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ALMOST EVERYONE IN THE COMMUNITY KNEW SESSUE Matoi as the heavy drinker. There was seldom a time when one did not see him staggering full of drink. The trouble was that the people did not know when he was sober or drunk. He was very clever when he was drunk and also very clever when sober. The people were afraid to touch him. They were afraid of this man, sober or drunk, for his tongue and brains. They dared not coax him too solicitously or make him look ridiculous as they would treat the usual tipsy gentleman. The people may have had only contempt for him but they were afraid and silent. And Sessue Matoi did little work. We always said he practically lived on sake and wit. And that was not far from truth.
I was at Mr. Hasegawa’s when Sessue Matoi staggered in the house with several drinks under his belt. About the only logical reason I could think of for his visit that night was that Sessue Matoi must have known that Mr. Hasegawa carried many bottles of Japan-imported sake. There was no other business why he should pay a visit to Hasegawa’s. I knew Mr. Hasegawa did not tolerate drinking bouts. He disliked riotous scenes and people.
At first I thought Mr. Hasegawa might have been afraid of this drinker, and Sessue Matoi had taken advantage of it. But this was not the case. Mr. Hasegawa was not afraid of Sessue Matoi. As I sat between the two that night I knew I was in the fun, and as likely as any minute something would explode.
“I came to see you on a very important matter, Hasegawa,” Sessue Matoi said without batting an eye. “You are in a very dangerous position. You will lose your life.”
“What are you talking about?” Mr. Hasegawa said.
“You are in an egg,” Sessue Matoi said. “You have seen nothing but the inside of an egg and I feel sorry for you. I pity you.”
“What are you talking about? Are you crazy?” Mr. Hasegawa said.
“I am not crazy. I see you very clearly in an egg,” Sessue Matoi said. “That is very bad. Pretty soon you will be rotten.”
Mr. Hasegawa was a serious fellow, not taking to laughter and gaiety. But he laughed out loud. This was ridiculous. Then he remembered Sessue Matoi was drunk.
“What about this young fellow?” Mr. Hasegawa said, pointing at me.
Sessue Matoi looked me over quizzically. He appeared to study me from all angles. Then he said, “His egg is forming. Pretty soon he must break the shell of his egg or little later will find himself too weak to do anything about it.”
I said nothing. Mr. Hasegawa sat with a twinkle in his eyes.
“What about yourself, Sessue Matoi?” he said. “Do you live in an egg?”
“No,” Sessue Matoi said. “An egg is when you are walled in, a prisoner within yourself. I am free, I have broken the egg long ago. You see as I am. I am not hidden beneath a shell and I am not enclosed in one either. I am walking on this earth with my good feet, and also I am drinking and enjoying, but am sad on seeing so many eggs in the world, unbroken, untasted, and rotten.”
“Are you insulting the whole world or are you just insulting me?” Mr. Hasegawa said.
“I am insulting no one. Look, look me in the eye, Hasegawa. See how sober I am,” he said. “I am not insulting you. I love you. I love the whole world and sober or drunk it doesn’t make a bit of difference. But when I say an egg’s an egg I mean it. You can’t very well break the eggs I see.”
“Couldn’t you break the eggs for us?” Mr. Hasegawa said. “You seem to see the eggs very well. Couldn’t you go around and break the shells and make this world the hatching ground?”
“No, no!” Sessue Matoi said. “You have me wrong! I cannot break the eggs. You cannot break the eggs. You can break an egg though.”
“I don’t get you,” said Mr. Hasegawa.
“An egg is broken from within,” said Sessue Matoi. “The shell of an egg melts by itself through heat or warmth and it’s natural, and independent.”
“This is ridiculous,” said Mr. Hasegawa. “An egg can be broken from outside. You know very well an egg may be broken by a rap from outside.”
“You can rape and assault too,” said Sessue Matoi.
“This is getting to be fantastic,” Mr. Hasegawa said. “This is silly! Here we are getting all burned up over a little egg, arguing over nonsense.”
“This is very important to me,” Sessue Matoi said. “Probably the only thing I know about. I study egg culture twenty-four hours. I live for it.”
“And for sake,” Mr. Hasegawa said.
“And for sake,” Sessue Matoi said.
“Shall we study about sake tonight? Shall we taste the sake and you tell me about the flavor?” Mr. Hasegawa said.
“Fine, fine, fine!” said Mr. Matoi.
Mr. Hasegawa went back in the kitchen and we heard him moving about. Pretty soon he came back with a steaming bottle of sake. “This is Hakushika,” he said.
“Fine, fine,” Sessue Matoi said. “All brands are the same to me, all flavors match my favor. When I drink I am drinking my flavor.”
Mr. Hasegawa poured him several cups which Sessue Matoi promptly gulped down. Sessue Matoi gulped down several more.
“Ah, when I drink sake I think of the eggs in the world,” he said. “All the unopened eggs in the world.”
“Just what are you going to do with all these eggs lying about? Aren’t you going to do something about it? Can’t you put some of the eggs aside and heat them up or warm them and help break the shells from within?” Mr. Hasegawa said.
“No,” Sessue Matoi said. “I am doing nothing of the sort. If I do all you think I should do, then I will have no time to sit and drink. And I must drink. I cannot go a day without drinking because when I drink I am really going outward, not exactly drinking but expressing myself outwardly, talking very much and saying little, sadly and pathetically.”
“Tell me, Sessue Matoi,” said Mr. Hasegawa. “Are you sad at this moment? Aren’t you happy in your paganistic fashion, drinking and laughing through twenty-four hours?”
“Now, you are feeling sorry for me, Hasegawa,” Sessue Matoi said. “You are getting sentimental. Don’t think of me in that manner. Think of me as the mess I am. I am a mess. Then laugh very hard, keep laughing very hard. Say, oh what an egg he has opened up! Look at the shells, look at the drunk without a bottle.”
“Why do you say these things?” Mr. Hasegawa said. “You are very bitter.”
“I am not bitter, I am not mad at anyone,” Sessue Matoi said. “But you are still talking through the eggshell.”
“You are insulting me again,” Mr. Hasegawa said. “Do not allow an egg to come between us.”
“That is very absurd,” Sessue Matoi said, rising from his chair. “You are very absurd, sir. An egg is the most important and the most disturbing thing in the world. Since you are an egg, you do not know an egg. That is sad. I say, good night, gentlemen.”
Sessue Matoi in all seriousness bowed formally and then tottered to the door.
“Wait, Sessue Matoi,” said Mr. Hasegawa. “You didn’t tell me what you thought of the flavor of my sake.”
“I did tell you,” Sessue Matoi said. “I told you the flavor right along.”
“That’s the first time I ever heard you talking about the flavor of sake tonight,” said Mr. Hasegawa.
“You misunderstand me again,” said Sessue Matoi. “When you wish to taste the flavor of sake which I drank then you must drink the flavor which I have been spouting all evening. Again, good night, gentlemen.”
Again he bowed formally at the door and staggered out of the house.
I was expecting to see Mr. Hasegawa burst out laughing the minute Sessue Matoi stepped out of the house. He didn’t. “I suppose he will be around in several days to taste your sake. This must happen every time he comes to see you,” I said.
“No,” Mr. Hasegawa said. “Strangely, this is the first time he ever walked out like that. I cannot understand him. I don’t believe he will be back for a long time.”
“Was he drunk or sober tonight?” I said.
“I really don’t know, said Mr. Hasegawa. “He must be sober and drunk at the same time.”
“Do you really think we will not see him for awhile?” I said.
“Yes, I am very sure of it. To think that an egg would come between us!”