Part way through the women had discussed swapping partners but ponytail hadn’t seemed that interested, so it never came to pass.
It was Ryo who suggested they wrap things up. Tomohiko glanced at the clock and saw that exactly three hours had passed since their arrival at the apartment.
Ryo hadn’t participated. Nor had the women invited him to, which made it seem as though this had already been established beforehand. Yet he did not leave the apartment, either. While Tomohiko and Murashita were busy entwining themselves into sweaty little piles of limbs, breasts and buttocks, Ryo sat at the dining room table. After Tomohiko came the first time he had looked towards the kitchen in a daze to see Ryo in the dim light, staring at the wall, quietly smoking a cigarette.
Once they’d left, Ryo took them to a nearby café where he handed them eight thousand five hundred yen each. The boys protested almost in unison that they’d been promised ten thousand.
‘I deducted expenses. You had beer and pizza, right? You got off cheap at one thousand five hundred.’
Murashita agreed this was reasonable, so Tomohiko couldn’t really protest. That, and he was still flying high after his first experience with a woman.
‘So,’ Ryo said, a gleam in his eye. ‘You boys have a good time? If you’re interested, this could be a regular gig. I expect to hear from the ladies again before long.’ He beamed with satisfaction for a moment, then his face hardened and he added, ‘Just one thing: I don’t want you meeting them on your own, got it? We need to do this businesslike to avoid any accidents. Get any funny ideas and try to solo this, and I guarantee you things will go badly. I want you to promise me right now you won’t meet either of them on your own. Deal?’
Again Murashita promised right away, which made it hard for Tomohiko to even feign hesitation. ‘Fine. No meeting them on our own,’ he had said.
Tomohiko could still see the way Ryo’s lips had curled in a satisfied smirk.
He stuck his hand into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a piece of paper, which he laid on the desk in front of him. It was a telephone number, with a name written beneath it: Yuko. Ponytail had slipped it into his hand just before they left.
Namie Nishiguchi was a little drunk. She wondered how many years it had been since she had been out drinking alone and couldn’t come up with an answer.
That’s how long it’s been.
No one had so much as tried to hit on her.
She went back to her apartment and turned on the lights, catching her own reflection in the sliding glass doors that opened out on to the veranda. She’d left the curtains open, she realised. She walked over to the doors, acutely aware of her reflected denim skirt and jacket and red T-shirt. None of it matched and it looked terrible on her. She could pull out her old clothes all she wanted in an attempt to look younger, but the result was painfully inadequate. Those high school boys, she was sure, would agree.
She closed the curtain and tossed off her clothes. Down to her underwear, she sat in front of her dresser, seeing a woman’s face looking out of the mirror at her. The lacklustre skin, the eyes devoid of any sparkle that she could see. It was the face of a woman who lived without purpose; aged without purpose.
She reached over and grabbed her handbag. Fishing out cigarettes and a lighter, she lit one and blew smoke at her dresser mirror. The smoke cast a gauze-like veil over her face for a moment and she found herself wishing she could always wear a veil like that. It would hide the wrinkles.
The film she’d half-watched in the apartment flickered in the back of her mind.
‘C’mon, you should try it! Just once can’t hurt!’
That had been Kazuko Kawada, her co-worker, two days earlier.
‘You won’t regret it, I mean that. Anything has to be better than the usual humdrum, right? Don’t worry. You’ll have fun. Women our age need to be around boys every once in a while or we get stuck in a rut.’
Normally, she would have refused on the spot. But there was something pushing at Namie’s back this time. The idea that she was ready for change – that she had to make a change, or she’d regret it for the rest of her life – had been growing on her recently. Hesitantly, she accepted the invitation, much to Kazuko’s apparent delight.
And yet Namie had fled. She’d stood on the threshold to another, bizarre world, and found herself unable to step in. Meanwhile Kazuko and the other woman had practically been oozing pheromones in front of those boys. It made her want to vomit.
She didn’t think what they were doing was bad. In fact, she understood how, for some women, what they were doing could be genuinely refreshing. She just wasn’t that kind of woman.
Her eyes went to the calendar on the wall. She’d wasted her day off. When she imagined her boss and the other women needling her, asking her if she’d gone on a date, she felt her stomach sink. I’ll go to work early tomorrow, get there before anyone else does. That way I’ll be working when they come in and they won’t talk to me. I’ll just set my alarm a little earlier than usual…
Namie ran the brush through her hair two or three more times before her hand suddenly stopped. My watch! She opened her bag and dug around inside, but couldn’t find it.
