The Miracles of the Namiya General Store

by Keigo Higashino

  What the hell was that? he thought. It was nothing close to what he had expected. They never had an actual argument, but when they did speak, they always seemed to talk past each other. The only things out of their lips were complaints, sarcasm, and the occasional stony laugh.

  The rumor was that if you saw the movie, you would see why the Beatles split, but Kosuke never did. That was because the Beatles in the movie were effectively already over. He’d wanted to know how they got there in the first place.

  On the train home, it occurred to him—maybe this is what a breakup is.

  People don’t drift apart for one specific reason. Well, you might be able to find a reason, but you could come up with one only after you made up your mind, a tired excuse tacked on after the fact. If their hearts were still in it and their bond was threatening to sever, you’d think one of them would step in and try to fix things. When no one does, you know the bond has already been broken. Which was why all four of them could look on from the shore as the Beatles sank right in front of them, without trying to save it.

  Kosuke felt betrayed. It was as if something he treasured had been smashed. It was then that he decided.

  At the station, he ducked into a phone booth and called his friend, the one who had called a week ago to tell him to see Let It Be.

  His friend was home. When he heard his voice over the phone, Kosuke asked him to buy his records.

  “What records?”

  “My Beatles records. You said you wanted to collect them someday.”

  “That’s true. Which ones are we talking about?”

  “All of them. How’d you like to buy every Beatles record I own?”

  “All of them?”

  “How’s ten thousand yen sound? If you tried to buy them one by one, you’d pay more than that, easy.”

  “I know that, but this is kind of sudden. I mean, we don’t even have a stereo.”

  “All right, I’ll ask someone else.” Kosuke almost hung up.

  He heard a harried voice yell “Wait!” from the receiver. “Let me think about it. I’ll call you tomorrow. Deal?”

  Kosuke pressed the receiver to his ear and shook his head. “Nope. Tomorrow’s no good.”

  “Why?”

  “Doesn’t matter. I don’t have time for this. If you’re not gonna buy them right now, I’m hanging up.”

  “Wait. Wait just a second. Okay? Five minutes. Give me five minutes.”

  Kosuke sighed. “Fine. I’ll call you back in five.”

  He hung up and stepped out of the phone booth. He looked up at the sky. The sun had begun its descent.

  Kosuke wasn’t exactly sure why he’d decided to sell all his records. He just had a feeling he couldn’t listen to the Beatles anymore. Call it the end of an era.

  It had been five minutes. Kosuke went back into the phone booth and called his friend.

  “We’re good,” the friend exclaimed, almost delirious with excitement. “I talked to my parents. They’ll give me the money, but I’m gonna have to buy the stereo myself. Should I come and get them now?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be here.”

  Things were in motion. All his records would soon be gone. His heart squeezed a little at the thought of it, but he shook his head to make the feeling go away. No big deal.

  Back at home, he transferred the box of records into two paper bags to make them easier to carry. As he worked, he had a long look at the cover of every album. Each one held so many memories.

  He stopped when he came to Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. The product of a period of musical experimentation for the Beatles. It had been described as a conceptual collage, as apt a description for the album as for its cover.

  The four Beatles stood posed in colorful military regalia, accompanied by a tight brigade of cutouts of historical and pop-culture icons.

  On the far right was a woman who looked like Marilyn Monroe, and beside her was a spot that had been filled in with black marker. When his cousin owned the record, he had taped a photo of his face there: a fanboy’s attempt to make himself a physical part of the experience. Kosuke had torn the photo off, but the printed surface had peeled off with it. He tried to make the damage less conspicuous by coloring it black.

  I’m sorry for selling your records. I didn’t have a choice. He hoped his cousin would hear him up in heaven.

  Kimiko saw Kosuke carrying the paper bags to the front door. “What’s all that?” she asked.

  He had nothing to hide and told her the truth. She nodded but didn’t seem to care.

