“You look well,” Zhang said, breaking into a smile.
“Really?”
I opened my trench coat as wide as I could. I wanted to seduce Zhang. “I’ve been hoping to run into you.”
“Why?”
Zhang brought his hand up to my cheek and stroked it softly. I quivered. Be good to me. I flashed back to that rainy night. But I wasn’t going to say those words again. I hated men. But I loved sex.
“I’d like to do a little business,” I told him. “What do you say? I’ll give you a good price.”
“Three thousand yen?”
Zhang and I started walking. I keep a record of the men I have liaisons with in my prostitute’s journal. But the marks that I’ve used in my journal tonight are in reverse order, aren’t they? They’re backwards. This time I’ve marked Arai, WA, instead of the foreigner, with a question mark. This indicates those men with whom I will probably not have sex again. In other words, it marks the men I think are rotten.
Zhang and I linked arms and walked from one dark alley to the next. Past the kitchen assistant, who threw water at me and told me to get lost; past the man who told me no one does that anymore, when I tried to exchange beer bottles for money; past the sake shop owner who treated me callously; past the convenience-store clerk who refuses to say a word to me, even though I’m constantly buying stuff in her store; past the punks who shine their flashlights on me and burst out laughing when I’m in the empty lot having sex. I wanted to shout at them all, Look at me now! I’m not just some street-corner whore, some bottom-feeding slut. Here I am walking for all the world to see with a man who was waiting for me in front of the Jiz statue. A man who is good to me. I am the sought-after, the desired, the capable: the queen of sex.
“We look like a pair of lovers!”
I squealed in delight. I’m with Zhang. I’m an employee of G Corporation. My article won a newspaper prize. I’m the assistant office manager. How come I was never able to get by without saying all these things? Was it simply that I wanted to say them to customers? No, it was more than that. I had to say what I said because if I didn’t I would feel they were making fun of me. I had to be the best at everything I did. It was important to me as a woman. And that made me want to show off. I wanted men to watch me, to appraise me. Moreover, I wanted them to approve of me. That was me in a nutshell. In the final analysis, I was really just a sweet girl who needed approval.
“What are you mumbling about over there?”
Zhang peered at me. His eyes were wide and awash with uncertainty.
“I was talking to myself. Could you hear?” I asked Zhang, surprised by his question. But he just shook his balding head.
“Are you feeling okay? I mean, mentally?”
Where’d he get off asking such a question? Of course I was okay! Nothing wrong with my mental abilities! I got up on time this morning, boarded the train, changed to the subway, and worked like an aggressive career woman in one of the biggest corporations around. At night I transformed into a prostitute sought out by men. Suddenly I remembered the argument I had had earlier with Arai and stopped short. I’m a company employee day and night. Or is it that I’m a prostitute night and day? Which is it? Which one is me? Is the area in front of the Jiz statue my headquarters? Then was the Marlboro Hag the chief of operations before I took over? That thought amused me so much I burst out laughing.
“What are you doing?”
Zhang turned around to stare at me as I stood there laughing. When I looked around me, I saw that we’d arrived in front of Zhang’s apartment building. I put my hands on my hips and declared, “Tonight, I’m not doing a whole host of men!”
“Don’t worry, none of them want to sleep with you anyway,” Zhang said. “No one but me, that is.”
“Do you like me?” I asked Zhang, reeling with excitement over his last words. Say it! Say it! Say, “I like you.” Say, “You’re a good woman. You’re attractive.” Say it!
Zhang didn’t say anything. He fished around in his pockets.
“Where are we going? To the roof?”
I was afraid the roof would be too cold. I leaned against one of the walls and looked up at the night sky. But then, if Zhang was good to me, I wouldn’t mind the cold. Suddenly I was seized with doubt. What did it mean for a man to be good to you? Did it mean he’d give you lots of money? But Zhang didn’t have money. More likely he’d try to haggle over the ¥3,000. Was it something that you felt, then? But I was afraid of feeling. I mean, for a prostitute it’s supposed to be about work.
“Did you hear what I just said?”
