A break in the rainy season, the radio said.
At the end of June, high pressure from the Pacific temporarily expanded over us, bringing a forecast of four consecutive sunny days to this entire area. The sky was high from the morning, the clouds were white, and the wet green of the mountains bounced back the sunlight, dazzling to the eyes.
It was ideal weather for construction, better than anyone could have hoped for.
“Let’s get the roof finished off while we still can.”
Saying so, my old man had been loading roof tiles into the bed of the mini-truck since six in the morning. I helped him out in silence.
When we arrived at Miyashita’s house, the sliding front door was locked.
Tucked into the mailbox was a single note. It was written in familiar, round handwriting that sloped slightly upward to the right.
――I am heading back over there for roughly three days. It is for wedding ceremony planning and a dress fitting. The key is under the flowerpot by the shed. Please take care of the Dahlias. Miyashita.
A dress fitting.
I stared at those written words for a while.
“What is it?”
“…It says the client will be away for about three days.”
“Is that so? Well then, we can work without holding back.”
Shouldering the ladder, my old man quickly headed around toward the roof.
I folded up the note and tucked it into the breast pocket of my work clothes.
＊
On a sunny day, Miyashita’s house looked like a completely different house.
The glass doors of the Japanese-style room were shut tight, and beyond the frosted glass was merely bright white, with nothing blurring through. Sunlight poured onto the veranda, and fine dust gleamed on top of the wooden floorboards. Two teacups belonging to her grandmother were placed upside down on a tray.
It was hot up on the roof.
We laid the roof tiles one by one. Hooking them onto the battens, securing them with nails, and overlapping the next one. There was almost no conversation between my old man and me. There was only the cry of black kites, the sound of hammering nails, and the noise of cars driving on the distant national highway.
The work progressed amazingly well.
As if it were a lie that on rainy days we wasted half a day on checking work that should take an hour, over three days of clear weather, the south face of the roof was completely covered in new tiles. We replaced the valley gutters too. That leak stain would never spread again.
On the schedule sheet, things were going perfectly smoothly.
During lunch break, I looked down at the garden from the roof.
Bathed in sunlight, the dahlia buds had swollen even further. However, that red I saw on the rainy day looked a bit dull under the harsh light of a sunny day.
I need to water it, I thought.
In the garden where Akari was absent, I pulled the hose from the outdoor spigot and sprinkled water at the base of the dahlia. From the roof, my old man looked down at me curiously.
Finishing watering, as I happened to walk past the glass doors of the tatami room, I could see inside.
Akari’s belongings were gathered on top of the tatami mats. Folded clothing. Next to her grandmother’s notebook, a makeup pouch. Beside those, a single thick magazine had been left sitting out.
It was a bridal magazine.
On the cover, a woman in a white dress was smiling. Colorful sticky notes protruded from various parts of the pages. Venues. Dresses. Wedding favors. On several of the sticky notes, something was written in Akari’s rounded, right-slanted handwriting.
I didn’t mean to look. I immediately turned my eyes away.
Yet in that split second, I understood. Akari was preparing properly. She was walking straight toward autumn. Apart from the Akari who sat lined up with me in the tatami room with teacups on rainy days, there was an Akari who attached sticky notes, chose dresses, and prepared to become someone’s wife.
It was only natural. Afterall on the very first day, she had said so.
Why something so obvious weighed so heavily on my heart was something I didn’t understand. I didn’t want to understand.
When I returned to the roof, my old man spoke while handing me a roof tile.
“Got a call from the real estate agent. Says the handover’s been set for the end of July.”
“…Got it.”
“We’ll make the deadline.”
“Yeah. We’ll make it.”
I didn’t say that we would end up finishing in time.
“Since when do you grow flowers?”
“The client asked me to.”
It wasn’t a lie. That’s what was written on the note.
Only, the piece of paper in my breast pocket felt strangely heavy.
＊
On the morning of the second day, passing through the gate, my eyes went first and foremost to the dahlia ridge.
The buds had swollen a bit more than yesterday. The red peeking through the gaps in the calyx had expanded its surface area ever so slightly. In the dry wind of the sunny day, the leaves were rustling softly.
Don’t bloom, I thought.
Even I didn’t understand what I was thinking. Akari had said she wanted to leave town after seeing it bloom. If so, if it bloomed while Akari was away, Akari would end up missing that moment.
That was all there was to it. It was only for Akari’s sake that I thought don’t bloom.
However, somewhere in my heart, I was thinking about something else too. It would be better if it didn’t bloom. It would be fine if it remained a bud forever. That way, Akari would never be able to leave town.
It was a foolish thought. I tore my eyes away from the bud, hoisted the ladder, and climbed up to the roof.
On the night of the second day, while eating dinner at home, I was watching the weather forecast on television.
Sunny tomorrow too. Sunny the day after tomorrow as well. Starting early next week, the rainy season front is expected to move north again.
The start of the week. That would likely be when Akari returns, as well.
“You’ve been watching the weather forecast a lot lately.”
My old man, having an evening drink opposite me, muttered softly.
“Just keeping track of our work schedule.”
“Is that so.”
Without saying anything more, my old man sipped his hot water diluted shochu.
Returning to my room, I lay down on top of my futon. Outside the window, a dry night wind with no trace of rain was rattling the screen door.
While gazing up at the ceiling, I thought.
Over these three days, work had made good progress. My old man was in a good mood too. We even had extra breathing room in the construction timeline. Not a single bad thing had occurred.
