Part One of a short story set in a music store in Kyoto.

A buffeting wind shakes the display window and Aki looks up from the register. Outside is a tall young man, certainly a foreigner, his back to the window, reading off of a scrap of paper in one hand, holding the handlebar of his bicycle with the other. The wind twirls the autumn leaves around him in a vortex. The rain is just beginning but he carries no umbrella and doesn’t raise his hood. For a moment all Aki sees is this stranger, framed by the window, alone on the pavement. She feels potential wrapped in his presence, the drama of the wind and the leaves an omen. There is a rumbling in her chest.

Her sister Natsumi always laughs at her seriousness, at how she sees the world. Aki on the other hand believes that Natsumi doesn’t see the world at all.

The young man refers to the paper again and turns around. She watches his serious expression brighten at the painted sign on their window. Lovely! New and Used Records.

He leans his bike in the corner, pulls the door and steps in. The wind follows him, depositing two red maple leaves on the floor just inside the door.

Irasshaimase, welcome,” she says as he enters.

 A lazy echo comes from under the counter where her sister is feeding the elusive store cat, Kuro.

The young man nods to Aki in response.

“Sumimasen. Excuse me,” he says looking at the leaves on the otherwise pristine floor. He moves to pick them up and Aki puts up her hand to stop him.

“Please don’t pick them up. They are lovely just as they are.” Aki says in English.

He wanders for a moment, taking in the old Showa era posters from the 1960s, the comfortable arm chairs, the hanging plants in the window, and the cramped crates of music. An uptick in the classical cello piece playing overhead catches his attention and he looks up and around to find the speakers. She is pleased. She knows the sound system is excellent and the music was her choice. Aki continues to watch him as he admires the store. She senses his happiness, it is pure and obvious on his face. He has found a place that speaks to him.

He looks up and straight at her. He catches her watching him. Before she can move away from his gaze he smiles a slow and deliberate smile. She is powerless not to smile back because in that moment she sees past his smile to something else. She doesn’t know what that something else is yet, but she feels that this very ordinary moment is not ordinary at all.

It is an instant.

Then it is gone.

Natsumi pokes her head up. She sees the handsome newcomer and scoots out from behind the counter. “How can I help you?” she asks in Japanese. Her short shorts and sandals are out of season but set off her legs beautifully.

He politely waves away Natsumi’s help coupled with a word or two of textbook Japanese. His gaze lingers on Natsumi, and with a mild blush on his face he starts to flip through the albums. Aki turns away, not willing to watch another one fall under Natsumi’s spell. She tugs at her modest skirt and removes her glasses.

Natsumi shrugs and joins Aki by the new display.

Aki doesn’t approve of her older sister’s approach in the store, or her approach to most things for that matter. Aki believes that clients want privacy and time to be with their thoughts. To listen to the music, not Natsumi’s voice. “Just because you want silence doesn’t mean everyone does,” her sister debates, but Aki feels that she could turn the argument the other way as well. Just because Natsumi is outgoing doesn’t mean everyone else is comfortable with that. Better to err on the side of restraint, she feels. This disagreement is at the core of the difference between the sisters. One rushes forward and acts, usually before thinking and often makes mistakes, but she makes them with gusto. The other holds back and thinks, often too much, and frequently has regrets.

Together the girls work on the new seasonal display. Aki is shorter and paints red maple leaves on the window. They appear to float to the ground. Aki had been correct earlier, she thinks, since the two leaves in the entryway look as if they have been placed there intentionally to accent the window painting.

Natsumi paints words over Aki’s leaves. “Why be as normal, when possibly you are so lovely!” The slogan was Natsumi’s idea, she said all the chic stores have English slogans. Aki told her the English wasn’t correct but Natsumi is stubborn and continues to paint.

Aki catches another glimpse of the young man as he browses the store. This time she is more careful not to be caught but sees enough to notice that his features are rugged yet refined and his hair is wavy and unruly. He wears his glasses with confidence like a fashion accessory rather than a necessity. She can discern this because she never feels pretty in her own glasses.

Aki notices that her sister is not so cowardly. She makes blatant eye contact and he cannot help but stare back. Aki knows that Natsumi’s looks are hard for men to ignore. Aki loves her sister but sometimes wished Natsumi’s figure wasn’t so perfect or her smile so stunning. Aki knows she is pretty too but can’t help feeling the sun always shines brighter over Natsumi.

He finds the jazz section and settles into a worn armchair to listen to some selections on the demo machine. He slips on the headphones.  

