I stand up, go over to the wall, and examine the painting up close. The young man is looking off in the distance, his eyes full of a mysterious depth. In one corner of the sky there are some sharply outlined clouds, and the largest sort of looks like a crouching Sphinx.
I search my memory. The Sphinx was the enemy Oedipus defeated by solving the riddle, and once the monster knew it had lost, it leaped off a cliff and killed itself.
Thanks to this exploit, Oedipus got to be king of Thebes and ended up marrying his own mother. And the name Kafka. I suspect Miss Saeki used it since in her mind the mysterious solitude of the boy in the picture overlapped with Kafka's fictional world.
That would explain the title: a solitary soul straying by an absurd shore.
Other lines overlap with things that happened to me. The part about "little fish rain from the sky"—isn't that exactly what happened in that shopping area back home, when hundreds of sardines and mackerel rained down? The part about how the shadow "becomes a knife that pierces your dreams"—that could be my father's stabbing. I copy down all the lines of the song in my notebook and study them, underlining parts that particularly interest me. But in the end it's all too suggestive, and I don't know what to make of it.
Words without letters
Standing in the shadow of the door...
The drowning girl's fingers
Search for the entrance stone...
Outside the window there are soldiers, steeling themselves to die....
What could it mean? Were all these just coincidences? I walk to the window and look out at the garden. Darkness is just settling in on the world. I go over to the reading room, sit on the sofa, and open up Tanizaki's translation of The Tale of Genji. At ten I go to bed, turn off the bedside light, and close my eyes, waiting for the fifteen-year-old Miss Saeki to return to this room.
Chapter 24
It was already eight p. m. when their bus from Kobe arrived in front of Tokushima Station.
''Well, Mr. Nakata, here we are. Shikoku."
"What a wonderful bridge. Nakata's never seen such a huge one before."
The two of them alighted from the bus and sat down on a bench at the station to survey their surroundings.
"So—did you have a message from God or something?" Hoshino asked. "Telling you where you're supposed to go now? What you're supposed to do?"
"No. Nakata still has no idea."
"Great..."
Nakata rubbed his head deliberately with his palm for a while, as if pondering weighty matters. "Mr. Hoshino?" he finally said.
"What's up?"
"I'm sorry, but Nakata really needs to go to sleep. I'm so sleepy I feel like I could fall asleep right here."
"Wait a sec—you can't fall asleep here," Hoshino said, flustered. "Tell you what, I'll find a place where you can sack out, okay? Just hang in there for a while."
"All right. Nakata will hang in there and try not to go to sleep."
"Good. Are you hungry?"
"No, just sleepy."
Hoshino quickly located the tourist information counter, found an inexpensive inn that included complimentary breakfast, and called to book a room. It was some distance from the station, so they hailed a cab. As soon as they arrived, Hoshino asked the maid to lay out their futons for them.
Nakata skipped taking a bath and undressed, lay down in bed, and in an instant was peacefully snoring away. "I'll probably sleep for a long time, so don't be alarmed," he said just before he fell asleep.
"Hey, I'm not going to bother you—sleep as much as you want," Hoshino said, but Nakata was already lost to the world.
Hoshino enjoyed a leisurely bath, went out, and strolled around to get the lay of the land, then ducked inside a sushi shop for dinner and a beer. He wasn't much of a drinker, and a medium-size bottle of beer was enough to turn his face bright red and put him in a good mood. After dinner he played pachinko and lost twenty-five dollars in a hour. His Chunichi Dragons baseball cap drew a few stares from passersby, and he decided he must be the only one in Tokushima wearing one.
Back at the inn he found Nakata just as he'd left him, sound asleep. The light was on in the room, but that obviously didn't seem to bother him. What an easygoing old guy, Hoshino concluded. He took off his cap, his aloha shirt, and his jeans, then crawled into bed and turned out the light. But he felt worked up, and the combination of this and his new surroundings kept him from falling asleep. Jeez, he thought, maybe I should've found a hooker and got laid. But as he listened to Nakata's tranquil, regular breathing, he was suddenly embarrassed by the thought, though he wasn't sure why.