Zhang walked past his apartment building and stopped in front of the one next to it. It was a peculiar building. There was a bar in the basement, and I could see orange lights leaking out onto the asphalt from windows that were at street level. When I peeked in the windows, I saw customers seated with their drinks, their heads about level with our feet. The building was three stories tall, but it looked to be only about as high as a two-story building. The top of the basement windows were at street level, and the first floor started just above that. The boisterous noise coming from the basement bar seemed oddly incongruous with the quiet loneliness of the surrounding buildings. I found it a little unnerving. Even though I’d come to Zhang’s apartment any number of times, I’d never once noticed this shabby apartment building that was right next door.
“Has this building been here all along?” I asked.
Zhang looked taken aback by the dim-wittedness of my question. He pointed up to the top of the building.
“It’s been here all this time. Look over there; that’s my room. I can see this building from my window.”
I looked up to the fourth floor of the other building and could see two windows that opened out above us like eyeballs. One of the windows was dark, the other was bright with a fluorescent lamp.
“You’ve got a direct view.”
“That I do. I can see if someone’s in or not. The super of this building sometimes gives me a key to one of the apartments.”
“Then, if I lived in this apartment, you would know exactly what I was doing at any given time.”
“If I wanted to.”
The idea made me happy. Zhang looked puzzled. He swung his head down. He stopped in front of the apartment at the end of the other shabby building—Number 103—and pulled a key out of his pocket. The apartment next to it was pitch-black. It didn’t look as if anyone was living there. It looked as if there were vacant units on the second floor too. Three grimy-looking mailboxes were tacked to the thin Sheetrock wall at the entryway. Above these was a sign that read GREEN VILLA APARTMENTS. Condoms and leaflets were strewn across the concrete floor. I shivered. The filth in the apartment foyer reminded me of the garbage on the roof of Zhang’s building and the stench of his bathroom. I sensed this was a place I shouldn’t see and shouldn’t be visiting. I shouldn’t do this.
“Hmm, I wonder if I’m doing something I shouldn’t?” I asked Zhang, without thinking.
“I doubt there’s one thing in the world that fits that category,” Zhang answered, as he opened the door.
I looked inside. It smelled like an old person’s breath. It was pitch-black inside; the odor that greeted me seemed to have risen out of a vast emptiness. We could do it in here and no one would know, I thought to myself. Zhang left me standing there and disappeared into the darkness. It seemed he knew his way around. He’d probably brought any number of women here already. Well, I wasn’t going to let them get the better of me, I thought, as I slipped quickly out of my high heels, causing them to shoot off in both directions.
“There’s no electricity, so watch your step.”
Brought up to be a polite young lady, I turned around and straightened my shoes neatly in front of the entry step. The step was cool on my feet. And even though I was wearing stockings, I could tell it was covered in dust. Zhang was already sitting on the tatami in the back room.
“I can’t see. I’m scared,” I called out in
a syrupy voice, hoping Zhang would hold out his hand. But he didn’t come to me. I groped my way to the back room. The apartment was entirely bare, so I had no reason to fear bumping into anything. It didn’t take long for my eyes to adjust to the dark. Light from the outside filtered in through the kitchen window, so it wasn’t pitch-black. It was a small apartment. I could vaguely make out Zhang sitting cross-legged at the back of the six-mat room. He held up his hand to motion me over.
“Come in here and take off your clothes.”
I pulled off my coat as I shivered in the cold. I stripped off my blue suit. I took off my underwear. Zhang sat there fully clothed, wrapped in his leather jacket. I lay back on the tatami and looked up at the ceiling. Zhang looked down at me.
“Haven’t you forgotten something?”
“What?” I asked, my teeth chattering against the cold.
“Why did you take your clothes off before you got your money? You’re a prostitute, aren’t you? I’m here to buy you, so you ought to make sure you get your money first.”
“Well, give it to me then.”
Zhang placed three thousand-yen notes over my body. One on my chest, one on my stomach, and one on my crotch. A measly three thousand. I wanted to scream, I want more! But on the other hand, I would have been happy to do Zhang for nothing. I wanted to experience normal sex. I wanted to be held tenderly. I wanted to make love.
