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Page 3 of 3
Time burst free again. Shikara-san’s head popped out of the goop; his arms batted at the surface. Images of quicksand drownings flashed through my mind. Will fermenting soybeans swallow a person up? Is there real danger here, and if I reach to grab him will he pull me in too and will we drown and suffocate in soybeans?
Lindsey appeared to be thinking the same thing, and Shikara-san was oozing deeper into the mixture. Then, as I was desperately trying to think of something to say, he wiped his eyes and looked up at us.
“Okay, okay,” he said, blowing a drop of goo from his upper lip. Then he extended his arm and gave us a dripping thumbs-up. “Please bring Hiroki!”
Lindsey and I glanced at Shikara-san, then at each other. He wasn’t going to die. We bolted for the door.
Ten minutes later, we burst through the glass doors, sweating and gasping for breath. The lobby was empty.
We looked at each other and drew in our breath. “Hiroki!” we yelled together. We weren’t sure yet if it was okay to laugh.
We heard shuffling. When he appeared in the lobby, looking concerned, the only words that came to mind were, “Excuse me, your boss is in the beans.”
Lindsey motioned for him to come with us. “There is…a small problem,” I said.
He jogged out and brought another car, this one probably his, a small blue Toyota. We piled in and sped towards the factory.
Shikara-san had managed to reach the edge of the vat. He had thrown his elbows onto the floor and propped himself up out of the beans a bit. Hiroki squawked and rushed to his boss’s aid. He grabbed Shikara-san’s hands and leaned back with all this weight. Shikara-san rose slowly out of the muck. At one point it seemed that Hiroki, too, would fall victim to the vats—he was leaning back far over the next container—but remarkably, he kept his balance. Finally, Shikara-san was out, lying on his side, curled up like a newborn with an expensive taste in clothes.
Eventually we all made it outside. Shikara-san asked us to wait, then he and Hiroki disappeared behind the corner of the building.
“That’s gotta be the last we see of him,” I said. “I don’t know who’s more embarrassed. I almost think I’d feel less awkward had it been me in the vat.”
Lindsey shook her head. “No way, think about it. Those beans have been fermenting for years. Do you want to be responsible for ruining three years’ worth of soy sauce?”
She had a point. I tried not to laugh.
“Where do you suppose they went?” I asked.
“Probably to change…maybe he’s got some worker’s overalls lying around,” Lindsey said.
Curiosity got the best of me. I poked my head around the corner and was surprised to see Shikara-san and Hiroki standing near a shed. Hiroki was holding a long green garden hose and—
“He’s hosing him down.”
“No.”
“Yes. Oh my God, get back. They’re done.”
Shikara-san rounded the corner first. He was still wearing his suit, which was soaked and dripping. He wiped a drop of water from his brow.
“Funny!” he said, grinning. Then, unbelievably:
“Shall we continue?”
I was sure he was joking until he hopped the steps and held open the factory door. A few stray beans stuck to his jacket and one hung from his ear.
Lindsey took one look at me and we both burst out laughing. It was the kind of laugh that chokes you, that silent laugh that tires out your abs. I was helpless to stop; all I could do was look up at Shikara-san and motion to my ear. He reached up and felt the bean. Then he too was laughing.
I was relieved, which only made me laugh harder. Even red-faced Hiroki let out a giggle.
We did finish the tour after all; Shikara-san insisted on it despite his dripping suit and shoes that squished loudly in the deserted factory.
Finally it was over. After dropping us off at the main building (Hiroki brought a towel for the Mercedes) we shared a hearty, wasn’t-it-all-simply-hilarious laugh, and set off down the hill on our bikes. When we’d escaped earshot I heard Lindsey next to me scream, “Oh. My. GOD!” I looked over my shoulder and saw Shikara-san outlined by blue sky at the top of the hill, waving vigorously at us. I threw my hand up in a backwards wave and sped down the hill with the wind whipping my face.
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