Interlude: A Visit to the Butcher’s Shop, Part 3

Interlude:
A Visit to the Butcher’s Shop
Part 3

 

AT MY HOUSE, we always had chicken curry for Christmas dinner. Guaranteed.

“Why curry, of all things…?” Hino wondered aloud, tilting her head pensively as we ate. Despite the holiday, she had once again turned up at my house, just like she did every other day, and my parents welcomed her in like she was family.

“Because they asked me what I wanted to eat, and I said curry.”

“And then they made it with chicken because it’s Christmas. Clever.”

Her cheeks swelled as she stuffed them full of mashed potatoes. The sight of it made me hungry. For curry, I mean, not her cheeks. But I’d be fine with those, too.

“Gimme a bite.”

“Oh, good grief. You get one bite, got it?”

Excuse you? It’s my curry! Worse still, she offered me a bite with carrots in it. But I ate it anyway. Yummy.

Tomorrow we would eat this curry for breakfast. And probably dinner, too.

“Your curry’s really good, ma’am!” Hino shouted to my mom, who was running the fryer for the store.

“Thank you, dear,” she answered. The heat was making her sweat, even in the middle of winter. “But I’m sure I can’t compete with the food at your house.”

Hino laughed awkwardly. “We only ever have Japanese food,” she explained.

I’d forgotten about that, actually. One time, when I went over to her house, they offered me chickpeas and kelp as a snack. I was expecting junk food, so it was pretty wild.

“But on the rare occasion they do make curry, they always put freeze-dried tofu in it. I can’t eat that stuff.”

Hino glanced up at the calendar as she ate. The box for the 25th featured one word, written in my handwriting: CURRY. Why did I write that? I couldn’t remember.

“Just one week left, and this year will be over. Isn’t that right, Grandma?” she teased.

“Right you are, Grandpa,” I nodded, looking up at the calendar with her.

As a kid I used to get some spending money each year on New Year’s, but that stopped after I graduated from junior high, so I no longer had all that much to look forward to. I bet Hino’s family still gives her spending money, I thought to myself enviously. Just then, she turned to look at me.

“Hey Nagafuji, do you ever think about the future and stuff?”

This was an unexpectedly complicated question. “How far are we talking? Tomorrow? Next week?”

“That’s what ‘the future’ is to you? Seven days from now?”

Having finished her food, Hino set down her spoon and took a sip of tea. Then she set her cup back down onto the table and put her chin in her hand.

“Say ten years from now, for example. Do you think we’ll still be sitting around, eating curry at 3 PM on a weekday? No way. We’ll both have jobs—we’ll be too busy. We might not even be friends still. And whenever I think about that stuff…I start feeling like maybe I’m running out of time, y’know?”

Maybe “complicated” was an understatement. Me personally, I couldn’t possibly imagine what my life would be like ten whole years from now.

“Wow…even you have your deep moments, huh, Hino?”

“Excuse me? I feel like I should be offended. Care to explain yourself, missy?”

“Hmmm.” I paused to think about it. Something about this conversation offended me, too—the part where she said we might not still be friends. I couldn’t really speak to the rest of the things she said, but I probably had a response to that part, at least.

Digging through my “fuzzy” memory—according to Hino, anyway; I could remember one instance of her complaining about it, though she insisted she’d said the same thing at least two other times—I attempted to think of something. Faintly, I could make out a vague idea of a reply. Okay, got it.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Huh? What’s fine? Where’d that come from?”

“We’ll be friends forever. That’s what you told me that one time on our way home from the movie theater, remember?”

That was back in second grade, if memory served, though I couldn’t remember what movie.

Hino glanced around nervously, almost like she’d forgotten the whole concept of human speech for a minute. “Um…did I?”

“Yup. And I was like ‘we sure will.’”

“Huh…”

“So I’m pretty sure we’ll still be friends in ten years’ time.” As long as it’s what both of us want.

Hino froze for a moment, scratching her cheek. Then she burst out laughing. What’s the matter with you? Weirdo.

“Well, we’ve lasted ten years thus far, so I guess another ten won’t be too hard!”

“Hmm?”

“Oh, nothing! Anyway, I want seconds!”

“And I want you to go home.”

Our friendship had long since outgrown the usual seasonal formalities…but even if neither of us expressed it out loud, I knew we’d have another fun year together ahead of us.