Men Without Women

by Haruki Murakami

  We strolled around the twilight streets for a while, then went to a small Italian place in Sakuragaoka and had pizza and Chianti. It was a casual, moderately priced restaurant. Subdued lighting, candles on the tables. (Most Italian restaurants at the time had candles on the tables and checked gingham tablecloths.) We talked about all kinds of things, the sort of conversation you’d expect two college sophomores on a first date to have (assuming you could actually call this a date). The movie we’d just seen, our college life, hobbies. We enjoyed talking more than I’d expected, and she even laughed out loud a couple of times. I don’t want to sound like I’m bragging, but I seem to have a knack for getting girls to laugh.

  “I heard from Aki-kun that you broke up with your high school girlfriend not long ago?” Erika asked me.

  “Yeah,” I replied. “We went out for almost three years, but it didn’t work out. Unfortunately.”

  “Aki-kun said things didn’t work out with her because of sex. That she didn’t—how should I put it?—give you what you wanted?”

  “That was part of it. But not all. If I’d really loved her, I think I could have been patient. If I’d been sure that I loved her, I mean. But I wasn’t.”

  Erika Kuritani nodded.

  “Even if we’d gone all the way, things most likely would have ended up the same,” I said. “That became increasingly obvious after I moved to Tokyo and put some distance between us. I’m sorry things didn’t work out, but I think it was inevitable.”

  “Is it hard on you?” she asked.

  “Is what hard?”

  “Suddenly being on your own after being a couple.”

  “Sometimes,” I said honestly.

  “But maybe going through that kind of tough, lonely experience is necessary when you’re young? Part of the process of growing up?”

  “You think so?”

  “The way surviving hard winters makes a tree grow stronger, the growth rings inside it tighter.”

  I tried to imagine growth rings inside me. But the only thing I could picture was a leftover slice of Baumkuchen cake, the kind with treelike rings inside.

  “I agree that people need that sort of period in their lives,” I said. “It’s even better if they know that it’ll end someday.”

  She smiled. “Don’t worry. I know you’ll meet somebody nice soon.”

  “I hope so,” I said.

  Erika Kuritani mulled over something for a while. I helped myself to the pizza in the meantime.

  “Tanimura-kun, I wanted to ask your advice on something. Is it okay?”

  “Sure,” I said. Uh-oh, I thought, what have I gotten myself into? This was another problem I often had to deal with: people I’d just met wanting my advice about something important. And I was pretty sure that what Erika Kuritani wanted my advice about wasn’t very pleasant.

  “I’m confused,” she began.

  Her eyes shifted back and forth, like those of a cat in search of something.

  “I’m sure you know this already, but though Aki-kun’s in his second year of cramming for the entrance exams, he barely studies. He skips exam-prep school a lot, too. So I’m sure he’ll fail again next year. If he aimed for a lower-tier school, he could get in somewhere, but he has his heart set on Waseda. He’s convinced it’s Waseda or nothing. I think that’s a pointless way of thinking, but he doesn’t listen to me, or to his parents. It’s become like an obsession for him…But if he really feels that way he should study hard so that he can pass the Waseda exam, and he doesn’t.”

  “Why doesn’t he study more?”

  “He truly believes that he’ll pass the entrance exam if luck is on his side,” Erika said. “That studying is a waste of time, a waste of his life. I find that way of thinking unbelievable.”

  That’s one way of looking at it, I thought, but didn’t share my analysis with her.

  Erika Kuritani sighed and went on, “In elementary school he was really good at studying. Always at the top of his class academically. But once he got to junior high his grades started to slide. He was a bit of a child prodigy—his personality just isn’t suited to the daily grind of studying. He’d rather go off and do crazy things on his own. I’m the exact opposite. I’m not all that bright, but I always buckle down and get the job done.”

  I hadn’t studied very hard myself and had gotten into college on the first try. Maybe luck had been on my side.

