2

No Good News in This Chapter I left the coffeehouse and wandered through the streets. The intense heat of the afternoon began to make me feel sick, even chilled. But the one place I didnt want to go was home. The thought of waiting alone in that silent house for a phone call that would probably never come I found suffocating.

All I could think to do was go see May Kasahara. I went home, climbed the wall, and made my way down the alley to the back of her house. Leaning against the fence of the vacant house on the other side of the alley, I stared at the garden with its bird sculpture. May would notice me if I stood here like this. Aside from those few times when she was out working for the wig company, she was always at home, keeping watch over the alley from her room or while sunbathing in the yard.

But I saw no sign of May Kasahara. There was not a cloud in the sky. The summer sunlight was roasting the back of my neck. The heavy smell of grass rose from the ground, invading my lungs. I stared at the bird statue and tried to think about the stories my uncle had recently told me of the fates of those who had lived in this house. But all I could think of was the sea, cold and blue. I took several long, deep breaths. I looked at my watch. I was ready to give up for the day, when May Kasahara finally came out. She ambled slowly through her yard to where I stood. She wore denim shorts, a blue aloha shirt, and red thongs. Standing before me, she smiled through her sunglasses.

Hello there, Mr. Wind-Up Bird. Find your cat- Noboru Wataya? Not yet, I said.

What took you so long to come out today? She thrust her hands into her hip pockets and looked all around, amused. Look, Mr. Wind-Up Bird, I may have a lot of free time, but I dont live to stand guard over this alley from morning to night. I have some things to keep me busy. But anyhow, Im sorry. Were you waiting long?

Not so long. I got hot standing out here.

May Kasahara stared hard at my face, then wrinkled her eyebrows slightly. Whats wrong, Mr. Wind-Up Bird? You look terrible- like somebody whos just been dug up out of the ground. Better come over here and rest in the shade for a while.

She took me by the hand and led me into her yard. There she moved a canvas deck chair into the shade of the oak tree and sat me down on it. The thick green branches cast cool shadows that had the fragrance of life. Dont worry, theres nobody here, as usual, she said.

You dont have to be the least bit concerned. Take your time. Stop thinking and relax.

I do have one favor to ask you, I said.

Try me, she said.

I want you to make a call for me. Instead of me. Taking out a notepad and pen, I wrote down the number of Kumikos office. Then I tore off the page and handed it to her. The little vinyl-covered notepad was warm and damp with sweat. All I want you to do is call this place and ask if Kumiko Okada is there, and if shes not, ask if she came to work yesterday.

May Kasahara took the paper and looked at it, with pursed lips. Then she looked at me.

Fine, Ill take care of it. You just empty your head out and get horizontal. You are not allowed to move. Ill be right back. Once she was gone, I stretched out and closed my eyes as ordered. I was soaked with sweat from heat to foot. Trying to think, I felt a throbbing deep in my head, and I seemed to have a lump of string in the pit of my stomach. Every once in a while, a hint of nausea came over me. The neighborhood was absolutely silent. It suddenly occurred to me that I had not heard the wind-up bird for quite some time. When had I last heard it? Probably four or five days earlier. But my memory was uncertain. By the time I noticed, its cry had been missing too long to tell. Maybe it was a bird that migrated seasonally. Come to think of it, we had started hearing it about a month before. And for a time, the wind-up bird had continued each day to wind the spring of our little world. That had been the wind-up birds season.

After ten minutes, May Kasahara came back. She handed me a large glass. Ice clinked inside when I took it. The sound seemed to reach me from a distant world. There were several gates connecting that world with the place where I was, and I could hear the sound because they all just happened to be open at the moment. But this was strictly temporary. If even one of them closed, the sound would no longer reach my ears. Drink it, she said. Lemon juice in water. Itll clear your head.

I managed to drink half and returned the glass to her. The cold water passed my throat and made its way down slowly into my body, after which a violent wave of nausea overtook me. The decomposing lump of string in my stomach began to unravel and make its way up to the base of my throat. I closed my eyes and tried to let it pass. With my eyes closed, I saw Kumiko boarding the train, with her blouse and skirt in hand. I thought it might be better to vomit. But I did not vomit. I took several deep breaths until the feeling diminished and disappeared altogether. Are you OK? asked May Kasahara.

Yeah, Im OK, I said. I made the call, she said. Told them I was a relative. Thats OK, isnt it? Uh-huh. This person, Kumiko Okada, thats Mrs. Wind-Up Bird, isnt it? Uh-huh. They said she didnt come to work-today or yesterday. Just took off without a word. Its a real problem for them. Shes not the type to do this kind of thing, they said. Its true. Shes not the type. Shes been gone since yesterday? I nodded. Poor Mr. Wind-Up Bird, she said. She sounded as if she really did feel sorry for me.