Even so, I was terribly bored.
No, it wasn’t quite boredom. Something was missing. I hadn’t known that a night without the sound of rain could be this quiet.
――Well then, I hope it rains a lot this year.
I felt that for the first time, I properly understood those words from Akari.
If it rained, the roof construction would halt. If construction halted, the work schedule would stretch out. If the schedule stretched out, the time she could stay in this town would also――
No, that wasn’t it. Akari had said she would leave town when the rainy season ended. The construction timeline had nothing to do with it. Regardless of the work schedule, she would leave once the rainy season cleared up.
If so, what was the meaning behind those words?
On rainy days, I would come over.
Thinking that far, I rolled over. I pressed my face into the pillow.
It’s conceited. There’s no way that’s it. She was talking about the dahlia. If it rained, she wouldn’t have to water the dahlia. It was nothing more than that.
Even telling myself that, the stirring deep in my chest didn’t quiet down.
I was waiting for the rain.
Clear weather meant construction made progress, which was the right thing as far as work went, yet I was wishing for rain to fall. If it rained, I would have a pretext. I could sit in that tatami room, hold my teacup in both hands, and listen to the sound of Akari turning notebook pages.
I was not so much of a child that I failed to understand what that meant.
But I wasn’t enough of an adult to admit it either.
＊
On the evening of the third day, when we finished laying the last roof tile, dark clouds were welling up in the western sky.
“An evening shower is coming. Let’s pack up.”
Hurried by my old man’s voice, while we loaded tools into the truck bed, the first rain drops pierced black dots into the dry ground. They rapidly grew in number, turning into a pounding downpour in the blink of an eye.
My old man jumped into the driver’s seat. I placed my hand on the passenger seat door, and then, looked back toward the garden.
The dahlia’s support stake was sway-shaking under the pelt of the rain.
“Dad, go home first. I’ll walk back after I check on the stake.”
“Don’t be stupid, walking in this rain?”
“It’ll stop soon.”
My old man started to say something, but in the end, drove off with the truck in silence.
I ducked under the eaves of the storage shed and waited out the rain. The evening shower was intense, yet short. In less than fifteen minutes, the rain slackened, and red sunset light streamed through a break in the western clouds.
The post-rain garden was brimming with light.
Every single wet leaf glowed golden in the setting sun. Water droplets trembled on the tips of weeds, and drops fell pattering down from the persimmon tree. The air was crystal clear as if washed clean, and the smell of soil rose up.
There, in front of the veranda, the dahlia had bloomed.
Pounded by the evening shower, the largest bud had finally opened.
It was a deep, deep red.
Petals layered over and over were spreading outward from the center, slowly swirling open. The size of the flower was as large as my fully opened palm. Water droplets rested on every single petal, catching the setting sun and sparkling like jewels.
I had thought it was a showy flower. Just an excessively large flower you would spot at a florist’s storefront.
I was wrong.
That red was not showy, but deep. It was a quiet, heavy red that felt as if it would pull you into its depths as you stared at it. Leaning against its support stake, it nevertheless raised its head straight up, looking at the post-rain sky.
In the garden lacking its owner, the last dahlia left by her grandmother was blooming.
Just then, came the sound of footsteps crunching gravel over by the gate.
Turning around, I saw Akari standing there.
Holding a suitcase in one hand and in the middle of folding up her umbrella with the other, she had frozen in place. She must have taken a taxi from the station. Having gotten caught in the evening shower, the ends of her hair were wet again.
: Akari’s eyes passed right by me and turned to the dahlia.
“…It bloomed.”
It was a small voice.
Leaving her suitcase right there, Akari slowly crossed the garden. She crouched down in front of the dahlia. With her fingertips, she softly touched a wet petal.
“It bloomed, Grandma.”
That voice was trembling.
Saying nothing, I stood a short distance away. I merely watched her back trembling subtly. The setting sun dyed her damp hair and the red of the dahlia in the exact same color.
Eventually Akari stood up, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and turned back toward me.
“Ryo-kun, you were giving it water for me, weren’t you.”
“…Because it was written on the note.”
“Thank you.”
Akari smiled. It was not her usual smile that felt like a thin film. It was a slightly awkward, defenseless smile from after crying.
The instant I saw that, I thought to myself that I could no longer deceive myself.
“How did the dress fitting go?”
Instead, those were the words that came out of my mouth.
Akari’s smile froze for just a single fraction of a second.
“…It was beautiful. Extremely.”
“Is that so.”
“Mhm. Mashima-san said it looked good on me as well.”
Akari started to take her smartphone out of her bag.
“I have pictures, though. Do you want to see?”
“No.”
My voice came out stronger than I had expected.
Akari’s hand froze. I hurriedly added to my words.
“…Isn’t it better to save that kind of thing until the day of the ceremony? Probably.”
Even I didn’t know what I was saying. Akari looked blankly at me for a short moment, and then slipped the smartphone back into her bag.
“That’s true. Maybe you’re right.”
Akari didn’t say anything beyond that. I couldn’t say anything either. A leftover drop from the evening shower fell plop from a persimmon leaf.
Akari shifted her gaze back toward the dahlia.
Still, this is much more beautiful.”
In the western sky, clouds were about to swallow the setting sun. Starting tomorrow, it would rain again.
I thought to myself that I shouldn’t be happy about that.
Even while telling myself that, I was happy.
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