  Before long, his friend was at the front door with a ten-thousand-yen bill in an envelope. In exchange, Kosuke set both bags of records at his feet.

  “Whoa!” the friend cried out, poking through the bags. “Are you sure you’re okay doing this? It took you forever to collect these.”

  Kosuke frowned and scratched his neck.

  “It just hit me out of nowhere. I’m done with the Beatles. I saw the movie, you know.”

  “Let It Be?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Ah.” The look on his friend’s face was half acceptance, half disbelief as he nodded.

  He picked up the bags, and Kosuke held the door. “Thanks,” he whispered and stepped outside. He looked back from a few steps through the yard. “All right, see you tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow? It took Kosuke a full second to comprehend. He had completely forgotten that the next day was the first day of the fall term.

  Frantic now, he told his perplexed friend, “Sure, see you tomorrow, at school.”

  When he finally closed the door, he let out an enormous sigh. It was all he could do to keep from curling up into a ball right then and there.

  6

  Sadayuki came home a little after eight. It had been ages since he had stayed at work so late.

  “I put the finishing touches on things at the office. I’d like to stall the manhunt for as long as possible.” He loosened the knot of his tie. His shirt was translucent with sweat, clinging to his skin.

  They ate dinner late. Their last meal together at that house was leftover curry from the night before. The fridge was already cleared out.

  As they ate, Sadayuki and Kimiko spoke in low voices about their belongings. Valuables, clothes, the few essentials they would need, Kosuke’s school materials… That was just about all they would bring, and the rest they’d leave behind. They’d gone through this tally several times before, talking over it again as a last precaution.

  Kimiko brought up what Kosuke had done with the records.

  “You sold them? All of them? Why?” Sadayuki sounded genuinely surprised.

  “I dunno,” said Kosuke, staring at his curry. “It’s not like we have a way to play them.”

  “Wow. Sold them, huh? That’s good. Sure helps lighten the load. How much you get?”

  Kosuke paused for a beat too long, so Kimiko piped up. “Ten thousand yen.”

  “Ten thousand yen? That’s it?” Sadayuki’s tone changed entirely. “You little shithead. How many of those did you have? Most of them were LPs. If you went out and tried to buy those back again, you know how much it would cost? You probably couldn’t do it with twenty, thirty thousand yen. And you got ten thousand? What were you thinking?”

  “I wasn’t trying to make money off them,” Kosuke argued, head down. “Most of them were Tetsuo’s anyway.”

  His father clicked his tongue loudly. “Don’t give me that horseshit. When you sell anything, you need to haggle for more. Even if it’s only pocket change. Don’t expect to live the kind of life you’ve been living. You hear me?”

  Kosuke looked up. He wanted to ask whose fault that was.

  Sadayuki saw something different in his son’s face and repeated himself. “Hear me?”

  Kosuke didn’t nod back and instead dropped his spoon into his bowl. “I’m done.”

  He left the table.

  “Answer me, boy!”

  “Shut up. I get it, okay?”

  �
��What was that? You think you can speak to your father that way?”

  “Sadayuki,” warned Kimiko, “I think that’s enough.”

  “No, it’s not. Hey, what’d you do with that ten thousand yen?”

  Kosuke glanced down at his father. Veins were bulging out of his temples.

  “Whose money did you buy those with? That was your allowance. Whose hard-earned money does that allowance come from?”

  “Stop it, Sadayuki. You’re not going to take money from your son.”

  “Who’s taking it? I’m just making sure he understands whose money that was.”

  “Enough,” Kimiko cautioned. “Kosuke, go to your room and get your things.”

  Kosuke listened to his mother and left the living room. He went upstairs to his bedroom and threw himself in bed. The Beatles were staring at him from a poster on the wall. He sat up, tore it from its tacks, and reduced it to shreds.

  The knock came about two hours later. Kimiko poked her head in and asked, “Done packing?”

  “Mostly.” Kosuke pointed to a single cardboard box and duffel bag beside his desk. This was all he had to his name. “Are we leaving?”