She put her hand on my forehead. Is there anything I can do? Not now, I said. But thanks. Do you mind if I ask more? Or would you rather I didnt? Go ahead, I said. Im not sure I can answer, though. Did your wife run away with a man?

Im not sure, I said. Maybe so. Its possible. But youve been living together all this time. How can you not be sure? She was right. How could I not be sure? Poor Mr. Wind-Up Bird, she said again. I wish I had something to say to help you, but I dont know anything about married life. I got out of my chair. The effort required to stand was far greater than I would have imagined. Thanks for everything. Youve been a big help. Ive got to go now. I should be at home in case word comes. Somebody might call.

As soon as you get home, take a shower. First thing. OK? Then put on clean clothes. And shave.

Shave? I stroked my jaw. It was true: I had forgotten to shave. The thought hadnt crossed my mind all morning.

The little things are important, Mr. Wind-Up Bird, May Kasahara said, looking into my eyes. Go home and take a good look in the mirror.

I will, I said. Mind if I come over later?

Fine, I said. Then I added: Youd be a big help. May Kasahara nodded in silence.

At home, I looked at my face in the mirror. It was true: I looked terrible. I got undressed, showered, gave myself a good shampoo, shaved, brushed my teeth, put aftershave lotion on my face, and went to the mirror again for a close examination. A little better than before, it seemed. My nausea was gone. My head was still a little foggy, though.

I put on short pants and a fresh polo shirt. I sat on the veranda, leaning against a pillar and watching the garden while my hair dried. I tried to put the events of recent days in order. First there was the call from Lieutenant Mamiya. That had been yesterday morning? Yes, no doubt about it: yesterday morning. Then Kumiko had left the house. I had zipped up her dress. Then I had found the cologne box. Then Lieutenant Mamiya had come and told me his strange war stories: how he had been captured by Outer Mongolian troops and thrown into a well. He had left me the keepsake from Mr. Honda. An empty box. Then Kumiko had failed to come home. She had picked up her cleaning that morning by the station and afterward just disappeared somewhere. Without a word to her company. So that was what had happened yesterday.

I could hardly believe that all that had happened in the course of a single day. It was too much for one day.

As I mulled these things over, I began to feel incredibly sleepy. This was not an ordinary kind of sleepiness. It was an intense, even violent, sleepiness. Sleep was stripping me of consciousness the way the clothes might be stripped from the body of an unresisting person. I went to the bedroom without thinking, took everything off but my underwear, and got in bed. I tried to look at the clock on the night table, but I couldnt even turn my head sideways. I closed my eyes and fell instantly into a deep, bottomless sleep.

In my sleep, I was zipping up Kumikos dress. I could see her smooth white back. But by the time I had the zipper to the top, I realized it was not Kumiko but Creta Kano. She and I were the only ones in the room.

It was the same room as in the last dream: a room in the same hotel suite. On the table was a bottle of Cutty Sark and two glasses. There was also a stainless-steel ice bucket, full of ice. In the corridor outside, someone was passing by, speaking in a loud voice. I couldnt catch the words, which seemed to be in a foreign language. An unlighted chandelier hung from the ceiling. The only illumination in this murky room came from lamps mounted on the wall. Again the windows had thick curtains that were closed tight.

Creta Kano was wearing a summer dress of Kumikos: pale blue, with an openwork pattern of birds. The skirt came to just above her knees. As always, her makeup was in the Jacqueline Kennedy style. On her left wrist she wore a matched pair of bracelets.

How did you get that dress? I asked. Is it yours?

Creta Kano looked at me and shook her head. When she did this, the curled tips of her hair moved in a pleasant way. No, it is not mine, she said. Im borrowing it. But dont worry, Mr. Okada, this is not causing anyone any difficulty.

Where are we? I asked.

Creta Kano didnt answer. As before, I was sitting on the edge of the bed. I wore a suit and my polka-dot tie.

You dont have to think about a thing, Mr. Okada, said Creta Kano. There is nothing to worry about. Everything is going to be fine.

And again, as before, she unzipped my fly, took out my penis, and put it in her mouth.

The one thing different from before was that she did not take off her own clothing. She wore Kumikos dress the whole time. I tried to move, but it felt as if my body were tied down by invisible threads. I felt myself growing big and hard inside her mouth.

I saw her fake eyelashes and curled hair tips moving. Her bracelets made a dry sound against each other. Her tongue was long and soft and seemed to wrap itself around me. Just as I was about to come, she suddenly moved away and began slowly to undress me. She took off my jacket, my tie, my pants, my shirt, my underwear, and made me lie down on the bed. Her own clothes she kept on, though. She sat on the bed, took my hand, and brought it under her dress. She was not wearing panties. My hand felt the warmth of her vagina. It was deep, warm, and very wet. My fingers were all but sucked inside.

