She exposed her nakedness to me this way for perhaps five minutes until, at last, she wrapped herself in her gown once more and buttoned it from top to bottom. As soon as the last button was in place, she rose and glided toward the bedroom, opened the door silently, and disappeared within.
I stayed fixed in place for a very long time until it occurred to me to leave the bed. I retrieved my watch from where it had fallen on the floor and turned it toward the moonlight. The time was three-forty. I went to the kitchen and drank a few glassfuls of water before stretching out in bed again, but sleep never came for me until the morning sunlight crept into every corner of the room, dissolving all traces of the moon’s pale glow. I was somewhere on the edge of sleep when Reiko came and smacked me on the cheek, shouting, “Morning! Morning!”
WHILE REIKO STRAIGHTENED OUT MY SOFA BED, Naoko went to the kitchen and started making breakfast. She smiled at me and said, “Good morning.” “Good morning,” I said in reply. I stood by and watched Naoko as she put water on to boil and sliced some bread, humming all the while, but I could sense nothing in her manner to suggest that she had revealed her naked body to me the night before.
“Your eyes are red,” she said to me as she poured the coffee. “Are you O.K.?”
“I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t get back to sleep.”
“I bet we were snoring,” said Reiko.
“Not at all,” I said.
“That’s good,” said Naoko.
“He’s just being polite,” said Reiko, yawning.
At first I thought that Naoko was embarrassed or acting innocent for Reiko, but her behavior remained unchanged when Reiko momentarily left the room, and her eyes had their usual transparent look.
“How’d you sleep?” I asked Naoko.
“Like a log,” she answered with ease. She wore a simple hairpin without any kind of decoration.
I didn’t know what to make of this, and I continued to feel that way all through breakfast. Buttering my bread or peeling my egg, I kept glancing across the table at Naoko, in search of a sign.
“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” she asked with a smile.
“I think he’s in love with somebody,” said Reiko.
“Are you in love with somebody?” Naoko asked me.
“Could be,” I said, returning her smile. When the two women started joking around at my expense, I gave up trying to think about what had happened in the night and concentrated on my bread and coffee.
After breakfast, Reiko and Naoko said they would be going to feed the birds in the birdhouse. I volunteered to go along. They changed into jeans and work shirts and white rubber boots. Set in a little park behind the tennis courts, the birdhouse had everything in it from chickens and pigeons to peacocks and parrots and was surrounded by flower beds and shrubberies and benches. Two men in their forties, also apparently sanatorium patients, were raking up leaves that had fallen in the pathways. The women walked over to say good morning to the pair, and Reiko got a laugh from them with another of her jokes. Cosmos were blooming in the flower beds, and the shrubberies were extremely well manicured. Spotting Reiko, the birds started chattering and flying about inside the cage.
The women entered the shed by the cage and came out with a bag of feed and a garden hose. Naoko screwed the hose on a spigot and turned on the water. Taking care to prevent any birds from flying out, the two of them slipped into the cage, Naoko hosing down the dirt and Reiko scrubbing the floor with a deck brush. The spray they set up sparkled in the glare of the morning sun. The peacocks flapped around the cage to avoid getting splashed. A turkey raised its head and glowered at me like a crotchety old man, while a parrot on the perch above screeched its displeasure and beat its wings. Reiko meowed at the parrot, which slunk over to the far corner but soon was calling, “Thank you! Crazy! Shithead!”
“I wonder who taught him that kind of language?” said Naoko with a sigh.
“Not me,” said Reiko. “I would never do such a thing.” She started meowing again, and the parrot shut up.
Laughing, Reiko explained, “This guy once had a run-in with a cat. Now he’s scared to death of them.”
When they were through cleaning, the two set their tools down and went around filling each of the feeders. Splashing its way through puddles on the floor, the turkey darted to its feed box and plunged its head in, too obsessed with eating to be bothered by Naoko’s smacks on its tail.
“Do you do this every morning?” I asked Naoko.
“Every morning!” she said. “They usually give this job to new women. It’s so easy. Like to see the rabbits?”
“Sure,” I said. The rabbit hutch was behind the birdhouse. Some ten rabbits lay inside, asleep in the straw. Naoko swept up their droppings, put feed in their box, and picked up one of the babies, rubbing it against her cheek.
“Isn’t it precious?” she gushed. She let me hold it. The warm little ball of fur cringed in my arms, twitching its nose.
“Don’t worry, he won’t hurt you,” she said to the rabbit, stroking its head with her finger and smiling at me. It was such a radiant smile, without a trace of shadow, that I couldn’t help smiling myself. And what about Naoko last night? I wondered. I knew for certain that it had been the real Naoko and not a dream: she had definitely taken her clothes off and shown her naked body to me.
Reiko whistled a lovely rendition of “Proud Mary” as she stuffed a vinyl bag with the debris they had gathered and tied off the opening. I helped them carry the tools and feed bag to the shed.
“Morning is my favorite time of day,” said Naoko. “It’s like everything’s starting out fresh and new. I begin to get sad around noontime, and I hate it when the sun goes down. I live with those same feelings day after day.”
