consummated by divorce. Romantic, isn't it?»
«Isn't it, though. I might faint.»
He chuckled.
«But it's true,» he said.
«I know,» I said.
That was the general drift of conversation each time I saw Gotanda. What we talked about was too serious to treat anything but lightly. Most of the jokes weren't terribly good, but it didn't matter. It was enough that we
Thirty-four is a difficult age. A different kind of difficult than age thirteen, but plenty difficult. Gotanda and I were both thirty-four, both beginning to acknowledge middle age. It was time we did. Readying things to keep us warm during the colder days ahead.
Gotanda put it succinctly. «Love. That's what I need.»
«I'm so touched,» I said. But the fact was, that's what I needed too.
Gotanda paused to consider what he'd said. I thought about it as well. I also thought about Yumiyoshi. How she drank all those Bloody Marys that snowy night.
«I've slept with so many women, I can't count them. You sleep with one, you've slept with them all. Hell, you go through the same motions,» said Gotanda after a while. «Love's what I want. Here I am, baring my sentimental soul
to you again. But I swear, the only woman I want to sleep with is my ex-wife.»
I snapped my fingers. «Incredible. The Word from Above. O Light Resplendent. You've got to hold a press conference. Make your I-only-want-to-sleep-with-my-wife proclamation. Everyone will be moved beyond tears. You might even receive a citation from the Prime Minister.»
«No, this is Nobel Prize material. Not something the common man can do.»
«You'll need a frock coat for the ceremony.»
«I'll buy it. Put it on my expense account.»
«
«I'll be on stage with the King of Sweden,» Gotanda went on. «I'll declare it for all the world to hear. Ladies and gentlemen, the only woman I want to sleep with is my wife! Waves of emotion. Storm clouds part; sun breaks through.»
«The ice cap melts, the Vikings are vanquished, the mermaids sing.»
Ah, love. We both lapsed silent, meditating on its grandeur. I had a lot to think about. I had to make sure I picked up some vodka and tomato juice and Lea & Perrins and lemons.
«Or then again, maybe you won't receive an award,» I piped up. «Maybe they'll just take you for a pervert.»
Gotanda considered that. «Maybe. We're talking neo-sexual revolution here. The masses might rise up and trample me to death,» he said. «I'd be a sexual martyr.»
«The first actor martyred to the neo-sexual revolution.'
«Martyred and never to sleep with his ex-wife again.»
Time for another drink.
If he had a spare moment, Gotanda would call and we'd go out or he'd come over to my place or I'd go over to his. The days passed. I'd resolved not to work at all. I couldn't be bothered. The world was doing very well without me. Meanwhile I was waiting.
I mailed Hiraku Makimura the balance of his money and receipts from the trip.
The next day I got a call from Boy Friday, begging me to take it all.
It was too much trouble to go through the whole back-and-forth bow-and-scrape routine, so I gave in. If it made the Master happy, who was I to argue? And before you could say «money in the bank,» Makimura had sent me a check for three hundred thousand yen. Also in the envelope was a receipt marked for services rendered—field research. I signed it, stamped it with my seal, and posted it. Back to the wonderful world of expense accounts.
I placed the check for three hundred thousand yen on my desk to appreciate 83/4% dust.
The Golden Week holidays came and went.
I called Yumiyoshi a number of times. She was always the one who determined the length of the conversation. Sometimes we talked for a long time, other times she'd simply say, «Busy, got to go now,» and hang up. Or if a silence hung on the line too long, she'd cut me off without warning. But at least we talked. Exchanged data, a little at a time. And one day, she gave me her home phone number. Progress.
She went to her swim club twice a week. Which I found, to my dismay, still brought on moments of jealousy. Handsome instructors and all. I was as bad as a high school boy and I knew it. And what was worse, I was afraid she knew it.
So whenever the subject came up, I held my tongue. Though not talking about it only inflated my paranoia. Visions of the instructor—Gotanda, of course—keeping Yumiyoshi after class for intensive one-on-one sessions. His hands supporting her chest and abdomen as she practiced the crawl. His hands caressing her breasts, easing between her thighs. But it's all right, he says.
Then he takes Yumiyoshi's hand and puts it on his crotch. She begins to massage it. An underwater erection, like coral. Yumiyoshi is in rapture.
Idiotic, yet that's what came to mind whenever I called Yumiyoshi. As time went on, the vision got more and more complex, with a whole cast of characters. Kiki and Mei and Yuki put in guest appearances. As Gotanda's fingers stroked her body, Yumiyoshi became Kiki.
«Listen, I'm just a plain, run-of-the-mill person,» Yumiyoshi said one night. She seemed particularly drained after a long day's drudgery. «The only difference between me and anyone else is my name. Otherwise I'm the same. I'm just working behind the counter of a hotel day after day, pointlessly wearing down my life. Don't call me any more. I'm not worth the phone charges.»
«But I thought you liked hotel work.» «I do.» «But?»
«The work is fine. But sometimes, I think the hotel's going to eat me up. Just sometimes. I ask myself, if I'm here or not, what's the difference? The hotel would still be there. But not me. I'm out of the picture. That's the difference.»
«Aren't you taking this hotel business a little too seriously?» I asked. «The hotel's the hotel, you're you. I think about you a lot, and sometimes I think about the hotel. But never together. You're you, the hotel's the hotel.»
«You think I don't know that? I know that, but people get confused. My private life and my identity get dragged into this hotel world, and then they get swallowed up.»
«It happens to everyone. You get dragged into something and you lose track of where one thing ends and the other
begins. You're not the only one. It happens to me too,» said.
«It's not the same thing, not at all,» she declared.
«No, maybe not. But I can still sympathize, can't I? Because, I mean, there's something about you that's very attractive.»
Yumiyoshi went silent, out there in the telephone void.
«I ... I'm frightened,» said Yumiyoshi, verging into sobs. «I'm frightened of that darkness. I'm frightened that it's going to come again, soon.»
«Hey, what's going on with you? Are you all right?»
«Of course I'm all right. What did you think?» She was clearly sobbing now. «So I'm crying. Anything wrong with that?»
