“Is that your car?” she said, looking past me.
“Yeah. You look great. Can I give you a hand?”
“Thanks. You can’t park there, you know.”
“I know, I don’t want to leave it there, I was hoping we could go somewhere.” I was aware I was talking a little fast. I needed to slow it down.
“Go somewhere? What do you mean?” She didn’t sound happy.
“Look, I know what you said, but—”
“No, Jun. I don’t want to drive anywhere.”
“Can I just—”
“No. I told you around here.”
I reached into my pocket and handed her the flyer. “This is what gave me the idea. Do you know him? I know you like jazz.”
She unfolded it and her mouth dropped open slightly. “Do I know Terumasa Hino? Are you joking?”
“I don’t know. He’s…good?”
“He’s amazing. I have all his records.”
I was glad I hadn’t lied to Kyoko when I told her Sayaka was a fan. “I saw the flyer, that’s where I got the idea. I know I probably shouldn’t have, but it just seemed like something that could be fun. Because I know you like jazz. So I went out to the club and checked it out. I met the owner and she said she’d help—”
“What do you mean, ‘help’?”
I realized I was brushing up against sensitivities I had barely even considered, much less understood. “Well, I told her I had a friend who was a big Terumasa Hino fan—”
“You told her what? You didn’t even know I knew him.”
“I know, I guess I was going out on a limb a little, but I figured you might like him.”
She was looking exasperated. “And?”
“And I told her — Kyoko’s her name, by the way — that you were in a wheelchair, and she said that was no problem, all we had to do was get there early, by eight-thirty, and if I could carry you down the steps, she would follow with the wheelchair. If it folds. Does it? Fold, I mean. She asked and I didn’t know.”
Her expression was transitioning from exasperated to pissed. Shit. I didn’t even know what I’d done, exactly, but I’d blown it.
“You think I want to go someplace, and be carried around?”
“No, I didn’t think it would be like that—”
“Have you carry me around like a broken fucking doll, while some woman I don’t even know follows us with my wheelchair? That’s your idea?”
“No, that wasn’t—”
“I’m going to go, okay? This was a bad idea. I’m sorry.”
“No, wait. Wait. Can I say something?”
She pursed her lips and nodded.
I tried to collect my thoughts. “Look, I don’t know why you’re in a wheelchair. I know it’s not your fault. I mean, what I mean is, if you were blind and I wanted to go out with you, I’d offer you my arm. If you were deaf, I’d bring along a notepad so we could talk by writing. You’re in a wheelchair, so I can just push you or whatever, okay? Or carry you, if there are stairs. Or, I know there’s more to it than that and I haven’t really thought about it, but I feel like, it’s just a practical problem. I can walk, and you can’t. So let me help you. It’s like, you know jazz and I don’t. I mean, I know a little — Bill Evans — but that’s about it. So you can teach me. You can help me, too.”
She bowed her head for a moment, then looked up. “But don’t you see? I could teach you jazz, and then you’d know jazz. You can carry me, but I’m never going to be able to walk.”
“I know. And I’m sorry. I feel like I keep saying stupid things. But if you don’t let me help you, or someone help you, you’re never going to get to see Terumasa Hino. And I hear he’s amazing.”
She sighed.
“You sure you don’t want to just give it a try?” I said. “I think there’s plenty of room in the van. I’ll drive really slowly and carefully. Whatever you want.”
There was a long pause. Twice she started to say something and didn’t. I waited, hoping and trying not to. Finally, she said, “Did you see their bathroom?”
“What? No, I didn’t.”
“Well, welcome to just one small example of the dozens of things you haven’t considered about my life, Jun. I’m not blaming you. Why would you think about these things? But a club like that…my wheelchair won’t even fit in the bathroom. Do you see how…do you see what this is like for me? I don’t like going to new places. With new people. It doesn’t work out well.”
“It hasn’t, you mean?”
“Yeah. It hasn’t.”
“But…are you going to stop trying?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“I didn’t see the bathroom. It’s probably pretty small.”
“I’m sure it is.”
“Can I say something?”
She gave a little laugh. “Could I stop you?”
“I’ve been in some…difficult situations. I don’t want to talk about them. I don’t even want to think about them, not now, anyway. But what I learned in those situations is to not be sentimental. To just be practical. People need to go to the bathroom, just like they need to eat and drink and sleep. So when you need to go, I’ll push your chair for you, or you can do it, and you put your arms around my neck, and I’ll get you seated, and I’ll back out and close the door and you call me when you’re ready. I know you have to go to the bathroom sometimes. I mean, you’re beautiful, but you’re human. Humans need to go to the bathroom. At least that’s what I hear.”
She laughed, but other than that didn’t respond.
“Will you trust me?” I said.
She looked away. After a moment, she started nodding, almost imperceptibly. “All right,” she said. “Okay.”
I couldn’t stop myself from grinning. “Okay. Okay, great. On the way over, I want you to tell me all about this guy Terumasa Hino, okay? Teach me about jazz.”
She smiled, a little uncertainly. “Okay.”
She pushed herself over to the van. I walked alongside her. “Now listen, if I do anything wrong, or anything that makes you uncomfortable, you just tell me, okay?”
“Yeah, I’ve got that covered.”
I opened the cargo doors and slid out the two-by-sixes. “I can just push you up, is that all right?”
“I can do it.” She took hold of the wheels and propelled herself up with a quick series of long, smooth strokes. She was stronger than she looked. Well, of course — her upper body was constantly getting exercised. From behind, I was able to take a close look at her legs. She was wearing jeans, but I could see the limbs inside were withered. I wondered again what had happened to her. Well, if she wanted to tell me, she would. Otherwise, not. I slid the two-by-sixes back in, closed the doors, went around front, and drove off. I went slowly and carefully — I didn’t want to take any chances on Sayaka getting bounced around in back. These days, you’d probably be arrested for putting someone in a wheelchair unsecured in the back of a cargo van, but it was a different world then. No child seats, no shoulder belts, no bicycle helmets, no safety warnings or polarized plugs…it’s a wonder anyone even survived to reproduce.
On the way to Shinjuku, she told me about Hino: jazz trumpeter; led his own quartet; his instruments, his influences, his significance. She said he was on the cusp of fame and she thought one day he would be a legend. I realized I’d gotten really lucky seeing that flyer. If it had been anything else, I didn’t think she would have come with me. We’d be having sushi or something in Uguisudani. Not that it would have been bad, but this was different. I liked how engaged she was, how enthusiastic. I liked how out of the ordinary this was for her. How special. I liked that it showed she trusted me.
“So what is it about jazz?” I asked as we drove.