I Haven't Dreamed of Flying for a While

by Taichi Yamada

  ‘What’s the matter?’ I suddenly heard my wife’s voice as she struggled to conceal her surprise.

  ‘Hi… You’re home.’

  ‘What are you doing? Going through your suit like that? Is something the matter?’

  * * *

  May came after two uneventful months. During that time, my confidence weakened and I began to believe that my experience with Mutsuko had been nothing more than the product of my imagination. There were days when I felt a little surer of myself, however, and it was on one of those days that I contacted the Northern Japan branch of our company to get information on the elderly wife that had left the Miyabayashi household. They were quite helpful and confirmed that she had indeed separated from her husband, told me that her current address was unknown and gave me the address of her older brother’s family in Yokohama, saying that they would probably know her whereabouts. Plucking up courage, I called the Kizuki family once again in Yokohama, still pretending to be from an insurance company, but they still didn’t seem to know where she was. I even considered staying at that hotel room on the eighteenth floor. But that didn’t happen, not at 20,000 yen per night. Of course, I would have happily paid so much if I was going to be able to see Mutsuko, but I couldn’t pay that kind of money just for memories.

  Whenever there was a fine day, it was inevitably followed by a chilly, rainy one. The built-to-order projects department continued in its stagnation, adding another member along the way to bring the total to seven. The new guy was a forty-two-year old who used to work at the Ushiku office and who’d suddenly insisted on giving up his position six months ago as its deputy director. He’d been diagnosed with depression soon after, and had been on leave of absence ever since.

  On his first day our director said to him, ‘Some people call us the rehabilitation department, but I don’t want you to succumb to such views. In fact, I want you to give a hundred and twenty per cent to any work you are assigned to.’

  The new guy responded with a serious expression. ‘That kind of encouragement is about the worst thing you can give to someone with depression.’ He didn’t seem to think this was a strange thing to say and nobody mentioned anything about it. He was simply welcomed without fanfare and he did nothing that seemed particularly strange after that. I think everyone had just given up.

  I had given up too, although a passively desperate ‘Aah,’ would occasionally slip from my mouth. It was an attempt to release the pressure of my mourning and to stem my desire for Mutsuko. Then it happened, one cloudy afternoon in the middle of the month.

  ‘What’s this? It doesn’t have stamps on it. Looks suspicious to me.’

  Yoshiko Takamatsu, who’d gone down to the mailbox, placed the envelope in front of me.

  ‘Feminine handwriting. No name. Must be from the “lovers bank”.’

  ‘And how would I have that kind of money?’ I said, trying to sound casual, but with a quiver of expectation tainting my voice.

  ‘You’ve got a guilty look on your face.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ I responded clumsily.

  I wanted to open the envelope as quickly as possible. I knew it was from Mutsuko. I’d never seen her handwriting before, but I was certain this was it.

  ‘Shouldn’t you hurry up and open it?’

  ‘I don’t think this is any of your business, do you?’

  ‘Look at you, trying to act all nonchalant about it.’

  ‘Okay, okay. It’s an invoice from a bar, if you really must know. But I shouldn’t have to say these things out loud,’ I said, casually tearing the envelope open. There were two sheets of writing paper inside and I read them.

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought an invoice could change your expression like that.’

  Yoshiko Takamatsu acted mischievously like this sometimes.

  ‘Director,’ I called out. ‘Are you going to allow such insolence?’ Immediately I noticed that my voice had become a pitch higher, and with a hint of an excited chuckle, too. This was really out of character for me and everyone looked at me. But it was no use; I simply couldn’t stop the wave of joy that had suddenly hit me. I laughed again and added, ‘And it’s not even the end of the month,’ in a voice too loud for office hours, before I finally got my excitement under control and put the letter away in my breast pocket.

  Please accept my apologies for disturbing you. On the third floor of that hotel — above the second-floor reception — there is a small coffee shop called Elaine. I will wait therefor an hour from 6:30 today. If your schedule permits, please come.

  Kizuki

  I just couldn’t wait for five o’clock to come around! But it was less than ten minutes to that hotel and if I’d rushed over right then, I would have been waiting for over an hour. Nevertheless, I found myself leaving the office at four minutes past five and hurrying straight over. Of course, mainly I was overjoyed to be seeing Mutsuko again. But part of my happiness also stemmed from the knowledge, confirmed by the letter in my hand, that this was in no way an illusion.

  Now I held the letter, I felt it had been obvious from the start that this all couldn’t have been an illusion. But with such a feeling came a realisation of just how unsure I’d felt at a subconscious level. Then again, wasn’t it natural to feel so unsure inside? Especially when considering what had happened — meeting a sixty-seven-year-old woman who’d suddenly and clearly become about forty, with whom I’d then slept. Not doubting myself, now that would have been mad.

  Now I had Mutsuko’s letter in my jacket breast pocket, I had proof that she existed. As I walked, I placed a hand on the letter. And once I did, I didn’t want to let go, so I kept my hand there. I might have looked to passers-by like I was suffering from chest pains. So I forced a frown in an attempt not to smile and pretended to be a worker with a problem on his mind.

