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Authors: Hiromi Kawakami
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each other. It wasn’t that I lost interest. The days just went by without us seeing each other.
You’re a bit aloof, a friend told me. He called me several times, to ask for advice. “How does Tsukiko really feel about me?” he would ask. Why didn’t you ever call him? He was waiting for you.
My friend fixed her gaze on me. I was bewildered. Why didn’t he ask me directly, instead of going to my friend? I simply couldn’t comprehend it. When I said as much to my friend, she just sighed. Tsukiko, she murmured, being in love makes people uncertain. Don’t you know what that’s like?
But as far as I was concerned, that wasn’t the point. I couldn’t help but think it had been misguided of him to go to my friend—a third party—when he ought to have brought his uncertainty to me, the one who it involved.
I’m sorry for putting you in that situation. It’s illogical that he went to you with this. I apologized, but now my friend drew an even deeper sigh.
Illogical? What does logic have to do with this?
At that point, it had already been more than three months since I had seen this boyfriend. My friend had gone on at length about this and that aspect of my relationship with him, but I had only been half listening. I was pretty sure that I wasn’t very good at this whole love thing. And if being in love required so much effort, then I wasn’t sure I wanted to be a part of it anyway. That friend ended up marrying that boyfriend a little more than six months later.
MY DIZZINESS PASSED. I could now make out the ceiling. The lightbulb in this room hadn’t burnt out, it just wasn’t turned on yet. Outside it was dark. Cold air came in through the window. It was suddenly much
chillier now that the sun was gone. Lazing in bed all day had brought up memories of the past. My foot wasn’t really bleeding anymore. I put on a large Band-Aid, then put on socks and slippers, and cleaned up the mess in front of the sink.
The glass shards glimmered slightly in the light reflected from the now-illuminated bulb in the next room. I had, in fact, been very much in love with that boyfriend. I guess I should have called him back then. I had wanted to at the time, but the prospect of hearing his cold voice on the other end of the line had frozen me in place. I hadn’t known that he felt the same way. By the time I found out, my feelings had already been oddly distorted, squashed down into the furthest reaches of my heart. I had dutifully attended the wedding of my friend and my boyfriend. Someone had made a toast, saying their love was fated in the stars.
“A love fated in the stars.” As I sat there, watching the happy couple seated on the wedding platform and listening to the toast, I remember thinking to myself there wasn’t a chance in a million that I would ever encounter “a love fated in the stars.”
I had a craving for an apple so I took one from the basket. I tried to peel it the way my mother did. Partway around, the skin broke off. I suddenly burst into tears, which took me by surprise. I was cutting an apple, not chopping onions—why should there be tears? I kept crying in between bites of the apple. The crisp sound of my chewing alternated with the plink, plink of my tears as they fell into the stainless steel sink. Standing there, I busied myself with eating and crying.
I PUT ON a heavy coat and left the apartment. I’d had this coat for years. Deep green, worn, and fuzzy, it was still a very warm coat. I always felt colder than usual after a crying jag. I finished my apple and soon had enough of sitting in my apartment, shivering. I put on a loose-fitting red sweater, which I’d also had for years, over brown wool
pants. I changed into bulky socks, slid on thick-soled sneakers and, lastly, gloves, and went out the door.
The three stars of Orion’s belt were clearly visible in the sky. I walked straight ahead. I tried to maintain a brisk pace, and I started to warm up after I’d
You’re a bit aloof, a friend told me. He called me several times, to ask for advice. “How does Tsukiko really feel about me?” he would ask. Why didn’t you ever call him? He was waiting for you.
My friend fixed her gaze on me. I was bewildered. Why didn’t he ask me directly, instead of going to my friend? I simply couldn’t comprehend it. When I said as much to my friend, she just sighed. Tsukiko, she murmured, being in love makes people uncertain. Don’t you know what that’s like?
But as far as I was concerned, that wasn’t the point. I couldn’t help but think it had been misguided of him to go to my friend—a third party—when he ought to have brought his uncertainty to me, the one who it involved.
I’m sorry for putting you in that situation. It’s illogical that he went to you with this. I apologized, but now my friend drew an even deeper sigh.
Illogical? What does logic have to do with this?
At that point, it had already been more than three months since I had seen this boyfriend. My friend had gone on at length about this and that aspect of my relationship with him, but I had only been half listening. I was pretty sure that I wasn’t very good at this whole love thing. And if being in love required so much effort, then I wasn’t sure I wanted to be a part of it anyway. That friend ended up marrying that boyfriend a little more than six months later.
MY DIZZINESS PASSED. I could now make out the ceiling. The lightbulb in this room hadn’t burnt out, it just wasn’t turned on yet. Outside it was dark. Cold air came in through the window. It was suddenly much
chillier now that the sun was gone. Lazing in bed all day had brought up memories of the past. My foot wasn’t really bleeding anymore. I put on a large Band-Aid, then put on socks and slippers, and cleaned up the mess in front of the sink.
The glass shards glimmered slightly in the light reflected from the now-illuminated bulb in the next room. I had, in fact, been very much in love with that boyfriend. I guess I should have called him back then. I had wanted to at the time, but the prospect of hearing his cold voice on the other end of the line had frozen me in place. I hadn’t known that he felt the same way. By the time I found out, my feelings had already been oddly distorted, squashed down into the furthest reaches of my heart. I had dutifully attended the wedding of my friend and my boyfriend. Someone had made a toast, saying their love was fated in the stars.
“A love fated in the stars.” As I sat there, watching the happy couple seated on the wedding platform and listening to the toast, I remember thinking to myself there wasn’t a chance in a million that I would ever encounter “a love fated in the stars.”
I had a craving for an apple so I took one from the basket. I tried to peel it the way my mother did. Partway around, the skin broke off. I suddenly burst into tears, which took me by surprise. I was cutting an apple, not chopping onions—why should there be tears? I kept crying in between bites of the apple. The crisp sound of my chewing alternated with the plink, plink of my tears as they fell into the stainless steel sink. Standing there, I busied myself with eating and crying.
I PUT ON a heavy coat and left the apartment. I’d had this coat for years. Deep green, worn, and fuzzy, it was still a very warm coat. I always felt colder than usual after a crying jag. I finished my apple and soon had enough of sitting in my apartment, shivering. I put on a loose-fitting red sweater, which I’d also had for years, over brown wool
pants. I changed into bulky socks, slid on thick-soled sneakers and, lastly, gloves, and went out the door.
The three stars of Orion’s belt were clearly visible in the sky. I walked straight ahead. I tried to maintain a brisk pace, and I started to warm up after I’d
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