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life.
    It was my wife’s eyes, too, that drew me to her. Something I could see deep in them. When I first saw those eyes, they jolted me. Not that I was thinking that by making her mine I could restore my dead sister or anything. Even if I’d wanted to, I could imagine the only thing that would lead to was despair. What I wanted, or needed, was the spark of that positive will. That definite source of warmth needed to live. It was something I knew very well, but that was, most likely, missing in me.
    I managed to get her contact info, and asked her on a date. She was surprised, of course, and hesitated. I was, after all, her friend’s boyfriend. But I kept at it. I just want to see you, and talk, I told her. Just meet and talk, that’s all. I’m not looking for anything else. We had dinner in a quiet restaurant, and talked about all kinds of things. Our conversation was a little nervous and awkward at first, but then became more animated. There was so much I wanted to know about her, and I had plenty to talk about. I found out that her birthday and my sister’s were only three days apart.
    “Do you mind if I sketch you?” I asked.
    “Right here?” she asked, glancing around. We were seated at the restaurant, and had just ordered dessert.
    “I’ll finish before they’re back with dessert,” I said.
    “Then I guess I don’t mind,” she replied doubtfully.
    I took out the small sketchbook I always carried with me, and quickly sketched her face with a 2B pencil. As promised, I finished before our desserts arrived. The important part was, of course, her eyes. That’s what I wanted to draw most. Back within those eyes there was a deep world, a world beyond time.
    I showed her the sketch, and she seemed to like it.
    “It’s very full of life.”
    “That’s because you are,” I said.
    She gazed for a long time at the sketch, apparently taken with it. As if she were seeing a self she hadn’t known before.
    “If you like it, I’ll give it to you.”
    “I can have it?” she said.
    “Of course. It’s just a quick sketch.”
    “Thank you.”
    After this we went on more dates, and eventually became lovers. It all happened so naturally. My girlfriend, though, was shocked that her friend stole me away. She was probably thinking that we might get married. So of course she was upset (though I doubt I ever would have married her). My wife, too, was going out with someone else at the time, and their breakup wasn’t easy either. There were other obstacles to overcome, but the upshot was that half a year later we were married. We had a small party with a handful of close friends to celebrate, and settled into a condo in Hiroo. Her uncle owned the condo and gave us a good deal on rent. I used one small room as my studio and focused on my portrait work. This was no longer just a temporary job. Now that I was married I needed a steady income, and other than portrait painting I had no means of earning a decent living. My wife commuted from our place by subway to the architecture firm in Yotsuya. And it sort of naturally came about that I was the one who took care of everyday housework, which I didn’t mind at all. I never minded doing housework, and found it a nice break from painting. At any rate it was far more pleasant to do housework than commute every day to a job and be forced to do work behind a desk.
    I think for both of us our first few years of marriage were calm and fulfilling. Before long we settled into a pleasant daily rhythm. On weekends and holidays I’d take a break from painting and we’d go out. Sometimes to an art exhibition, sometimes hiking outside the city. At other times we’d just wander around town. We had intimate talks, and for both of us it was important to regularly update each other. We spoke honestly, and openly, about what was going on in our lives, exchanging opinions, sharing feelings.
    For me, though, there was one thing I never opened up about to her: the fact that her eyes