Dance Dance Dance

deep too. I apologized. «Sorry,» I said. «I didn't mean to light into you like that. I couldn't lift a finger to help the girl. That's all, it's not your fault.»

«But it is my fault,» he insisted.

Silence was growing oppressive, so I put on another tape. Ben E. King's «Spanish Harlem.» We said nothing more until we reached Yokohama, an unspoken bond between us. I wanted to pat him on the back and say it's okay, it's all over and done with. But a person had died. She was cold, alone, and nameless. That fact weighed more heavily than I could bear.

«Who do you think killed her?» asked Gotanda much later.

«Who knows?» I said. «In that line of work, you get all types. Anything can happen.»

«But the club is real careful about screening the clients. It's so organized, they should be able to find the guy easily.»

«You'd think so, but it could be anybody else too. What­ever, she made a mistake, and it turned out to be fatal. It happens, I guess,» I said. «She lived in this world of images that was safe and pure. But there are rules even in that world. Somebody breaks the rules and the fantasy's kaput.»

«It doesn't make sense,» said Gotanda. «Why would such a beautiful, intelligent girl want to become a hooker? Why? She could've had a good life, a decent job. She could've mod­eled, she could've married a rich guy. How come a hooker? Okay, the money's good, but she didn't seem all that inter­ested in money. You think she really wanted this fairy tale?»

«Maybe,» I answered. «Like me, like you. Like every­body. Only everybody goes about it different. That's why you never know what's going to happen.»

When we pulled up to the New Grand Hotel in Yoko­hama, Gotanda suggested I stay over too. «I'm sure we can get you a room. We'll call up room service and knock back some drinks. I don't think I can sleep right away.»

I shook my head, no. «I'll take a rain check on those drinks. I'm pretty worn out. I'll just go home and collapse.»

«You sure?» he said. «Well, thanks for driving me down here. I feel like I haven't said a responsible thing all day.»

«You're tired too,» I said. «But listen, with someone who's dead, there's no rush to make amends. She'll be dead for a long time. Let's think things over when we're in better spirits. You hear what I'm saying? She's dead. Extremely, irrevocably dead. Feel guilt, feel whatever you like, she's not coming back.»

Gotanda nodded. «I hear you.»

«Good night,» I said.

«Thanks again,» he said.

«Light a Bunsen burner for me next time, and we'll call it even.»

He smiled as he got out of the car. «Strange to say, but you're the only friend I have who'd say that. Not another soul. We meet after twenty years, and the thing you chose to remember!»

At that he was off. He turned up the collar of his trench coat and headed through the spring drizzle into the New Grand. Almost like Casablanca. The beginning of a beautiful friendship . . .

The rain kept coming down, steadily, evenly. Soft and gentle, drawing new green shoots up into the spring night. Extremely, irrevocably dead, I said aloud.

I should have stayed overnight and drunk with Gotanda, it occurred to me. Gotanda and I had four things in com­mon. One, we'd been in the same science lab unit. Two, we were both divorced. Three, we'd both slept with Kiki. And four, we'd both slept with Mei. Now Mei was dead. Extremely, irrevocably. Worth a drink together. Why didn't I stay and keep him company? I had time on my hands, I had nothing planned for tomorrow. What prevented me? Maybe, somehow, I didn't want it to seem like a scene from a movie. Poor guy. He was just so unbearably charming. And it wasn't his fault. Probably.

When I got back to my Shibuya apartment, I poured myself a whiskey and watched the cars on the expressway through the blinds.

27

A week passed. Spring made solid advances, never once retreated. A world away from March. The cherries bloomed and the blossoms scattered in the evening showers. Elections came and went, a new school year started. Bjorn Borg retired. Michael Jackson was number one in the charts the whole time. The dead stayed dead.

It was a succession of aimless days. I went swimming twice. I went to the barber. I bought newspapers, never saw an article about Mei. Maybe they couldn't identify her.

On Tuesday and Thursday Yuki and I went out to eat. On Monday we went for a drive with the music playing. I enjoyed these times. We shared one thing. We had time to waste.

When I didn't see her, Yuki stayed indoors during the day, afraid that truant officers might nab her. Her mother had yet to return.

«Why don't we go to Disneyland then?» I asked.

«I don't want to go,» she sneered. «I hate those places.»

«You hate all that gooey Mickey Mouse kid stuff, I take it?»

«Of course I hate it,» she said.

«But it's not good for you to stay indoors all the time,» I said.

«So why don't we go to Hawaii?» she said.

«What? Hawaii?»

«Mama phoned up and asked if I wanted to come to Hawaii. That's where she is right now, taking pictures. She leaves me alone all this time and then suddenly she gets wor­ried about me. She can't come home yet, and since I'm not going to school anyway, she said to get on a plane and come see her. Hawaii's not such a bad idea, yeah? Mama said she'd pay your way. I mean, I can't go alone, right? Let's go, please. Just for one week. It'll be fun.»

I laughed. «What exactly is the difference between Disneyland and Hawaii?»

«No truant officers in Hawaii.»

«Well, you got a point there.»

«Then you'll go?»

I thought it over, and the more I thought about it the more I liked it. Getting out of Tokyo had to be a good idea. I'd reached a dead end here. My head was stuck. I was in a funk. And Mei was extremely, irrevocably dead.

I'd been to Hawaii once. For one day only. I was going to Los Angeles on business and the plane had engine trouble, so we set down in Hawaii overnight. I bought a pair of sun­glasses and swim trunks in the hotel and spent the day on the beach. A great day. No, Hawaii was not such a bad idea.

Swim, drink fruit drinks, get a tan, and relax. I might even have a good time. Then I could reset my sights and get on with whatever I had to do.

«Okay, let's go,» I said.

«Goody!» Yuki squealed. «Let's go buy the tickets.»

But before doing that, I made a call to Hiraku Makimura and explained the offer that was on the table.

He was immediately positive. «Might do you some good too, son. You need to stretch your legs,» he said, «take a break from all that shoveling you do. It'd also put you out of harm's way with the police. That mess isn't cleared up yet, is it? They're bound to knock on your door again.»

«Maybe so,» I said.

«Go. And don't worry about money,» he said. Any dis­cussions you had with this guy always turned to money. «Go for as long as you like.»

«I figure on a week at the most. I still have a pile of things to get back to.»

«As you like,» Makimura said. «When are you going? Probably the sooner the better. That's how it is with vaca­tions. Go when the mood strikes. That's the trick. You hardly need to take anything with you anyway. I tell you what—we'll get you tickets for the day after tomorrow. How's that?»