  I rushed up the escalator to the lobby, passing by an elderly American couple at the top who’d stepped aside when they saw what a hurry I was in.

  ‘Thank you. I’m running late,’ I said quickly as I strode out across the lobby.

  That’s when I realised. I had spoken English. And I had done so pretty much unconsciously, without having to construct a sentence in my mind beforehand. So it was English this time? How suave of her. How incredible. I was already within reach of her mysterious energy.

  I ran up the stairs next to the reception desk and walked along the third-floor hallway that looked down over the lobby and was lined with stores selling jewellery, furs and designer clothes. The coffee shop Elaine was located towards the end of the hall.

  I was, of course, much too early. In fact, it was only eleven minutes past five. That meant it had taken me just seven minutes to get there. A sure sign that I was getting a little too excited.

  ‘Welcome.’

  ‘I’m supposed to be meeting someone here, but I’m a little early.’ I stuck my head in just in case. ‘I’ll come back later. Excuse me.’

  ‘We look forward to seeing you then’.

  I found a bathroom, went in and looked in the mirror- only to find the flushed lace of a forty-eight-year-old staring back at me. What a sight. I looked drunk. I needed to calm down. If only I didn’t appear so ugly. If only I were a little younger. If only I was forty, at least.

  I washed my face, wiped it with a handkerchief, tutted to myself at having wet the collar of my suit, then took a deep breath, telling myself I still had an hour to go. Then I got into a stall, closed the door, took out Mutsuko’s letter, unfolded it and read it again. I kissed the place where she had signed her name.

  Kizuki.

  Why hadn’t she signed her name Mutsuko? Could this be some kind of plot by the Kizuki family? Surely not. There was no way they could know about what had happened at this hotel. Besides, what would they have to gain from luring me here? Enough of this paranoia, I told myself, and I set off down to the lobby. Then I returned soon enough to the third floor to pass the time window shopping. Why hadn’t she made the meeting time six o’clock? Even 5:30 wou
ld have been fine with me.

  At around 5:40, I went into Elaine and sat there with a coffee in front of me. I was happy to find I’d been wanting her this much and I was exhilarated by the fact that I still had such passion. And that when I thought of her there was not a trace of my cynicism. It had been a long time since I had last been able to see a woman simply as lovable and beautiful. A long time since I’d got past my jaded view of all women as self-centred, fickle, stubborn, unworldly, shallow people. But when it came to Mutsuko, I was intoxicated by her charms and could see her only in a favourable light. I wanted so much to make that feeling last as long as possible, even if it meant blocking my judgement and controlling my sensibilities. Then I saw her standing at the entrance. Watching me.

  She had the same hairstyle and was wearing the same outfit as when I had last seen her two months ago. It somehow made me want to protect her. I stood up.

  ‘Welcome,’ I heard the coffee-shop staff say.

  She smiled and came towards me. ‘I came fifteen minutes early, so I could wait for you,’ she said, dropping her gaze.

  ‘It’s been a while,’ I said from the bottom of my heart.

  ‘Yes, it has.’ She gave a small nod and sat down across from me.

  It wasn’t too hot that day, so her kimono didn’t look out of place, but I was moved by how she’d selected her outfit of March to wear in May — a time when some of the days can be as warm as midsummer. I felt overwhelmed with a desire to protect her, although from what, I didn’t know. I was also relieved that she hadn’t become distant from me in the time since we last met.

  ‘I came looking like this intentionally,’ she said.

  ‘Intentionally?’

  ‘Because I changed.’

  I turned my eyes to her appearance again. The waitress came to take our order, and Mutsuko ordered an iced coffee. After the initial impression made by her choice of clothing began to fade, I noticed she didn’t appear to be emaciated or in need of protection at all. ln fact, her hair was set neatly and her kimono had been fitted sharply.

  ‘You’ve lost a little weight,’ l said.

  ‘Yes.’

  She was even more beautiful than before. And although part of me didn’t want to admit it, she was clearly younger. It was unbelievable — although perhaps it should have been very believable to me, having witnessed her previous transformation from an old woman. But now she looked like she was in her thirties, and her early thirties at that. Perhaps she was even in her twenties?

  It goes to show just how strongly people’s impressions can be coloured by preconceptions. I hadn’t noticed it when she’d walked in and sat down in front of me, but now nobody would guess she was in her forties. More likely a young wife of thirty or not quite. All the while she kept her eyes on the table, as if silently enduring my gaze.

  ‘You’re younger,’ I said.

  ‘I thought you’d be surprised. That’s why I came in the same outfit as last time.’

  ‘I see,’ my voice cracked. What had happened since I had last seen her? What had she been doing? Anxiety shot through me once again.

  ‘I thought I might never see you again.’

  She nodded, keeping her gaze down.

  ‘I missed you.’

  A powerful sensation welled up inside me, almost bringing tears to my eyes. I was being overwhelmed by her youth and a sense of defeat began to fill my chest.

  ‘Just like last time,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I’ve booked a room.’

  ‘I see.’

  Emotions were tangling up inside me and I couldn’t tell if I was happy or afraid. I mean, of course I was pleased, but I also had the feeling that this kind of happiness could only come at the price of some misfortune.