  “I’m very fond of Aki-kun,” she continued. “He’s got a lot of wonderful qualities. But sometimes it’s hard for me to go along with his extreme way of thinking. Take this thing with the Kansai dialect. Why does somebody who was born and raised in Tokyo go to the trouble of learning the Kansai dialect and speak it all the time? I don’t get it, I really don’t. At first I thought it was a joke, but it isn’t. He’s dead serious.”

  “I think he wants to have a different personality, to be somebody different from who he’s been up till now,” I said.

  “That’s why he only speaks the Kansai dialect?”

  “I agree with you that it’s a radical way of dealing with it.”

  Erika picked up a slice of pizza and bit off a piece the size of a large postage stamp. She chewed it thoughtfully before she spoke.

  “Tanimura-kun, I’m asking this because I don’t have anyone else to ask. You don’t mind?”

  “Of course not,” I said. What else could I say?

  “As a general rule,” she said, “when a guy and a girl go out for a long time and get to know each other really well, the guy has a physical interest in the girl, right?”

  “As a general rule, I’d say so, yes.”

  “If they kiss, he’ll want to go further?”

  “Normally, sure.”

  “You feel that way, too?”

  “Of course,” I said.

  “But Aki-kun doesn’t. When we’re alone, he doesn’t want to go any further.”

  It took a while for me to choose the right words. “That’s a personal thing,” I said finally. “People have different ways of getting what they want. It really depends on the person. Kitaru likes you a lot—that’s a given—but your relationship is so close and comfortable he may not be able to take things to the next level, the way most people do.”

  “You really think so?”

  I shook my head. “To tell the truth, I don’t really understand it. I’ve never experienced it myself. I’m just saying that could be one possibility.”

  “Sometimes it feels like he doesn’t have any sexual desire for me.”

  “I’m sure he does. But it might be a little embarrassing for him to admit it.”

  “But we’re twenty, adults already. Old enough not to be embarrassed.”

  “The rate at which time progresses might be a little ‘off,’ depending on the person,” I said.

  Erika thought about this. She seemed to be the type who always tackles things head on.

  “I think Kitaru is honestly seeking something,” I went on. “In his own way, at his own pace, very genuinely and directly. It’s just that I don’t think he’s grasped yet what it is. That’s why he can’t make any progress, and that applies to all kinds of things. If you don’t know what you’re looking for, it’s not easy to look for it.”

  Erika raised her head and stared me right in the eye. The candle flame was reflected in her dark eyes, a small, brilliant point of light. It was so beautiful I had to look away.

  “Of course, you know him much better than I do,” I averred.

  She sighed again.

  “Actually, I’m seeing another guy besides Aki-kun,” she said. “A boy in my tennis club who’s a year ahead of me.”

  It was my turn to remain silent.

  “I truly love Aki-kun, and I don’t think I could ever feel the same way about anybody else. Whenever I’m away from him I get this terrible ache in my chest, always in the same spot. It’s true. There’s a place in my heart reserved just for him. But at the same time I have this strong urge inside me to try something else, to come in
to contact with all kinds of people. Call it curiosity, a thirst to know more. More possibilities. It’s a natural emotion and I can’t suppress it, no matter how much I try.”

  I pictured a healthy plant outgrowing the pot it had been planted in.

  “When I say I’m confused, that’s what I mean,” Erika Kuritani said.

  “Then you should tell Kitaru exactly how you feel,” I said. “If you hide it from him that you’re seeing someone else, and he happens to find out anyway, it’ll hurt him. You don’t want that.”

  “But can he accept that? The fact that I’m going out with someone else?”

  “I imagine he’ll understand how you feel,” I said.

  “You think so?”

  “I do,” I said.

  I figured that Kitaru would understand her confusion, because he was feeling the same thing. In that sense, they really were on the same wavelength. Still, I wasn’t entirely confident that he would calmly accept what she was actually doing (or might be doing). He didn’t seem that strong a person to me. But it would be even harder for him if she kept a secret from him or lied to him.