“And while you’re living with those feelings, you youngsters get old just like me,” said Reiko with a smile. “You’re thinking about how it’s morning now or night and the next thing you know, you’re old.”
“But you like getting old,” said Naoko.
“Not really,” said Reiko. “But I sure don’t wish I was young again.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because it’s such a pain in the neck!” she said. Then she tossed her broom in and closed the door of the shed, whistling “Proud Mary” all the while.
BACK AT THE APARTMENT, the women changed their rubber boots for tennis shoes and said they’d be going to the farm. Reiko suggested I stay behind with a book or something because the work would be no fun to watch and they would be doing it as part of a group. “And while you’re waiting you can wash the pile of dirty underwear we left by the sink,” she added.
“You’re kidding,” I said, taken aback.
“Of course I am.” She laughed. “You’re so sweet. Isn’t he, Naoko?”
“He really is,” said Naoko, laughing with her.
“I’ll work on my German,” I said with a sigh.
“Yeah, do your homework like a good boy,” said Reiko. “We’ll be back before lunch.”
The two of them went out tittering. I heard the footsteps and voices of a number of people walking by downstairs.
I went into the bathroom and washed my face again, then borrowed a nail clipper and trimmed my nails. For a bathroom that was being shared by two women, its contents were incredibly simple. Aside from some neatly arranged bottles of cleansing cream and lip moisturizer and sunblock, there was almost nothing that could be called cosmetics. When I finished trimming my nails, I made myself some coffee and drank it at the kitchen table, German book open. Stripping down to a T-shirt in the sun-filled kitchen, I had set about memorizing all the forms in a grammar chart when I was struck by an odd feeling. It seemed to me that the longest imaginable distance separated irregular German verb forms from this kitchen table.
The two women came back from the farm at eleven-thirty, took turns in the shower, and changed into fresh clothes. The three of us went to the dining hall for lunch, then walked to the front
gate. This time the guardhouse had a man on duty. He was sitting at his desk, enjoying a lunch that must have been brought to him from the dining hall.The transistor radio on the shelf was playing a sentimental old pop tune. He waved to us with a friendly “Hi” as we approached, and we helloed him back.
Reiko explained to him that we were going to walk outside the grounds and return in three hours.
“Great,” he said. “Ya lucked out with the weather. Just stay away from the valley road, though. It got washed out in that big rain. No problem anywhere else.”
Reiko wrote her name and Naoko’s in a furlough registry along with the date and time.
“Enjoy yourselves,” said the guard. “And take care.”
“Nice guy,” I said.
“He’s a little strange up here,” Reiko said, touching her head.
He had been right about the weather, though. The sky was a fresh-swept blue, with only a trace of white cloud clinging to the dome of heaven like a thin streak of test paint. We walked beside the low stone wall of Ami Hostel for a time, then moved away to climb a steep, narrow trail single file. Reiko led the way, with Naoko in the middle and me bringing up the rear. Reiko climbed with the confident stride of one who knew every stretch of every mountain in the area. We concentrated on walking, with hardly a word among us. Naoko wore blue jeans and a white blouse and carried her jacket in one hand. I watched her long, straight hair swaying right and left where it met her shoulders. She would glance back at me now and then, smiling when our eyes met. The trail continued upward so long it was almost dizzying, but Reiko’s pace never slackened. Naoko hurried to keep up with her, wiping the sweat from her face. Not having indulged in such outdoor activities for some time, I found myself running short of breath.
“Do you do this a lot?” I asked Naoko.
“Maybe once a week,” she answered. “Having a tough time?”
“Kind of,” I said.
“We’re almost there,” said Reiko. “This is about two-thirds of the way. Come on, you’re a boy, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, but I’m out of shape.”
“Playing with girls all the time,” muttered Naoko as if to herself.
I wanted to answer her, but I was too winded to speak. Every now and then, red birds with tufts on their heads would flit across our path, brilliant against the blue of the sky. The fields around us were filled with white and blue and yellow flowers, and bees buzzed everywhere. Moving ahead one step at a time, I thought of nothing but the scene passing before my eyes.
The slope gave out after another ten minutes, and we entered a level plateau. We rested there, wiping the sweat off, catching our breath, and drinking from our water bottles. Reiko found a leaf and used it to make a whistle.
The trail entered a gentle downward grade amid tall, waving thickets of plume grass. We continued on for some fifteen minutes before passing through a village. There were no signs of humanity here, and the dozen or so houses were all in varying states of decay. Waist-high grass grew among the houses, and dry, white gobs of pigeon droppings clung to holes in the walls. Only the pillars survived in the case of one collapsed building, while others looked ready to be lived in as soon as you opened the storm shutters. These dead, silent houses pressed against either side of the road as we slipped through.
“People lived in this village until seven or eight years ago,” Reiko informed me. “This was farmland around here. But they all cleared out. Life was just too hard. They’d be trapped when the snow piled up in the winter. And the soil is not particularly fertile. They could make a better living in the city.”
“What a waste,” I said. “Some of the houses look perfectly usable.”
“Some hippies tried living here at one point, but they gave up. Couldn’t take the winters.”
