He leaned close to the glass and focused on Sadako.
She seemed to be aware that he was watching her: she stopped, lowered her hands, and turned her gaze in his direction. He could feel it, even at that distance. At that moment, they were connected by the thread of their mutual gaze.
The overhead light was on in the sound booth, so no doubt Toyama's face was visible from the other side of the glass. Meanwhile, the lights were on over the stage, giving it a totally different ambience from the dress rehearsaclass="underline" Sadako's face looked different under the white light, her color contrasting with her black costume, but differently than usual. There was something obscene about it, as if her underclothes were showing through.
Sadako stepped down from the stage into the seats, heading for the lobby.
She's coming up to the booth.
He imagined her movements. Now she was crossing the lobby; now she was climbing the spiral staircase to the sound booth. She was in no hurry—in fact, she was taking her time, to make him anxious. She moved with light elegance.
He waited for the knock at the door.
...3, 2, 1, 0.
At zero, the door swung open, without a knock.
Sadako slipped into the room and closed the door behind her.
"Did you call?" She was quite alluring in her stage clothes, up close.
Toyama remained silent and unsmiling. He hoped that his anger was showing through in his expression, but he had no idea what he really looked like to her. In any case, he was trying to look as out-of-sorts as he could, but Sadako just ignored it and crossed the room.
She unfolded a metal chair and sat down on it.
Toyama maintained his silence. Finally Sadako spoke, pretending to have noticed just now. "Hey, what are you so mad about?"
Of course she knew why he was angry: she had to know. It annoyed him that she was pretending not to, and he snapped.
"What the hell was that back there?"
Sadako raised an eyebrow. "Oh, that." She pursed her lips and laughed mischievously.
"Did you know I was watching when you did that to Mr. Shigemori?" They always called him Mister Shigemori, so Toyama called him that now, out of habit, but it didn't match his mood, so he made a show of muttering, "Shigemori, that bastard."
"Are you jealous?"
She was sitting on the edge of her seat, and now she put both hands on the chair and made a little move as if to get up.
"Jealous? I'm concerned for you, baby."
It was a lie, and a transparent one at that. He wasn't concerned for anyone but himself. All his rage sprang from a heart tortured by jealousy.
"Toyama, maybe you'd better not call me 'baby'."
Her tone was not harsh, but it was firm. Toyama was somewhat taken aback by this display of will on her part, and he had to bite his lip to keep from saying, "I'm sorry."
"No matter how much you cozy up to Shigemori, I just don't think it's going to help you in the future. If you have a dream you've got to reach out and take it on your own."
Reach out and. take it... What a cliché—Toyama was disgusted with himself for uttering something straight out of a teen soap opera.
"A dream? Toyama, do you know what my dream is?"
"To become a great actress, right?"
Sadako brought a hand to one cheek and gave a hard-to-define smile.
"How many people do you think would come see me if I made it as a stage actress?"
"You don't have to stick to the stage. There's TV, movies."
"What about that, that red light—see it?"
Sadako pointed to the cassette deck that was erasing Okubo's impressions. A tiny lamp glowed red, signifying that it was recording.
"The cassette deck?"
"It's so much smaller than a reel-to-reel. Looks really easy to record on, too."
"Yes, it is pretty convenient."
"I wonder if images will be like that, too. If we'll ever be able to record images, not just on film like in a movie theater, but on something small like a cassette tape."
What she was saying didn't sound all that far-fetched—no doubt that day was fast approaching.
"I'm sure we will, sooner or later. Maybe someday we'll be able to sit at home and watch one of your movies on TV."
"But that's a long way off, isn't it?" She sounded depressed about it.
"It's not impossible, though. You could do it."
"But it would be too late."
"What do you mean?"
"By that time, I'd be an old woman."
She had a point. Even assuming Sadako kept steadily maturing as an actress, by the time a cassette-like image-storage system came into widespread use, she'd no longer be considered young.
"Don't be in such a rush."
"I don't want to get old. I want to stay young forever. Wouldn't that be great?"
Nobody fears aging like an aspiring young actress, reflected Toyama. Sadako was evidently no exception.
"I wouldn't mind growing old with you."
It was almost a proposal, despite the casual way he said it. And he meant it. Aging held no horrors for him, as long as he and Sadako could live together. And when he finally died of old age, he could do it with a smile on his face provided she was there beside him. For an instant Toyama imagined dying in Sadako's arms. She was gazing into his eyes while the world receded spinning into the distance. He was old...but for some reason Sadako was still her present age. In his head the image was startlingly clear.
The muscles around Sadako's mouth relaxed as she realized that Toyama really did want to be with her. She knit her brow and said, a little defensively, "You're under the impression that I like Mr. Shigemori, aren't you?
You've got the wrong idea."
"Well, I don't want to think that. But considering what I saw you do—"
She wouldn't let him finish. She shook her head and said, "No, no. You misunderstand. I can't stand him. He comes on way too strong. In fact, he scares me. It's like he's obsessed with me—he's just creepy. I hate it. Why can't he be a little more laid back—especially at his age?"
So even Shigemori had struck out with Sadako.
Toyama actually began to feel a little sorry for him—was it possible that he was seriously in love with Sadako, at age forty-seven?
"To be honest, it's really hard for me—I don't know how to tell you what I really feel. I want to believe you, Sadako, but..."
Sadako leaned forward in the folding chair and put a hand on Toyama's knee.
"Toyama," she said.
She was only nineteen, but it seemed she knew just how to relieve the frustration of a man suffering from jealousy.
She stood up and turned off the lights. Once she'd turned out the desk light, the booth was dark except for what light found its way through the window from the stage below. It was enough to dimly illuminate Sadako's body. But then the last actors left the stage, and that light too was extinguished. All was black except for the tiny red glow of the record light on the cassette deck in the corner.
Something clicked in the darkness. Sadako must have locked the door from the inside. After a while, Toyama felt her weight on his knees. So slender to look at, she was surprisingly heavy.
He could see nothing: only by her weight did he know she was there. She guided his hands as he undressed her. They unzipped her dress in the back, and then she slipped it off over her head. Now Sadako was straddling him in her underwear as he sat there.
At the soft touch of her skin, the outlines of Sadako's body took shape in Toyama's mind. She'd taken off her dress, but ironically she was now becoming the Girl in Black herself. The fact that he couldn't see her in the darkness only stimulated his imagination as her naked form took on solidity in his mind's eye. The red glow from the tape deck only made her blacker.