Grotesque

by Natsuo Kirino

  “What are you doing sitting up here?”

  “Ah, it’s you?” Zhang looked up at me in surprise. My eye lit on a gold chain glittering around Zhang’s neck.

  “That’s Yuriko’s necklace, isn’t it?”

  “What, this?” Zhang touched the necklace as if he’d just remembered it was there. “So, her name was Yuriko?”

  “Yes, she was an acquaintance of mine. She always dressed exactly like me.”

  “She did, didn’t she, now that you mention it.”

  Zhang twisted the chain around his fingers. Rainwater dripped off my umbrella and pooled onto a corner of the mattress like a spreading stain. Zhang didn’t seem to notice.

  “You killed Yuriko, didn’t you?”

  “That’s right. I killed her because she asked me to. It was the same with my sister. I said my sister fell into the sea and drowned, but that was a lie. I killed her. In the container, on the voyage to Japan, we had sex every night. She was repulsed by the idea of living like a beast and asked me, with tears in her eyes, to kill her. I told her not to worry about our relationship and asked her any number of times to go ahead and live with me like husband and wife, but she wouldn’t do it. So I threw her in the sea. I could see her hands waving from between the swells as she drifted farther and farther from me; it was as if she were bidding me good-bye. She was smiling. She seemed happy to be waving good-bye to her life with me. We borrowed so much money just to make it to Japan. I couldn’t believe how stupid she was. So whenever I meet a woman who says, ‘Kill me,’ I’m only too happy to oblige. If she just can’t deal with her life, I’ll step up to settle things for her. How about you?”

  Zhang smiled slightly in the darkness. The wind had grown strong and lashed our faces with rain. I turned aside, trying to avoid the rain, but Zhang just grimaced as he let the rain pelt his face. His forehead glistened with moisture.

  “I don’t want to die yet. But I may before too long.”

  Zhang grabbed my legs. “You’re so thin! Like a skeleton. I can’t understand why you can’t gain any weight. Do you suppose you’re sick? My sister and that Yuriko woman were both healthy. Why are you the one who’s sick? It’s sad, isn’t it?”

  “You think I’m sick? But I don’t want to die.”

  “There are people out there who are already on the road to death, and they don’t even know it. And then there are people who are a picture of health but choose to die anyway. Don’t you agree?”

  I was suddenly assailed by sorrow. Why was it that when I talked to Zhang I felt so lonely, so sad? I sat down on the filthy, sodden mattress. Zhang grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me to him. He smelled of sweat and dirt, but I didn’t mind.

  “Be good to me. Please.”

  I burrowed my face in Zhang’s chest, playing with the chain that glittered at his neck.

  “All right. And in return, you be good to me.”

  We held each other, murmuring over and over, “Be good; please be good to me.”

  • 9 •

  JANUARY 30

  SHIBUYA: WA (?), ¥10,000

  SHIBUYA: FOREIGNER, ¥3,000

  Zhang’s a big liar. A piece of shit. And a murderer! I placed my can of beer, packet of dried squid, and bottle of gymnema pills on the counter at the convenience store and thought about him.

  “Hey!” Someone poked me in the back. I realized I’d cut in line but I didn’t care, I stood where I was and placed an order for oden stew.

  “I want fish cake, radish, and konnyaku—one of each. And fill the bowl up with broth, will you.”

  The man behind the counter gave a snort of annoyance, but the female clerk—who was used to seeing me there—went to the cauldron of oden and picked out what I wanted without any expression at all. The two young women standing in line behind me mumbled something—either an insult or a complaint—so I turned and glared at them. They looked intimidated. It amused me. I’d taken to staring people directly in the eye—in the office, at home, wherever. I am a monster. Everyone treats me like I’m special. And if you have a problem with it, just try to be like me!

  I went outside and quickly slurped the broth. The smooth warm liquid slipped down my throat. I knew the heat of the liquid would shrink my stomach. It would grow smaller and smaller. A train rumbled passed on the Inokashira Line tracks. I straightened up and watched it pull into Shinsen Station. I wondered if Zhang was in it.