  Erika Kuritani stared silently at the candle flame flickering in the breeze from the AC. “I often have the same dream,” she said. “Aki-kun and I are on a ship. A long journey on a large ship. We’re together in a small cabin, it’s late at night, and through the porthole we can see the full moon. But that moon is made of pure, transparent ice. And the bottom half of it is sunk in the sea. ‘That looks like the moon,’ Aki-kun tells me, ‘but it’s really made of ice and is only about eight inches thick. So when the sun comes out in the morning it all melts. Best to get a good look at it now, while you have the chance.’ I’ve had this dream so many times. It’s a beautiful dream. Always the same moon. Always eight inches thick. The bottom half is sunk down in the sea. I’m leaning against Aki-kun, the moon shines beautifully, it’s just the two of us, the waves lapping gently outside. But every time I wake up I feel unbearably sad. That moon made of ice is nowhere to be found.”

  Erika Kuritani was silent for a time. Then she spoke again. “I think how wonderful it would be if Aki-kun and I could continue on that voyage forever. Every night we’d snuggle close and gaze out the porthole at that moon made of ice. Come morning the moon would melt away, and at night it would reappear. But maybe that’s not the case. Maybe one night the moon wouldn’t be there. It scares me to think that. I wonder what kind of dream I’ll have the next day and I get so frightened it’s like I can actually hear my body shrinking.”

  —

  When I saw Kitaru at the coffee shop the next day, he asked me how the date had gone.

  “You kiss her?”

  “No way,” I said.

  “Don’t worry—I’m not gonna freak if you did,” he said.

  “I didn’t do anything like that.”

  “Didn’t hold her hand?”

  “No, I didn’t hold her hand.”

  “So what’d you do?”

  “We went to see a movie, took a walk, had dinner, and talked,” I said.

  “That’s it?”

  “Usually you don’t try to move too fast on a first date.”

  “Really?” Kitaru said. “I’ve never been out on a regular date, so I don’t know.”

  “But I enjoyed being with her. If she were my girlfriend, I’d never let her out of my sight.”

  Kitaru considered this. He was about to say something but thought better of it. “So what’d you eat?” he asked finally.

  I told him about the pizza and the Chianti.

  “Pizza and Chianti?” He sounded surprised. “I never knew she liked pizza. We’ve only been to, like, noodle shops and cheap diners. Wine? I didn’t even know she could drink.”

  Kitaru never touched liquor himself.

  “There are probably quite a few things you don’t know about her,” I said.

  I answered all his questions about the date. About the Woody Allen film (at his insistence I reviewed the whole plot), the meal (how much the bill came to, whether we split it or not), what she had on (white cotton dress, hair pinned up), what kind of underwear she wore (how would I know that?), what we talked about. I said nothing about her going out with another guy. Nor did I mention her dreams of an icy moon.

  “You guys decide when you’ll have a second date?”

  “No, we didn’t,” I said.

  “Why not? You liked her, didn’t you?”

  “She’s great. But we can’t go on like this. I mean, she’s your girlfriend, right? You say it’s okay to kiss her, but there’s no way I can do that.”

  More pondering by Kitaru. “Y’know something?” he said finally. “I’ve been seeing a therapist since the end of junior high. My parents and teachers, they all said to go to one. ’Cause I used to do things at school from time to time. You know—not normal kinds of things. But going to a therapist hasn’t helped, far as I can see. It sounds good in theory, but therapists don’t give a crap. They look at you like they know what’s going on, then make you talk on and on and just listen. Man, I could do that.”

  “You’re still seeing a therapist?”

  “Yeah. Twice a month. Like throwing your money away, if you ask me. Erika didn’t tell you about it?”

  I shook my head.

  “Tell you the truth, I don’t know what’s so weird about my way of thinking. To me, it seems like I’m just doing ordinary things in an ordinary way. But people tell me that almost everything I do is weird.”