Kare ga suki.” Natsumi tilts her head toward Aki.

“You like every boy,” Aki whispers back to her sister.

“What’s wrong with that?” Natsumi asked.

Aki knew what was wrong with it. Not all boys are equal. Not all boys are worth the trouble. But sometimes one just clicks…

After a while he removes the headphones and returns to the counter.

Sumimasen, excuse me. Do you have Cannonball Adderley’s album Somethin’ Else?”

His accent is American, not British. And his T-shirt slogan is written in good English. I speak fluent movie quotes. Obviously not made in Japan.

With the paint brush still in hand, Natsumi heads to the jazz section to look for the record but Aki beats her to it. Aki knows most of the inventory; she is a compulsive organizer.

“We don’t have what you are looking for but we do have his album from his 1963 concert in Tokyo.” Aki turns to their rare collection behind the counter and hands him a vintage album.

Autumn Leaves is just the piece I’m looking for. Thank you. This may be even better. Ikura desu ka?

“It is 4,450 yen.”

“Oh. I can’t afford that at the moment. I didn’t bring enough money today.” He blunders first in poor Japanese and finally in English.

“I’m sorry. Even in Japan this album is rather rare.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s worth it. Maybe next time.”

“I will save it for you, then? I don’t want you to miss out on it. You can pay…on time? Is that the correct expression?”

“Thank you, yes.” That smile again. Then he slips his hands deep in his pockets and shrugs his shoulders. Looking for the next thing to say.

Lovely, such an unusual name for a record shop. But appropriate under the circumstances.” He turns to one and then the other lovely girl before him. He says this with confidence but once silent he is almost blushing. Aki finds his fluctuations between self-assurance and discomfort very endearing. Pushing forward and pulling back, a paradox she understood very well.

“Yes, we are just dressing for the windows. Window dressing. We don’t know much about music.” Natsumi turns to him with the paint brush in her hand and nearly brushes his clothes.

The two of them laugh comfortably. This is what Natsumi possesses in abundance, what makes her so attractive to both men and women, her nonchalance.

“I’m sure the owner hired you for your brains not just your beauty.”

“No, the owner is our aunt. She definitely hired us for our beauty,” Natsumi says looking at him with no embarrassment.

Aki does not understand how she can be so bold. But Aki chimes in to preserve a place for herself in the conversation.

“She inherited the business from our uncle. He named the store Lovely! because he believed all his customers came in to see his lovely wife. She was the secret to his success he used to say. So our aunt saw no reason to change.”

The phone rings and both girls stare at it but neither moves. Aki finally answers, Moshi, moshi.”

Natsumi turns to him.

“My name is Natsumi, what is your name?”

“Ian. Hajimemashite.”

Natsumi giggles. “You are so polite for an American. Where are you from? New York? L.A.?”

“New York, I am here in Kyoto teaching English. And you are from Kyoto I take it?”

“No, we are from Osaka. Aki is my sister. We study at Kyoto University. We work part time for our aunt for a room. In exchange for a room.” Natsumi stumbles with her English but Ian doesn’t seem to notice.

Aki turns a stern face at her sister and motions her to whisper.

“What are you playing on your turntable?” He whispers to Natsumi.

“I don’t know anything about classical music. But that is all Aki plays.”

Aki puts down the receiver. “Dvorak. String Quartet #12 in F major. Coincidentally named The American.

“Don’t let Aki fool you. She knows nothing of classical music. She is teaching herself. She started with the letter A. Today she is on D.”

“It’s very meditative music. And a coincidence, you’re right,” Ian says.

“As Natsumi says, I am just learning, but­­­—”

“It’s my break, Aki. I’m going next door for ramen.” She turns to Ian. “You look hungry. Won’t you join me?” Natsumi grabs her leather jacket from the peg by the door.

Ian hesitates. “Are you coming?” He says to Aki.

He waits a moment longer then gives in like all the others and follows Natsumi out the door.

Aki watches them leave.

On the floor in front of the counter Aki finds a crumpled piece of paper napkin. The Black Cat Jazz Club, Tokyo. In the corner is an illustration of a black cat with a red bow tie, his tail wrapped around the stem of a martini glass. On the reverse side is a map and the address for Lovely! New and Used Records. It smells like peppermint. She folds it neatly and slips it in her pocket.

*  *  *

Tina deBellegarde is the author of the Batavia-on-Hudson series, the latest publication being Winter Witness. For an interview with the author, please see here.

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