ARE YOU PLAYING THE WHORE NOW, HARUKI?
IF YOU BUY only things that are expensive and carry a designer label, does that mean you’re a snob? That’s what Haruki asked Tomo in front of the bathroom. No, Tomo told her, not unless you’re doing it to bug your girlfriends. But how can I tell? When it’s just guys complimenting you, that’s a sure sign. You know them, Tomo, the girls would rather die than notice I’m in the room. I’m just part of the furniture. Sometimes I feel invisible. I take on the color of the landscape. I merge with the group like ivy with a wall. I’d like to be the water you drink that ends up drowning you. Why are you talking that way? What are you trying to prove, Haruki? I don’t get you! I’ve always talked this way. I’m just asking for a little attention. Just to tell you that, I had to get drunk as a skunk. Aren’t you always drunk? No, but I’m doing everything I can to get people to pay attention. And it’s no use. I’ve noticed, Tomo, that we’re only interested in people who despise us. I’m talking crap, right? I don’t do this every day. Normally I only talk inside my head, and I spend two days rehearsing something before I can say it out loud. And then nobody hears me anyway. I’m just a stop along the way. Seen, then forgotten. I’m the ugly duckling waddling after the others. If I want to occupy the main stage for more than ten seconds, I have to say something like “Your dress is on fire, Hideko.” My record stands at one minute, and to even get that I had to faint dead away. I earned myself a passing remark from Midori that day. Otherwise I’m the one doing the listening. I’m not getting on your nerves, Tomo? It’s weird to be talking so much. Most of the time I analyze what other people say. I’ve gotten good at it. I observe. I know what the others like, and that lets me imagine their hidden desires. I know that sounds pretentious. I’ve had too much time to polish sentences in my head. At night, I read Proust. As soon as someone mentions something that interests one of the group, I rush out and buy it. They go out of their way not to notice my new blouse or my brooch set with purple stones. That’s because everyone knows, Haruki, that you’re just a rich bitch. You never talk to anyone, you despise us, you’re here just to give your parents shit. What are you talking about? Tell me you’re joking, Tomo. You wear the kind of clothes that make our mouths water. Someone just mentions a dress they saw and the next thing we know, you’re wearing it. Happens every time. You really bug us, you know. You’re the biggest snob I know. You always put on this bored look every time we try to have a little fun. I’m supposed to be rich? I don’t have a penny. Me, a snob? The jealousy is killing me. Where do you get your money? You can always find money downtown. Are you playing the whore, Haruki? It’s not my fault there are so many guys with more money than brains. You fuck them? No, I suck, and only when I want new clothes. I’ve got a friend who works in a gym near the department stores, that’s where I spend my lunch hour. The bicep boys come by after their workouts. They don’t really need me, they’re more interested in their own muscles. They do push-ups till they drop, they get up off the floor, they look at themselves in the mirror, and that’s all they need to get off. I prefer the businessmen with their charming little bellies. They swing by to burn off a few calories before packing them back on again at the stripper bar next door. Beer and chicken wings and the girls sliding up and down the pole. What a choice — a snack or a blow job. I wait for them by the showers. That way they’re already clean. I have the key to the little room at the back. Quick and nasty. Some of them want me to swallow, and that costs double. Cash, of course. I rinse out my mouth. I go down to the sidewalk. I like to feel the sun on my face. The sun is my pimp. He’s always waiting for me downstairs. I buy my clothes next door, and a new brooch at Birks. There’s a silence. Finally, Tomo says, I don’t listen to the other girls and I don’t talk to them, either. I’m only here for Midori. But I’m not in love with Midori, the way everybody thinks. Stop, Tomo, everyone’s in love with Midori. Not me. All of us, in our way. I owe my life to her. She’s the air I breathe. I was dying of boredom before I met her. Don’t you think it’s strange that you can love someone so much without being in love? What are you really trying to say, Tomo? (A pause.) If she dies, I die — isn’t that clear? Okay, enough’s enough, I don’t want to hear about death. The rest of you girls, that’s your favorite subject. It makes me puke. Is it the season, or what? Who told you that you have to die if you love somebody? Maybe I’m weird, but if I love someone, I want to live. That’s because you’ve never really loved, Haruki. Can’t you just go ahead and die and stop beating us over the head with it? I didn’t say I felt like dying, Haruki, I said that Midori takes all my time. We’re all living off her. I’m different from the rest. We all say that. What do you know about the other girls? Everyone knows everything about everybody else. Whatever you do, there’ll be a pair of eyes watching you. And reading your mind too. I wouldn’t last long like that. We’re talking, right, but the other girls think I’m mute. I’m sure, Haruki, someone is making you buy all that stuff. I live in my head too much for anyone to manipulate me. That’s our national pastime. You’ll never know anything if you don’t ask questions. Listen: here, when no one’s manipulating you, it means you’re being manipulated. That’s how it works. Your favorite colors— are they really your favorites? Your favorite jewelry — is it really your favorite? Your favorite perfume — is it really? Your favorite panties—? Think about it, Haruki, and you’ll see that there’s someone else who has the same tastes you do. Yeah, but I don’t see it. Stop trying to defend yourself. Let yourself go. Act like we’re talking about somebody else. Make an effort. I don’t see anything, Tomo. Who dresses like you? Who wears the same perfume you do? Who wears the same size as you? I still don’t see. You’re some kind of dumb whore, most of the time they’re smarter than you are. Who do you see everywhere you go? Oh, shit, it’s Fumi. What does she want from me? Go ask her, Haruki. No way. You won’t find out anything. One day, maybe.
A HOTEL ROOM
SHôNAGON CHOSE the hotel, and she also set the date and the time of our rendezvous. A small hotel in the West End, made of red brick and covered with ivy. I wasn’t late, but she was already there. I gave my name at the desk and was told I was expected in room 12. Shônagon was sitting quietly by the window. She didn’t look embarrassed or intimidated. She smiled and motioned for me to sit next to her. This wasn’t the same woman I had met the other evening.
“Have you eaten?” she asked, in her gentlest voice.
Now I was embarrassed.
“No.”
“May I?”
She placed the basket on a low table at the foot of the bed and began unpacking every possible kind of seafood.
“I always thought you were a man of the sea. . François is earthbound. I am of the sea too. That’s why François attracted me. They say that opposites attract, don’t they?”
She prepared our little picnic as she chatted about small things. I understood that for her, conversation is like music. There is no subject. We could imagine a world run by someone as subtle as Shônagon, but that much delicacy inevitably attracts brutality. Our balance depends on a mixture of things. Our meal progressed in orderly fashion, and she slowed time to such a point that I could feel her impact on the city’s energy. I felt as though the city were turning around a single central axis: this room. The room was full of sunlight, and the window looked onto a small inner garden. The white sheets. The colorful fruit. The white wine. A daytime feast. She rose with unbearable grace and went to lie on the bed. I joined her without haste. I didn’t want to make the first move. I waited. She brushed my forearm.