Great!
Namie bit her lip. That apartment was the last place she wanted to leave her watch.
It wasn’t a particularly expensive watch, which was why she never thought twice about where she wore it. She always imagined she wouldn’t care if she lost it, but after years of failing to lose it, she’d grown attached to the thing.
She remembered taking it off after going to the bathroom. She’d been washing her hands at the basin and taken it off from force of habit.
She reached out for the phone to call Kazuko. If she didn’t know where it was, she’d have to call that Ryo kid.
She knew Kazuko would get on her case about her walking out that afternoon, but she had to do something. She checked the number in her address book and dialled.
Fortunately, Kazuko was at home. ‘Well, well,’ she said, more chiding than surprised.
‘I’m sorry about earlier,’ Namie said. ‘I just… I just couldn’t get in the mood.’
‘It’s OK, really,’ Kazuko said. ‘It was a bit much for you, I understand.’
Which means you think I’m a coward. Namie swallowed her pride and told her about the watch.
‘Sorry, we didn’t find anything,’ was Kazuko’s reply. ‘I’m sure the others would have told me if they had.’
Namie sighed over the phone.
‘Are you sure you left it there? Should I get someone to check?’
‘No, that’s all right. You know, maybe I left it someplace else after all.’
‘OK, if you’re sure. If you don’t find it, let me know.’
‘I will. Sorry to call so late.’
Namie hung up, a big sigh escaping her lips. What do I do now?
She could just give up on the watch. Had she left it anywhere else, she already would have. Anywhere but that apartment. Why had she worn that watch anyway? She had other watches.
After a few more drags on her cigarette, she put it out, her eyes fixed on a single point in space.
There was a way out of this. Namie worked it through in her head. It was crazy, but maybe not too crazy, and not that hard to pull off, either. At the very least, it wouldn’t be dangerous.
The clock on her dresser read just past ten-thirty.
It was after eleven when Namie left her apartment. Late to avoid being seen by too many people, but not so late she’d miss the last train home.
The subway was nearly empty. She sat, seeing herself reflected in the glass on the other side of the car. She was wearing black-rimmed glasses, a sweatshirt and jeans – nothing that would stand out, but also nothing to hide her thirty-plus years. She felt much more comfortable like this, she decided.
At Nishinagahori she walked down the street she’d taken with Kazuko earlier that day. Kazuko, who had been practically frolicking the whole way
, wondering what kind of boys would come. Namie had joined in her laughter, even as she felt her enthusiasm begin to fizzle out.
She was able to find the apartment without any difficulty. She went up the stairs and stood in front of No 304. She tried the doorbell, her heart beginning to race in her chest.
There was no answer. She tried again, with the same result.
She breathed a sigh of relief, but immediately tensed, looking down the hall from side to side to ensure the coast was clear before she opened the panel to the water meter off to one side of the door.
‘Once they get to know you, they show you where the key’s hidden,’ Kazuko had told her that afternoon.
Namie groped with her fingers behind the water pipe and touched metal. Another sigh of relief escaped her lips.
She opened the door cautiously. The light inside was on, but there were no shoes in the entranceway. Guess no one’s home. Even so, she was careful not to make a sound as she stepped into the apartment. The dining room table, clean last she had seen it, was littered with objects. They looked like some kind of tiny electronic devices and meters, though Namie wasn’t sure exactly what. Possibly someone had been fixing a stereo, or even the projector.
Regardless, it was clearly a work in progress. She swallowed. She would have to find that watch before whoever it was came back. She first went into the bathroom and searched around the basin. But the watch wasn’t where it should have been. She wondered if someone had found it, and if so, why they hadn’t given it to Kazuko.
She grew worried. One of the high school students might have found it and not told anyone. Maybe they wanted a keepsake. Or they might have thought they could get some quick cash for it at a pawnshop.
Namie’s skin prickled. She was getting angry, but she didn’t know what to do.
She took a few deep breaths and considered the possibility that she might have been mistaken. Maybe she hadn’t left the watch by the basin. She could have brought it back to the room with her and set it down somewhere.