Staring at the ceiling in the dark, lying in bed in a cheap inn in a town he'd never been to before next to a strange old guy he knew nothing about, he began to have doubts about himself. By this time of night he should've been driving back to Tokyo, now somewhere around Nagoya. He didn't dislike his job, and there was a girl in Tokyo who always made time for him if he wanted to see her. Still, on an impulse, as soon as he'd unloaded his cargo of furniture in Kobe, he'd called another driver he knew in town and asked him to take his place and drive his rig back to Tokyo. He phoned his company and managed to wrangle three days off, and then it was off to Shikoku with Nakata. All he had along was a small bag with a shaving kit and a change of clothes.
Hoshino originally was intrigued by the resemblance between the old man and his late grandfather, but that impression had faded, and now he was more curious about Nakata himself. The things the old guy talked about, and even how he talked, were definitely strange, but in an interesting way. He had to find out where the old man was going, and what he'd end up doing when he got there.
Hoshino was born into a farming family, the third of five sons. Up until junior high he was well behaved, but after entering a trade school he fell in with a bad crowd and started getting in trouble. The police hauled him in a few times. He was able to graduate but couldn't find a decent job—and trouble with a girl only compounded his difficulties—so he decided to join the Self-Defense Force. Though he was hoping to be a tank driver, he didn't make the cut and spent most of his time driving large transport trucks. After three years in the SDF he got out and found a job with a trucking company, and for the last six years he'd been driving for a living.
This suited him. He'd always loved machines, and when he was perched high up in the cab with his hands on the wheel, it was like he was in his own private little kingdom. The job's long hard hours were tiring, but he knew he couldn't stand a regular company job, commuting to a dingy office every morning only to have a boss watch his every move like a hawk.
He'd always been the feisty type who got into fights. He was skinny and on the short side, not very tough looking, but in his case looks were deceiving. He was deceptively strong, and once he reached the breaking point a crazed look would come over him that sent most opponents scurrying for cover. He'd gotten into a lot of fights, both as a soldier and as a truck driver, but only recently had started to understand that this, win or lose, never accomplished very much. At least, he thought proudly, he'd never had any serious injuries.
During his wild high school days, his grandfather was always the one who'd show up at the local precinct, bowing apologetically to the police, and they'd release Hoshino into his custody. They always stopped at a restaurant on the way home, his grandfather treating him to a delicious meal. He never lectured Hoshino, even then. Not once did his parents come to get him. They were just barely scraping by and didn't have the time or energy to worry about their no-good third son. Hoshino sometimes wondered what would've happened to him if his grandfather hadn't been there to bail him out. The old man, at least, knew he was alive and worried about him.
Despite all this, he'd never once thanked his grandfather for all he'd done. He didn't know what to say, and was also too preoccupied trying to get by. His grandfather died of cancer soon after Hoshino joined the Self-Defense Force. At the end he got senile and didn't even recognize him. Hoshino hadn't been back home on
ce since the old man passed away.
When Hoshino woke up at eight the next morning, Nakata was still fast asleep and looked like he hadn't budged an inch all night. The volume and pace of his breathing, too, was unchanged. Hoshino went downstairs and ate breakfast with the other guests. A pretty bare-bones meal, though there were unlimited seconds on miso soup and rice.
"Will your companion be eating breakfast?" the maid called out.
"He's still out cold. Looks like he won't be needing breakfast. If you don't mind, could you not put away the futon for a while?"
At noon, with Nakata still fast asleep, Hoshino arranged for them to stay one more night. He went out to a soba place and had chicken and egg over rice. Afterward he strolled around for a while and wound up in a coffee shop, where he had a cup and a smoke and flipped through a few of the comic books.
