The voice on the other end of the line belonged to my boss, the postmaster. He sounded annoyed and pointed out that I was late. The day before I’d left early to go to the clinic because I didn’t feel well—actually he sounded kind of worried about me.
“I’m OK, but I could use some more time off to recover. Could I have the rest of the week off?”
So I managed to get the week off and then hung up.
“That’s it…”
“What?”
“That’s it, right there.”
Finally I twigged that Aloha was pointing at the phone.
“Now that looks like something you don’t need.”
“What? You mean my phone?”
“Right! Let’s get rid of it.”
Aloha laughed.
“So how about it? One day of life in exchange for your phone.”
If phones disappeared from the world…
What would I gain, and what would I lose?
Just as my imagination was kicking into overdrive, Aloha came in uncomfortably close.
“So, what are you going to do?”
I weighed it up.
One day of life, or the phone. Mmmm, I wonder…
“Use it or lose it!”
“J… just a minute!”
“OK, you’ve got twenty seconds… Now ten seconds, nine, eight, seven…”
“OK, can you cut it out with the mission control thing? Just go ahead and make it disappear! Get rid of it!”
It was just hard to be convinced I was doing the right thing, not that I was in a position to be dithering.
My life or my phone. Obviously, I’ll take life.
“OK! Here we go!”
The Devil sounded like he was having a good time, as usual.
Then I suddenly remembered. I hadn’t got around to calling my father in a while.
Oh well. That’s just the way it goes, I guess. I hadn’t called my father since Mom died four years ago. And I hadn’t been to see him either. I heard he was still running the little clock-repair shop in the old neighborhood not far from where I live now, but I never thought of visiting. Not even once. But I admit, it is kind of odd not bothering to drop your own father a line, even when you expect to die soon.
I don’t know if Aloha sensed my ambivalence or what, but he came over with that big grin of his.
“There, there, I understand. It’s the same with everyone. When it comes to actually erasing things from your life, you start to think. That’s why I always include a special offer.”
“Offer?”
“Yup. You have the right to use the thing you’re about to erase one last time.”
“I see.”
“So you’re allowed to make one last phone call. You can call anyone you want.”
That only made me more confused.
Of course, the first person who came to mind was my father. But when I pictured his face, I couldn’t help remembering what happened four years ago. And now that it’s been like this for so long, what would we have to talk about? I just couldn’t call him.
So who will it be? Who gets my last phone call?
Maybe a close friend like K.?
He was definitely a great guy, and if only we could find the time to hang out again after all these years, I’m sure we would still get along great. But on the other hand, we never had any deep and meaningful, or serious conversations. How would K. react if I suddenly called him to tell him that I’m dying, and that my phone is about to disappear, which is why I thought it would be best to call him now? He’d think I’d lost it. He’d assume it was a joke and the call would be wasted. Not the way to use your last phone call.
Back to the drawing board.
So how about a close friend at work like W.?
He was always easygoing and helped me out a lot. He was a bit older than me, always willing to give me some advice, whether it was work-related or general life advice. He was like my work big brother. But I don’t know… it’s the middle of the working day and all… I don’t really want to bother him.
The fact that I’m worrying about bothering W. with no warning gives me the feeling that maybe it’s a different sort of person I should be using my last phone call on earth to get in touch with. Thinking about it, W. and I never really talked about anything important. When I was drunk and having a good time out with the guys I work with (I get drunk on just one beer so I’m a cheap date) I might have thought we were really confiding in each other, but when you really get down to it, we weren’t. We both might have thought that we were talking about the stuff that mattered, but in the end, I don’t think either of us gave away all that much.
So there I was, absolutely screwed and approaching the bitter end.
I scrolled through my phone’s list of contacts as fast as I could. Names of friends and acquaintances appeared and then disappeared one after the other. Each of the names seemed to carry a hidden meaning. Countless people who I seemed to have had some kind of a relationship with, but when push came to shove, didn’t really share much with after all. My contacts list was filled with people like that.
My life was over and I had no one who mattered enough for me to call. I had lived alongside people and created so many links, but they were ultimately all so tenuous. It’s really depressing—too depressing—to realize something like that at the end of your life.
I wasn’t keen to talk to Aloha about how I was feeling, so I left the room and went and sat on the stairs. I held on to my phone tightly, and suddenly a number began to float up from the back of my brain. It was her number. Somehow I had forgotten it, but it was as if it had been etched on my body. Her number wasn’t even in my contacts list. Slowly I began to dial…
I finished the call after a few minutes and went back into the room. Aloha was playing with the cat. Actually it was more like a tussle, with both of them rolling and tumbling around on the floor. Aloha seemed to have completely forgotten about me, so I watched in silence for a while.
Minutes went by, then…
“Oh! You’re back.”
Finally Aloha became aware of my cold stare and, somewhat embarrassed, pulled himself up off the floor. He turned to face me, taking pains to put on a serious face.
“Are you done?”
Oh come, on! You’re telling me the Devil likes cats? No use acting all cool and pretending nothing happened!
I didn’t say anything, but I took a good swipe at him in my mind. When I finally got over it I answered him calmly:
“Yes, quite finished.”
“OK, let’s go. Make that phone disappear!”
Aloha looked delighted and gave me a wink (kind of a pathetic wink since he didn’t seem to be able to close just one eye at a time).
Suddenly the phone, which had been in my hand just a minute ago, was nowhere to be seen.
“All right. Done. See ya tomorrow.”
When I looked up the Devil was gone.
“Miaow.”
The cat’s meow echoed sadly in the apartment.
I had to go and see her—the person I had just phoned. Her.
But then, just as this thought passed through my brain I fell into a deep sleep.
And so my seven-day odyssey had begun.
TUESDAY: IF PHONES DISAPPEARED FROM THE WORLD
My roommate is a cat.
You know that old story by Soseki Natsume, I am a Cat? It’s something like that, but not quite. The cat’s name is Cabbage.
You might have forgotten all about this by now, so why don’t I try and jog your memory.
I was five when my mother found the abandoned kitten and brought it home with her. It poured with rain that day, and the kitten had been left in a cardboard box by the side of the road. Mom found it on her way home from the supermarket. The poor thing was soaked. Printed on the side of the box were the words “Nagano Lettuce,” and so after my mother had got the kitten home and dried it off with a towel she announced, “This little boy’s name is Lettuce.”