I blush. 'Totally off the wall.'
'No problem. I don't necessarily mind stupid, off-the-wall things.'
'I can't believe I'm actually saying this to somebody.'
Oshima tilts his head ever so slightly, waiting for me to go on.
'Is it possible that Miss Saeki… is my mother?'
Oshima leans back against the counter, taking time to search for the right words. The clock on the wall ticks away as I wait.
Finally he speaks up. 'So what you're saying is that when she was twenty, Miss Saeki left Takamatsu in despair and was living alone someplace when she happened to meet your father, Koichi Tamura, and they got married. They were blessed with you and then, four years later, something happened and she ran away, leaving you behind. After this there's a mysterious blank, but then she shows up back in Shikoku. Do I have that right?'
'Yeah.'
'It's not impossible. What I mean is, at this point I don't have any evidence to refute your hypothesis. So much of her life is a total mystery. Rumor has it she lived in Tokyo. Plus she's about the same age as your father. When she came back to Takamatsu, though, she was alone. How old did you say your sister is?'
'Twenty-one.'
'The same age as me,' Oshima says. 'I'm not your sister-that much I know for certain. I've got parents, and my brother-all related by blood. A family way too good for me.' He folds his arms and looks me at for a while. 'I've got a question for you. Have you ever looked at your family register? That would give your mother's name and age.'
'Of course I have.'
'So what did it say?'
'There wasn't any name,' I say.
He looks surprised. 'No name? How can that be?'
'There wasn't any. No kidding. I have no idea why. As far as the family register's concerned, I don't have a mother. Or an older sister. There's just my father's name and mine on the register. Legally, I'm a bastard. An illegitimate child.'
'But you actually had a mother and a sister at one time.'
I nod. 'I did, until I was four. The four of us lived together. It's not just my imagination. I remember it very clearly. The two of them left soon after I turned four.' I pull out my wallet and show Oshima the photo of me and my sister playing at the shore. He gazes at it for a moment, smiles, and hands it back.
''Kafka on the Shore,'' he says.
I nod and put the photograph back in my wallet. The wind swirls outside, pounding rain against the window. The ceiling light casts a shadow of me and Oshima on the floor, where we look like we're having an ominous talk in some alternate world.
'You don't remember your mother's face?' Oshima asks. 'You lived together till you were four, so you should have some memory of what she looked like.'
I shake my head. 'I just can't recall, not at all. I don't know why, but the part of my memory where her face should be is dark, painted over, blank.'
Oshima ponders this for a while. 'Tell me more about why you think Miss Saeki might be your mother.'
'That's enough,' I say. 'Let's just forget it. I'm making too much of it.'
'It's all right-go ahead and say what's on your mind,' he says. 'Then the two of us can decide if you're making too much of it or not.'
Oshima's shadow on the floor moves in time with his movements, though it's slightly more exaggerated.
'There are an amazing amount of coincidences between me and Miss Saeki,' I say. 'They're like pieces of a puzzle that fit together. I understood this when I listened to 'Kafka on the Shore.' First off is the fact that I was drawn to this library, like fate reeling me in. A straight line from Nakano to Takamatsu. Very strange, when you think about it.'
'Like the plot of a Greek tragedy,' Oshima comments.
'Plus,' I add, 'I'm in love with her.'
'With Miss Saeki?'
'Yeah, probably.'
'Probably?' Oshima repeats, frowning. 'Do you mean it's probably Miss Saeki you're in love with? Or that you're probably in love with her?'
I turn red. 'I can't really explain it,' I reply. 'It's complicated and there's a lot of stuff I still don't get.'
'But you're probably in love, probably with Miss Saeki?'
'Right,' I say. 'Very much.'
'Probably, but also very much.'
I nod.
'At the same time it's possible she's your mother?'
Another of my patented nods.
'For a fifteen-year-old who doesn't even shave yet, you're sure carrying a lot of baggage around.' Oshima takes a sip of his coffee and carefully places the cup back on its saucer. 'I'm not saying that's wrong. Just that everything has a critical point.'
I don't say anything.
Oshima touches his temples and is lost in thought for a time. He crosses his slim fingers together in front of his chest. 'I'll try to find that sheet music as soon as I can. I can finish up here, so why don't you go back to your room.'
At lunchtime I take over from Oshima at the front counter. There are fewer visitors than usual, probably due to the steady rain. When he comes back from his break, he hands me a large envelope with a computer printout of the sheet music for 'Kafka on the Shore.'
'Convenient world we live in,' he says.
'Thanks,' I tell him.
'If you don't mind, why don't you take a cup of coffee upstairs. No cream or sugar. You make really good coffee.'
I make a fresh cup and take it on a tray to the second floor. As always, the door to Miss Saeki's room is open and she's at her desk, writing. When I put the cup of coffee on her desk, she looks up at me and smiles, then puts the cap back on her fountain pen and rests it on top of the paper.
'So, are you getting used to things around here?'
'Bit by bit,' I answer.
'Are you free now?'
'Yes, I am,' I tell her.
'Why don't you sit down, then.' Miss Saeki points to the wooden chair beside her desk. 'Let's talk for a while.'
It's starting to thunder again. Still far away, but gradually getting closer. I do what she says and take a seat.
'How old are you again? Sixteen?'
'Fifteen. I just turned fifteen,' I respond.
'You ran away from home, didn't you?'
'Yes, I did.'
'Was there some reason you had to do that?'
I shake my head. What should I say?
Miss Saeki picks up the cup and takes a sip while she waits for my answer.
'I felt like if I stayed there I'd be damaged beyond repair,' I say.
'Damaged?' Miss Saeki says, narrowing her eyes.
'Yes,' I say.
After a pause she says, 'It sounds strange for a boy your age to use a word like damaged, though I must say I'm intrigued. What exactly do you mean by damaged?'