When he got back to the inn, just before two, he found Nakata still hadn't woken up. Concerned, he felt the old man's forehead, but he didn't seem to have a fever. His breathing was calm and regular, and his cheeks had a healthy glow to them. He seemed perfectly fine. All he was doing was sleeping soundly, without ever even turning over in bed.
"Is he all right, sleeping this much?" the maid said when she looked in on them.
"Maybe he's ill?"
"He's exhausted," Hoshino explained. "Let's just let him sleep as much as he wants."
"Okay, but I've never seen anybody sleep so much before...."
Dinnertime came and the sleep marathon continued. Hoshino went out to a curry restaurant and had an extra-large order of beef curry and a salad. After this he went to the same pachinko place as the night before and again played for an hour. This time, though, his luck changed, and for under ten dollars he won two cartons of Marlboros. It was nine-thirty by the time he got back to the inn with his winnings, and he couldn't believe his eyes—Nakata was still asleep.
Hoshino added up the hours. The old man had been sleeping for over twenty-four hours. Sure, he said he'd sleep a long time, so not to worry, but this was ridiculous!
Hoshino felt uncharacteristically helpless. Suppose the old guy never woke up? What the hell was he supposed to do then?
"Cripes," he said, and shook his head.
But the next morning, when Hoshino woke up at seven, Nakata was already awake, gazing out the window.
"Hey, Gramps, so you finally made it up, huh?" Hoshino said, relieved.
"Yes, Nakata just woke up. I don't know how long I slept, but it must have been a long time. I feel like a new man."
"No kidding it was a long time! You went to sleep at nine p. m. the day before yesterday, so you've been asleep something like thirty-four hours. You're a regular Snow White."
"Nakata's kind of hungry."
"I bet you are. You haven't had a bite in two days."
The two of them went downstairs to the dining room and had breakfast. Nakata amazed the maid at how much rice he packed away.
"You're as big an eater as you are a sleeper!" she exclaimed. "It's like two days' worth of meals in one sitting!"
"Yes, I have to eat a lot now."
"You're a really healthy person, aren't you?"
"Yes, Nakata is. I can't read, but I've never had a single cavity and don't need glasses. I never have to go to the doctor, either. My shoulders never get stiff, and I take a good dump every morning."
"Isn't that something," the maid said, impressed. "By the way, what's on your schedule for today?"
"We're headed west," Nakata declared.
"West," she mused. "That must mean you're going toward Takamatsu."
"I'm not so bright and don't know geography."
"Anyway, Gramps, why don't we go over to Takamatsu?" Hoshino chimed in.
"We can figure out what's next after we get there."
"All right. Let's go to Takamatsu, then. We'll figure out what's next after we get there."
"Sort of a unique style of traveling, I must say," the maid commented.
"You got that right," Hoshino said.
Back in their room, Nakata went to the toilet, while Hoshino, still in his yukata robe, lay back on the tatami and watched the news on TV. Not much was happening.
Police still didn't have any leads in the murder of a famous sculptor in Nakano—no clues, no witnesses. The police were searching for the man's fifteen-year-old son, who'd disappeared shortly before the murder.
Man alive, Hoshino thought, a fifteen-year-old kid. Why is it that these days it's always fifteen-year-olds who're involved in all these violent incidents? Of course when he was fifteen himself, he stole a motorcycle from a parking lot and went for a joyride—without, mind you, a license—so he had no right to complain. Not that you could compare borrowing a motorcycle and slicing your dad into sashimi. It was only luck, maybe, that had kept him from stabbing his own father, because he'd certainly taken his share of beatings.
The news was just winding up when Nakata emerged from the bathroom. "Mr. Hoshino, may I ask you something?"
"What's up?"
"Does your back hurt at all?"
"Yeah, it's an occupational hazard, I guess. Every trucker I know has back problems, just like pitchers all have sore shoulders. Why do you ask?"
"When I saw your back I thought maybe you had that problem."