  ‘You know the Spanish restaurant in the basement?’

  ‘Was there one?’

  ‘Yes. I went ahead and made a reservation.’

  The room this time was on the twenty—fifth floor. There were no high-rises in view from the window and the lights from private homes, street lamps and a stream of cars fanned out low and far into the distance. Down below was a park. There were lamps lighting up sections of the lawn and the benches around the fountain. This was where certain weekly magazines claimed to have secretly taken photos of couples having sex behind the bushes. But on that night there was nobody on the lawn and very few people walking around, which made it seem lonely and sad.

  On entering the room, Mutsuko insisted I went ahead and showered first. Then I listened to the sound of water as Mutsuko took a shower too. I thought over the evening’s dinner and remembered how she’d said she didn’t have the courage to talk about the two months she’d been away. She said she would tell me about it sometime. That not a lot had happened. And that, ‘You could say I was asleep.’ But surely it wouldn’t take courage to talk about being asleep.

  ‘This isn’t something I should really say,’ she told me.

  ‘Please tell me whatever you want. I want to hear anything you have to say.’

  Because her manner of speech hadn’t changed, I found myself speaking to her in a polite way. So telling myself that we were closer than that, I made a conscious effort to speak more casually.

  ‘So what is it?’

  ‘It’s odd for a sixty-seven-year-old to say this but—’

  ‘Sixty-seven? Anyone can see that you aren’t that kind of age.’

  ‘But I am. My memories and the way I feel haven’t changed. I can’t forget that fact either.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Well—’ She gave a shy smile. It was a perfectly natural shy smile, without a hint of pretence. A smile you never see on the faces of most young women these days. It made me feel like a sweet, warming flame had been lit in my heart.

  ‘I had my period.’

  I was shocked. Caught off guard. But then, that had been her way from the beginning. When she’d asked me to talk sex to her, when she’d invited me to the room on the eighteenth floor, this reserved woman sitting in front of me had done so without ever mincing her words.

  ‘Really?’

  She had her head down, so I couldn’t tell from her expression how she felt about it. But she wasn’t smiling. Of course, there was no way she wasn’t experiencing something like happiness, but perhaps her fear was stronger than the joy. It reminded me of a scene from a Thomas Mann novel I’d read as a student. Where an old woman delights at the return of her period, only to find the bleeding had been caused by cancer.

  But Mutsuko wasn’t an old woman, so I pushed such thoughts out of my mind. She was now not much older than thirty, after all, so it was only natural that she would be having periods. I found it adorable how she couldn’t help mentioning it and privileged that she had chosen me to share this with. I imagined it must be an experience more touching than any man could ever imagine. But I couldn’t even say, ‘That’s great.’

  ‘What’s clear,’ I said instead, ‘is that you are definitely, unmistakably and miraculously becoming younger.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘This is a truly amazing thing. And I hesitate to say it, but if this was ever to reach the news, the whole world would be sent into a frenzy.’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t want to even think about it.’

  I was warmed, relieved even, by the sudden youthfulness and intimacy of her tone.

  ‘Of course, they would make a fuss about the need for proof.’

  ‘I don’t have much time. This is all happening so fast—’ she said softly.

  ‘Fast?’

  ‘My arm—’ she said, sliding her left hand across the table towards me.

  ‘What is it?.’

  I looked timidly at the exposed white of her arm.

  ‘Pinch it,’ she said, grabbing the skin on her arm with her right hand. ‘Go on.’ Wanting me to do the same, she moved her left arm in front of me. I reached out my right hand and touched her white skin.

  ‘You can’t pinch it, can you?’

  I sensed a desper
ation in her tone.

  ‘I’m young,’ she said, as if lamenting the fact.

  I tried to pinch her skin with my thumb and index finger, but the youthful tightness of it made it impossible.

  ‘You’re right. I can’t.’

  Perhaps it was her behaviour and gestures making her look older than she was, because when I touched her, I felt she could have been twenty-five, if even that.

  ‘You saw what I looked like at the end of last year,’ she said, trying to stay calm. ‘Well, it’s May now. What’s going to happen to me?’ she continued softly, with her chest trembling a touch, as if nervously gasping for air.

  * * *

  Mutsuko stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her body. And as she turned to close the door, I was touched by her profile. She was standing very straight, as if braving a tragedy, and it made her seem somehow unapproachable. She looked at me and I felt all erotic feelings crumble away. Then she removed her towel and stood beautiful before me. I sensed sadness in her eyes, which soon sparkled with tears. Then she stretched her arms towards me without moving from the spot, as if there were a fence preventing her from getting any closer. I rushed over and embraced her and she clung to me as if she were drowning. Then I heard and felt her quiet sobs.

  The drops on the back of her neck couldn’t cling to the firmness of her skin and I caressed her young, taut shoulders. She passionately placed her lips on mine and I knew what was making her so scared. What if she continued to get younger? What if she became a younger woman? Then a young girl? Then an infant? I didn’t have the answer.

  ‘It’s silly isn’t it?’ said Mutsuko. ‘For an old woman to be afraid of the future.’