Grandpa headed down the path toward the river and we followed closely behind. There was almost no light. It was cold. There were no cicadas, but I could hear insects all around us. It was as if the sound was coming from underground. It couldn’t have been crickets. Whatever was making the sound had to be much smaller. It rose up from the river, from the weeds on the bank, filling the air. Cold air crept up the sleeves of my old T-shirt, giving me goose bumps. My brother-in-law looked bored as he walked. I wanted to tell Grandpa it was time to head back, but he moved with such certainty that it made me hesitate. If there was somewhere he wanted to go, I felt like I had to let him. In the dim glow of the streetlights and the lights from the cars across the river, I strained my eyes to get a better look. From what I could see, it didn’t seem like Grandpa was in his pajamas. Was that a polo shirt? My brother-in-law was in his usual outfit — leather shoes and all. His white shirt practically glowed in the dark. His shoes scraped against the concrete pavement, but Grandpa didn’t turn around. My brother-in-law sneezed loudly — but Grandpa still didn’t seem to notice.
After some time, Grandpa took a sudden turn off the path, heading down toward the overgrown bank. For a moment, the sound of the insects stopped, then started buzzing even louder. Grandpa had disappeared. Every once in a while, headlights across the river cast light on the water. “He got in,” my brother-in-law said as he came to a stop. “He got in?” I asked. He didn’t respond. All I could do was head down the bank after Grandpa. Something snapped under my shoe. Small bugs flew in my face. I held my breath and walked slowly down the uncertain slope. With every step, I felt hard and soft things underfoot. Grasshoppers shrilled, then flew into the air. A large bird standing by the edge of the river appeared to be emitting its own light. In the darkness, I saw a large hole — only Grandpa’s head was showing. He was looking in the direction of the river. I dropped into the empty hole next to his. I felt like I had no choice. I stepped on something soft. I looked down and saw a pair of eyes looking up at me, blinking. It was the animal. I felt a cool, moist air coming up from the bottom of the hole. It didn’t smell, but I could feel its stiff fur through the legs of my pajamas. I could tell that it was breathing. The sky looked both distant and near. Gravity seemed heavier, but my body felt lighter. A bird that looked particularly large from my vantage point stretched its neck, shook its head, then went still again. The buzz of insects sank into my gut.
“You know . . .” I could hear my brother-in-law above us. “I never thought Muneaki would come home. I thought he hated it.” “Hated what?” “This. This place, this family.” He sneezed again. It looked like Grandpa was staring at the sky. From where I was, I could only see the back of his head. I couldn’t tell if he could hear my brother-in-law or not. “I mean, what’s to like? Think about it. I put him through a whole lot. A whole lot. It was hard on all of them. Mom, Dad, Gramps. Maybe it’s a good thing Granny passed before I got this way . . . It’s a sad state of affairs. I know I’m talking about myself, but I guess part of me has always felt like it was someone else, even now.” The headlights on the other side of the river disappeared. The river went black. Together with the insects, I could hear something moving slowly. Maybe it was the water. Maybe the wind was picking up. As soon as the thought crossed my mind, a cold breeze blew in from the water — colder than it ever was in daytime. “If it were me, I probably would have put more distance between myself and this place. I guess he couldn’t do it, and honestly it’s a real weight off me. I heard he was coming back — and then he really did. It’s a bit strange to say this, and it’s not like I’ve been looking on from beyond the grave or anything, but ever since he moved back, I’ve watched him go to work every morning and then come home. In my own way. Just like mom, really . . . I guess it’s weird, but we’re only human. That’s life, right? I wouldn’t wish it on you, but it was your choice after all, wasn’t it?” “What was?” “This. This current that never stops. Everything I wanted to escape from.” I could see ripples on the water, but I couldn’t tell where the light was coming from. Little waves formed one after another, each with its own shape. I could hear Grandpa breathing heavily. Maybe he was cold. I know I was. I had to get him home, right away. “Bride — please don’t think badly of them for hiding me away. It’s me. I’m the bad one.”
As cars appeared on the road again, I could see the outline of the grass across the bank. The large bird flew up, then plunged into the river. Lit up by the flash of the headlights, it looked bright red. The water rippled, then became quiet again. The bird didn’t return to the shore. I could hear the animal breathing by my feet as if it were asleep. I tried lifting myself out, but my hands sank into the wet soil. I tried kicking off the wall. When I did, the bottom of my foot bumped the animal’s snout. It jerked up as I rolled out of the hole. I could hear the animal inside, breathing, moving. I looked down, but it had already dissolved into darkness. I reached out to Grandpa and said, “Let’s go home.” He turned his eyes from the sky to me. It must have been the first time our eyes had really met. He groaned as he gave me his hand — it was damper and hotter than I thought it would be. His palm felt hard as a rock, his arm heavy. The soil squelched between my hand and his. I put all my weight into pulling him out. His hand in mine, I led Grandpa up the slope. He followed obediently. “This moon’s too good to pass up,” my brother-in-law said, “I’m staying here for now.” I looked up, but didn’t see the moon anywhere. Nothing but clouds. “If that’s what you want. Just be safe. We’re heading home.” While we walked, I thought I could hear children rustling in the grass. I turned around a few times, but never saw anyone. Maybe it was just the insects.
When I got Grandpa home, I stepped into the entryway and called for Tomiko. The door inside was unlocked. Tomiko came down and so did her husband. I hadn’t seen him in so long. Even during Obon, he was out playing golf. He didn’t look the way I’d remembered him. In his loose, blue pajamas, he looked thinner than before. He and Tomiko were staring at me in wonder. A yellow light fell on them, casting deep shadows on Tomiko’s face. She looked worn out.
“What’s going on?” “Grandpa went outside, just now. I saw him leave, so I went after him and brought him back.” “Grandpa,” Tomiko said in a high-pitched voice, placing one hand on his shoulder. “You’re as cold as ice,” she said to him, glaring at me. “It’s got to be freezing out there. Grandpa, where were you trying to go?” He didn’t answer. He looked tired, almost asleep. I watched while Tomiko tried to get Grandpa to look her in the eye, but he wouldn’t. Still, he had to be looking at something. At different moments, his pupils grew larger and smaller. Tomiko gave up and looked at me. This time she put on a faint smile, so I did the same. “Thank you, Asa,” she said. Then she muttered in a lower voice, “I don’t know how I didn’t notice . . .” “I don’t know how I did.” I said good night and closed the door behind me. On the other side, I could hear Tomiko saying something, but it was too quiet to make out. Her husband’s voice was louder, but still indistinct. When I got home, my husband was still sound asleep. I crawled into bed. I could feel the mattress under my back rise and fall with his breaths. After that, Grandpa got a fever, which soon gave way to pneumonia. Tomiko took him to the hospital and he died not long after.