Of course, I had relations with you too, Mr. Okada, but it was something done in the correct way, with a correct purpose. I was in no way defiled by that.
I looked directly at her for several seconds, as if staring at a wall with colored blotches. You had relations with me?
Yes, she said. The first time I only used my mouth, but the second time we had relations. In the same room both times. You remember, of course? We had so little time on the first occasion, we had to hurry. There was more time to spare on the second occasion. It was impossible for me to reply to her.
I was wearing your wifes dress the second time. The blue one. And bracelets like these on my left arm. Isn't that true? She held her left wrist, with the pair of bracelets, out toward me. I nodded.
Creta Kano then said, Of course, we did not have relations in reality. When you ejaculated, it was not into me, physically, but in your own consciousness. Do you see? It was a fabricated consciousness. Still, the two of us share the consciousness of having had relations with each other.
Whats the point of doing something like that? To know, she said. To know more-and more deeply. I released a sigh. This was crazy. But she had been describing the scene of my dream with incredible accuracy. Running my finger around my mouth, I stared at the two bracelets on her left wrist.
Maybe I'm not very smart, I said, my voice dry, but I really cant claim to have understood everything you've been telling me.
In your second dream, when I was in the midst of having relations with you, another woman took my place. Isn't that true? I have no idea who she was. But that event was probably meant to suggest something to you, Mr. Okada. This is what I wanted to convey to you. I said nothing in return.
You should have no sense of guilt about having had relations with me, said Creta Kano. You see, Mr. Okada, I am a prostitute. I used to be a prostitute of the flesh, but now I am a prostitute of the mind. Things pass through me.
At this point, Creta Kano left her seat and went down on her knees beside me, clutching my hand in both of hers. She had soft, warm, very small hands. Please hold me, Mr. Okada. Right here and now.
We stood, and I put my arms around her. I honestly had no idea whether I should be doing this. But holding Creta Kano just then, just there, did not seem to be a mistake. I could not have explained it, but that was how I felt. I wrapped my arms around her slender body as if I were taking my first lesson in ballroom dancing. She was a small woman. The top of her head came just past the bottom of my chin. Her breasts pressed against my stomach. She held her cheek against my chest. And although she made no sound the whole time, she was crying- I could feel the warmth of her tears through my T-shirt. I looked down, to see her perfectly set hair trembling. I felt I was having a well-made dream. But it was not a dream.
After we had stayed in that position without moving for a very long time, she pulled away from me as if she had suddenly remembered something. Maintaining a distance, she looked at me.
Thank you so much, Mr. Okada, she said. I will be going home now. She had supposedly just been crying with some intensity, but her makeup had hardly been disturbed.
The sense of reality was now strangely absent.
Are you going to be coming into my dreams again sometime? I asked.
I don't know, she said, with a gentle shake of the head. Not even I can tell you that.
But please have faith in me. Whatever might happen, please don't be afraid of me or feel you must be on your guard where I am concerned. Will you promise me that, Mr. Okada? I answered with a nod. Soon afterward, Creta Kano went home.
The darkness of night was thicker than ever. The front of my T-shirt was soaking wet. I stayed up until dawn, unable to sleep. I didn't feel sleepy, for one thing, and in fact, I was afraid to sleep- I had the feeling that if I were to go to sleep, I would be enveloped in a flow of shifting sand that would carry me off to another world, from which I would never be able to return. I stayed on the sofa until morning, drinking brandy and thinking about Creta Kano's story. Even after the night had ended, the presence of Creta Kano and the fragrance of Christian Dior eau de cologne lingered in the house like captive shadows.
5 Views of Distant Towns
Eternal Half - Moon
Ladder in Place
The telephone rang at almost the exact moment I was falling asleep. I tried to ignore it, but as if it could read my mind, it kept up its stubborn ringing: ten times, twenty times-it was never going to stop. Finally, I opened one eye and looked at the clock. Just after six in the morning. Beyond the window shone the full light of day. The call might be from Kumiko. I got out of bed, went to the living room, and picked up the receiver.
Hello, I said, but the caller said nothing. Somebody was obviously there, but the person did not try to speak. I, too, kept silent. Concentrating on the earpiece, I could just make out the sound of breathing.
Who is it? I asked, but the silence continued at the other end.
If this is the person who's always calling, do me a favor and make it a little later, I said.
No sex talk before breakfast, please.
The person who's always calling? blurted out the voice of May Kasahara. Who do you talk about sex with?
Nobody, I said.
The woman you were holding in your arms last night? Do you talk about sex with her on the telephone? No, shes not the one. Tell me, Mr. Wind-Up Bird, just how many women do you have hanging around you- aside from your wife? That would be a very long story, I said. Anyhow, its six in the morning and I haven't had much sleep. So you came to my house last night, huh? And I saw you with her-holding each other. That didn't mean a thing, I said. How can I put it? It was a kind of little ceremony. You don't have to make excuses to me, said May Kasahara. I'm not your wife. Its none of my business, but let me just say this: You've got a problem. You may be right, I said. You're having a tough time now, I know that. But I cant help thinking its something you brought on yourself. You've got some really basic problem, and it attracts trouble like a magnet. Any woman with any sense would get the hell away from you.
You may be right, I said again.
May Kasahara maintained a brief silence on her end of the line. Then she cleared her throat once and said, You came to the alley last night, didn't you? Standing for a long time at the back of my house, like some amateur burglar ... Don't worry, I saw you there.
So why didn't you come out?
A girl doesn't always want to go out, you know, Mr. Wind-Up Bird. Sometimes she feels like being nasty-like, if the guys gonna wait, let him really wait.
I grunted.
But I still felt bad, she went on. So I dragged myself all the way to your house later- like an idiot.
And I was holding the woman.
Yeah, but isn't she kinda cuckoo? Nobody dresses like that anymore. And that makeup of hers! Shes, like, in a time warp or something. She should go get her head examined.
Don't worry, I said, shes not cuckoo. Different people have different tastes.
Well, sure. People can have any taste they want. But ordinary people don't go that far just for taste. Shes like-what?-right out of an old magazine: everything about her, from head to foot.