They exclaimed in delight and had her refill their glasses.
Smiling, Kaguya said, “The customer’s appreciation of food doesn’t require fancy words. All anyone needs to say is, ‘It’s good.’ That and the look on someone’s face is all the reward a chef needs. But we do need words when we’re in training.”
Kishibe had never heard Kaguya be so talkative. She rested her chopsticks and listened.
“I started learning to cook when I was in my teens, but only after meeting Majime did the importance of words strike me. He says that memories are words. A fragrance or a flavor or a sound can summon up an old memory, but what’s really happening is that a memory that had been slumbering and nebulous becomes accessible in words.”
Washing up as she spoke, Kaguya went on. “So the question for a chef is, when you eat something delicious, how do you capture the flavor in words? That’s an important ability for a chef to have. Watching my husband’s fascination with dictionaries made me realize that.”
The Majime who wrote that off-the-wall love letter was now a husband who gave his wife advice on her job and whispered sweet words of love in her ear? Struck by this unexpected thought, Kishibe asked, “Is he very talkative at home?”
“No, he’s quiet and always has his nose in a book.”
Just as she had thought.
Beside her, Miyamoto nodded thoughtfully. “I think I understand what you were saying just now. I work for a company that makes paper, and verbalizing a color or texture to the person in charge of development is a huge challenge. But talking it over, coming to a shared understanding, and then seeing exactly the kind of paper I’d visualized come into being is a great source of pleasure. Nothing beats it.”
Words were necessary for creation. Kishibe imagined the primordial ocean that covered the surface of the earth long ago—a soupy, swirling liquid in a state of chaos. Inside every person there was a similar ocean. Only when that ocean was struck by the lightning of words could all come into being. Love, the human heart . . . Words gave things form so they could rise out of the dark sea.
“How do you like working in the Dictionary Editorial Department?” Unusually for her, Kaguya posed a question.
Kishibe smiled. “At first I felt lost, but I really enjoy the work now. I find it rewarding.” When she had first transferred there, she never dreamed the day would come when she could say those words with such warmth.
Two more groups of customers came in, so from then on Kaguya had her hands full. Even so, timing it just right, she ended their meal with hot green tea poured over cooked white rice with savory toppings, followed by a jellied dessert, followed finally by dishes of homemade vanilla ice cream. Miyamoto and Kishibe ate it all, chatting with pleasure.
“What’s it like working with Mr. Majime?” In deference to Kaguya, Miyamoto asked this in a low voice. “He seems a little inaccessible, perhaps? A bit eccentric, I think.”
“Well, let’s see,” Kishibe said, sensing that he wasn’t looking to gossip but sincerely wanted to know. “For one thing, we’re having it out now about man and woman.” Seeing his look of surprise, she said hastily, “I mean, the words ‘man’ and ‘woman.’”
He nodded. “When I was in junior high school, I remember looking up ‘woman’ in the dictionary.”
“Whatever for?”
“Well, you know—kids that age have all sorts of ideas.” He sounded embarrassed and apologetic. “All it said was, ‘The sex that is not male.’ What a disappointment!”
“That’s just it!” she said excitedly. “When you look up ‘man’ in Wide Garden of Words, it says, ‘one of the human sexes; the one not female.’ Then if you look up ‘woman,’ it says, ‘one of the human sexes; the one with childbearing organs.’ For ‘man,’ Great Forest of Words has ‘the sex possessing the organs and physiology for the purpose of impregnating a woman,’ and for ‘woman’ it has ‘the sex with the organs and physiology for the purpose of childbearing.’
Catching her dissatisfaction, Miyamoto fell to thinking. “Are you saying the definition should include transgendered people?”
“I’m saying that explaining human gender as a male-female dichotomy is a bit dated, even from the standpoint of physiology, isn’t it? Dictionaries often do define a word by putting it in opposition to another one and saying, ‘Not this.’ But with ‘left’ and ‘right,’ they come up with some ingenious definitions.”
“Like what?”
“Look it up sometime.”
Kishibe finished her ice cream and sipped a cup of hot tea. “Maybe there’s no way around it, but I don’t think either men or women appreciate being defined in terms of pregnancy. There are such people as hermaphrodites, and I just think there should be a little more leeway in the definition. Something like, ‘The gender that is not male. Also, those who so identify themselves.’ But Mr. Majime is hesitant. He told me that would be precipitous.”
“He said that, ‘precipitous’? Not your everyday word.” Miyamoto was momentarily distracted. “But you’re absolutely right. If only for the sake of all the junior high school boys and girls looking up words with high expectations, a freer, more in-depth definition is better.”
“An excess of caution makes dictionaries a bit conservative.” Kishibe sighed. “Sometimes it seems like we’re dealing with a stubborn old man.”
“Who, Majime?” Miyamoto teased.
“No, the dictionary!”
He laughed. “Stubbornness makes a dictionary reliable and also gives it a certain charm. Working on a dictionary for the first time taught me that.”
Dinner was over, but they didn’t feel like calling it a night, so they went to a nearby bar. This time Miyamoto paid.
Afterward they went out to the street to hail a taxi, and Miyamoto said, “Miss Kishibe, may I have your number and e-mail address?”
She happily took out her phone, and they exchanged numbers by infrared data communication. They looked like two grown adults playing with radio-controlled model cars, she thought. They had never so much as held hands, but their phones were practically kissing. This struck her as funny, and she giggled. She might have been a bit drunk. Miyamoto laughed, too.
He hailed a taxi for her and waved goodnight. She waved back. The taxi sped off, leaving him there in the street.
The cell phone in her hand vibrated to inform her of incoming mail.
Subject: Thanks for dinner
Message: I had a great time. I’ll do all I can to help bring The Great Passage to completion. Would you have dinner with me again sometime?
She quickly texted him back and then looked out the taxi window at the night scenery. As always, words flew invisibly to and fro through the air.
Happiness made her break into a smile. The driver might think she was batty. She lightly bit the inside of her cheek and tried hard to maintain her composure.
CHAPTER 5