  “Soon.” Kimiko came into the room. “Sorry to put you through all this.”

  Kosuke didn’t say anything. He couldn’t think of anything to say.

  “But I’m sure things are going to be okay. Hang in there, just a little longer.”

  “All right,” he said quietly.

  “Your father and I—well, your father especially—we’re ready to do anything if it means giving you a good life. Even putting our lives on the line.”

  Kosuke bowed his head. Bullshit, he told himself. How could forcing your son to run away with you ever lead to a good life?

  “Okay then, so come downstairs with your things in half an hour.” Kimiko left.

  Just like Ringo, thought Kosuke. In Let It Be, he thought Ringo was the only one trying to keep the Beatles afloat, but his efforts were a waste of energy.

  At midnight on the dot, Kosuke and his family fled under the cover of night. Their getaway car was an old white cargo van Sadayuki had obtained for the event. They sat down in a row on the front bench seats. Sadayuki gripped the steering wheel. The back was stuffed with cardboard boxes and bags of all sorts.

  Just before getting in, Kosuke had asked his father, “Where are we going?”

  And his father had replied, “We’ll know when we get there.” This was the closest thing they had to a conversation. Once they were driving, they barely spoke.

  Eventually, they made it to the highway. Kosuke had no idea where they were or where they were heading. All the highway signs were for places he had never heard of.

  After about two hours on the road, Kimiko said she had to use the bathroom, and Sadayuki pulled into a rest area. Kosuke saw a sign saying they were in a place called Fujikawa.

  The parking lot was almost empty this time of night, but Sadayuki parked the van in the corner of the lot. He was on edge, trying not to make them look conspicuous.

  Kosuke went into the bathroom with his father. As he was washing his hands, Sadayuki came up beside him at the sink.

  “You won’t be getting an allowance for a while.”

  Kosuke looked at his father’s reflection in the mirror.

  “Should come as no surprise,” Sadayuki continued. “Besides, you’re rolling in it, with that ten-thousand-yen bill.”

  Again with the ten-thousand-yen bill. Kosuke was disgusted. It wasn’t even that much money. And Kosuke was just a kid.

  Sadayuki walked out without washing his hands.

  Watching his father leave, Kosuke felt something break inside him. It must’ve been the last vestige of his desire to be with his parents. Their bond was severed. He was certain.

  Kosuke left the bathroom and ran in the opposite direction from the parked van. He didn’t understand the layout of the rest stop. All he knew was that he wanted to get as far as possible from his parents.

  He ran for his life. His trajectory was random. Before he knew it, he was in another parking lot full of trucks parked in rows.

  A man walked over to one and stepped up into the cab. It looked like he was about to drive off.

  Kosuke rushed to the back of the truck and climbed up inside the canvas. He saw stacks of wooden boxes. It wasn’t smelly, and there was space for him to hide.

  The engine started. It was now or never. He slid himself against the decking.

  The truck started off. Kosuke’s heart was racing. His breathing was manic, no hope of slowing down.

  Hugging his knees, he nestled his face between his legs and closed his eyes. He wanted to sleep. He’d sleep for now and think of what to do next when he woke up. But the seriousness of what he’d done, and his uncertainty of how he was going to survive, blocked any immediate relief.

  It goes without saying that Kosuke was clueless about where the truck was going or what road they were on. The fact that it was dark out didn’t help, but even in broad daylight, he wouldn’t have been able to ascertain where they were from scenery alone.

  He doubted he would be getting any sleep that night, but eventually, he dozed off. When he came to, the truck had stopped. Not at a traffic light, but at what must have been its destination.

  Kosuke peeked out from the canvas to have a look around. He was in some enormous parking lot. There were other trucks around him.

  Making sure no one was around, he stepped down to the pavement. With his head lowered, he went straight for the exit. He was lucky there was no security. When he was out, he turned and looked at the sign at the entrance. Some kind of shipping facility. He was in Edogawa. Tokyo.