A little beyond the village we came to a big fenced area that seemed to be a pasture. Way over on the other side, I caught sight of a few horses grazing. We followed the fence line, and a big dog came running over to us, tail wagging. It stood up, leaning on Reiko, sniffing her face, then jumped playfully on Naoko. I whistled and it came over to me, licking my hand with its long tongue.
Naoko patted the dog’s head and explained that the animal belonged to the pasture. “I’ll bet he’s close to twenty,” she said. “His teeth are so bad, he can’t eat much of anything hard. He sleeps in front of the shop all day, and he comes running when he hears footsteps.”
Reiko took a scrap of cheese from her knapsack. Catching its scent, the dog bounded over to her and chomped down on it.
“We won’t be able to see this fellow much longer,” said Reiko, patting the dog’s head. “In the middle of October they put the horses and cows in trucks and take ’em down to the barn. The only time they let ’em graze is the summer, when they open a little coffeehouse kind of thing for the tourists. The ‘tourists’! Maybe twenty hikers in a day. Say, how about something to drink?”
“Good idea,” I said.
The dog led the way to the coffeehouse, a small, white house with a front porch and a faded sign in the shape of a coffee cup hanging from the eaves. He led us up the steps and stretched out on the porch, narrowing his eyes. When we took our places around a table on the porch, a girl with a ponytail and wearing a sweatshirt and white jeans came out and greeted Reiko and Naoko like old friends.
“This is a friend of Naoko’s,” said Reiko, introducing me.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi,” I answered.
While the three women traded small talk, I stroked the neck of the dog under the table. This was the hard, stringy neck of an old dog. When I scratched the lumpy spots, the dog closed his eyes and sighed with pleasure.
“What’s his name?” I asked the girl.
“Pepe,” she said.
“Hey, Pepe,” I said to the dog, but he didn’t budge.
“He’s hard of hearing,” said the girl. “You have to talk loud or he can’t hear.”
“Pepe!” I shouted. The dog opened his eyes and snapped to attention with a bark.
“Never mind, Pepe,” said the girl. “Sleep more and live longer.” Pepe flopped down again at my feet.
Naoko and Reiko ordered cold glasses of milk and I asked for a beer.
“Let’s hear the radio,” said Reiko. The girl switched on an amplifier and tuned in an FM station. Blood, Sweat and Tears came on with “Spinning Wheel.”
Reiko looked pleased. “Now this is what we’re here for! We don’t have radios in our rooms, so if I don’t come here once in awhile, I don’t have any idea what’s playing out there.”
“Do you sleep in this place?” I asked the girl.
“No way!” she laughed. “I’d die of loneliness if I spent the night here.The pasture guy drives me into town and I come out again in the morning.” She pointed toward a four-wheel-drive truck parked in front of the nearby pasture office.
“You’ve got a vacation coming up soon, too, right?” asked Reiko.
“Yeah, we’ll be shutting up this place before too long,” said the girl. Reiko offered her a cigarette, and the two had a smoke.
“I’ll miss you,” said Reiko.
“I’ll be back in May, though,” said the girl with a laugh.
Cream came on the radio with “White Room.” After a commercial, it was Simon and Garfunkel’s “Scarborough Fair.”
“I like that,” said Reiko when it was over.
“I saw the movie,” I said.
“Who’s in it?”
“Dustin Hoffman.”
“I don’t know him,” she said with a sad little shake of the head. “The world changes like mad, and I don’t know what’s happening.”
She asked the girl for a guitar. “Sure,” said the girl, switching off the radio and bringing out an old guitar. The dog raised its head and sniffed the instrument.
“You can’t eat this,” Reiko said with mock sternness. A grass-scented breeze swept over the porch. The mountains lay spread out before us, ridgeline sharp against the
sky.
“It’s like a scene from The Sound of Music,” I said to Reiko as she tuned up.
“What’s that?” she asked.
She strummed the guitar in search of the opening chord of “Scarborough Fair.” This was apparently her first attempt at the song, but after a few false starts she got to where she could play it through without hesitating. She had it down pat the third time and even started adding a few flourishes. “Good ear,” she said to me with a wink. “I can usually play just about anything if I hear it three times.”
Softly humming the melody, she did a full rendition of “Scarborough Fair.” The three of us applauded, and Reiko responded with a decorous bow of the head.
“I used to get more applause for a Mozart concerto,” she said.
Her milk was on the house if she would play the Beatles’ “Here Comes the Sun,” said the girl. Reiko gave her a thumbs-up and launched into the song. Hers was not a full voice, and too much smoking had given it a husky edge, but it was lovely, with real presence. I almost felt as if the sun really were coming up again as I sat there listening and drinking beer and looking at the mountains. It was a soft, warm feeling.
Reiko gave the guitar back and asked for more radio. Then she suggested to Naoko and me that we take an hour and hike around the area.
“I want to listen to the radio some more and hang out with her. If you come back by three, that should be O.K.”
“Is it all right for us to be alone together so long?”
“Well, actually, it’s against the rules, but what the hell. I’m not a chaperone, after all. I could use a break. And you came all the way from Tokyo, I’m sure you’ve got a pile of stuff you want to talk about.”
Norwegian Wood Page 17