  “Well, there are some things about you that are definitely not normal,” I said.

  “Like what?”

  “Like your Kansai dialect. For someone from Tokyo who learned it by studying, it’s just too perfect.”

  “You could be right,” Kitaru admitted. “That is a little out of the ordinary.”

  “It might give people the creeps.”

  “Hmm. Could be.”

  “Normal people wouldn’t take things that far.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  “But, as far as I can tell, even if what you do isn’t normal, it’s not bothering anybody.”

  “Not right now.”

  “So what’s wrong with that?” I said. I might have been a little upset then (at what or whom I couldn’t say). I could feel my tone getting rough around the edges. “Who says there’s anything wrong with that? If you’re not bothering anybody right now, then so what? Who knows anything beyond right now anyway? You want to speak the Kansai dialect, then you should. Go for it. You don’t want to study for the entrance exam? Then don’t. Don’t feel like sticking your hand inside Erika Kuritani’s panties? Who’s saying you have to? It’s your life. You should do what you want and forget about what other people think.”

  Kitaru, mouth slightly open, stared at me in amazement. “You know something, Tanimura? You’re a good guy. Though sometimes a little too normal, you know?”

  “What’re you gonna do?” I said. “You can’t just change your personality.”

  “Exactly. You can’t change your personality. That’s what I’m trying to say.”

  “But Erika Kuritani is a great girl,” I said. “She really cares about you. Whatever you do, don’t let her go. You’ll never find such a great girl again.”

  “I know. You don’t gotta tell me,” Kitaru said. “But just knowing isn’t gonna help.”

  “Hey, how about giving someone else a chance to point that out?”

  —

  About two weeks later, Kitaru quit working at the coffee shop. I say quit, but he just suddenly stopped showing up. He didn’t get in touch, didn’t mention anything about taking time off. And this was during our busiest season, so the owner was pretty pissed. Kitaru was being so “totally irresponsible,” as he put it. He was owed a week’s pay, but he didn’t come to pick it up. The owner asked me if I knew his address, but I told him I didn’t. I didn’t know either his phone number or his address. All I knew was roughly where to find his house in Denenchofu, and Erika Kuritani
’s home phone number.

  Kitaru didn’t say a word to me about quitting his job, and didn’t get in touch after that. He simply vanished. I have to say it hurt me. I’d thought we were good friends, and it was tough to be cut off so completely like that. I didn’t have any other friends in Tokyo.

  The one thing that did concern me was how, the last two days before he disappeared, Kitaru had been unusually quiet. He wouldn’t say much when I talked to him. And then he went and vanished. I could have called Erika Kuritani to check on his whereabouts, but somehow I couldn’t bring myself to. I figured that what went on between the two of them was their business, and that it wasn’t a healthy thing for me to get any more involved than I was. Somehow I had to get by in the narrow little world I belonged to.

  After all this happened, for some reason I kept thinking about my ex-girlfriend. Probably I’d felt something, seeing Kitaru and Erika together. I wrote her a long letter apologizing for how I’d behaved. I could have been a whole lot kinder to her. But I never got a reply.

  —

  I recognized Erika Kuritani right away. I’d only seen her twice, and sixteen years had passed since then. But there was no mistaking her. She was still lovely, with the same lively, animated expression. She was wearing a black lace dress, with black high heels and two strands of pearls around her slim neck. She remembered me right away, too. We were at a wine-tasting party at a hotel in Akasaka. It was a black-tie event, and I had put on a dark suit and tie for the occasion. She was a rep for the advertising firm that was sponsoring the event, and was clearly doing a great job of handling it. It’d take too long to get into the reasons why I was there.

  “Tanimura-kun, how come you never got in touch with me after that night we went out?” she asked. “I was hoping we could talk some more.”

  “You were a little too beautiful for me,” I said.

  She smiled. “That’s nice to hear, even if you’re just flattering me.”

  “I’ve never flattered anyone in my whole life,” I said.