The Electrical Field by Kerri Sakamoto

I took off my glove. His shirt was wet, and a sharp, yeasty odour rose from him.
    “Harder!” he rasped and stooped lower. “Hayaku!” He meant for me to rub faster, and I tried, but though his flesh was solid and thick I was afraid of hurting him. Then, like a clearing arrived at in a forest, my movements finally found a rhythm that joined with his slowing breath. In another moment he straightened up and was able to breathe more easily. He pushed my hand away then, roughly.
    “Iie, iie,” he muttered gruffly, like an issei with no other words, like Papa, telling me: enough. He took the jacket I held out to him. “San kyu, san kyu,” he said with a mock bow.
    “Are you all right now?” I asked cautiously.
    “Fine, fine.” He took a deep breath to show me. “A little breathing problem. Nothing serious.” He coughed once more.
    I nodded. “Well, if you’re sure you’re all right.” I’d already stepped away from him.
    He waved me off. “I know, I know. Papa’s waiting, right?” He winked and fell in beside me. “Don’t hold back. I can keep up,” he reassured me. But I could tell he was growing tired, and I slowed down. I noticed he was staring straight ahead, up at the hill.
    “You know who they named that for, don’t you?”
    I shook my head.
    He whistled, watching me. “The prime minister. That bugger Mackenzie King.”
    I had no interest in that kind of discussion, of things I’d long ago left behind and made my peace with. But Yano kept on with them. I stopped at the point in the field opposite his house. There were still no drapes up, as there never would be, and the window displayed an empty space without furniture. Then, quite abruptly, Chisako with her stark black bun peeked out from the corner of the glass. She must have been there for some time. No sooner had our eyes met when she vanished. Yano seemed unaware as he put his jacket back on, and took one quavering, gulping breath that betrayed him. “See you again, Saito-san,” he said cheerfully, smiling a wide-open smile that revealed a jumble of teeth in a too-small mouth.
    As my little porch and my curtained front window came into sight, I heard him bellow behind me across the field. “Saito-san!” I turned and gave a short wave.
    “Thank you, Saito-san! Thank you!” he shouted back.
    My memories of those first meetings with Yano drifted in and out of my head, I suppose because I’d summoned them. I was haunted by the echo of that voice, that voice not heard in days, wondering when I would hear it once more. Remembering too how he unsettled me each time, repelled as I was by him. I wanted to convince myself that, repulsive man though he was, Yano was not capable of harming his own children, or his wife. Something had gone terribly wrong, it was true. But Yano was not capable of such an act. The children, I was convinced—in spite of Stum’s terrible accusation—were somewhere, anywhere, safe with him.
    “It’s still there.” Sachi was rubbing her fingers together as she had at the parking lot just days ago. Already it was Tuesday. Clutching books in one arm, she watched me closely as I held the screen door open to her.
    “What is?” I couldn’t tell if she was trying to torture me or herself. But I had to make her say the words.
    “The blood. Tam’s mom.” Behind her the late-afternoon sky was growing sooty. I shook my head as I let her in.
    She sniffed her finger. “I never washed it.”
    “Stop!” I snatched her wrist, pushed it away too roughly. I could only play the game with her so long. But she persisted.
    “It gets in through your pores, see?” She held up her finger to me. I tried not to recoil, what she’d want. There wasnothing to see. “Blood attracts blood,” she said. “Did you know that, Miss Saito?” Peering at me, steely yet quivering, like a tuning fork. Something flared in her eyes, behind her glasses, which she rarely wore.
    “I thought you only needed those for reading the blackboard,”