Wont Noboru Wataya be here any minute? I asked. Werent you expecting to see him here?

Instead of answering, Creta Kano touched my forehead. You dont have to think, Mr. Okada. Well take care of all that. Leave everything to us.

To us? I asked, but there was no reply.

Then Creta Kano mounted me and used her hand to slip me inside her. Once she had me deep inside, she began a slow rotation of her hips. As she moved, the edges of the pale-blue dress caressed my naked stomach and thighs. With the skirts of the dress spread out around her, Creta Kano, riding atop me, looked like a soft, gigantic mushroom that had silently poked its face up through the dead leaves on the ground and opened under the sheltering wings of night. Her vagina felt warm and at the same time cold. It tried to envelop me, to draw me in, and at the same time to press me out. My erection grew larger and harder. I felt I was about to burst wide open. It was the strangest sensation, something that went beyond simple sexual pleasure. It felt as if something inside her, something special inside her, were slowly working its way through my organ into me.

With her eyes closed and her chin lifted slightly, Creta Kano rocked quietly forward and back as if she were dreaming. I could see her chest rising and falling with each breath beneath the dress. A few hairs had come loose and hung over her forehead. I imagined myself floating alone in the middle of a vast sea. I closed my eyes and listened, expecting to hear the sound of little waves hitting my face. My body was bathed in lukewarm ocean water. I sensed the gradual flow of the tide. It was carrying me away. I decided to do as Creta Kano had said and not think about anything. I closed my eyes, let the strength go out of my limbs, and gave myself up to the current.

All of a sudden, I noticed that the room had gone dark. I tried to look around, but I could hardly see a thing. The wall lamps had all been extinguished. There was only the faint silhouette of Creta Kanos blue dress rocking on top of me. Just forget, she said, but it was not Creta Kanos voice. Forget about everything. Youre asleep. Youre dreaming. Youre lying in nice, warm mud. We all come out of the warm mud, and we all go back to it.

It was the voice of the woman on the telephone. The mysterious woman on the phone was now mounted atop me and joining her body with mine. She, too, wore Kumikos dress. She and Creta Kano had traded places without my being aware of it. I tried to speak. I did not know what I was hoping to say, but at least I tried to speak. I was too confused, though, and my voice would not work. All I could expel from my mouth was a hot blast of air. I opened my eyes wide and tried to see the face of the woman mounted on top of me, but the room was too dark.

The woman said nothing more. Instead, she began to move her hips in an even more erotically stimulating way. Her soft flesh, itself almost an independent organism, enveloped my erection with a gentle pulling motion. From behind her I heard-or thought I heard-the sound of a knob being turned. A white flash went through the darkness. The ice bucket on the table might have shone momentarily in the light from the corridor. Or the flash might have been the glint of a sharp blade. But I couldnt think anymore. There was only one thing I could do: I came.

I washed myself off in the shower and laundered my semen-stained underwear by hand. Terrific, I thought. Why did I have to be having wet dreams at such a difficult time in my life?

Once again I put on fresh clothing, and once again I sat on the veranda, looking at the garden. Splashes of sunlight danced on everything, filtered through thick green leaves. Several days of rain had promoted the powerful growth of bright-green weeds here and there, giving the garden a subtle shading of ruin and stagnation.

Creta Kano again. Two wet dreams in a short interval, and both times it had been Creta Kano. Never once had I thought of sleeping with her. The desire had not even flashed through my mind. And yet both times I had been in that room, joining my body with hers. What could possibly be the reason for this? And who was that telephone woman who had taken her place? She knew me, and I supposedly knew her. I went through the various sexual partners I had had in life, but none of them was the telephone woman. Still, there was something about her that seemed familiar. And that was what annoyed me so.

Some kind of memory was trying to find its way out. I could feel it in there, bumping around. All I needed was a little hint. If I pulled that one tiny thread, then everything would come unraveled. The mystery was waiting for me to solve it. But the one slim thread was something I couldnt find.

I gave up trying to think. Forget everything. Youre asleep. Youre dreaming. Youre lying in nice, warm mud. We all come out of the warm mud, and we all go back to it.

Six oclock came, and still no phone call. Only May Kasahara showed up. All she wanted, she said, was a sip of beer. I took a cold can from the refrigerator and split it with her. I was hungry, so I put some ham and lettuce between two slices of bread and ate that. When she saw me eating, May said she would like the same. I made her a sandwich too. We ate in silence and drank our beer. I kept looking up at the wall clock.

Dont you have a TV in this house? No TV, I said. She gave the edge of her lip a little bite. I kinda figured that. Dont you like TV? I dont dislike it. I get along fine without it. May Kasahara let that sink in for a while. How many years have you been married, Mr.