Zhang said, as if reading my heart, “You’re not worth more than three thousand yen. What do you think? Do you want the money? If you don’t, you’ll become a normal woman, not a prostitute. But you know I’m not interested in normal women, so I don’t sleep with them. So what will you be, a whore who’s worth no more than three thousand yen or a normal woman I don’t want to touch?”
I collected the thousand-yen notes off my body and clung to them. I still wanted him to hold me. I could hear Zhang pulling the zipper down on his jeans. And in the dim light I could see his erect penis. Zhang put his penis in my mouth and began moving his hips. His breathing grew labored.
“I can’t do it with a woman unless I pay for it. Even if it’s just a paltry three thousand.”
Zhang lay down and entered me. He was still dressed, and it was only where he entered me that he was warm. It felt strange. His leather jacket was cool on my skin, and every time he moved the friction of his jeans rubbing against my thighs hurt.
“You like prostitutes because your sister was one?”
“That’s not it.” Zhang shook his head. “It’s just the opposite. I liked prostitutes, so I made my sister become one. I didn’t do it because I wanted to sleep with my sister. I did it because I wanted to sleep with my prostitute sister. There’s nothing in this world that’s off limits. But people who get duped wouldn’t understand.”
Zhang gave a high-pitched laugh. He began to move on top of me. I wanted him to kiss me. I stretched my face up to his, but he turned his head away, intentionally avoiding my lips. Only our lower bodies touched, moved, machinelike, methodically. Was this really what sex was? I felt so empty, like I was on the verge of going crazy. The other time he’d been gentle. And I’d felt like I’d never felt before. What would happen today? I heard Zhang laugh. He was growing excited, breathing heavily. He was completely alone now, wasn’t he? That was sex.
I heard Yuriko’s voice. I saw her sitting on my left. She was wearing a wig with hair that fell to her waist. Her eyelids were painted blue, her lips bright red. A prostitute dressed just like me. Yuriko began to tickle my left thigh with her slender fingers.
“Go on! See, I’m going to help you. I’m going to help you come.”
Slowly, softly she began to massage my thigh.
“Thanks, you’re so nice to me. I’m sorry I bullied you in high school.”
“Silly, the one who got the worst bullying was you. Why didn’t you see it? You never could see your own weaknesses.” Yuriko spoke ruefully. “If you’d known, you might have been happy.”
“Maybe.”
Zhang had begun to thrust into me violently. He was getting heavier, pressing down on my chest so hard I couldn’t breathe. Zhang didn’t even notice the woman who had to bear his weight. Most of the men I took as customers were like that. Did they think I was going to go on forever without noticing their contempt? The stunt with the money really brought it home. Was that really my worth? Not likely! Not for an employee of G Corporation who pulled down a salary of ¥10,000,000 a year.
“There are customers out there who are attracted to a woman like me without a breast. Pretty odd, wouldn’t you say?”
I remembered that voice. I turned in surprise to my right and saw the Marlboro Hag sitting there. She was wearing a black bra with a wad of material where her breast should have been—the breast she’d lost to cancer. I could see the bra through her flimsy nylon jacket. The Marlboro Hag massaged my right thigh. Her hands were dry and calloused but strong. The massage felt good. It was like it had been in Zhang’s apartment when I was doing Chen-yi. Dragon was on my right and Zhang on my left, both stroking my thighs.
“Don’t think about anything. You think too much! Give in to your body, relax, enjoy life!” The Marlboro Hag laughed. “I gave you the turf in front of the Jiz statue because I thought you’d do a good job—a better job than you’ve done, anyway.”
“That’s not true!” Yuriko shouted at the Marlboro Hag. “You knew all along that Kazue would turn out like this.”
The two of them continued talking, completely oblivious of me or Zhang. But they never stopped their hands. They continued stroking my thighs. Zhang was nearing orgasm. He let out a loud cry. I wanted to come too. I heard a voice above my head.
“Your foolishness wounds my heart.”
It was the crazy woman with the Bible. I didn’t know what to believe anymore. I was so confused, I started to scream in the darkness.
“Save me!”
Zhang came just as I screamed. Panting heavily, he finally rolled off my body. At the same time, Yuriko disappeared and then the Marlboro Hag, and I was alone in the room, lying by myself on the tatami, naked.
