Tokié replied, ‘You’d have to be a saint to have something of that magnitude done to you and
Her gaze drifted to the landscape outside the window. The houses lining the railway were all old and shabby.
‘One must be prepared to take on and atone for the curse, in and of itself. You did it because you feel deeply wounded and so, a stranger’s rebuke, no matter how accurate, won’t shake your resolve. But I’m nothing more than a nosy bystander.’
‘… I’m prettier than the bride.’
‘No doubt you are.’
‘When they came around to my table, the bride turned to the groom with a fiendish look. She saw that he was looking at me. Seeing me, more beautiful than in all the five years we were together. Ten years from now, when she’s a tatty old housewife, worn out from housework and raising kids, I hope he remembers how I looked today. Even when
She spat out this noxious venom that some might have interpreted as boastful. But the woman who looked as though she had just stabbed someone was herself wounded, unavoidably spattered with the blood of her victims.
‘I don’t care whether people think I’m arrogant or nasty. I was willing to do whatever it took to put a hex on those two. I wanted to make sure that what ought to have been the finest day of their lives would be jinxed.’
‘You’ve got mettle.’ Tokié nodded and then shifted the conversation. ‘So, you work at the same company as the bride and groom?’
‘Yes.’
‘This is unsolicited advice from a nosy bystander, so take it as you like.’
The woman listened solemnly.
‘For now you can curse them to your heart’s content. Your mere presence at the office will be humiliating and will surely affect his prospects.’
Tokié deliberately didn’t mention anything about the bride. Her own life experience told her that there was little chance such a crafty woman would return to work after giving birth – and that in light of the circumstances, she had little motivation to do so. Even having accomplished her scheme to steal another woman’s man, it was doubtful she had the grit or the guts to withstand the scornful looks from her colleagues.
‘But once you’re satisfied with the curse, you ought to quit.’
Tokié offered no further explanation and the woman kept quiet. She seemed to have a good head on her shoulders and to be taking in Tokié’s message.
With the groom now saddled with such a clingy partner, relentlessly pursuing the destruction of their life together would backfire, earning her their enduring resentment. The curse would then burden her for the rest of her life.
Tokié had no idea about the depth or breadth of the woman’s love for the man. But she was still young and beautiful – this blow, though painful, was not fatal. She would surely recover, of this Tokié was certain.
‘I understand,’ the woman responded at long last and with seemingly immense sincerity.
‘NEXT STOP, OBAYASHI. OBAYASHI.’
The train announcement came on, and Tokié offered one more bit of unsolicited advice.
‘If I may suggest it, consider getting off at Obayashi. You look pale, and Obayashi is a lovely station for a respite.’
The woman tilted her head doubtfully but, taking in the recommendation of a woman with whom she’d just had such a candid exchange in the span of a single stop on the train, she nodded, and said, ‘I think I will do just that.’
The train slowed as it pulled into the station.
The doors opened, and a young couple boarded – looking overtly at her stark white dress, so conspicuous on a regular, local train.
Tokié’s granddaughter called after the woman in white who had just got off.
‘Miss, you forgot something.’
The woman’s shoulders shuddered. Perhaps she had meant to leave it behind. She turned back to retrieve the wedding favour bag.
She smiled stiffly, took the bag from the girl, and with a wave, got off the train again.
‘Such a pretty bride, wasn’t she!’
Tokié’s granddaughter gazed wistfully at the figure in white as the train began to move.
‘That was not a bride.’
Perhaps the reason for Tokié’s dry tone as she corrected her granddaughter had to do with a certain disdain for the real bride of the day.
‘A bride does not ride the train by herself. There was no groom, now, was there?’
‘Oh, you’re right!’
White is not only for brides. In historical dramas, a woman who performs the ox-hour shrine visit wears white. She too is there to lay a curse.