we consider normal time is essentially meaningless.'
'Meaningless?'
Oshima nods. 'Like it doesn't exist.'
'What you're saying is Miss Saeki still lives in that frozen time?'
'Exactly. I'm not saying she's some living corpse or anything. When you get to know her better you'll understand.'
Oshima reaches out and lays a hand on my knee in a totally natural gesture. 'Kafka, in everybody's life there's a point of no return. And in a very few cases, a point where you can't go forward anymore. And when we reach that point, all we can do is quietly accept the fact. That's how we survive.'
We're about to merge onto the main highway. Before we do, Oshima stops the car, puts up the top, and slips a Schubert sonata into the CD player.
'There's one other thing I'd like you to be aware of,' he goes on. 'Miss Saeki has a wounded heart. To some extent that's true of all of us, present company included. But Miss Saeki has a special individual wound that goes beyond the usual meaning of the term. Her soul moves in mysterious ways. I'm not saying she's dangerous-don't get me wrong. On a day-to-day level she's definitely got her act together, probably more than anybody else I know. She's charming, deep, intelligent. But just don't let it bother you if you notice something odd about her sometimes.'
'Odd?' I can't help asking.
Oshima shakes his head. 'I really like Miss Saeki, and respect her. I'm sure you'll come to feel the same way.'
This doesn't really answer my question, but Oshima doesn't say anything. With perfect timing he shifts gears, steps on the gas, and passes a small van just before we enter a tunnel.
Chapter 18
Nakata found himself faceup in a clump of weeds. As he awakened he slowly opened his eyes. It was night, but he couldn't see any stars or the moon. Still, the sky was faintly light. He could smell the strong scent of summer grasses and hear insects buzzing around. Somehow he was back in the vacant lot he'd been staking out every day. Feeling something rough and warm brush against his face, he turned and saw two cats eagerly licking both his cheeks with their tiny tongues. It was Goma and Mimi. Nakata slowly sat up, reached out, and petted them. 'Was Nakata asleep?' he asked.
The cats cried out like they were complaining about something, but Nakata couldn't catch the words. He had no idea what they were trying to tell him. They were just two cats meowing.
'I beg your pardon, but I can't understand what you're trying to say.' He stood up and checked his body to make sure there was nothing out of the ordinary. He felt no pain, and his arms and legs were working fine. His eyes took some time to adjust to the darkness, but once they did he saw that there wasn't any blood on his arms or clothes. His clothes weren't rumpled or messed up, either, and looked the same as when he'd left his apartment. His canvas bag was right beside him, lunch and thermos inside, and his hat was inside his trouser pocket where it belonged. Everything was in order. Nakata couldn't figure out what was going on.
In order to save the two cats, he'd stabbed Johnnie Walker-the cat-killer-to death. That much he remembered all too clearly. He could still feel the knife in his hands. It wasn't a dream-blood had spurted out of Johnnie Walker and he'd collapsed to the floor, curled up, and died. Then Nakata had sunk back on the couch and lost consciousness. And the next thing he knew, here he was lying among the weeds in the vacant lot. But how did he get back here? He didn't even know the road back. And his clothes had no blood on them at all. Seeing Mimi and Goma beside him proved it wasn't a dream, but for some strange reason now he couldn't understand a word they said.
Nakata sighed. He couldn't think straight. But never mind-he'd figure it all out later. He slung the bag over his shoulder, picked up the two cats, and left the vacant lot. Once outside the fence, Mimi started to squirm as if she wanted to be let down.
Nakata lowered her to the ground. 'Mimi, you can go back home on your own, I imagine. It's nearby.'
That's right, Mimi's wagging tail seemed to say.
'Nakata doesn't understand what's happened, but for some reason I can't talk with you anymore. But I was able to find Goma, and I'd better take her back to the Koizumis. Everyone's waiting for her. Thank you so much for everything, Mimi.'
Mimi meowed, wagged her tail again, then scurried off and disappeared around the corner. There was no blood on her, either. Nakata decided to remember that.
The Koizumis were overjoyed by Goma's return. It was past ten p. m. but the children were still up, brushing their teeth before bed. Their parents were drinking tea and watching the news on TV, and they welcomed Nakata warmly. The two little girls, in pajamas, jostled each other to be the first to hug their precious pet. They quickly gave Goma some milk and cat food, which she eagerly tucked into.
'My apologies for stopping by so late at night. It would be much better to come earlier, but Nakata couldn't help it.'
'That's all right,' Mrs. Koizumi said. 'Please don't worry about it.'
'Don't worry about the time,' her husband said. 'That cat is like a member of the family. I can't tell you how happy we are you could find her. How about coming in and having a cup of tea?'
'No thank you, Nakata must be going. I just wanted to get Goma back to you as soon as possible.'
Mrs. Koizumi went to another room and returned with Nakata's pay in an envelope, which her husband handed to Nakata. 'It's not much, but please accept this token for all you've done. We're very grateful.'
'Thank you very much. Much obliged,' Nakata said, and bowed.
'I'm surprised, though, you could find her in the dark like this.'
'Yes, it's a long story. Nakata can't tell the whole thing. I'm not too bright, and not so good at giving long explanations.'
'That's quite all right. We are so grateful to you, Mr. Nakata,' Mrs. Koizumi said. 'I'm sorry it's just leftovers, but we have some grilled eggplant and vinegared cucumbers we'd like you to take home with you.'
'I'd be happy to. Grilled eggplant and vinegared cucumbers are some of Nakata's favorites.'
Nakata stowed the Tupperware container of food and the envelope in his bag. He walked quickly toward the station and went to a police box near the shopping district. A young officer was seated at a desk inside, intently working on some paperwork. His hat was on top of the desk.
Nakata slid the glass door open. 'Good evening. Sorry to bother you,' he said.
'Good evening,' the policeman replied. He looked up from the paperwork and gave Nakata a once-over. Basically a nice, harmless old man, was his professional assessment, most likely stopping by to ask directions.
Standing at the entrance, Nakata removed his hat and stuffed it in his pocket, then took a handkerchief from the other pocket and blew his nose. He folded up the handkerchief and put it back.
'Is there something I can do for you?' the policeman asked.
'Yes, there is. Nakata just murdered somebody.'
The policeman dropped his pen on the desk and stared openmouthed at the old man. For a moment he was speechless. What the-?
'Here, why don't you sit down,' he said dubiously, pointing to a chair opposite him. He reached out and checked that he had his pistol, baton, and handcuffs on him.
'Thank you,' Nakata said, and sat down. Back held straight, hands resting in his lap, he looked straight at the officer.
'So what you're saying is… you killed somebody?'
'Yes. Nakata killed a person with a knife. Just a little while ago,' Nakata admitted frankly.
The young officer took out a form, glanced at the clock on the wall, and noted down the time and the statement about a knifing. 'I'll need your name and address.'
'My name is Satoru Nakata, and my address is-'