  More than half a year had past since Zhang and I clung to each other that rainy night. It was now January. We’d had a mild winter so far, which made things a lot easier for me. Whenever I got to Shinsen Station, I always looked for Zhang. Once, as I peered up through the fence from the road, I thought I saw a man who looked like him standing on the platform. But I hadn’t run into him since that rainy night. That was just as well. He was nothing to me. I put all my energy into my night work. Zhang will continue to live in this country, forgetting that he’s killed Yuriko.

  That night we’d both been desperately sentimental. But still, I had had to burst out laughing when I heard Zhang’s ridiculous little soliloquy.

  “I loved that prostitute. The one you said was Yuriko.”

  “Oh, give me a break! That’s not really likely, is it? I mean, you had just met her. And Yuriko wasn’t anything more than a shabby whore. Besides, I doubt even she would have believed you. She hated men, you know.”

  Zhang grabbed me by the throat as I squirmed in laughter, as if he was going to strangle me.

  “Oh, so you think it’s funny? Well, how about I do you the same way? You stupid bitch.”

  The orange light illuminating the entry to the staircase reflected in Zhang’s eyes, making them glitter. He looked possessed, creepy. Frightened, I slapped Zhang’s hands away and stood up. The rain struck my cheeks. I raised my hand to wipe it off and realized it wasn’t water, it was Zhang’s spit. Sperm, spit: a woman receives what men excrete.

  “Get lost.” Zhang waved me away, and I rushed down from the roof. I scrambled down the slippery staircase, kicking the wet garbage aside as I went. What was it about Zhang that I wanted to try to escape? Even I wasn’t sure. As I got to the front door of the building, I collided with a man who was dashing in from the outside. His body, damp with rain and sweat, emitted a peculiar odor. His black T-shirt was soaked, revealing a slender build. It was Dragon. I adjusted my wig and called out to him.

  “Hello!”

  Dragon did not reply. Instead he riveted me with his needle-sharp gaze.

  “Zhang’s on the roof,” I informed him. “Do you know why he’s hanging out up there? He’s running from something.”

  I had planned to tell Dragon that Zhang had murdered Yuriko, and that was why he was on the lam. But before I could, Dragon surprised me with an explanation of his own.

  “He’s running from us, the asshole. He’s cheated us out of all our money, and until he pays us back we’ve told him he’s not welcome to come back.”

  The night I had slept with Chen-yi and Dragon one after the other, Dragon had been kissing Zhang’s ass. But tonight, Dragon was arrogant.

  “Yeah, well, he killed a prostitute, you know. He killed a prostitute in Shinjuku,” I said, smirking at him.

  “A prostitute? Let him kill all the prostitutes he wants. They’re easily replaced. But money, that’s different!”

  Dragon shook the cheap vinyl umbrella he was carrying, sending raindrops scattering in all directions.

  “Well, don’t you agree?”

  I nodded, yes. He had a point. Money was definitely more valuable than life. But then, when I died, my money would be meaningless. My mother and younger sister would end up with it. The thought irritated me, but what could I do? I was disgruntled by the fact that I couldn’t figure out something so simple. Dragon looked at me and laughed derisively.

  “Do you believe what that asshole tells you? Zhang’s a liar, you know. No one here trusts a thing he says.”

  “Everyone lies.”

  “But nothing that loser say
s is true. Oh, he acts like he’s such a hard worker, talking about how he left his village to seek his fortune in the big cities back home. But the fact of the matter is, he bumped off his grandpa, his older brother, and the man who was supposed to marry his little sister and he had no choice but to skip town. He says he forced his sister into prostitution when he got to Hangzhou and he started running drugs for a gang. He pretends that he was kept by some politician’s daughter to cover his tracks. He’s an asshole. Hell, the only reason he came to Japan was to escape the police.”

  “He told me he killed his sister.”

  Dragon looked up in surprise. A look of bemusement flashed across his eyes. “Well, well. I guess the son-of-a-bitch does tell the truth now and then. That seems to be true. I heard it from another guy who made the trip on the same boat with Zhang. He said he pretended to grab for his sister’s hand, but it looked to the guy like he’d pushed her overboard. Well, whatever happened, the bastard’s a criminal. And he really screwed us over.”

