The Gargoyle

“You’ll need to use this as well.” Sayuri held out a spring-loaded contraption. The way my face had been burned left me particularly susceptible to oral commissures-scar tissue around the corners of my mouth-which, if not treated, would make it difficult for me to eat or speak in the future. After I had properly wedged the retractor into my mouth, I raised the mask to my face. It was to remain in place all the time, except during cleaning and skin care, even while I was sleeping. I asked Maria

I looked into the mirror. As if the scarred topography of my face were not enough, it was now smashed flat by the clear plastic. The areas that were normally red had turned white under the pressure and the retractor had peeled my mouth outwards in a grotesque grimace. Every imperfection was amplified, and I looked like the bastard child of Ha

Sayuri assured me that a poor first reaction was normal, because all burn patients-including me, despite being specifically told otherwise-assume that the mask will hide their faces. But it did not. It would not shield me and help me cope; it was a Petri dish that would place my face under the microscope of the world.

Sayuri explained the proper order in which to put on the pressure garments and showed Maria

IT FEELS GOOD, DOES IT NOT? LIKE YOU ARE BEING BURIED ALIVE. The snake loved to laugh at me. I AM COMING.

I found Maria

She asked whether I was ready to eat. I answered that I was. I went out on a limb to guess that Japanese was on the menu.

“So desu ne. How perceptive you are,” she said with a slight bow. The stream on her kimono disappeared into the blue sash across her waist, drawn with an obi bow in back. “I’ve been reading Makura no Sshi.”

“Yeah, I saw that on your bookshelf. Pillow-something, right?”

“The Pillow Book of Sei Shnagon. A very famous Japanese text, tenth century, and the first novel ever written. Or so they say, but who knows for sure? I’ve been thinking that I should do something with it. You’d be surprised how many great Japanese books don’t have decent Latin translations.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

Maria

We cleaned our hands with o-shibori, steaming napkins, and then she placed her palms together. She said, “Itadakimas!” (a Japanese blessing before eating), before adding her more familiar Latin invocation.

She showed me the proper way to stir my miso soup with chopsticks and demonstrated that ramen noodles must be slurped loudly, because this not only cools them but makes them taste better. While she drank sake, she insisted that I stick with oolong tea; she just wouldn’t give up that silly idea that alcohol and morphine don’t mix. Every time my cup was less than half-full, she refilled it with a slight but respectful bow. When I inserted my chopsticks into my bowl of rice so that they stood straight up like two trees growing out of a snowy hill, she immediately pulled them out. “It’s disrespectful to the dead.”

When the meal finally ended, she rubbed her hands together gleefully. “Tonight I’ll tell you a story about another woman named Sei, although this one wasn’t even born until hundreds of years after the writing of the Pillow Book.”

XVII.

Long ago in old Japan, a girl named Sei was born to a glassblower named Yakichi. At first her father was disappointed that she was not a son, but his disappointment ended the second that he held her. From that moment on he was devoted to her, and she to him.

Yakichi watched with proud eyes as Sei grew from a spirited child into an intelligent young lady. That she was beautiful was beyond question and, in her fine features, Yakichi could see his late wife’s eyelids and cheekbones. The mother died when Sei was just a child and this made the father and daughter hold each other all the tighter.

On the verge of adulthood, Sei decided to follow in her father’s footsteps. Yakichi felt great joy in her decision and his happiness was now complete: his knowledge wouldn’t die with him, after all. Sei adopted the title of Glassblower’s Apprentice and showed remarkable potential and quick progress. She had a delicate touch and, more important, she could envision the object before it was blown. Technique can always be learned, Yakichi knew, but Sei was born with the gift of vision. She could see beauty where others saw only empty air.

Sei studied well under her father’s tutelage, learning just how hot to stoke the fire and just how forcefully to blow. She learned to read the bright glow of the heated glass. She worked diligently to develop her understanding of breath; for she knew that with breath she could create a world. She imagined herself breathing life into the glass and, with every week that passed, Sei came closer to realizing the loveliness of the objects that she could picture in her imagination.

Yakichi began to bring Sei to the local weekend market, where he maintained a stand to sell their wares. Men started to come in swarms. They claimed they wanted to look at the glasswork but really, of course, they came to look at the captivating young woman. “How like glass you yourself are,” one old man couldn’t help but say, scuttling away like a crab across a beach when he realized that the words had actually slipped aloud from his claws.

Soon, their table was selling out before lunchtime. Almost all the pieces were purchased by men-even as gifts for their own wives-simply because they wanted to own a container of Sei’s breath.

Yakichi was pleased. Business was stronger than ever, finances were good, and Sei was becoming a fine glassblower. But for all their success, Yakichi wished a husband for his daughter. Though he was a protective father, he wanted her to experience all that life had to offer and, he thought, a “beneficial” marriage would better their family line.

So Yakichi took stock of the men who frequented the stand. There were artisans, landowners, fishermen and farmers, soldiers and samurai. Certainly, he mused with a smile, there would be no shortage of suitors. After all, Sei had beauty, skill, health, a pleasing personality, and loyalty. She would be a fine wife and good mother, anyone could see that, and it would be easy to arrange an advantageous marriage.