the main room to carry on a casual conversation about business, especially the miraculous way in which securities forms had been able to weather the current recession.
"You are indeed fortunate to have entered such a stable company," his father said. "The high times we experienced twenty years ago are gone for good. And where rapid growth is not possible, stability is most important. Now is when the value of tradition becomes apparent. Those companies with firm roots in the past shall survive these hard times. Believe me. Do you remember the big typhoon that struck shortly after we visited you in Tokyo in the autumn?"
Saito nodded that he did.
"Well, those new pre-fab houses they built near the coast here took quite a beating, but you can see for yourself how well ours weathered it. Not a splinter was lost from the storm shutters. The thatching did not even shiver. More than one hundred years in the family, this old house, but it can still take it. Built to last for generations."
It was certainly a fine house as he said. Saito had helped the workmen repair the thatching some eight years ago, and he recalled how one of the workers had praised the roof, saying, "With this over your head, the sky could fall down and you would never know it."
Yet Saito was worried that his father might be talking about something other than the house. Between the lines, he might have been alluding to Saito's "pre-fabricated" marriage plans and cautioning him. If so, would it be wiser to offer a cryptic reply in return, something about the merits of new construction techniques, or to safely change the subject back to business?
Fortunately, the women emerged from the kitchen with tea and plates full of New Year's sweetbeans before the conversation went any further. Cups were set on the table and the tea was poured. The women had brought their own topic with them, something about a television variety show they had all seen, and they soon had the men engaged in their conversation. Saito decided he had been overly sensitive in reading hidden meaning into his father's words about houses. His father himself had said that the only prerequisite for a good marriage was good family background. Soon, Keiko's parents would arrive and the final test would be passed. Though he had not yet met her parents either, Saito had been assured by Keiko of their approval, provided the meeting went well. He had no doubt that they were every bit as respectable and well rooted as she had said they were and, more importantly, as his father expected them to be. If they had raised a daughter as wonderful as Keiko, how could they be otherwise?
* * * At a quarter to three, they heard a car turn slowly onto the gravel entryway to the house. Saito's mother went to the front door, followed by Keiko, who signaled back that her parents had indeed arrived. A moment later, all were exchanging greetings on the porch, Keiko herself acting as go-between. Saito's mother, however, as anxious to usher them into the house and out of the chill.
"We really wanted to meet at a hotel," she said, as they entered the main room and began seating themselves on cushions around the low table. "It would have been so much more appropriate for introductions. But the crowds, you know. It's the same each New Year."
In Saito's opinion at least, the meeting could not have started off any better. Keiko's mother was affable and conversant with a variety of subjects, just as his own mother was. She told of their drive from Gunma Prefecture, some sic hours' journey in all. It had wearied her, but thank goodness Keiko had provided them with such a detailed map of the route. (Oh, had Saito drawn it? How talented!)
Keiko's father. Mr. Nakajima, had done all of the driving. He complained good-naturedly about the road conditions, but berated himself for not starting out earlier. (Had they arrived earlier than expected? How surprising!)
Mrs. Nakajima commented that her husband was a late riser; Saito's mother claimed the same for hers ... though he quickly added that the time lag between their waking was the only period of peace in his day. The mild chiding and banter helped smooth over the formality of the encounter. It was obvious how anxious they all were to make this first meeting a success.