  Dragon headed for the stairs. I saw the muscles in his back ripple under his wet T-shirt.

  “Hey, Dragon?”

  He turned back to look at me.

  “Do you want to party with me?”

  Pure loathing washed over Dragon’s face as he eyed me up and down.

  “’Fraid not. I’ll keep my money for a woman who’s better than you. Besides, I like a woman with a little more meat.”

  “Motherfucker! You know you enjoyed sleeping with me.”

  I picked up the umbrella that Dragon had left by the doorway and hurled it at him, but it landed halfway up the stairs. Dragon burst out laughing and turned to continue up to the roof. Motherfucker! Goddamn motherfucker! I had never used such filthy language before in all my life, but I couldn’t help myself. I hope they all die. Motherfuckers! I remembered their dirty apartment. I’d told myself then that I’d never go back. So why had I propositioned Dragon? It must have just been a moment of weakness brought on by the embrace I had enjoyed earlier on the roof. Or maybe it was as Yuriko predicted. Maybe it was because whores like us expose men. I’d exposed Zhang’s weakness and Dragon’s maliciousness. I was so furious with myself that I intentionally broke the cover to the mailbox slot for unit 404.

  I wondered what had become of Zhang. That’s what was on my mind as I trudged off to the Jiz statue, the plastic grocery bag dangling from my hand. I had an appointment to meet Arai there. It had been a long time: four months. Both Yoshizaki and Arai had invited me out to dinner in the past. But now they just wanted to meet in hotels. First it was twice a month, then once, and now about once every two months or so. To make up for the infrequency, I was determined to try to get more money from them for each session.

  When I reached the alley that ran in front of the Jiz statue, I saw Arai’s rounded back. He was lurking in the shadows in front of the statue, wearing the same shabby gray coat he had worn last year and the year before that, his shoulder weighed down, as always, by the strap of a black vinyl bag. And, as always, a weekly paper poked out over the edge of the bag. The only thing different was that his hair had grown thinner and whiter than it had been two years ago.

  “Mr. Arai, have you been waiting long? You’re early, aren’t you?”

  Arai frowned when he heard my high-pitched voice, and he brought his finger to his lips, signaling me to be quiet. No one was around. Why did he have to be so nervous? I wondered if he was ashamed to be seen with me in public. Arai said nothing but turned and headed off to our regular love hotel. The ones in Murayama-ch were the cheapest around, ¥3,000 for a short stay. I hummed as I strolled along, making sure to stay a few feet behind Arai. I was in a good mood. I was pleased that Arai had decided to call me. It had been awhile, but I felt things might be returning to the way they had once been, when I felt I owned the Shibuya night. I may have been a lowly street-corner prostitute, but I still didn’t want to die. I wasn’t going to end up like Yuriko.

  When we got to the hotel room I turned the hot water on in the tub and scanned the room for anything valuable to take. I decided to help myself to the extra roll of toilet paper that had been put there. I might be able to use the night-robe sash for something. And then of course there were the condoms by the pillow. I noticed that they’d only provided one tonight. Usually they leave two. I called the front desk to complain and had them send up one more. I would leave one there for Arai and pocket the other.

  “You’ll have a beer, won’t you, Mr. Arai?”

  I opened the grocery bag I was carrying, pulled out the can of beer and the snacks I’d bought earlier, and set them on the rickety table. The oden was my evening meal, so I ate it without offering him any.

  “God, you like a lot of broth in your oden,” he said with disgust.

  This was the first time we’d seen each other in I don’t know how long, and this was all he had to say to me? I didn’t answer. Oden broth is diet food; anyone knows that! It fills you up and then you don’t eat a lot of other stuff. How come men don’t know simple things like this? I drank the rest of the broth. Arai looked at me in annoyance and headed to the bathroom. He used to be so hesitant about saying the wrong thing in front of me, so conscious of his own small-town manners: Mr. Arai from a chemical company in Toyama. When did he change? I sat there for a bit, staring blankly into space, while I thought it over.