"Huh..."
"Do you mind if Nakata touches your back?"
"Be my guest."
Hoshino lay facedown and Nakata straddled him. He put his hands just above the backbone and held them there. All the while Hoshino was watching some afternoon talk show featuring all the latest celebrity gossip. A famous actress had just gotten engaged to a not-so-famous young novelist. Hoshino didn't care, but there wasn't anything else on.
Apparently the actress's income was ten times that of the novelist, who wasn't even particularly handsome or very intelligent looking.
Hoshino found the whole thing suspect. "That marriage won't work out, I can tell you that. There's gotta be some kind of misunderstanding going on here."
"Mr. Hoshino, your bones are out of line a bit."
"Not surprising, what with the out-of-line kind of life I've led," Hoshino replied, and yawned.
"It's going to cause all sorts of problems if you don't do something about it."
"You think?"
"You'll get headaches, you won't be able to take a good dump. And then your back will go out on you."
"That can't be good."
"This will hurt a little. Do you mind?"
"No, go right ahead."
"Honestly speaking, it's going to hurt a lot."
"Look, Gramps, I've been punched out my whole life—at home, at school, in the SDF—but I survived. Not to brag or anything, but the days I haven't been hit I could count on both hands. So I'm not worried that something might hurt a little. Hot or tickly, sweet or spicy—bring it on."
Nakata squinted, concentrating, carefully making sure he had his thumbs just where he wanted them. Once they were positioned just right, he ever so slowly increased the pressure, gauging Hoshino's reaction. He breathed in deeply, then let out a clipped cry like some winter bird's squawk, and pressed down with all his might on the area between muscle and backbone. The pain Hoshino felt at that instant was awful, unreasonably so. A huge flash of light went off in his brain and everything went white.
He stopped breathing. It felt like he'd been thrown from the top of a tall tower into the depths of hell. He couldn't even manage a scream, so hideous was the pain. All thoughts had burned up and shot away. It was like his body had been shattered into pieces. Even death couldn't be this awful, he felt. He tried to open his eyes but couldn't. He just lay there, helpless, facedown on the tatami, drooling, tears streaming down his face. He must have endured this for some thirty seconds or so.
Finally he was able to breathe again, and he staggered as he sat up. The tatami wavered before him like the sea in a storm.
"I'm sure it was painful."
Hoshino shook his head a few times, as if checking t
o see that he was still alive.
"Pain doesn't begin to describe it. Imagine getting skinned alive, skewered, ground down, then run over by an angry herd of bulls. What the hell did you do to me?"
"I put your bones back in the right position. You should be fine for the time being. Your back won't ache. And I guarantee you'll take good dumps."
As predicted, when the pain receded, like the tide going out, his back did feel better. The usual heavy, sluggish feeling had vanished. The area around his temples felt much better, and he could breathe more easily. And sure enough, he felt like going to the john.
"Yeah, I guess certain parts do feel better."
"The problem was all in the spine," Nakata said.
"But damn did that hurt," Hoshino said, and sighed.
The two of them took the JR express train from Tokushima Station bound for Takamatsu. Hoshino paid for everything, the inn and the train fare. Nakata insisted on paying his share, but Hoshino wouldn't hear of it.
"I'll pay now, and we can settle up later. I don't like it when men go all to pieces over money, okay?"
"All right. Nakata doesn't understand money very well, so I'll do as you say," Nakata said.
"I gotta tell you, though, I feel great, thanks to that shiatsu you did on me. So at least let me pay you back for it, okay? I haven't felt this good in I don't know how long. I feel like a new man."
"That's wonderful. Nakata doesn't know what shiatsu means, but I do know how important the bones are."
"I'm not sure what you call it either—shiatsu, bone-setting, chiropractic—but whatever it is, you've really got a talent for it. You could make a lot of money doing this. You could make a bundle just doing all my trucker buddies."
Kafka on the Shore Page 27