Leaving the bathroom, she went into the back room with the tatami mats on the floor. The room was perfectly clean. Probably the work of that boy they called ‘Ryo’. The boy was a mystery to her. Obviously young, yet somehow aged on the inside far beyond his years.
The dividers that had been removed during the day were back in place, so she couldn’t see the half of the room with the bed. Gingerly, she slid the divider open.
The first thing she saw was a television screen. It was sitting in the middle of the room, displaying an image that was clearly not regular television. She leaned forward.
Several polygonal shapes were moving on the screen. At first she thought it was a simple test pattern, like the ones they showed on stations that had finished broadcasting for the day, but she soon realised that wasn’t it. Something shaped like a rocket seemed to be moving through a field of circular and square objects that drifted across its path.
A videogame, she thought. She had played Space Invaders a few times herself. But the way the shapes were moving on the screen wasn’t as smooth as the way the Space Invaders moved. Yet there was still something compelling about the way the rocket sped past the obstacles. It was so engrossing that she didn’t notice the sound of footsteps behind her.
‘I wouldn’t have taken you for a videogame fan,’ said a voice, and Namie gave a little cry of surprise. She whirled around to see Ryo standing in the room behind her.
‘I – I’m sorry,’ she managed to say. ‘I left something here, and, well, Mrs Kawada told me where the key was and —’
The boy didn’t seem to be listening to her. Pushing her to one side, he sat down in front of the screen. Then, picking up the keyboard on the table and putting it on his knees, he started typing with both hands.
Soon the motion of the objects on the screen changed. The obstacles began to move faster and became more varied in shape. Ryo kept hitting the keys as the rocket sped past obstacle after obstacle.
It took Namie a few moments to realise the rocket’s motions were no longer automated. Ryo was controlling it now, typing instructions to move it forward, backward, and side to side across the screen. Finally, the rocket hit one of the round obstacles head on. The rocket disappeared, and in its place a large X grew on the screen, followed by the words:
GAME OVER
Ryo swore under his breath. ‘Still not fast enough,’ he said. ‘Not even close.’
Namie had no idea what he was talking about. She knew only that she wanted to leave the apartment as soon as possible. ‘I should probably go,’ she said.
Without looking around, Ryo asked, ‘You find what you’re looking for?’
‘I guess I must’ve left it someplace else. I’m sorry.’
He grunted.
‘Goodnight,’ Namie said. ‘I’ll show myself out.’
She turned and was walking towards the door when she heard him behind her.
‘You’ve been working at that bank for ten years? I never took you for a banker.’
She stopped and turned to see him standing up. He held out his right hand, the watch dangling from his fingers. It had been a gift from her employer, engraved with her name and the name of the bank where she worked.
‘It’s yours, isn’t it?’
For a moment she almost tried to deny it, but then changed her mind. ‘Thanks.’
Ryo walked back to the dining room table in silence. In the midst of the electronics was a shopping bag from the supermarket. He sat down, reached into the bag, and took out two cans of beer and a pre-packaged meal.
‘Dinner?’ she asked.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he seemed to get an idea and lifted one of the cans. ‘Beer?’
‘No, I’m fine, thanks.’
‘Right.’ He opened the can, sending a tiny spray into the air. He took a sip before it could spill over the side, all the while paying absolutely no attention to Namie.
She grew bolder. ‘You’re not angry?’ she asked. ‘That I came in here, I mean?’
Ryo’s eyes turned slowly in her direction. ‘Nope.’ He began unwrapping the dinner.
Namie could have left right then, but something held her back. He knew where she worked now, but she still knew nothing about this boy. More, she was afraid that if she left without saying anything, the knot she’d carried in her stomach since that afternoon might never go away.
‘And you’re not angry about before?’
‘When you walked out on us?’ He shook his head. ‘Nah. It happens.’
‘It wasn’t that I was scared,’ Namie said. ‘I was never really that interested from the start, but I felt like I had to accept the invitation —’
Ryo was waving his chopsticks at her. ‘Look, I really don’t care.’
Namie’s mouth snapped shut and she stared at the boy. He ignored her and began to eat. His meal looked like some variation on fried pork cutlets with rice.
‘Maybe I will have a beer,’ Namie said.
He jerked his head to indicate the remaining can was hers. Sitting down across from him, she opened it and drank a gulp.
‘You live here?’ she asked.