Wind-Up Bird? Six years, I said. And you did without TV for six years? Uh-huh. At first we didnt have the money to buy one. Then we got used to living without it. Its nice and quiet that way. The two of you must have been happy. What makes you think so? She wrinkled up her face. Well, I couldnt live a day without television. Because youre unhappy? May Kasahara did not reply to that. But now Kumiko is gone. You must not be so happy anymore, Mr. Wind-Up Bird. I nodded and sipped my beer. Thats about the size of it, I said. That was about the size of it. She put a cigarette between her lips and, in a practiced motion, struck a match to light it.

Now, Mr. Wind-Up Bird, she said, I want you to tell me the absolute truth: Do you think Im ugly? I put my beer glass down and took another look at May Kasaharas face. All this time while talking with her, I had been vaguely thinking of other things. She was wearing an oversize black tank top, which gave a clear view of the girlish swell of her breasts.

Youre not the least bit ugly, I said. Thats for sure. Why do you ask? My boyfriend always used to tell me how ugly I was, that I didnt have any boobs. The boy who wrecked the bike? Yeah, him. I watched May Kasahara slowly exhaling her cigarette smoke. Boys that age will say things like that. They dont know how to express exactly what they feel, so they say and do the exact opposite. They hurt people that way, for no reason at all, and they hurt themselves too. Anyhow, youre not the least bit ugly. I think youre very cute. No flattery intended.

May Kasahara mulled that one over for a while. She dropped ashes into the empty beer can. Is Mrs. Wind-Up Bird pretty?

Hmm, thats hard for me to say. Some would say she is, and some would say not. Its a matter of taste.

I see, she said. She tapped on her glass as if bored. Whats your biker boyfriend doing? I asked. Doesnt he come to see you anymore? No, he doesnt, said May Kasahara, laying a finger on the scar by her left eye. Ill never see him again, thats for sure. Two hundred percent sure. Id bet my left little toe on it. But Id rather not talk about that right now. Some things, you know, if you say them, it makes them not true? You know what I mean, Mr. Wind-Up Bird?

I think I do, I said. Then I glanced at the phone in the living room. It sat on the table, cloaked in silence. It looked like a deep-sea creature pretending to be an inanimate object, crouching there in wait for its prey.

Someday, Mr. Wind-Up Bird, Ill tell you all about him. When I feel like it. But not now. I just dont feel like it now.

She looked at her watch. Gotta get home. Thanks for the beer.

I saw her out to the garden wall. A nearly full moon was pouring its grainy light down to the earth. The sight of the full moon reminded me that Kumikos period was approaching. But that would probably have nothing to do with me anymore. The thought sent a sharp pain through my chest. The intensity of it caught me off guard: it resembled sorrow.

With her hand on the wall, May Kasahara looked at me. Tell me, Mr. Wind-Up Bird, you do love Kumiko, dont you?

I think I do.

Even though she might have gone off with a lover? If she said she wanted to come back to you, would you take her back?

I released a sigh. Thats a tough question, I said. Id have to think about it once it really happened.

Sorry for sticking my nose in, said May Kasahara, with a little click of the tongue. But dont get mad. Im just trying to learn. I want to know what it means for a wife to run away. Therere all kinds of things I dont know.

Im not mad, I said. Then I looked up at the full moon again.

All right, then, Mr. Wind-Up Bird. You take care of yourself. I hope your wife comes back and everything works out. Moving with incredible lightness, May Kasahara swung herself over the wall and disappeared into the summer night.

With May Kasahara gone, I was alone again. I sat on the veranda, thinking about the questions she had raised. If Kumiko had gone off somewhere with a lover, could I take her back again? I didnt know the answer. I really didnt know. There were all kinds of things that I didnt know.

Suddenly the phone rang. My hand shot out in a conditioned reflex and picked up the receiver.

The voice at the other end belonged to a woman. This is Malta Kano, she said. Please forgive me for calling you so often, Mr. Okada, but I was wondering if you might happen to have any plans for tomorrow.

I had no plans, I said. Plans were simply something I did not have.

In that case, I wonder if it might be possible for me to see you after noon.

Does this have something to do with Kumiko?

I do believe that it does, said Malta Kano, choosing her words carefully. Noboru Wataya will also be joining us, most likely.

I almost dropped the receiver when I heard this. You mean the three of us will be getting together to talk?

Yes, I believe that is the case, said Malta Kano. The present situation makes this necessary. I am sorry, but I cannot go into any further detail on the telephone.

I see. All right, then, I said.

Shall we meet at one oclock? In the same place we met before: the tearoom of the Shinagawa Pacific Hotel.

One oclock in the tearoom of the Shinagawa Pacific Hotel, I said, and hung up.

May Kasahara called at ten oclock. She had nothing in particular to say; she just wanted to talk to somebody. We chatted about harmless topics for a while. Tell me, Mr. Wind-Up Bird, she said in the end. Have you had any good news since I was there? No good news, I said. Nothing.