Love and Other Consolation Prizes(61)

“You’re sure about this?” Maisie asked.

“Maybe you two should go without me…” Ernest mumbled.

“Relax. There are separate tubs for men and women, boys and girls,” Fahn said. “Just do what everyone else does, wash first, then soak in the giant pool. If you sit near the wall, we’ll be right on the other side, okay?”

“Got it,” Ernest said, but his heart beat warily. From when he was a toddler, he remembered people from Jiangsu frequenting the public bath, but he and his mother had never been allowed. They were too poor. Like most in their village, they bathed in the same cold, muddy river where they washed their clothes, upstream from where people poured their buckets of night soil.

Ernest reluctantly followed an older Japanese man through a curtain into the male side of the bathhouse, to a row of wooden lockers. A half dozen elderly patrons were in various stages of undress, some toweling off, some soaking, one sitting on a stool scrubbing himself with a wooden brush. Another sat in the corner near a laundry window, wearing a towel around his waist, drinking a Rainier beer and wiping his brow with the cool bottle. Ernest felt self-conscious about his relative youth as he watched the elderly men move slowly, taking careful steps on the wet, tiled floor.

Through the wall he could hear Fahn explaining the rules of the bathhouse to Maisie, and the chatter of older women talking, laughing.

Having watched the other men do the same, Ernest took a tin pan and scooped out hot water from the large bath, then sat on a stool and lathered up with a bar of soap, scrubbed with the washcloth. Afterward, he scooped up another pan of hot water to rinse, again and again until he was clean, his olive skin steaming. Then he stood on the marble riser that surrounded the enormous pool. He slipped over the edge into the water, inch by inch, until he was all the way in and found a seat next to the wall. The clear water, which seemed hot enough to boil an egg, leveled off just below his chin. The heat was incredibly soothing, relaxing, and there was something about the purity of the bath, something magical about soaking in such a finely appointed tub. It made him feel less self-conscious about the shriveled old men who sat across from him, eyes closed, as though sleeping or meditating, or sobering up from a long night of drinking.

Ernest felt the water moving, like the rocking of a cradle. He noticed that through a small rectangular opening in the wall, no larger than a shoe box, water could pass freely between the men’s and women’s soaking tubs.

That’s where he heard Fahn’s voice.

“Are you in yet?” she asked him.

“I’m in. Does it have to be so hot?”

“It’s just the time of day. The water is at its hottest in the morning. That’s when all the old people come to the sento. Then after school, mothers bring their children, and then men show up in the evening, after work, and before going out on the town. Late at night, people come here to freshen up before bed. The water gets cooler as the day stretches into night. So what do you think?”

“It’s okay,” Ernest said. “I guess.”

“I haven’t bathed with other girls since I was a toddler” came Maisie’s voice.

“Try to relax,” Fahn said. “Clear your mind.”

Ernest closed his eyes. The water felt soothing. He heard light splashing as the other men left the pool, dried off, and began to get dressed. Soon he found himself alone in the large room. Then he heard whispering, the sound barely audible over the dripping tub and the gurgling drain.

“Fine,” Maisie said to Fahn, in response to something. “Close your eyes, Ernest.”

“They are closed.”

“And you keep them closed,” Fahn added.

He did as they instructed, even as he heard the swish of metal rings on a curtain rod and the faint padding of bare feet on wet tile. Then he felt the hot water rise and ripple against his chin and heard light splashing.

He squinted and saw the two girls climbing in, covering themselves with hands and forearms and their tiny cotton washcloths, their bare skin pink from the hot water.

“Hey! No peeking,” Maisie said.

He covered his face with his wet hands and smiled as he felt them swimming, splashing, then sitting next to him, Maisie on one side, Fahn on the other.

“Surprise,” Fahn whispered, and Maisie giggled.

He opened his eyes as they sat hip to hip with him, water to their chins. He tried to stare directly ahead at the wall, but his eyes wandered through clouds of steam and he couldn’t help but notice their long hair floating like lotus leaves on the surface of the bath, their bare legs extended, suspended in the water. Fahn folded her washcloth into a neat square and then rested the small towel on her head. Maisie splashed hot water on her face and let it trickle down past her ears. Then they each held on to one of Ernest’s hands to keep from floating away into separate, steamy corners of the deep tub.

“Is this allowed?” Ernest asked, blushing, though he didn’t really care. His face was already flushed from the heat, masked by clouds of steam. “I don’t want us to get kicked out of here or anything…”

“You worry too much, Ernest,” Fahn said. She sank lower in the tub and her toes surfaced through the clear water, wiggling. “This is normal where we come from—and I don’t mean the Tenderloin. Besides, this is the quiet time. All the old people go home, but school isn’t out yet. This is our time.”