“How did you end up there?” she questioned.
“…I just happened to be passing by. But how did you end up here?”
“You brought me yourself, didn’t you?”
Did I?
I thought I’d been in bed having nonsensical dreams the whole time…
“You made a very skillful landing.”
She reached out her hand and put it on my forehead. My fever was still high, and her cold hand cooled me down. They say people with cold hands have warm hearts.
She showed me a little Daruma-shaped bottle. She dipped a chopstick she’d found by the sink into the syrup-like substance and drew some out. I did as I was told and licked it. She watched, smiling, and told me about the long night she spent with Mr. Rihaku.
“When Mr. Rihaku’s cold gets better, let’s go celebrate with him, the two of us.”
I could probably say such a thing only because my fever still hadn’t gone down and the fragrant syrup caused the blood to rush to my head; I almost had a nosebleed.
“Together?”
“Together. And I’ll show you a cool used bookstore,” I added.
She gave me a big smile and nodded. “I’d like that.” Then she was in a daze for a while. If there were such a thing as a World Befuddlement Championship, I think she would’ve surely been entered as the representative of Japan.
She babbled with a laugh that she felt as if she might have a fever. “Maybe I caught a cold, too.”
She went home for the holidays the next day, but thanks to the Junpairo, I finally managed to escape the God of Colds’ evil clutches. While I was still in bed regaining my strength, Christmas passed by, and the busy New Year’s season arrived.
And apparently, during that time, the evil cold epidemic finally ended.
The quickest to recover was the School Festival Office director, and he stopped by to visit me before he went home for break.
I had no idea since I’d been in bed all alone, but he told me Chief-in-Chief Underpants, the Sophistry Debate Club guys, and everyone had been out with the cold. When I accused, “Isn’t that because you gave it to them?” he replied, “We all share the same fate.” When I told him I’d arranged to go out with the girl, he praised my hard work: “Nicely done.” But he left me with a disagreeable parting shot. “You know, of course, from here on is the hard part. Dating women is just…”
I went home for the holiday.
When I got back to my room in the new year, there was a little card in my mailbox. It was an invitation to Rihaku’s recovery celebration; Higuchi was organizing. Apparently, Rihaku was footing the bill, and everyone was invited for an all-you-can-eat buffet of tasty things and all-you-can-drink faux electric brandy.
After clenching the receiver all day long, I finally called her.
The day of, I left my room and headed for the café Shinshindo on Imadegawa.
The party for Rihaku would start at six in Tadasu no Mori, so I had arranged to meet with her for coffee beforehand at four. To make sure I wasn’t late, I had to leave at two. In order to do that, I had to wake up at seven. Why? I needed a couple of hours to wash and dry my clothes, an hour to shower and dry my hair, five minutes to brush my teeth, thirty minutes to style my hair, and a few hours to rehearse potential conversations. I’d been extremely busy.
Walking along the canal, I saw that the university sports teams were up and at ’em in the new year, enthusiastically running around the playing field calling out to one another. The scenery was all familiar, but looking at the city in the bleach-bright winter sun, everything seemed somehow refreshing like a new year should.
But my feet were dragging. My stomach was heavy as though I’d drunk a barrel of lead. I was anxious at the thought that she might not come and even more anxious at the thought that she might. I smoked a cigarette and took a meandering detour.
I don’t know how to act when I’m with her. What do the men and women of the world talk about when they’re alone together? They can’t just be gazing into each other’s eyes the whole time. But neither do I imagine they’re having heated discussions about life and love. What if these are more sensitive dealings than I’m capable of? I could tell a joke and make her laugh, but won’t that just get me labeled as a chatty guy? I wouldn’t be able to resolutely seduce her like that. I’m not a cheerful, witty dude. At this rate, we’ll end up making pointless small talk and endlessly drinking coffee. I could have fun just gazing at her, but would that be fun for her? I feel bad about eating up her precious time like some evil demon. Actually, I feel really bad. Maybe it would have been easier and more fun to just keep filling in the moat. Ahhh, this is a mess. I miss filling in the moat. How I long to return to those glory days.
I sat on a bench by the canal and looked at the leafless trees.
She must be getting ready to leave right now, I thought.
That day, I’m embarrassed to admit, I was so excited I woke up at six in the morning.
My clubmate had called and invited me out for coffee before the party for Mr. Rihaku. Could this be what they call a “date”? Yes, indeed. And it was the first time I’d been invited to participate in such an event. This was serious.
I pondered this and that while I cleaned, and time flew by.
While I got ready, I tried to think about what I should talk to him about.
There were so many things I wanted to ask him, like what kind of night he had last spring in Ponto-cho. Plus how the fire hot pot tasted at that summer’s used bookfair. And what kind of adventure led him to play the Crackpot of Monte Cristo at the school festival in the fall. I wondered what he was up to when I wasn’t around. I really wanted to know.
When I enthusiastically stepped out of my apartment complex, sunlight was shining, clear and crisp. The Rihaku Cold had subsided, and the streets that had been so lonely in December were lively once more.
I was suddenly so excited as I walked toward Shinshindo.
I finally steeled my resolve and headed for Shinshindo.
It goes without saying, but seeing as I’d invited her, running away was out of the question.
I pushed open the heavy door and entered the dimly lit café at three o’clock. I still had an hour. Out of breath, I claimed a window seat and thought about what to talk about as I drank some coffee. After completely racking my brains, I finally thought of something good.
There were so many things I wanted to ask her, like what kind of night she had last spring in Ponto-cho. And what kind of books she encountered at the summer used bookfair. And how she ended up playing such a major role in that play at the school festival in the fall.
If she talked to me about those things, I could talk to her about my memories, too.
Feeling a bit lighter, I looked out the window at Imadegawa Street. The bright afternoon sun was pouring down, and everything seemed to sparkle. I spaced out.
Eventually, I heard the door open and noticed she had appeared.
I bobbed my head.
She offered a little bow, too.
This was a moment to remember: It was the moment I quit filling in the moat and took on an even more difficult challenge. Wise readers, please be merciful. And be well until we meet again.
Farewell, my days of moat filling.
In closing, I leave you with this:
Do all you can and then wait for providence.
Walking along Imadegawa Street, I thought about the day the trees lining the street would finally take back their green.
In spring, I would be a second-year student. What a strange, funteresting year it had been. Before long, I was so excited for the coming year, I could have burst. That was all thanks to the many people I had met, like my clubmate. I was full of gratitude.
Eventually, I arrived at Shinshindo.
When I nervously pushed open the glass door, warm, soft air enveloped me as if I were entering another world. The dimly lit interior was filled with the sounds of people chatting across the darkly gleaming tables, spoons stir
ring coffee, and pages being turned.
He was sitting by the street-side window.
The winter sun shining in looked so warm it could have been spring. In that pool of light, he was sitting there daydreaming with his head propped up on his elbows like a cat partway through a nap. The moment I saw him, the pit of my stomach warmed up. It was like lying in a meadow with a little cat, light as air on my stomach.
He noticed me and bobbed his head with a smile.
I bobbed my head.
So it was that as I walked over to him, I murmured:
There must be some reason we met.
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The Night Is Short, Walk on Girl Page 22