  “I want this to be our last session.”

  Arai’s pronouncement caught me completely off guard. I stared at him in shock, but he avoided my gaze.

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m going to retire this year.”

  “So what? Does that mean you have to retire from me too?”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. Company and prostitute were one and the same? That would make me a company employee both day and night. Or, maybe it’s the other way around: I’m a prostitute both night and day!

  “No, that’s not what I’m suggesting. It’s just that I’ll be home all the time and it’ll be hard to get away. Besides, I doubt I’ll have many complaints that I’ll need you to listen to.”

  “Okay, okay. I get the picture,” I said impatiently, as I held my hand out in front of Arai. “Then give me what I’m owed.”

  Arai went to the closet where he’d hung his wrinkled suit jacket and sullenly reached into the pocket to pull out his paper-thin wallet. I knew he only had two ten-thousand-yen notes inside. He always brought just enough to cover my charge of ¥15,000 and the ¥3,000 room fee. He never walked around with anything more than the amount he needed. Yoshizaki was the same way. Arai placed the two bills on my upturned palm.

  “Here’s your fifteen thousand yen. Now give me five thousand in change.”

  “You’re short.”

  Arai stared at me. “What do you mean? This is what I always pay.”

  “That’s just my salary. If I’m an employee in your nighttime company, you need to pay my retirement allowance.”

  Arai stared at my open palm but said nothing. Then he looked up at me, clearly growing angry.

  “You’re a prostitute. You have no right to that!”

  “I’m not just a prostitute, I’m also a company employee.”

  “Right, right, I know: G Corporation, G Corporation. All you ever do is brag about it. But I bet you’re an enormous burden to your firm. If you’d been employed at my company, you’d have been let go long ago. The era of your debut is long past, you know; you’re no longer the flower-faced office lady you used to be. You’re really weird, to tell you the truth, and you get weirder by the minute. Each time I sleep with you, I ask myself what the hell I’m doing. I can’t figure it out. You disgust me. But then, each time you call, I feel so sorry for you I can’t help but agree to meet you.”

  “Oh, is that so? Well, then, I’ll just take what you’ve given me here for the time being. The additional hundred thousand yen you can deposit in my bank account.”

  “Give that back. You bitch!”

  Arai grabbed the bills from my hand; I couldn�
�t let him take them. If I lost that money, I’d lose myself. But Arai struck me hard across the face, sending my wig flying.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know! What are you doing?”

  Arai was breathing heavily. “Here, bitch,” he hissed as he threw one ten-thousand-yen note at me. “I’m leaving.”

  Arai yanked his suit jacket on and folded his coat over his arm.

  Once he hoisted his bag onto his shoulder, I shouted at him. “You have to pay the hotel costs too. And you owe me seven hundred yen for the drinks and the snack.”

  “Fine.”

  Arai reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of change. He counted out the coins and threw them on the table.

  “Don’t ever call me again,” he said. “The more I see you the more you terrify me. You make me sick.”

  Look who’s talking, I wanted to say. Who was the one who always wanted to get me off with finger play? Aren’t you the one who had me pose for Polaroid pictures; who tied me up and got off on S and M play? And who was the one I had to suck on until I was nearly blue in the face because he couldn’t get it up? I did all this for you—I freed you—and this is the thanks I get?

  Arai opened the door and addressed me curtly. “Sat-san, you ought to be careful.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve got the shadow of death over you.”

  With that he closed the door. Once I was alone, I looked around the room. Well, thank God I hadn’t pulled the tab on the beer can! Funny, that’s all I could think of at the time. I was more offended by Arai’s claim that I was tantamount to a corporation than I was by his sudden change of heart. A man’s work and prostitution are the same? If a man has a retirement age in the corporate world, then should he also retire from buying prostitutes? It was the same as the lecture I’d been given long ago by that woman in the Ginza. Well, enough of that! I stuffed the beer and snacks back in the plastic bag and turned off the hot water.

  I returned to the Jiz statue. There was a man standing there waiting for me. At first I thought Arai might have changed his mind, but then I noticed that the man was taller than Arai and was wearing jeans.