  It was still pitch-dark out. No stores were open. Kosuke had no choice but to keep on walking. He didn’t know where he was heading, but he kept on going anyway. He figured if he walked enough, he would wind up somewhere.

  Day broke as he walked along. He started seeing bus stops on the sidewalk. When he read where the buses were going, it was as if the world had opened up before him. Destination: Tokyo Station. Perfect. If he kept on going, he’d get to Tokyo Station, too.

  But what would he do from there? Go someplace else? Trains went in all directions from Tokyo Station. Which one would he choose? He pondered the question as he walked.

  Taking short breaks in parks along the way, Kosuke forged ahead. Even though he knew better, he couldn’t help thinking of his parents. What had they done after they realized he was gone? They had no way of finding him. But it wasn’t as if they were going to report him missing. And they weren’t going back to the house.

  They probably just kept heading toward their next spot. Once things calmed down, they would maybe try to find him. But they couldn’t come out in the open, and they weren’t going to be able to use relatives or acquaintances to track him down. The feared taxman or whoever would have spread his nets in all those places.

  He had no way of finding his parents, either. The pair were planning to lie low. They would never use their real names.

  Which meant he would never see his parents. Ever again. The thought burned dimly somewhere deep in his chest. But he had no regrets. Their hearts had grown apart. Once that happens, there’s no trying to fix it. Sticking together would have been pointless. He’d learned that from the Beatles.

  As time passed, the flow of traffic increased. The number of people walking with him on the sidewalk went up, too. There were kids on their way to school. Kosuke finally remembered: It was the first day of the fall term.

  He kept walking in the same direction of the buses that drove past him. It was the first day of September, but the heat of summer lingered. His T-shirt was mucked with dirt and sweat.

  He arrived at Tokyo Station a little after ten. Approaching the building on foot for the first time, he didn’t realize right away that it was a train station. The grand brick building reminded him of some giant mansion out of medieval Europe.

  Inside, Kosuke was awestruck by its size all ove
r again. He wandered the halls, marveling at all the sights. He saw a sign for the bullet train.

  He had always wanted to ride one. He thought this was the year he’d finally have his chance. It ran straight from Tokyo to Osaka, where the Expo was underway.

  Posters for the Expo were slapped up everywhere he looked. They gave simple directions. Just take the bullet train to Shin-Osaka Station and a quick ride on the subway out to the pavilion.

  He was going. In his wallet, he had fourteen thousand yen: the ten thousand yen was from the records, and the rest left over from New Year’s.

  So he’d go and see the Expo, and then what? He would figure it out once he got there. People from across Japan—across the world!—had gathered there to celebrate the latest innovations. In this carnival of opportunities, he was sure he could find some way of living on his own.

  He lined up for the ticket counter and made sure he had enough. When he saw the fare to Shin-Osaka Station, he was relieved. It wasn’t as high as he expected. There were two lines: Hikari and Kodama. He hesitated for a second but decided on Kodama. He was on a budget.

  When he reached the counter, he asked the ticket agent for “one ticket to Shin-Osaka, please.”

  The agent scowled. “Student discount? I’ll need your voucher and your school ID.”

  “Oh, I forgot it.”

  “All right, standard fare.”

  “Yes, please.”

  The man asked question after question. What time? Reserved seating? Or unreserved? Kosuke fumbled through his answers.

  “Wait just a moment,” said the man, and he disappeared out back. Kosuke counted his cash again. Once he had his ticket, he would buy himself a bento box for breakfast.

  Then it happened. A hand landed hard on his shoulder.

  “Excuse me.”

  He turned to face a man in a suit.

  “What’d I do?”

  “There’s a few things I’d like to ask you. Would you mind following me please?” he said coercively.

  “But I… My ticket…”

  “It won’t take long. I just need you to answer a few questions, and you’ll be on your way. Let’s go.”