“You’re talking to yourself again!”
Zhang opened my handbag without asking, pulled out a packet of tissues, and used them all on himself. Then he caught sight of the crumpled ten-thousand-yen note that I had squeezed out of Arai.
“Don’t try to steal it. That’s mine.”
“I’m not going to steal it.” Zhang laughed and snapped my purse shut. “I don’t steal from prostitutes.”
Liar. Didn’t he just say there was nothing in the world he wouldn’t do? I suddenly felt cold and got up to dress. Lights from a passing car raced across the walls of the room. In that burst of light I could see that the walls were spotted with stains and the paper room dividers were torn. How strange that someone with as good an upbringing as I would end up in a room like this. I tilted my head to the side. Zhang opened the window in the kitchen and threw his spent condom outside. He turned back to look at me.
“Let’s meet here again.”
I’m home now and have opened my notebook. I think it won’t be long before I have to bring my journal writing to an end. It’s supposed to be a record of my activities as a prostitute, but I’m having more and more days without customers. Therefore, Kijima-kun, these notebooks are for you. Please don’t send them back to me like you did with those love letters in high school. Because, you see, what you’ve read in these journals is another true side of me.
EIGHT • SOUNDS OF THE WATERFALL IN THE DISTANCE: THE LAST CHAPTER
Well, everyone, I’ve reached the conclusion of this long and convoluted tale. Please bear with me a little longer while I wrap things up.
I have tried to tell you as much as I possibly can about the tragic death of Yuriko, my younger sister, who impressed all who saw her with her beauty; daily life at Q High School for Young Women, the epitome of the classist society so firmly embedded in Japan; the sensational events involving Kazue Sat, a former student of that school; the succe
sses and setbacks of Mitsuru and Takashi Kijima, also associated with the school, who happened to find each other years later; and the scoundrel Zhang, who came from across the seas to encounter, strangely enough, both Yuriko and Kazue. To that end I have made public the records, diaries, and letters I have in my possession. And I have persisted with my account, hoping you would understand at least a fraction of my story. And yet—and this is what I have struggled with—what exactly is it that I want you to understand? Even now I am not certain.
After Yuriko and Kazue died, you would think that I would have tried to counteract all the humiliation that the crime and the succeeding trial—so widely publicized throughout the mass media—had generated.But you would be wrong. I had neither that kindness nor that sense of justice. And why was that? I don’t have a definite reason.
I can only come up with one suggestion: Perhaps Yuriko and Kazue and Mitsuru and even Takashi and Zhang are all part of me—whoever “I” am. Perhaps I exist in order to remain behind as their spirits—floating, recounting their tales. If that’s the case, I am sure there are some among you who will observe that mine is a black spirit. And you would be right. A spirit, you should know, assumes a black form. It is painted with hatred, dyed with bitterness, and has a face disfigured by curses and resentment. And that’s why it lingers on. Perhaps you could say my existence was like that of grimy snow packed darkly in the pit of Yuriko’s heart—and of Kazue’s and Mitsuru’s and Zhang’s. Having said as much, I realize I have probably taken the comparison too far. But I have no other way to express it. I was flesh and blood—just an everyday, ordinary person rife with intolerance, resentment, and jealousy.
Once I graduated from college I took a completely different path from my model-turned-prostitute younger sister. I chose to be inconspicuous. In my situation, inconspicuousness meant living forever as a virgin, a woman who would have no contact with men.
A permanent virgin. Do you know what this signifies? It may sound wholesome and pure to you, but that was not actually the case. Kazue articulated it brilliantly in her journals, didn’t she: to miss the only chance one has to have power over a man. Sex is the only way a woman has to control the world. That was Kazue’s twisted view, at any rate. But now I can’t help but wonder about whether or not she was right. When a man enters me (the very idea is even more ridiculous than I could have imagined) and ejaculates inside me, am I not overwhelmed by satisfaction…feeling as though I am finally in touch with the world? At least that’s what I feel for the moment. But this is a complete delusion. The delusions arise from believing that prostitution is the only way—that the only way for a woman to have any control over her world is to do what Kazue did. A woman who awakens to this fact will know it was all just a big mistake.